#perseus ursa

[nemfrog]

Constellations. World Book. Vol. 1. 1923.

Internet Archive

[autisticlancemcclain]

Everything is burning.

For too long he doesn’t move. His limbs are leaden, pulled heavily to the ground, and his neck is too weak to keep up his head. Smoke curls in the air and settles sleepily into his lungs. Shredded metal and broken glass glint and shine under the full moonlight, and through his half-lidded eyes it looks like stars. Every inhale is laborious, but the churned earth feels shaped to the contours of his body, like a mattress designed specifically for him. He could close his eyes, just for a moment, and rest, recover from the strain of the crash before moving forward. It would be easier. Just a short rest, a moment to sleep, to heal. 

Sounds of a forest surround him. A steady chirping that must be crickets, a hooting that can only be an owl. If he strains his ears farther, there’s the chittering of something scurrying up and down trees, and the heavier thumps of something bigger stomping about. Behind that, there are voices. 

Shouting. And the bark of what has to be dogs, and the ever so faint revving of vehicles, slamming doors.

Get up, urges a voice in the back of his head. Get up now.

He tries to comply. He cracks open his eyes – when did he close them? – and hisses at the onslaught of light, of beams of searching torches and painful flashes of red and blue. All of a sudden he’s made aware of the flames inching closer to his legs, and the wing of his ship, torn off the body, pressing him into the ground.

“Not good,” he croaks, trying to wiggle his toes. Thankfully, he can, although movement reminds his body of itself, and the aches and pains start to come alive – his entire head pounds, and nausea coils around his stomach, and something burns and pulses in the meat of his calf. 

But still he can move.

Forcing his arms to function, he grounds his hands under him, pushing upright. His body feels heavier than it has ever felt before; the task feels herculean. The unrest in his stomach becomes violent, swirling, and he has to stop before he’s even sitting upright, eyes stinging, teeth clenched, breathing deliberately and sharply through his nose until the nausea settles again. The world spins, when he’s finally sat upright, and he has to give himself a moment for that to pass, too, but the shouting voices and stomping feet get louder, and he knows he doesn’t have much time.

“Okay,” he whispers to himself, praying that Perseus and Ursa and Leo guide him. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

He curls his gloved fingers under the ruined edge of the wing, careful of the sharp shards of torn metal, and heaves, pushing and biting back a loud cry as the effort of freeing his legs tears something in his shoulders, hurts something in his back. The wing is heavy and he’s lucky he’s merely trapped under it rather than pinned; if the ground wasn’t supporting so much of its weight then the onus would be on his legs, and he’s sure he would lose them. His body is sorer than it has ever been in his life, and everything hurts, but he is grateful for that at least. 

With the freeing of his legs comes the hard part. He doesn’t trust them to hold them, at least not at first, and he’s scared of what might happen if his brain tells them to move on their own. So he wraps his hands around his ankle and pulls, so his foot slides close to his rear and bends his knee, and does the same with the other, so he is sitting with his knees nearly pressed to his chest and his feet flat and steady on the floor. 

“Okay,” he whispers again to himself, shaky this time. He bites off any other words, snapping his mouth shut, focusing on breathing. Okay. He braces his palms on the cracked and sparking remains of the control board the pushes with all his strength, steadying himself on wobbling legs and knocking knees. He holds himself steady, breath held in his lungs, for the count of fifteen ticks, carefully testing with his hands still steadying himself, the ability of his legs to hold him up. 

Carefully, nervously, he lifts up his hands. He sways, for a moment, but manages to stay upright. On the high of that success he straightens to the best of his ability and surveys the smoking remains of his crashed ship. It’s not very salvageable. Scrap metal, maybe, but everything else…

He swallows. It has been two deca-phoebs since he left home. Six pheobs since he last passed a satellite up to date enough to talk to his family face-to-face. He hasn’t seen home in so long that sometimes he struggles to remember what it felt like to lie in his bed, not just the nest he built in the cab of his ship. The ship, with its purple glowing lights and well-worn buttons and weird old sounds and familiar walls is the only piece of home he has left. Maybe forever, now.

He shakes himself. The voices are closer, now, the barking of dogs closer still. He doesn’t have time to dwell. He forces himself to shift around some of the ruins, digging through cracked polymer and cracked glass to find anything salvageable and portable; anything he can find in under thirty ticks. He manages – thankfully – to find his pack, half-burned as it is, that he knows holds some clothes and supplies. He finds his comm, too, although it’s cracked clean in half. He brings it anyway. 

His head swivels to the treeline as he hears a barked order that sounds like it’s barely out of eyesight. He has to go. He doesn’t have any more time. 

Choking back tears from two different kind of pain, he stumbles his way out of the wreckage and sprints for the trees, as far away from the voices as he can manage. He only hopes that he’s not trailing blood – and that the humans aren’t faster than he is.

———

Keith grew up on stories of Earth.

His father told him hundreds. It’s like a hundred planets in one, he liked to say, and when Keith was young and still fit in the crook of his father’s arm he’d look at him with wide eyes and try to imagine it. Dozens of nations all trying to coexist in one space. All the culture and language you could ever dream of, naui jag-eun tamheomga, everywhere, at once.

When Keith was a kid he couldn’t get enough of it. When he was a teen he couldn’t, either; he’s never not been fascinated with the heritage he’s never shared with anyone he’s ever known. His bedtime stories were of scientific discoveries his father witnessed in real time, of athletic feats of which Keith could barely conceptualise. And when he ran out of real stories, he told Keith stories of thousands of years of myths, of gods and angels and monsters. And of course when Keith had the first inkling of an opportunity he packed a ship, kissed his mother goodbye, and flew off on a several hundred million lightyear journey, his field journal blank and begging to be filled and his father’s voice echoing in his head.

His father prepared him for everything. Keith knew every star on the journey, recognised the curve of every planet in the solar system. Upon sight of the Great Blue Dot he could barely contain his excitement, thrusters at full force.

His father told him everything. As far as Keith knew and has always known, his father knew everything.

His father didn’t tell him that the second his ship showed up on government scanners, he’d be shot out of the sky.

Keith found that one out the hard way.

———

There’s a light up ahead.

It’s yellowed, and old. The bulb has not been changed in a long time, and dead moths pile inside the class lamp cover. Cobwebs wrap delicately around the iron frame. The light seems out of place with the cottage it guards; not in appearance, but in liveliness: the cottage is dark and well-maintained. The ancient beckoning of the lamp post seems at odd with the sleepy youth of the red-bricked little house.

Keith is starting to get a little delirious, maybe. 

Stumbling, he approaches the cottage. He has long since lost the voices and hunters, if that’s what they were, distracted no doubt by the remains of his ship. He hasn’t heard them in hours. 

But the moon crests higher and higher overheard. And the torn flesh of his leg – cut deeply by a shard of shrapnel – bleeds sluggishly with no sign of stopping. And he is tired, and every step is harder, and the adrenaline only continues to fade, and the point in which he will no longer be able to go on is rapidly approaching.

And, most damning. Humans are pursuit predators. As far as he goes – if he is not sheltered, they will find him. Now or days from now, he cannot stay hidden. 

He’d like to choose the terms in which he is discovered. 

He forces himself to the cottage, injured leg dragging behind him, vision getting blurrier with every step, breaths getting shallower and shallower. The steps are real wood, cured and stained and worn, and Keith mourns for a moment that he is about to ruin them with the spill of his own blood and the tracked mud and grease on his clothes. His father wore a necklace, every day of his life, a leather cord with a rubbed-smooth charm of carved wood. In all the many planets Keith has visited, he has never seen real wood. Dried plant matter, in abundance, and every kind of polished stone, polymers created from nothing and glass melted from every kind of sand, but wood is, at least as far as anyone knows, completely unique to Earth. Keith has always been fascinated by it.

His strength leaves him at the door. Like his strings were cut, he falls to his knees with a heavy thud, and must claw his way close enough to knock. The tap of his fist against the worn green door is hardly loud enough to be audible, but it is all he has strength to do. He slumps against the doorframe and mentally apologises to whatever old lady lives in this house, because she is going to have the fright of her life seeing his corpse on her doorstep when she wakes up in the morning. That, or a trail of blood from where the people who shot him down are going to drag him away. 

Either way, not good.

He’s sad, as he lay there dying. That is of course not a revolutionary feeling to have, but it’s of no consequence. He wishes he saw more of Earth. He wishes he got to stop at all the places his father talked about so fondly. He wishes he was able to tell his mother goodbye. He wishes, perhaps most urgently, that dying hurt less. He had been too shocked to hurt, when he first crashed, but it’s been hours now and his body won’t let him forget it. Everything hurts, and his throat is dry. He hates it when his throat is dry. The wooden doorframe digs into his back, at least, and it’s not a pleasant sensation but he reaches out and strokes the grain of the wooden door anyway, feeling the chipped away pent, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending he’s running his thumb around his father’s pendant. 

The texture of the wood suddenly disappears, and his back hits the ground. His eyes flutter open, whole seconds after he is laid flat on the ground, and hovering above him is the blurry silhouette of a man glowing gold; curls of hair shining flinted silver in the bright light of the moon, stars dotting the apples of his cheeks and bridge of his nose, mouth curved like the arm of the Milky Way, and eyes the deepest, darkest, widest brown he has ever seen, like two glowing black holes boring into his soul.

“Oh,” are Keith’s dying words, faint and echoing and awed. “Dad was wrong. Angels are real.”

