#Eden art activities

[sunstream7]

Little guy i made for an art exhibition

[edenpoise]

hello hello! guess who was bored and decided to take a crack at being the mother of humanity~? this is descriptive, semi-selective and theory based eve from hazbin hotel ~! pinned by lee.

[thethingswedotomorrow]

Crowley has been with humanity since the beginning. The original serpent of eden, he is the first "monster" in humanity's bedtime stories. He is the figurative and literal demon on human's shoulders, always there to guide them one way or another. He's weaved through history itself, and prides himself on an impeccable track record of demonic activity throughout the last 6000 years.

But, naturally, after 6000 years, Crowley finds that he's spent more time pining after a certain Angel than doing any sort of work. Like, an extreme amount of pining.

And it isn't until after the notpocalypse that Crowley realizes that, entirely accidentally and very embarrassingly, he may have accidentally made his pining very, very public.

One of Crowley's favorite ways to waste a day is to take Aziraphale to different museums around the world and watch as the angel wanders around and points out all of the inaccuracies

"Good Lord Crowley, have you seen this painting? Portraying you as a dragon is a tad dramatic, I think. All we were doing were having a picnic. And I have never had my hair looking like that, thank you."

"I don't know Angel, they've got your wings spot on. Wa-Hang on, have they added horns to my head?"

"Oh, I see, suddenly it's only inaccurate when they've got you wrong."

The museums always seem to be miraculously empty, and whenever Crowley mentions this, Aziraphale suddenly finds a new, very interesting piece of art to admire

Crowley admires the lengths Aziraphale goes to to hide the small miracles he's done for Crowley's sake

As if Crowley wouldn't move literal mountains for the angel

*He did, actually, do that once.

In the 12th century, they were having a lovely evening together with multiple caskets of wine, up until Aziraphale complained about the amount of light in his eyes

"Honestly Crowley, all this sun and no shade, it must truly be awful for the humans around here with no shelter. It's a tad much, even for me."

Crowley, even then, immediately recognized this off-hand comment as an underhanded complaint, and knew that would not stand

When the small earthquake passed, Crowley claimed that the nearby church was on a fault line and he was simply doing his demonic duty by damaging holy goods in the area

If Aziraphale realized that the mountain range in the distance suddenly provided much more sun coverage, he never mentioned it.

Currently, however, Crowley follows Aziraphale around, wandering behind him and never truly looking at the things in the museum

In every single place they've ever gone together, there was only ever one thing that deserved Crowley's attention

And it certainly was not an inaccurate model of a 18th century tea set

But when Aziraphale wanders into a hall titled 'Love of the Past', he starts to panic. Just a very tiny amount, basically none at all. A small enough amount of panic that he could deny it, even to himself.

He thinks about the past, towards the beginning, back when Humanity was still getting it's footing and figuring out how to have governments and societies and (the most important part) figuring out the whole alcohol situation

Throughout the years, especially towards the beginning, Crowley began to resent any time not spent with Aziraphale

Everything seemed small and dull when compared to the way the Angel smiled when he saw new type of human dessert, or the way he laughed when Crowley managed to work out a clever comment

And once Crowley experienced those things, he never wanted anything else

He had seen the poetry the humans had written, how much emotion they could pour into a simple piece of parchment or a clay tablet

He never cared for written word, but he was shocked at just how much feeling the humans could manage to pour into words

So after Aziraphale left Rome (after the oysters and the wine and the smiles, for somebody's sake the smiles), he went due east for a new miracle on another continent

Crowley stayed and got well and truly drunk. As he did best.

He had spent a few weeks around the other drunks around the area, most poverty stricken and saddened with some sort of grief of one type or another

It wasn't until a group of poets wandered into his dark corner of the pub that he started to considered writing

Obviously nothing anyone would ever read, he'd ensure that. Every scroll or parchment that he'd touch with a quill would be burnt with hellfire before it left his sight

But, as many of his worst ideas started, he had nothing better to do and too much time to think

So he wrote. He wrote letters, first addressed to nobody, about random thoughts that would pop into his very intoxicated brain. Whether humans would ever find traces of the unicorns they lost on the ark, whether he would ever find a way to count just how many scales he had, whether he would ever reach a point where he didn't have to cover his eyes every day

Slowly, the letters started becoming addressed to 'A'. Whether he was conscious of this or not, he'd never admit.