———

The tips of cool, uncalloused fingers brushing under his hairline rouse him from slumber, frowning. Mom must be wearing – gloves? But that doesn’t make sense. He’s never seen her wear gloves before, even when he’s been sick. Her claws tear right through the fingers. It doesn’t make sense.

“Mom?” he murmurs, voice scratchy, trying and failing to force open his heavy, heavy eyelids. 

“Go back to sleep,” she whispers, not sounding like herself at all. She must be sick, too. “You’re still all fucked up. You need it.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrow. He wanted to talk to her. There was something he wanted to say to her. There’s something faint and muted pulling at the back of his mind; something about his mother, about talking, about pain and sleep and sorrow. He needs to wake up.

But he’s so tired. And his eyelids are so heavy. And sleep pulls, at every corner of his mind.

“Okay,” he sighs, and sinks back into it.

———

“Whatever the hell you are, you’ve made a mess of yourself. Dumbass.”

———

There are voices again. Arguing. Fear pricks at Keith’s veins, and it’s enough to propel him out of whatever blackness he’s been resting in, enough to force his eyes open. He squeezes them shut again on reflex, hissing at the onslaught of sunlight pouring in from the wide, open window, counting to three before opening them again under the shield of his hand. 

He doesn’t recognise the room he’s in.

It’s strangely shaped. Almost cave-shaped, really, with rounded edges instead of sharp corners. Except the window is so big it bleeds light into every single crevice of the room, leaving no room for any cave-like impressions. The walls are painted with soft, muted murals, of hanging vines and falling leaves and ants marching a line on a tree. Dozens of shelves are filled with more rocks than Keith has ever seen in one place, even in his godfather’s labs and archives. The bed itself is huge, taking up half the room, enough so that Keith could sprawl if he pleased and not touch any edge. The comforter is huge and thick and almost stiflingly warm. The door is contrasting to the energy of the rest of the room, covered in vibrant stickers and sprawled in messages and almost graffiti-like lettering. It’s cracked open slightly, and through it Keith can hear two voices arguing: one stiff and demanding, the other angry and shrill.

“I have no idea what the hell you’re on about,” hisses the angry voice, defensive. “No one has shown up at my door. I’ve seen nothing strange. Everything is as normal as it always is. The only odd thing is the slew of trespassing assholes dressed in uniform who won’t leave me the fuck alone –”

Keith’s head lolls backwards, strength seeping out of his body. The sunlight is warm and smells good. The fear that had dragged him awake has ebbed, somewhat, because the voice – the angry voice – is protective. There is someone guarding Keith’s six. 

He lets sleep swallow him again.

———

He dreams, finally, of flying on wings of hollow bones and stretched skin, and being shot out of the sky. And of a bright yellow canary, snatching him from his freefall and floating him gently to the earth.

———

“If you woke up soon I’d appreciate it, you know. I’m running out of excuses to buy saline bags. Shit is getting suspicious and if the local town thinks I’m a vampire trying to keep my personal bloodbag alive, I’m fucked.”

———

Keith awakes, finally and fully, in the middle of the night. A half moon shines bright into a bedroom that feels unnervingly familiar, like the watercolour memories from a dream. The cloudiness that’s been ever present in his head has finally faded, and the only thing rolling in his stomach is hunger. There’s still a heavy ache in his leg, but it’s manageable. It’s dark enough that his eyes don’t sting.

His mouth tastes like something died, then was revived, then shat on his tongue. It’s unpleasant. 

Nervously, fully expecting a half-movement to crumble his body to dust, he peels back the disgustingly fluffy comforter, slowly pivoting his half-upright body until his feet are planted on the rug-covered floor. He rests there a moment, frankly a little breathless, but braces on palm on the nightstand and one on the bedspread and readies himself. Teeth grit in determination, he pushes, leaning on shaky arms until he trusts his legs to hold up his body.

They do. His one leg aches in a pain he’s only felt in Marmora training, but it holds him, and when he tests a tiny step forward, it holds him then, too. 

Slowly, conscious of his space and his body, Keith inches forward. 

It takes him longer than he would like to cross the minimal space between the bed and the door, but he does it, and he ignores the sardonic voice in his head that wants to do anything but celebrate. He rests again at the door frame, hand clutched at the top of it, stretched out in a way that feels unbelievably good (well, as stretched out as he can be with his head brushing the doorframe). His lips quirk up when he realises it’s made of wood, half-remembering his dying internal rambles. He wonders if building with wood is a common Earthen practice, or if whomever owns this cottage is just unbelievably wealthy. Maybe all Terrans are. 

Once his breath has evened again and he thinks he’s good to go, Keith peeks down the hallway, nerves dancing down his spine. The two rooms branching off are dark and soundless, but there’s a small light on at the end of the hall where it opens up, and the soft sound of clinking glass. Someone is awake.

He closes his eyes, pulling back from the doorframe and closing his shaking hands into fists. “Just do it,” he whispers to himself. It’s not like they don’t know he’s here – someone has been keeping him alive, after all. He didn’t just recover – well, half-recover – from a massive crash by himself. That kind of thing kills a person, actually. “Stop stalling.”

Jaw set and shoulders square, Keith stalks forward. It’s hard to stalk with a heavy limp, but he thinks he manages. His cousin has always told him that power comes from audacity, and she has plenty, so. He should be fine so long as he emulates her, which he would rather crash from space again than admit but he does often.

He turns the corner at the end of the hallway and it opens up into an open kitchen and living space. There are no overhead lights but lamps and candles litter the space, making everything glow quietly. A light floral scent fills the air, but Keith isn’t sure if that’s from the candles or the bouquet of purple flowers that might be lavenders placed carefully on the centre of a – wooden – table. More shelves line the walls, filled with more than just rocks this time, and the walls are painted with bright swatches of colours; muted in the low light but visibly more sunshiney and abstract than the bedroom. The fridge is covered in photos so thickly that the door isn’t even visible. The counters are a mess of opened ingredients, some of which Keith recognises, and a slew of utensils and bowls in various states of disarray.

A man stands at the centre of it all, back turned to Keith. 

Keith clears his throat.

The man whirls around, startled, and when he sees Keith he screams at the top of his lungs, mixing bowl clattering to the ground and splattering batter all over the floor and half the cupboards. Keith steps back, heart pounding in his ears, hands held defensively in front of him, mind screaming with various iterations of oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He’d thought he was safe, that his presence was known, that –

“Oh my shitballs,” the man wheezes, hunching over slightly. “Oh Joseph and Mary and Sweet Baby Jesus. Fuck. My heart just clawed its way up my esophagus and threw itself out of my mouth, actually. Holy shit.”

“What,” Keith croaks, still frozen in fear.

For a moment there’s silence. Then the man still stands crookedly, but straightens enough to look Keith in the eyes. And Keith – 

Keith stops breathing, because he knows those eyes. 

The deepest, darkest, widest brown he has ever seen, like two glowing black holes boring into his soul. 

“I am. So sorry,” he says, “for yelling. That is my bad. That is On Me. Probably freaked you out good.” He sighs, bending back down and scooping up the mixing bowl. He stares for a long moment at the mess of batter, weighing, then sighs again and more deeply and reaches for a rag. “I don’t mean to be xenophobic, promise. I swear I knew you were there. I just. Haven’t slept. In so many days. Would’ve screamed if anyone popped out, promise.”

“What,” Keith repeats, a little desperate. 

The man doesn’t seem to pick up on his tone, though, continuing to work on the rapidly drying mess and rambling. 

“– and it’s not your fault, anyway. Been a rough couple of weeks. You really freaked the hell outta the military, huh? I’m glad you’re up now because there was only so much I could do to keep them away. I’m sure they’ll come knocking again eventually, but we’ll figure it out then. Or you’ll go home? I’m honestly not sure. Whatever works. You can stay. I dunno. My brain’s on three percent at this exact moment.”

“You’re…not sleeping?” Intentionally, Keith avoids the whole military thing the man mentioned, because. Well. That freaks him out, if he’s being entirely honest, and he really doesn’t want to hear it. Right now he’s pretending that’s a problem for someone else. He has enough shit to deal with. 

The man sighs. He looks dejectedly at the mess. Slowly, so as not to startle him again, Keith walks over to the sink, careful to avoid smears of whatever the man was making, and wets a rag to help him. 

He figures it’s the least he can do. 

“Yeah, well. I’ve never slept great outside of my bed. It’s cool, though. Sometimes I blink for a few seconds longer than usual and it’s like a micro-nap.”

Keith looks at him in concern. He’s staring off into space, rubbing at a spot that’s been clean for at least two doboshes now. Keith’s not even sure if he’s noticed him beside him. “That seems bad.”

“Eh. Now that you can move around, I can sleep if you’re ever up. All is well.”

“...Wait.” Keith shifts so he’s deliberately in the man’s space, which makes him startle, proving Keith’s earlier guess. “I’m sleeping in your bed?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Keith flushes purple. “I didn’t know I was in your bed!” It’s not that he’s…you know…never slept in anyone else’s bed before, but usually he knew he was doing it. And never a stranger’s, as evidently kind as this stranger has been. 

The man blinks. “I have a guest bedroom, but you’re too tall for it.”

“Still!”

“Dude. You showed up at my door in the middle of the night after crashing into the woods so hard the trees shook, bloodied to hell and back and near death. I couldn’t just – shove you in a bed too small for you. It was my bed or the floor, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to make an injured person sleep on the floor.”

“That’s…fair, I suppose,” Keith concedes. But he’s still a little troubled. “But I’m good, now. I can – sleep in the guest room?”

He trails off a little as he suggests it, realising, abruptly, how absurd this whole thing is. He doesn’t know this person. He’s shown up as an unexpected guest to his home – hell, to his planet. And now they’re…making sleeping arrangements? Arguing about sleeping arrangements? Is Keith even planning on staying? What are his other options? How is he going to get home? What happened to his ship?

His head starts to pound again. The man must notice, because he softens. 

“Man, just sleep in my bed,” he says. “You’re still hurt.” He gently pries the rag out of Keith’s hand, tossing them both into the sink and standing. Hands still gripped together, he pulls Keith up too, careful of his hurt leg and generally aching body. He begins to tug Keith back to the bedroom, guiding him around the mess on the floor.

Keith squares his shoulders stubbornly. “No.”

“Oh, for the love of –” 

The man pinches the bridge of his nose, staring at Keith in exasperation. 

“This is what I get,” he says, shaking his head. “For not listening to Hunk about the light. I deserve this. This is Karma.”

“I’m not just going to steal your bed and let you be sleep deprived,” Keith insists. 

“Well, I’m not going to let you not steal my bed! And it’s my house, so checkmate!”

“Not doing it.”

“I’ll drag you,” the man threatens. “I did before. I will do it again, do not test me.”

“You dragged me when I was a deadweight,” Keith points out. He straightens to his full height, ignoring the screaming burning in his leg. He has a Point to make. “Go ahead and try when I’m actively resisting.”

The man glowers at him, arms crossed over his chest and fingers drumming on his bicep. He has very long fingers, Keith notices. Kind of – elegant. In a scrawny way. Keith kind of gets those vibes from him as a person.

“Oh,” the man says triumphantly, standing to his full height, too – although he still has to look up to meet Keith’s eyes. “I’ll just sleep on the floor. So you’ll have to use my bed. Ha.”

Keith shrugs. “I’ll just sleep on the floor, too.”

The man glowers at him for several doboshes. Keith stares right back, eyebrows raised. 

“Are all aliens this annoying?”

“Are all humans this stubborn?”

A smile twitches at the corner of the man’s mouth. “This is stupid.”

“It is,” Keith agrees, smiling back. 

“Just – sleep on the bed.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“What if I sleep in it, too? Compromise.”

Keith’s cheeks heat again, although this time he doesn’t look away. That would be – embarrassing. Far more embarrassing than simply sleeping in someone else’s bed – sleeping with them in it.

But it would get them both to sleep faster. Plus, Keith would be unconscious, so how embarrassing could it be, really? And the bed is huge, so double plus! They probably won’t even be that near each other.

“Compromise,” Keith relents, finally. The man beams, but notably there’s a bit of a flush to his ears, too.

“Come on,” he says, reaching down to grab Keith’s hand again. He does it very easily. Keith tries not to notice. “God, I’m so pumped. I love sleeping. This is going to be the best.”

“...Right.”

Keith follows him, meekly, down the hallway, straight through the second door on the left, and into the bedroom. It has remained unchanged – the comforter is turned over as Keith left it, and the light curtains are swaying, slightly, in the breeze from the open window. The man wastes no time crawling right in, on the right right, sighing loudly as he sinks into the soft mattress. Keith is much more hesitant. 

“There,” the man says, as they’re finally settled side by side. “Hopefully it’s not – the worst.”

“It’s not,” Keith tries to assure, voice strangled. He lies as stiffly as he can, careful to keep his limbs to himself, not to crowd. He doesn’t want to – suffocate the man, or something. Who knows. This is a real-life human. Mom says they are largely fragile.

“Goodnight,” the human whispers, several doboshes later. His voice is hushed, sleep-thick. Keith chances a look, and finds him melted into the pillows, eyes closed, face lax. He doesn’t seem to be – bothered. By Keith. By his clawed hands, or big ears, or height. Or proximity.

Keith exhales, and lets himself relax. 

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, and sinks back into unconsciousness. 

— — —

next

later in the universe

[cypherscript]

In Bad Taste Part 2

"Four feet?!" The entirety of the league at the meeting is up on their feet. "Why so fast?"

"Do you have any pictures of the orb or the bodies? Were they dead," Batman asks as he pulls up the location of the League's hideout via a satellite trying to gain visual of what she was talking about.

"All but one. Why did you send Hood? I thought he was on your no go list."

"Hood's been getting better, he was the most logical one to infiltrate the League; he was already in good graces with them when Talia used the pits to bring him back. Being on my no go list made it seem like he was no longer associated with me. I have visual, why did they have the orb out in the middle of the courtyard?"

"I have some footage of the scene, they appeared to have been trying to cast some kind of spell to link the orb with other locations or maybe to expand its radius of effect. It's not completed," Zatanna places a device into a port on the table and pictures of a large magic circle surrounds the larger orb. The next few pictures were of the corpses lined up, some of the faces looking familiar to Bruce.

"So Ras is gone then, that's the man right there."

"So it appears," Zatanna agrees, switching the screen to one of the orb, with it being so big now details not seen are clear.

Superman looks at the picture closely, "Is it just me or does that look like a a bunch of stars?"

Batman says nothing as he runs the image through multiple star charting programs, "You're correct, Superman. I'm getting multiple confirmations; Perseus-Pisces, Pisces-Cetus, Ursa Major, the Centaurus Cluster, The Milky Way, Sto-Oa, Rao. It keeps going, it shows to be every star in our sky as well."

"Rao," Superman asks, looking for the familiar star by its formation. "How old is this thing?"

"We should contact Hal and the lanterns to let them know. This could be one of theirs or maybe the Guardians know what it is?"

"I'm sending the message now," Batman types away at the keypad, "While we wait for them I'm going to check on Hood."

"We'll come with you," Diana says as Bruce moves the files to his personal device.

"Do as you wish. Zatanna bring in Constantine, we may need his help."

***

The Justice League have arrived at the compound just thirty minutes later and it is swarming with more assassins and goons. Talia's there giving orders, "Remember! Squad D, do not go near the artifact! Everyone else is fine to approach, I want this circle destroyed post haste!"

Batman had snuck his way into their camp and put Talia in a hold, "Why are you here, Talia?"

"Br-" Batman tightens his hold painfully, "Batman, I suppose you're here for Jason?"

"Where is he?!"

"He's safe, you don't want to see him right now. He's back to the way he was when I first found him. It's not a pretty sight."

"Fine, what's with the orb then? You didn't answer my question, I know your father is dead, why are you here?"

"Same reason you are I suppose, I'm putting a stop to father's plans for this artifact. He planned on linking it with every Lazarus Pit on the planet, he believed this to be the heart of the god who made the pits and wished to bring it back. To bad for him he didn't know what I now know; it's not just the Lazarus waters it's absorbing, it's also draining the energy from those who have died and come back via other means. It hasn't killed anyone yet, just makes them unable to move until they're removed from its radius."

Batman releases her and taps his comms, "Batman reporting in, stay away from the compound."

Superman's comms respond, "I heard, I was able to pull myself back before I couldn't move. Felt like the life of me was being drained. Zatanna and Constantine seem to be fine, Wonder Woman says it feels like hades is staring into her soul from here."

"It feels like it's looking at me," Shazam pipes in.

"Noted, fill them in on what's going on. We need some league members who haven't been resurrected before. Let Talia's men destroy the circle then we can figure out a way to get it off the planet and away from the pits."

"Well aren't you the lucky lot," Hal's voice comes in over their comms, "Calvary's here. I can get it off planet for you."

______________________________________________

And there we go, part 2 like I promised. Also you were close @victoria-has-no-secret but it's ALL of the people who've been resurrected not just the pits. mwahahaha Now to get the tag list out of the way. hope I'm doing this right... As I was typing this up, it seemed like I made the Orb sound like an SCP... hmm, thoughts for future works.

@mnemovoid @may-rbi @cugzarui @ekatkit @farmercale @blackroserelina @justwannabecat @dragonborne-writer @aikoiya @chrysanthemum9484

[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

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a/n: OOF, long time no see. Here's what happened: - I graduated college - I went to a masters certification program - I graduated THAT (not many can say they graduated college twice in one year, but I'm crazy) - My roommate at grad school became my best friend in the whole world. We watched all of Star Trek and the Thor movies. I got distracted writing her an 11k-word Thor fan-fiction. She wrote me a Loki fan-fiction - I came back to my home and ended up moving houses! - Now, all I day is apply to jobs, crochet, and take naps.

And that's what you missed on Glee.

It was to be expected; after all, you never really wanted to get married. Still, coming home from the ball to your grandmother’s expectant expression– it broke you. 

“Well?” she questioned, arms crossed. She wore her evening best, a deep crimson against her now paling skin. “Are we planning a wedding?”

“No,” you mumble, looking at the floor. “He didn’t propose; he…decided against it.”

You expected yelling, insults, and anger radiating from every surface. Instead, your grandmother was quiet. You looked up, waiting for anything. She just looked at you, still. It was so much worse than you could’ve expected. “Grams?” you ventured, biting the inside of your cheek. She just sighed and rubbed her eyes, so exhausted by the encounter that it made you angry. You disobeyed the thing she asked you to do, you disappointed her, and embarrassed yourself in the process. Yet all she does is sigh. “Nothing at all?”