But he wrote. He wrote to A about Hell, the jobs they required of him, the things they'd have him do. He wrote of the way humans had beaten him to the punch 90% of the time. How they would do things worse than Satan himself could imagine, and they'd never blink an eye while doing it.

He wrote of the way the sun darkened each day that passed without his Angel, the way his wine never seemed to have enough flavor when he was alone.

He wrote of the ways he imagined he could orchestrate an elaborate reunion, a convoluted mess of too much demonic activity in a small area that just happened to have a wonderful new tea, or so he's heard, and wouldn't it be a shame to leave the town without tempting the angel to try it?

He wrote to A about how he was sure he had no heart, no emotions. He was a Demon, for somebody's sake, he certainly had no need for stupid things like that, and so the ache in his corporation's chest when he sees the Angel had to be some sort of malfunction.

Anatural function, surely, that could be fixed with the right amount of aloofness and strong liquor

He wrote of the way the sun always seemed to hit the Angel's hair just right, and Crowley had no faith, he had no God.

But in those moments, with a halo around the angel and that smile aimed towards him, he might consider praying now to a different source altogether, a closer source. One full of life and light and actual proper goodness, not that fake advertised bullshit they plaster on church walls in pretty paintings and sad songs

Crowley wrote for a long while, and found that the writing helped the pain.

Even if only because it brought on memories of Aziraphale, and that was enough to hold him until they met again. It had to be, he had no choice in the matter.

And he wrote so often throughout the ages, and often while he was drunk. And he was so sure, so positive that he had burned every trace of his heart and emotion out of existence.

He had to be. The danger those words could put Aziraphale in was far too great. He couldn't be bothered to care of the danger to himself, but the fact that the very hint of any emotion could come close to hurting his Angel was enough to ensure that they would never come across another being's eyes.

He destroyed every letter and word that described his desire, his pain, his greed. He ripped the words he created out of reality as easily as he had written them. Every time, he burnt the parchment, and every time, it burnt a part of him with it.

And then the Apocalypse had happened. Or, well, didn't happen, he supposed. Really, he wasn't entirely sure if there was a difference.

Because everything had changed, even if the rest of the world hadn't noticed. And he was suddenly allowed to see Aziraphale with no excuse, no half-hearted reasoning behind it. He was allowed to want, and to crave, and he relished it.

And he was allowed to take the angel to museums to watch him fuss over small mistakes humanity had collected throughout the ages

Until he realized that they had, in fact, also collected HIS mistakes.

In a hall. A whole bloody hall. A hall, dedicated to and full of stupid parchment and sappy letters and wine stains over words written so long ago

And honestly who gave them the right? Leave it to the humans to collect other people's belongings and put it on display as their own

And he knew, from the moment Aziraphale read the first page on display, he just knew. This was it. All of it was ruined.

All because Crowley had gotten so drunk and passed out in his room above the pub, and when they'd thrown him out in a drunken stupor, they'd collected his belongings to sell afterwards. And he'd never even realized, so concerned about the next meeting, the arrangement, concerned about anything and everything except the one thing he forgot about and could end them both.

Any moment now, Aziraphale would look up at him, with disgust and confusion and all those emotions that he'd really rather not see on his face, preferably ever, but especially not towards him.

But Aziraphale never looks up. He reads the first page 5, 6, 7 times, being sure to capture every single word. Every wrinkle in the paper, every crease.

Then he moves to the next, and then the next. He repeats this process. Every page, he scours each and every page. Searching and scanning, analyzing every word.

Crowley is frozen at the entrance of the hall, too terrifed to say a word, but too hopeful to leave. He stands there, suddenly feeling the same feeling in his chest that he felt so many years ago, in the corner of the pub, sitting in the dark, wishing for the light that he knew would never come.

He's so panicked, that he doesn't notice Aziraphale finishing the last page, and wiping the tears from his eyes. He startles when he accidentally meets his eyes, and prepares a number of excuses and deflections, all to preserve this shred of peace and safety they had carved out for themselves.

"Angel, I- you really- ngk- humans are so rid- are you hungry? I could eat, I've heard they've got a killer bar around here, and we cou-I can get us there in 10 minutes, ngk actu- scratch that, we could be there in 5, I bet. Museums aren-angel?"