“So much like your mother,” Grams murmured, massaging her temple as a headache grew. “I’m tired, Y/N, I’ll be retiring to bed.”

You felt tears start to prick your eyes, even as your grandmother started to pull away. “Please,” you begged, unsure what you were even asking. Your voice sounded so quiet in the foyer. 

“She could’ve married well; a duke,” Grams was already halfway up the stairs when she said it, almost to herself more than you. “She chose love instead, and look what good it did her.” Grandmother turned towards you then. “She ended up at the bottom of the ocean.”

You didn’t sleep well that night, in between the crying and the screaming into your pillow so no one could hear. When you did sleep, it was drowning. In the ocean. In disappointment. In everything. 

Your father wasn’t of low status, but he was merely a lord. Not a Duke like your grandmother wistfully shared. He was a man of dreams who sought to create. He used to sit you and Ivy down in the garden and map out the constellations. Your brother could never sit still long enough to truly appreciate astronomy. Ivy enjoyed looking at the stars and embroidering them into blankets and other linens. You, on the other hand, were eager to learn. Your father would quiz you on all their names: Orion, Ursa Major, Canis Minor, Draco, and more. The story of Andromeda always made you curious but sad. You couldn’t imagine choosing between your people and your child, and yet you hated King Cepheus for being willing to sacrifice Andromeda at all. 

“She was saved by Perseus, fell in love, and placed among the stars by Athena,” your father would console you when you started becoming quiet and contemplative. 

“Why couldn��t she save herself?”

“It’s not always that easy,” your father sighed, petting your head. “The chains could’ve been too strong. Or maybe she felt that the least she could do for her people was to let herself die.”

Your mother always scolded your father for telling such dark stories, but you appreciated it. You didn’t like things being hidden from you, and ancient myths fascinated you. 

When your parents went on their voyage with your brother to show off your father’s latest invention, you prayed to Perseus to save them from the sea. He was unable to. 

After your third day of wallowing, Ivy entered your room and locked the door. 

“This isn’t the sister I know.”

“I don’t want to talk,” you mumbled, curling into your chair. You had a settee set up by the window to get fresh daylight on your books and observe the outdoors. Ivy sat on your bed, curling up against the pillows. 

“Love, it is not your fault.”

“I was unable to secure a proposal, the one duty asked of me,” you turned to glare at her. “That is the definition of ‘my fault.’”

“You fell in love.”

“Evidently not.”

“I did not mean with Prince Thor.”

You didn’t answer. You just kept looking down at your book, the words being nothing more than a distraction. You had been pondering Thor’s words for days. Loki was, on most days, an annoyance and, on other days, could be quite companionable. Did you love him? You were unsure. You didn’t hate him. Not as much as you would’ve liked. 

“I knew it wouldn’t be Thor,” Ivy sighed, picking at the thread on your bedspread. “From the day in the park.”

You remembered that day. A traveling circus had come to town. Many families brought their children to witness acrobats, magicians, and more. There was even a traveling fortune teller that Loki loudly exclaimed wouldn’t have been able to tell a three of swords from a five of pentacles if it was staring her in the face. Ivy and Thor enjoyed watching the animals perform tricks, but like Loki, you could not stomach watching wild animals in captivity. You didn’t stay for the performance. 

“There was a traveling book merchant, which you two spent so much time at,” Ivy chuckled. “It was the cellist that stood out to me.”

“She played beautifully.”

“She did, but you and Prince Loki were the only ones to appreciate it,” Ivy smiled. “Thor had already moved on to the next shiny thing. You stayed, though, the only one in the ton to be there for the whole set. You’ve always appreciated music, I wish you would play again.” You turned in your seat, looking at your sister. “You stayed there, and Loki stayed with you. He let you enjoy the music because it spoke to you more than anything else at the circus. And when she was done performing, and you lacked a proper way to give thanks, he offered up his own coins.”

“There was nothing special about that moment.” Even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t true. 

“Grandmother is a smart woman, but she has one thing wrong.” Ivy turned her attention fully towards you. “You are headstrong, but most importantly, you are quiet. You are intuitive. Not like me, who enjoys laughter and bright colors. You see brightness where others see nothing.” Ivy almost laughs to herself. “You don’t need someone who can match your strength; you need someone who can match your silence.”

You felt like crying, and you weren’t sure why. Everything Ivy said was true. It always was; she knew you better than you often knew yourself. Confronting feelings, when so often you ignored them to avoid painful attachments, it made you want to suffocate.

“Ivy,” you murmured. She turned to you, the sun in a room inhabited by the moon. “I love you.”

“Well, of course you do!” she giggled, getting up and coming to your seat. She kissed the top of your head. “I’m brilliant.”

It was nighttime, and you wanted to talk to Loki. If you talked to him, you could decide if your feelings were real or if they were a lie. Maybe they were a thing fabricated by quiet moments or inspired by the stories you loved. You were thinking about this when you heard a storm pick up, the branches of the trees tapping against your window. This continued on until you realized there was no wind to accompany this tapping. You crawled out of your bed to go to your window and noticed it was a clear night. You jumped back with a yelp as another pebble hit the glass. Opening the latch, you peeked your head out and ducked as another pebble came flying. Loki stood with a pile of rocks outside. 

“Loki!” you hissed, throwing one of the pebbles back at him. He avoided it with ease. “Why are you throwing rocks at me?”

“Because I do so enjoy it,” he chuckled, hands in the pockets of his breeches. “Or perhaps, because I wish to speak with you.”

“It is late and unbecoming of a lady to meet with a man unaccompanied.”

“Intriguing,” he shrugged. “I didn’t think you much of a lady.”

You glowered at that. You couldn’t possibly have feelings for this man who throws rocks at you and puts you in ridiculous situations. You leave the window, heading to your dresser and grabbing your riding boots. You were still in your nightgown, but you tied your robe over it, so you were at least a little modest. You went back to the window. He hadn’t left.

“You’re going to catch me,” you demanded, already swinging a leg over the banister and debating which bones would be broken if you made one misstep. 

“Of course,” Loki smiled. He didn’t look ready to catch you whatsoever, but you had to put trust in the situation. So, you jumped out your window. And he caught you with ease. Much like one of the princes in the tales your father used to tell you. “What a pleasure meeting you here,” Loki smirked. You hit his chest, falling out of his arms and giving yourself distance. If your grandmother knew you were doing this, she would have you executed by morning. 

“What do you want?”

“Is that any way to address royalty?” he furrowed his brows but didn’t sound angry. He sounded amused. 

“What do you want, your Highness?” you sassed, crossing your arms. 

“Well, I did not come out here for your startling wit,” Loki sighed. “I want to talk.”

“About?”

“Take a walk with me,” he gestured towards the gardens. Your grandma’s pride and joy were her gardens. It was one of the few things she did herself, without any help from the maids or other staff. “Please,” he added, and you acquiesced. 

You followed him with a sigh, still keeping a respectable distance between you both. He was silent, and it wasn’t until you passed the hydrangeas that he spoke. 

“Thor told me,” Loki said. You didn’t know how to respond to that, and you were unsure of what exactly Thor had told him. 

“Did you come here to reprimand me for not being able to secure an engagement?” You scoffed. Loki stopped at a rose bush, fingers brushing over the petals. 

“I confess, I don’t care much for roses,” Loki smiled at you. Like you were in on a secret, just you two. It made warmth grow in your chest. 

“I don’t either.”

“What is your favorite flower, m’lady?” Loki took a step towards you. You would’ve backed up, but another bush was in your way, and you were stuck in his space.

“Sunflowers, or perhaps dahlias,” you murmured.

“Dahlias.” Loki smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“No?” you questioned, smiling back. “What did you expect?”

“Nothing ordinary nor expected of a young maiden.”

“Am I just a young maiden to you?” you lifted a brow. 

“No,” Loki said. “You are not.”

It felt like nature took a pause on its sounds as Loki stared at you, his ice-blue eyes cold against your otherwise hot skin. He was much too close to be appropriate, and yet you didn’t want to push him away. You should push him away; the last thing you need is a scandal with the prince of Norway, but you couldn’t. Not when his gaze lowered to your lips. Not when his fingers touched your shoulder and then the lace of your collar. He brushed stray hair away from your face, and you felt yourself take in a shuddering breath. His thumb brushed over your lip, fingers cradling your chin. His breaths were heavy like he was holding himself back. You realized he was holding himself back from you. 

“Loki,” you whispered, looking up at him. Something changed in his gaze, and he stepped back, letting the cold air kiss your skin where his hand once was. 

“You should have brought a coat; it’s cold at night,” he whispered, refusing to meet your gaze. You just nodded, disappointment evident. He walked you back to your window. There were enough places for you to climb up yourself, something you used to do a lot as a child. He kept an even larger distance between the two of you as he waited for you to return to your rooms. Instead, in a fit of insanity, you reached up and kissed his cheek. You felt his breath hitch as you stepped back, curtsied, and scaled your wall. You didn’t turn back when you closed the window. You didn’t stop thinking of him even as you fell asleep.

taglist: @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @gruftiela @saay-karani @foxherder @lover-of-books-and-tea tea @lilaclaufeyson @qardasngan @evasmlp

[ad-caelestia]

Constellation Correspondences

A

Andromeda - power, removing barriers, release, letting go

Aquarius - new beginnings, luck, wishes

Aquila - guidance, psychic work, astral travel

Ara - hearth, home, devotion, refuge, protection 

Aries - fertility, abundance, protection, banishing 

Auriga - wisdom, knowledge, storm warding 

B

Boötes - inspiration, nature, storm warding 

C

Cancer - astral travel, dreamwork, psychic abilities, imagination, creativity, subconscious desire 

Canes Venatici - companionship, faithfulness, protection, healing 

Canis Major & Canis Minor - death, renewal, new beginnings, protection, purification

Capricornus - harvest, energy, abundance

Cassiopeia & Cepheus - balance, relationships, love, union, healing, maternal conflict (Cassiopeia), and familial/home conflict (Cepheus) 

Centaurus - balance, duality, healing, wisdom

Cetus - power, intelligence, communication, change, growth, happiness

Columba - peace, relaxation, fidelity, devotion, marriage, union

Corona Australis - emotions, love, spirituality, success, manifestation of goals 

Corona Borealis - guidance, protection, knowledge, divination, success, manifestation of goals

Corvus - wisdom, secrets, duality, prophecy, divination

Crater - life, emotions, abundance

Crux - elemental energy, crossroads, decision-making 

Cygnus - light, death, transformation, prophecy, self-esteem 

D

Delphinus - intelligence, wisdom, truth, releasing negativity, fertility, safe travels 

Draco - wisdom, power, knowledge, prosperity, luck, protection 

E

Eridanus - life, health, abundance, power, wisdom, transformation, meditation 

G

Gemini - balance, change, transition, increased power, banishing

Grus - death, rebirth, mysticism, truth, divination  

H

Hercules - wisdom, creativity, strength, energy

Hydra/Hydrus - life, reproduction, forces of nature, power, healing, transformation

L

Leo - power, protection, courage, strength 

Lepus - abundance, swiftness, wisdom, divination, hidden knowledge, transformation, lunar magic 

Libra - balance, healing, legal matters 

Lupus - power, purpose, loyalty, protection

Lynx - isolation, purification, cleansing, illumination, insight, hidden knowledge, swiftness

Lyra - underworld, enchantment, immortality of the soul, music 

M

Monoceros - beauty, freedom, love, luck, spirituality, transformation, wisdom, creativity 

O

Ophiuchus & Serpens - healing, balance, the flow of energy 

Orion - self-confidence, strength, victory, winter storms 

P

Pegasus & Equuleus - travel between realms, contacting the dead, astral travel, divination, psychic abilities 

Perseus - hope, desire, wishes, manifestation, power 

Phoenix - change, cycles, transformation, rebirth, renewal, personal growth 

Pisces - creation, fertility, union, creativity 

Piscis Austrinus - prophecy, divination, inspiration, astral travel, wisdom, otherworldly knowledge 

Pleiades, the - mysticism, power, higher consciousness, wisdom, awareness

S

Sagittarius - mental stimulation, virility, sexuality, physical energy, power, skill, manifestation of goals

Scorpius - protection, the underworld, creativity, transformation, psychic abilities 

T

Taurus - abundance, regeneration, power, strength, potency 

Triangulum - balance, change, transformation

U

Ursa Major - healing, protection, survival

Ursa Minor - renewal, rebirth, awakening

V

Virgo - rebirth, harvest, regeneration, prosperity 

source

© 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 𝙰𝙳-𝙲𝙰𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙰

[yamayuandadu]

I am interested to know about the 4 winds and what is their role in mythology

You’re in luck because while there isn’t much material, it’s fairly easily accessible - by reading Wiggermann’s The Four Winds and the Origin of Pazuzu you can learn 90% of what there is to know. However, since he doesn’t cover the myth(s) involving the South Wind, I figured a brief summary is in order - you can find it under the cut. All images are taken from Wiggermann’s article, and have been reproduced here for educational purposes only.

The four winds are the West Wind (Amurru; not identical with the god Amurru), the East Wind (Šadû), the North Wind (Ištānu; no relation to the phonetically similar Hittite designation for sun deities) and the South Wind (Šūtu; I’m not aware of any connection to the goddess Sutītu, who was essentially a deified Sutean - ie. “Southerner” - stereotype much like how Amurru was a deified stereotypical Amorite). The names are virtually always translated into English, so I’ll stick to following this convention here. The South Wind, who has a plenty of solo attestations as a literary character, is usually female, and the other three male; this reflects the grammatical gender of their names. However, there is at least one case where the North Wind is referred to with feminine terms regardless of that. It seems fairly consistent that regardless of their gender the four are treated as siblings, though. We know they shared the same mother but her identity is never specified. Not that unusual, really. In Mesopotamian astronomy, the winds’ names could also refer to specific constellations: North Wind is Ursa Major, South Wind is Piscis Austrinus, West Wind is Scorpio and East Wind is Perseus and the Pleiades. Note that some of these connections are not exclusive to them; Scorpio or individual stars forming it could be instead associated with Ishara, Ninigirimma, or even Lisin.

While it can be difficult to identify minor deities in Mesopotamian art, the four winds are distinct enough to make this fairly straightforward to researchers. All of them are depicted with wings and windswept hair (of course), but there are additional traits unique to each. The South Wind, as expected, looks feminine and typically has entwined legs; the North Wind is partially theriomorphic (the rest has no animal traits save for their wings); the West Wind is bent over in an acrobatic pose; and the East Wind is, essentially, a “generic wind” iconographically. The oldest example of a depiction of the group is a seal from Sippar from the nineteenth century BCE, which shows the four of them surrounding a weather god, presumably Adad:

Wiggermann based on this attestation suggests that the group might have originally emerged from the theological speculation of Adad’s clergy from Sippar, and that the seal might depict a set of statues displayed at his local temple. Hard to prove, but compelling, imo. However, personified winds occasionally can be found in earlier sources too: one of Gudea’s inscriptions poetically described the North Wind as a winged man, there’s also a seal from roughly the same period showing Adad, his spouse (presumably Shala) and a winged attendant who might similarly be a wind. However, they were not exclusively associated with the weather god - there is also at least one reference to them acting as messengers of Anu instead. South Wind sometimes appears as a servant of Ea, as well.

With time, the South Wind essentially overshadowed her siblings, and could be recognized as an independent wind deity. She eventually lost part of her original iconography: the wings vanished, but a standard horned crown started to appear on her head, indicating stabilization of her status as a deity. She plays a major role in the myth Adapa and the South Wind. The eponymous hero breaks her wing (or both of her wings) with a curse (notably no physical contact occurs), and as a result she stops blowing. Anu therefore summons Adapa to heaven. He plans to essentially deify him, but this doesn’t come to pass because Ea convinced him to refuse any gifts he might receive. 

In this article you can learn more about the history of this myth. Most notably, recently a new version has been discovered during excavations at Tell Haddad (ancient Me-Turan). This is relevant to your question since it seems to its compilers it was South Wind who mattered more than Adapa - the narrative is more concerned with her restoration than with its expected protagonist! Anu asks Adapa why did he break her wings, he seemingly does not answer, and instead the focus shifts to declaring a new destiny for the South Wind. Her arrival is said to bring an unspecified disease, which however is also cured by her departure. By breaking her wings, Adapa made her unable to leave, which seemingly meant the disease could not be cured. Interestingly, this might actually be the original form of the myth - in other words, it was originally about the South Wind, with Adapa as a side character, with the switch of importance only occurring later. 

Next to the South Wind, the West Wind probably fared the best once the group ceased to be depicted together. He absorbed his brother’s non-human traits, and in the Middle Babylonian period sometimes had the tail of a bird or stinger or a scorpion, and on top of that a set of talons. The acrobatic pose remained consistent, though. Wiggermann thinks that he was subsequently fused with the apotropaic image of Humbaba’s head to create a prototype of Pazuzu, but this remains speculative.

[officially-taurus]

List of constellations (and the respective gimmick blogs)

Pisces

Cetus

Aries ( @aries-official )

Pegasus

Andromeda ( @andromeda-the-constellation )

Triangulum

Taurus (me!)

Equuleus

Delphinus

Vulpecula

Lacerta

Cygnus

Cepheus

Cassiopeia ( @and-cassiopeia )

Perseus

Orion ( @orion-in-the-sky )

Auriga

Camelopardalis

Ursa Minor ( @ursa-minor-probably )

Draco ( @official-draco-constellation )

Lyra

Hercules

Serpens

Ophiuchus

Corona Borealis

Bootes

Canes Venatici

Ursa Major ( @ursa-major-actually )

Lynx

Gemini ( @the-official-gemini )

Monoceros

Canis Minor

Hydra

Cancer

Leo ( @literally-leo )

Leo Minor ( @literally-leo-minor )

Coma Berenices

Aquarius

Capricornus ( @officially-capricorn @might-be-capricorn )

Piscis Austrinus

Sculptor

Fornax

Eridanus

Lepus

Caelum

Columba

Horologium

Phoenix ( @phoenix-the-inferno-constellate )

Reticulum

Tucana

Hydrus

Grus

Indus

Microscopium

Sagittarius

Aquilla

Telescopium

Scutum

Corona Australis

Pavo

Octans

Apus

Ara

Chamaeleon

Mensa

Dorado

Pictor

Carina

Puppis

Canis Major

Pyxis

Antlia

Centaurus

Vela

Lupus

Scorpius

Libra ( @libra-the-scales-official )

Virgo

Corvus ( @corvus-the-constellation )

Crater

Sextans

Crux

Circinus

Musca

Norma

(please tell me if there's a new constellation gimmick blog so I can add it to this list!)