Crowley finds himself stopping the random stream of words coming out of his mouth, when he notices tears in Aziraphale's eyes

"Angel, I-"

That's all Crowley can get out before Aziraphale is walking towards him with a purpose

And suddenly Aziraphale is very close to him

Very very close

And suddenly Aziraphale's lips are on his, and Aziraphale is holding onto Crowley's jacket, and Crowley's hands are just waving in the air back and forth while he processes the last .5 seconds.

By the time he realizes what is actually happening, Aziraphale pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Crowley's, and laughs.

He laughs. Laughs. Aziraphale is laughing and it's a wonderful, beautiful noise and Crowley doesn't quite understand why, but then he's laughing too and then they are both standing there, arms around each other, laughing and Crowley realizes now that all the words he's written, all the praises he sang of his Aziraphale, the way he wished and prayed for his heart and laugh and love

Not one bit of it is at all comparable to the real thing.

[carmenized-onions]

Doing Too Much. | House Call

logline; Appliances can reach their breaking point, when you push them too far. Same goes for people.

[!!!] series history, this is the sixth; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth

[New Thing!!] Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin' added to.

portion; 4.8k

possible allergies; eatin' meat, besides that, we're pretty good actually. did somebody say calm before the storm....?

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns, but girl is said a couple times, i believe.)

After this chapter, I'm entering my era of couch hopping as I move to a new city n start a new job. I'm really excited for the chapter after this one, so hopefully I actually get time to write it-- But that's just my lil warning if you're left rereading for like two weeks </3 But I'll def be stalking my activity/inbox so please do yap to me

Monday morning. The next morning after everything. Well, closer to noon than morning, at this point. You’re supposed to have, what, a work ethic this week? After the most insane weekend of your life? No. You’re lazing around and doing fuck all. No matter who calls. Well… Not completely no matter, but like, most people.

When you check your phone, you’ve gotten a text at 6:43 A.M. Unknown number. Ah. Carmen. You put him in as Carmy, and put his nickname as ‘Mister New York’. Listen, old nicknames Mikey ingrained in your brain die hard.

It’s a simple text, deeply un-romantic.

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

Then, four lines of four perfect categories. Flawless. Purple first, even. The hardest category. And then,

‘Morning’

Stupid. Incredibly stupid, to be enamoured, by this. You reply,

‘Good morning!’

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

And then a failed jumble of coloured squares, you get one out of four categories. What the fuck is 'dogleg' and since when has it meant taking a sharp turn? You follow that up with,

‘Fuck you.’

Aside from Carmen, you’ve actually gotten texts from a couple people. Your boss at Eden’s asking if you’re alright. What the fuck did Cicero say? Oh well. You tell him you’ve ‘been better, been worse. Will be okay by next week.’ Perfectly vague, and you still get wired your cheque and tip out. Alright, maybe Uncle J does deserve your free labour.

Speaking of, the next text on your itinerary is from Uncle J, just info for the winter nuptials of Vinnie and Mira. Oh yeah. Three-hundred guests, you remember that part. You also remember him saying it’d be an ‘easy gig’… He did not mention you’d be the only bartender. This is going to be a nightmare. Oh well. You text back that despite it being an open bar you get to put out a tip jar. He just reacts to it, ‘haha’. That sounds like a yes to you.

And then, adorably, a selfie from Syd, wearing the collar and pins you’ve gifted her, under a green sweater. Cutie. You hype her up accordingly.

Besides some texting though, Monday is relatively unbusy. No calls. No emergencies. No businesses knocking down your door for your services. You’re thankful for a break, letting the inertia set in, finally being able to relax after fix after fix after—

Tuesday comes, you get sent another perfect round of New York Time’s Connections around half past six in the morning, along with a good morning text. And again, you fuck it up. You send him your Wordle results this time, as an act of rebellion. You then ask,

‘How’s reworking the menu going?’

‘Hard to say’

‘Ask me tomorrow’

God he’s an awful texter. Horrifically dry. You know you’re down bad beyond a belief when you find that endearing. You spend Tuesday drowning and pruning your plants after depriving them for so long.

Plus working on your art piece for Carmy. You’re pulling out old film photos, a canvas, and a load of bleach—It’s like high school art class all over again— Surprise surprise, the handyman who loves to up-cycle is a mixed media artist. Who could’ve guessed?