[elynnss]

binary stars

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53886976

“I want at least three.” 

Cassiopeia twinkles above. Sirius follows the zig-zag of it down to Perseus, then Taurus, then Gemini. Castor and Pollux take turns flashing. 

“Oh yeah? And how many does she want?” 

The serpentine line of Draco flows down to Ursa Major. Part of him wants to sit up and turn to see Andromeda, but he’s comfortable on his back, with James a warm line of warmth along his side. 

“I’ll convince her. Being an only child is lonely. They need someone to play with.” 

“You wouldn’t play with them?” 

“Course I would! All the time. They’ll be quidditch players before they can speak. But I won’t be around to play all the time.” 

“Oh please. You’ll be the stay at home wife while poor Lily goes to work. I can already see it.” 

James just laughed, elbow knocking into Sirius’. It should have been freezing with the cracked stone of the Astronomy Tower at their backs and the cool October wind in their hair. But James was like an inferno- a sun amongst stars. Sirius wasn’t cold at all. 

“Nah. I’ll be a pro quidditch player. She’ll never work a day in her life if I can help it.” 

“Oh, you know she’d hate that.” 

James sighed, dreamy. “Yeah. Yeah, she would.” 

Lyra, Cygnus, Cepheus. Silence sat comfortable between them. 

“Do you want kids, Sirius?” 

“I’ve… never really thought about it.” 

He tried very hard not to. Kids only ever made him think of closets and family dinner and the flick of unfriendly wands and his own eyes staring back at him, big and wet with tears as he pleaded, pick me up, S’rius-

“Nah. Nah, I don’t think I will.” 

“Really? You don’t think Moony would ever want one or two?” Somedays, Sirius thought Remus didn’t even want to be with him. With them. Not for lack of love, but for that persistent, unyielding fear that someday his claws and teeth would finally sink into one of them. He sincerely Moony would tolerate something as helpless as a child in his life. 

“Maybe. I think he’d be scared, though.” 

James hummed. He didn’t need to ask what he’d be scared of. 

“And you? C’mon, they could be cousins, Sirius.” 

“I don’t think I’d be a good dad.” 

Hercules. Bootes. Ursa Minor. 

“I don’t think that's true.” 

“Don’t have the best example, do I?” 

If he squinted, he could see Mars. 

“I think that’d help you know what not to do then, no?” 

He did shudder a bit, then. Sometimes, there had been smiles, a hand on his head, a fountain of sparks to make two little boys laugh. It all got too mixed up, too jumbled to know which hands and which sparkes had been good and which had hurt. 

James only hummed at his silence, unfazed. This wasn’t the first time they’d spoken about this, or something like it. 

“Godfather, then. You two can babysit. How many can you handle?” 

He thought of James, happy but alone in a giant house. He thought of a set of three sisters, of the one who’d been left behind. 

He thought of nights just like this, with a different boy on top of a different set of ancient stones, pointing at the same constellations as they named their cousins and aunts and uncles one by one. 

“Two. Or four. Keep it even. One always gets left behind when it's uneven.” 

Sirius had a brother. He did not have a brother. His brother was asleep, countless stories below. His brother was next to him, staring at the sky. 

“Alright, Pads. Even numbers it is. I think I can convince her into that.” 

Sirius knew he would. Knew Lily would sigh and give in, as if she wasn’t just as excited. Knew that one day, James would host dinner for all of them at Potter Manor with a horde of rambunctious children at their feet. 

And Sirius would take them outside and point out stars, help their little hands trace out constellations. And his heart would ache- impossibly full and impossibly hollow as he stared up at the night sky- just as it did now. 

His side was warm. His brother was miles below him. His brother was right beside him. 

[annaofaza]

Inspired by this funny post about exactly what Knives would have done with multiple Plant babies had his plan succeeded. Warning: this fic is considerably less funny.

After everything, Wolfwood finds himself defaulted to child-minder.

This wildly amuses Zazie—who pops in and out of Eden with their swarm—and pleases Legato, who seems to think Wolfwood's bought the company line after seeing "the glory of Master Knives' power." He doesn't know if the news has gotten back to the Eye of Michael, whether the lucky few laugh behind their hands at the thought of the Punisher essentially being a babysitter, but Wolfwood doesn't give a damn what anyone thinks.

Less blood on his hands, he'd mused one night. You've always wanted me to stop killing, tongari; it only took... His tongue then crept into his throat, and he trained himself to never think of it again.

There's no denying that Knives isn't exactly happy about a human being around the "chosen," but there's no denying he didn't plan anything long-term for multiple Plant children, and Wolfwood—the faithful, compliant Punisher who made the miracle possible with his betrayal—can be entrusted, or at the very least, bent to his will. After all, his contract with the Eye may be over, but he doesn't trust Knives to trot out the old threat about the orphanage.

And when it comes down to it, the kids are better off with as little interaction with Knives—and Conrad and Elendira and Legato and the Eye—as much as possible. Maybe, Wolfwood thinks, he can spare at least one life if they’re around him enough, that they learn that all humans aren't monsters.

Despite the circumstances of their birth, he knows Vash, if he were here, would have treated them kindly, and really, it isn’t in Wolfwood to act otherwise; some kids back in Hopeland had similar terrible beginnings, and God knows it wasn't their fault.

But he takes one day at a time, playing tag in green grassy fields that are almost a pleasure to fall on, cajoling them to eat another bite of the terrible nutritious slop Conrad cooks up for them, retelling the same bedtime tales Miss Melanie used to recite to the younger ones. Even when they howl like kestrels (with Castor slicing up several packs of cigarettes), when Elendira waltzes in to pinch and prod and taunt (Orion can’t speak for days afterwards and Capella still won’t go near any humans besides Wolfwood), when he’s so tired that he can’t slip his shoes on (sometimes he barely manages to button his shirt), Wolfwood makes it work.

Add the fact that half of the Plant bunch didn't seem to have powers, and while that didn't guarantee them a short life being poked and prodded in Conrad's lab—Wolfwood had heard a hissed exchange, something about a Tesla—Knives seems more detached from them all the same, despite his initial proclamation of "Look at Vash. We thought the same of him. Leave them be, and they might turn out useful."

It had taken all of Wolfwood's strength that day not to punch him.

He tries not to think beyond that. 

The kids are growing fast, though. He fears what will happen when Knives takes an active interest in them, but does the best he can, teaching letters and numbers and colors and bits of Earth history. They all resemble Knives—light-colored hair and marble-blue eyes—yet already have a startling variety of personalities. Izar, for instance, is sharp-tempered and prone to bursts of throwing the nearest objects at walls; Ursa and Adhara cling together all the time, but Regulus and Vega prefer to be on opposite sides of the room; Perseus is an utter clown, making his siblings burst into giggles every chance he gets; and Aster... out of everyone, Aster is most like Vash: protective, kind, and tender in a world that, especially now, takes advantage of stomping anything sweet out.

One day, Wolfwood’s perched underneath a tree, watching the kids play another round of hide-and-seek and occasionally glancing down at Pollux as he devours another anthology about flowers, when Aster plops right into his lap.

He smiles. “Don’t feel like joining them, Aster?”

“No,” Aster says, and yawns widely, showing off his baby teeth.

“What’s up, kiddo? Didn’t sleep last night?”

“Sort of...” Aster looks up at him, seeming to hesitate before saying, “Do you dream, Nico?”

Nico still reminds him of Livio, but Wolfwood never has the heart to correct them. “Sometimes,” he says, hoping Aster doesn’t ask of what. “Did you have one?”

Aster wrinkles his nose. “It was different than the others.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Like...” Aster prods his cheek with his tongue, thinking. “Castor said it was stupid.”

“Let me be the judge of that. What was it?” He hopes it’s not another nightmare about bugs; Zazie showing off the worms to the kids always gives at least one of them the creeps. Aquila still can’t look at an earthworm without bursting into tears.

“I thought I saw... I saw our Father,” Aster says, “but he was different. He had these strange clothes on, with... glasses on his face? Like yours, but they were orange. And round."

Wolfwood’s heart jolts in his chest. It takes all of his control not to leap up, to keep his smile steady, to ask calmly, “And?”

“I felt... safe. Like I do around you. He was in a room like this, but with these bundles of red flowers. Geraniums, like Pollux told us about the other day.” Aster tilts his head, watching Ursa and Regulus tackle each other, shrieking with laughter, as Castor complains that no one’s paying attention to the game at all. Aster shakes his head apologetically when Capella tries to wave him over. “And this word came to me, too, in the breeze. Vash?”

Wolfwood lets out a shaky breath.

“He’s the other angel, isn’t he?” Aster asks. “The one on the windows and paintings and everything.”

Wolfwood’s throat tightens. “Yeah,” he manages.

“Our Creator,” Aster continues, plucked from the familiar spiel Knives gives them on days where he feels like the kids aren’t appreciative enough. “But he seemed sad. Why would he be, if he’s in Paradise?”

“Who told you that?” Wolfwood asks, a bit too sharply.

Wolfwood swallows and looks up, trying not to show any emotion. “I... I don’t know if I can answer that question.”

"I thought you knew him?”

Aster flinches a little, but answers, “Zazie.”

Wolfwood inwardly curses. He’s going to beat their ass. What the hell possessed Zazie to do such a thing? “I did. But it was a long time ago.”

“Can you tell me about him?”