While trimming a photo, an exterior of The Beef, a picture frame on your wall falls down behind you, you tut, turning your head to it, chastising the air. “Mikey! It’s a copy, relax! I’ve still got the original print…”

There’s every chance you’re insane— No, you’re definitely insane. But you’re allowed to be, your best friend died, you’re allowed to talk to the air as if he’s still around. Sometimes the timing of doors swinging open for you and things falling down are just too uncanny to not be a ghost.

Wednesday arrives, and again, just after 6:40, Connections results. And the Wordle, this time; plus a ‘Good Morning’. It looks like this is simply just your thing, now. Every morning, the second both of you get up, you send each other puzzles and wish a good morning. You don’t mind that. It’s nice to have a ‘thing’, with someone. With Carmen.

Part way through the day, around two o’clock, you get another text. Two, actually. From Carmen, in quick succession.

‘Are you busy?’

‘Don’t worry if you’re busy. Can call Fak’

You’re quick to reply, frankly deeply offended.

‘Are you fucking firing me????’

‘I’m gonna get ready. Text me details’

While getting dressed, you watch three dots bubble, bubble, bubble… He’s taking forever, just don’t look at it, you’ll get anxious for no reason. No jumpsuit today, you’ve got to switch it up every now and again. Navy cargo pants with the perfect number of pockets and zippers, and an orange Chicago’s Kindest shirt, tucked in. Hm. Looking in the mirror, hickey is still there. Lighter, but there. Foundation? No. You’ll sweat it off and that’ll just bring up more questions. If Syd asks you’ll just tell her you fell down the stairs… On your neck. She's not the type to confront anything remotely sexual anyways.

Speaking of Syd, before Carmen can text you back, she calls you, which is fair— Don’t leave a Carmen to communicate. You stick your phone in the crux of your neck and answer while you pack your utility belt. This feels nearly nostalgic. “What’s fucked?”

Carmen is in the background; you can hear the tail end of a sentence, grumbling. “—Don’t call—”

“My life.” She responds without missing a beat. “And also, Carmy’s stove and oven.”

“Oh.” You squint. “What the fuck happened?”

“Overuse? I actually don’t fucking know, it just stopped working. We plugged it in and out— He even reset his apartment’s breakers. I dunno what’s wrong with it. It’s probably got something to do with him putting his fuckin’ jeans in there.”

“…He what?”

You can hear him in the background, again, clearer this time, grimacing, “What are you doing to me?”

Syd does not mind him at all, continuing, “I know! He’s fucking weird!”

“He’s extremely weird.” You like him a lot. “I’ll be over soon, were you guys like, mid-cooking?”

“Yessir.”

“Christ, alright… I think I have a dual burner hot plate laying around somewhere, you want me to bring it—”

They both speak clearly this time, together, “Please.”

You’ve got a pile of things to give to them anyways, and maybe you miss Carmy’s face. Just a little.

Instead of just buzzing you in, Carmy comes down for you. When he sees you through the door window, carrying a cardboard box, he almost breaks into a full run. He’s somehow opening the door, grabbing the box from your hands, and chastising you all at the same time. “You should’ve left it in the car, I would’ve—”

You step in through the entryway and kiss his cheek, cutting him short. You can’t help yourself, it’s the first time you’ve seen him since and you feel like a giddy teen. The teenage girl in your head is no longer just in your head, she’s fully manning the station. “You’re very sweet. But it’s also not heavy.”

When he continues to be frozen, the regret starts to mount, “Is—Sorry, is that okay to do—?”

“It’s very okay to do.” He manages to reply, with haste. Nodding to himself. “It’s good.” He nods again, then marches off, expecting you to follow to the elevator. You do.

“What floor?”

“Eighth.” He sniffs; you press the button. He stands next to you, looking you up and down. He astutely observes. “Orange.”

“Yeah.” You smirk, looking back at him, “Turns out, businesses can have two colours in their designs.”

What’s a little roasting of fellow small businesses between two not just friends?

“Oh yeah?” Coy, smirking. Oh no. You’ve gotta get the teen off the controls. He tilts his vision to stare at your jacket. Ah. You opted to wear your Carhartt instead of his jean jacket.

“Didn’t wanna give Syd more questions.” She already guessed you’re a sugar baby, you don’t want to wrap Carmen in on that too. Especially since ideally in