“I...” Wolfwood trails off. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to, but more than that, how can he? I loved your father, and I betrayed him. He wasn’t like the Knives you all hero-worship, distant and cool and powerful. He was... he would have...

He remembers the vines swallowing up Julai. The screams that lasted for days, weeks, afterwards, along with the sucking bursts of breath and blood. The strangely beautiful purple blooms, their scent that still lingers in the walls. The endless litany of a piano playing that same damn song, over and over.

The howl that burst from his lips when he saw Vash, encased in stone, lips rounded in a silent scream.

“Nico?”

He stares into Aster’s earnest face, glad that his sunglasses are hiding the moisture building underneath his eyelids. He has kind eyes. “Yeah?”

“I think he wanted to talk to me, but couldn’t. But you can, Nico. Right?”

“Have you told Kn—your Father about this?”

“No. Should I?”

Wolfwood shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s necessary, Aster.” He doesn’t know how Knives will react, and refuses to think of more than Vash is dead. You’ve known this for years. He doesn’t dare. Hasn’t even looked in the room where Vash is as good as a statue, arms stretched by the same knives that rise from his shoulderblades like wings.

But he looks at Aster. Vash’s son. Doesn’t he deserve to know him? Doesn’t Vash deserve more than to be a story?

"I called your father tongari," he begins, closing his eyes, "because of his hair. It stuck up in spikes, like this—" he gently arranges Aster’s into pointed tufts. "He was blonde, like you, but a shade darker than your hair. And he had eyes like yours, as blue as the desert sky. His favorite treat in the whole world was freshly-baked doughnuts, sprinkled with crystals of sugar, and when he laughed, it was like the sun coming out. He was a quick shot, too, but could never hurt anyone..."  

[dwarvendiaries]

Last night I went stargazing. Earlier that night, one of my new college friends had come to see the play I was stage managing because we're theatre kids and that's what we do. So, when the performance had ended, we discussed what he thought of the show while walking back to halls.

Just as we're about to grab dinner, we bump into some friends who say they're going stargazing; it's a clear cloudless night, and there's a good hill on the edge of town where the light pollution isn't so bad. It's nearly eleven o'clock at night and we need to have dinner so we tell them we might go later.

It turns out that dinner and a cup of herbal tea, take a little longer when the dinnertime is a scene-by-scene discussion of Bat Boy the musical.

The path up the hill is dark. And muddy. At the top, the stars are clear to see. We don't see anyone else.

It's at this point we realise neither of us really have any star knowledge, beyond me pointing out Orion. I desperately pull star charts on my phone hoping data will cover it, before confusing ursa major with ursa minor and taurus with Perseus, but bit by bit we piece the night sky together with pointed fingers...

We're looking up at Camelopardilis and I'm getting dizzy so I put my arm over his shoulder as I point it out. He puts his arm around my waist. I hear my heartbeat in my ears. We look up at the warm stars in the cold night.

We continue stargazing for roughly an hour. I identify a few red giants and Jupiter. A few other people arrive and clouds start coming overhead in the last 10 minutes. We chat about our home towns before finally saying good night to each other at 2 in the morning.

[goldheartedsky]

As Old as the Stars

The Guard as their favorite constellations as a CSH holiday exchange gift for @thevorpalsword! This prompt was SO much fun and I knew exactly how I wanted to bring it to life!

Andy — Ursa Minor "The Little Bear" (and the North Star) Booker — Ursa Major "The Great Bear" Nile — Gemini "The Twins" Joe — Perseus "The Hero" Quỳnh — Andromeda "The Chained Princess" Nicky — Cygnus "The Swan" (also called The Northern Cross)

I highly recommend zooming in for details!

(prints are available here)

[acronym-chaos]

Celestial Being ID Pack

[PT: Celestial Being ID Pack].

[ID: A purple thin line diivder shaded at the bottom. End ID].

Names

[PT: Names].

Andromeda, Antares, Aether, Aurora, Astra, Astraeus, Azura, Betelgeuse, Callisto, Cassiopeia, Celeste, Celestine, Cepheus, Chara, Chroma, Cosma, Cygnus, Deneb, Eclipse, Elara, Electra, Elysia, Empyrean, Estella, Ethereal, Galaxia, Helia, Hespera, Illumine, Luminara, Lyra, Maia, Mira, Nebula, Nocturne, Nova, Nyx, Ophelia, Orin, Orion, Perseus, Phos, Polaris, Proxima, Radiance, Rigel, Selene, Seraphina, Sirius, Solara, Solstice, Starlia, Starlight, Tauri, Tempest, Ursa, Uriel, Vega, Vela, Vespera, Yvaine, Zephyr, Zenith, Zaniah, Zorya

Pronouns

[PT: Pronouns].

Ae / Aeth / Er [Aether]; Astro / Astros / Astros; Au / Aura / Auras; Bea / Beam / Beams; Cele / Celes / Celests; Co / Con / Const [Constellation]; Co / Cos / Cosmos; Com / Come / Comet; Fli / Flick / Flicker; Ga / Gala / Galax; Glea / Gleam / Gleams; Glo / Glow / Glows; Li / Light / Lights; Lu / Lum / Lumin [Luminary]; Ne / Neb / Ula [Nebula]; No / Nov / Nova; Or / Orbi / Orbits; Pho / Phot / Photon; Po / Polar / Polaris; Ra / Ray / Rays; Shim / Shimm / Shimmer; Spar / Spark / Sparks; Spect / Spectr / Spectrum; Star / Star / Stars; Ste / Stell / Stellar; Twi / Twink / Twinkle; Voi / Void / Voids

Titles

[PT: Titles].

The Astral Entity, The Beacon of Light, The Celestial Conduit, The Cosmic Herald, The Ethereal Luminary, The Flickering Spirit, The Guide of Galaxies, The Infinite Essence, The Light of Stars, The Luminous Enigma, The Manifestation of Harmony, The Nebula Weaver, The Radiant Whisper, The Shimmering Presence, The Soul of the Cosmos, The Spirit of Starlight, The Voice of the Void, The Warden of Light, [Pronoun] Who Flickers in the Night, [Pronoun] Who Guides the Galaxies, [Pronoun] Who Illuminates the Darkness, [Pronoun] Who Radiates Eternity, [Pronoun] Who Weaves the Nebulae, [Pronoun] Who Whispers Through the Stars

[ID: A purple thin line divider shaded at the bottom. End ID].

Made for @rwuffles' 700 followers event!

Day 5: free day

Also tagging @pronoun-arc @id-pack-archive

[liquidstar]

wanted to post the royals and co. as a set for reference, though the only new things here are the king+queen and koe's updated design :p also most of them didn't get little infoboxes so those will be a first under the cut here ^_^

Name: Andromeda (Andy)

Name origin: The Andromeda Galaxy, named for the mythical princess

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 20

Title: Heir apparent

Weapon: Flamberge (Same as her mom's)

Ethos (Power): None

Flaw power is based on: N/A

Notes: She wants to go on adventures someday, and make a lot of friends, and be normal. So please drop the "Your highness" and call her Andy!

Name: Cepheus

Name origin: The constellation Cepheus, the king

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 54

Title: King

Weapon: Scepter

Ethos (Power): Authority (The ability to control people’s actions through his words, but not their minds)

Flaw power is based on: His controlling and paranoid nature

Notes: He prefers not to use his ability unless it seems necessary, but ends will justify the means.

Name: Cassiopeia

Name origin: The constellation Cassiopeia, the queen

Pronouns: She/her

Age: -

Title: Queen

Weapon: Flamberge

Ethos (Power): Alis (The ability to generate wings)

Flaw power is based on: Her overconfidence in her own abilities, ironically like a completely different winged mythological figure...

Notes: Before being the Queen, she was the Hero.

Name: Koeia/Koe

Name origin: The star Koeia, whose name literally means "Star"

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 20

Title: Maid/Andromeda's lady in waiting

Weapon: Twin Sickles

Ethos (Power): Blessing (She can make others more powerful through cheering them on)

Flaw power is based on: Her Obsequiousness

Notes: She assures you her devotion to the princess is strictly for non-homosexual reasons

Name: Perseus/Percy

Name origin: The constellation Perseus, the hero

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 21

Title: 1st Knight/Andromeda's personal guard

Weapon: Harpē sword

Ethos (Power): Divine swordstrike (An all-powerful swing of the sword with no limit)

Flaw power is based on: His incredible arrogance and show-offishness

Notes: He assures you that his showy devotion to the princess is as heterosexual as it seems. Also he's the cousin Io from Nova Stella

Name: Ursa

Name origin: Ursa major, the big dipper.

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 38

Title: Major

Weapon: None

Ethos (Power): Bear-handed (Her claws are unbreakable and can slice through any material)

Flaw power is based on: Her hyper-diligence. Her ruthless devotion and adherence. Literally nothing could ever stand in her way.

Notes: She’s the mama bear of Kochab (Ursa minor) from the timber scouts

[mrcompass]

The Road to Jade Jupiter

It is interesting to note that several Beyblades appearing in the arc prior to Dynamis's appearence, the legendary blader of Jupiter, were connected to Zeus and/or Jade Jupiter in some form.

Julian Konzern - Gravity Perseus Before the Destroyer Dome, Madoka was contacted by Julian. She and the rest of the group subsequently met him in Greece. Julian's Bey, Gravity Destroyer/Perseus, represents the constellation of Perseus, one of the many illegitimate children Zeus sired.

After meeting Team Excalibur, Gingka and his friends went to the Destroyer Dome tournament, where several Beyblades related to Zeus could be found as well.

King - Variares The bey Variares is named after Mars/Ares, the son of Zeus. Its blader King is the legendary blader of Mars.

Ian Garcia - Cyclone Herculeo Ian's Bey, Cyclone Herculeo, references Hercules, another son of Zeus.

Tsubasa Otori - Earth Eagle Tsubasa's Earth Eagle represents Zeus' symbolic animal, the eagle.

Jack - Evil Befall Jack's Evil Befall is associated with the peacock, Hera's favorite animal. Hera herslef is Zeus's wife and sister, she seomtimes plays a role in stories involving her husband's children of infidelities.

Jigsaw - Forbidden Ionis Forbidden Ionis represents a satellite of Jupiter named after one of Zeus's mistresses. This Bey is also part of Jade Jupiter's random booster.

Tobio Oike - Storm Capricorn Storm Capricorn can be associated with Amalthea, Zeus's foster mother.

Toby - Spiral Lyre The constellation associated with Spiral Lyre is Lyra, which, according to mythology, was the lyre of the musician Orpheus, placed in the sky by Zeus after his death. The instrument is also often associated with Apollo, another son of the king of the gods. Spiral Lyre is part of Jade Jupiter's random booster as well.

Nowaguma - Rock Orso Rock Orso is associated with the constellation Ursa Major, created by Zeus when he placed his former mistress in the sky, whom he previously transformed into a bear.

Argo Garcia - Ray Gil The constellation of the keel, which Ray Gil represents, was once part of a greater constellation named Argo Navis. This symbolized the ship named Argo, which many heroes from Greek mythology, including Hercules, a son of Zeus, sailed on. Although this is a remote connection, it is still noteworthy.

Selen and Enso Garcia - Ray Gasher According to mythology, Cancer the crab was sent by Hera to disrupt Hercules during his second labor. Like Argo's Ray Gil, this connection to Hercules is subtle but present.

Zeo Abyss - Spiral Fox Spiral Fox is also part of Jade Jupiter's random booster. It is interesting to note that foxes are often associated with ruse and deception. In Japanese culture, the "kitsune" refers to a legendary beast possessing powers of illusion and metamorphosis. The god Zeus himself is known for often using metamorphosis to seduce women and elope with them without getting caught.

Nile - Vulcan Horuseus After the Destroyer Dome tournament, Gingka and the group traveled to Africa to find the legendary blader, who would later be revealed as Dynamis. They are greeted and accompanied by Nile and Damure. Nile's Bey is Vulcan Horuseus. Vulcan references a hypothetical planet between Mercury and the sun named after Hera's son, who is sometimes said to be solely Hera's child and sometimes also the son of Zeus. Horuseus refers to the god Horus, god of the sky and protector of the Pharaoh. Like Zeus, Horus is associated with a raptorial bird (falcon for Horus and eagle for Zeus), and both represent kingship and the sky and have famously fought and defeated an evil member of their family.

[multicolour-ink]

So in the Deity AU so far we have :

On the divine side :

Mario => god of the sun, fire, warmth, chivalry, and might; associated with lions, cats and raccoons

Luigi => god of the moon, lightning, thunderstorms, courage, and fidelity; associated with dogs and foxes

Mia => goddess of family, food, baking, and devotion

Spike => god of the forge and construction, "rivalling" with Mario on the dominion of fire

Bowser => dark god, responsible for Luigi's disappearance

On the mortal side we have Peach, Daisy and Pio.

Who else would you consider a god or a mortal in this AU ? I love expanding this idea 8D

Deity AU

Thank you! I love expanding this idea too ^^

Hmmm so admittedly I've been focusing so much on the "story" and the relationship between the main characters, that I haven't given the prospect of any other characters much thought ^^; But I'll see what I can do.

Fyi Peach does technically have god blood in her, but it's only a little and not enough to qualify her as a full god (but does explain the powers she has that she often displays in the Mario verse). Mortals:

The Mario Family

Since Pio is mortal, this would mean that the rest of his family is too. So that includes Grandpa Mario, Arthur, Tony, and Marilyn. I also like to think that Marie is mortal too. Mario and Luigi are the only demi-gods in the family.

Toad (and the toad species in general)

I like to picture the toads as being nymphs or forest spirits in this AU (given they are fungi creatures). They are peaceful beings, but do not fare very well at fighting.

Professor E.Gadd

In this version I picture him a philosopher (much like the ancient Greek philosophers). He has gandered a reputation as being "mad" seeing as he has a fascination with the celestial domain, and only wishes to study the mysteries and wonder behind it.

Gods:

The Kongs

I had a think about it and I honestly feel like these characters would fit residing over constellations (much like real life animal constellations like Ursa Major, Cygnus, Delphinus etc). There was even a constellation called Musca Borealis (which I feel DK could reside over.

According to what I found: Musca Borealis (Latin for northern fly) was a constellation, now discarded, located between the constellations of Aries and Perseus. It was originally called Apes (plural of Apis, Latin for bee) by Petrus Plancius when he created it in 1612 (source)

Cranky could reside over the Cepheus constellation - which is also known as "Cepheus the King".

Rosalina

Very big stretch on this one as in the Mario verse Rosalina already resides over space. I don't see her as being a ruthless god in this AU or anything, but I imagine she would have more authority over the celestial domain.

- - -

That's pretty much all I can think of for now ^^ Feel free to suggest anything else if you like.

[ad-caelestia]

Behenian Fixed Stars

The Behenian fixed stars are a selection of fifteen stars considered especially useful for magical applications in medieval astrology (Agrippa, Henry Cornelius, Three Books of Occult Philosophy, early 1500s).

In alphabetical order:

Aldebaran

Official Designation: Alpha Tauri

Constellation: Taurus

Gemstones: Garnet, ruby

Plants: Milk thistle, woodruff

Planets: Mars and Venus

Correspondences: Honor, intelligence, eloquence, steadfastness, courage, honesty, success

Algol

Official Designation: Beta Persei

Constellation: Perseus

Gemstone: Diamond

Plants: Black hellebore, mugwort

Planets: Saturn, Jupiter, Lilith

Correspondences: Strength, intense passion, the forces of the natural world

Alkaid

Official Designation: Eta Ursae Majoris

Constellation: Ursa Minor

Gemstone: Lodestone

Plants: Chicory

Planets: Venus and the Moon

Correspondences: Protection during travel, direction, guidance

Alphecca

Official Designation: Alpha Coronae Borealis

Constellation: Corona Borealis

Gemstone: Topaz

Plants: Rosemary, trefoil, ivy

Planets: Venus and Mars

Correspondences: Love, honor, artistic skills, quiet achievement, a change in social status that is earned

Antares

Official Designation: Alpha Scorpii

Constellation: Scorpius

Gemstones: Amethyst, sardonyx

Plants: Saffron, snakeroot

Planets: Mars and Jupiter

Correspondences: Strength, protection, defense

Arcturus

Official Designation: Alpha Boötis

Constellation: Boötes

Gemstone: Jasper

Plant: Plantain

Planets: Mars and Jupiter

Correspondences: Protection, guidance, success in the arts, learning, teaching, leading, exploring

Capella

Official Designation: Alpha Aurigae

Constellation: Auriga

Gemstone: Sapphire

Plants: Horehound, mint, mugwort, thyme

Planets: Jupiter and Saturn

Correspondences: Honors, public position, wealth, ambition

Deneb Algedi

Official Designation: Delta Capricorni

Constellation: Capricornus

Gemstone: Chalcedony

Plants: Mandrake, marjoram, mugwort

Planets: Saturn and Mercury

Correspondences: Wisdom, integrity, justice, balance

Algorab

Official Designation: Delta Corvi

Constellation: Corvus

Gemstone: Onyx

Plants: Burdock, henbane, comfrey

Planets: Saturn and Mars

Correspondences: Protection, repelling evil

The Pleiades

Official Designation: Eta Tauri

Gemstone: Quartz

Plants: Frankincense, fennel

Planets: Mars and the Moon

Correspondences: Love, eminence, seeking inner knowledge, peace, spirit communication

Procyon

Official Designation: Alpha Canis Minoris

Constellation: Canis Minor

Gemstone: Agate

Plants: Buttercup, marigold, pennyroyal

Planets: Mercury and Mars

Correspondences: Power, good health, wealth, fame

Regulus

Official Designation: Alpha Leonis

Constellation: Leo

Gemstones: Garnet, granite

Plant: Mugwort

Planets: Jupiter and Mars

Correspondences: Power, success, strength

Sirius

Official Designation: Alpha Canis Majoris

Constellation: Canis Major

Gemstone: Beryl

Plants: Juniper, dragonwort

Planets: Jupiter and Mars

Correspondences: Communication, marital peace, passion, faithfulness, wealth

Spica

Official Designation: Alpha Virginis

Constellation: Virgo

Gemstone: Emerald

Plants: Sage, clover

Planets: Venus and Mercury

Correspondences: Protection, abundance, psychic abilities, knowledge, insight

Vega

Official Designation: Alpha Lyrae

Constellation: Lyra

Gemstone: Chrysolite

Plant: Winter savory

Planets: Mercury and Venus

Correspondences: Artistic talents, social awareness, magic, hopefulness, idealism, averting fear

updated version [2024]

© 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟺 𝙰𝙳-𝙲𝙰𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙰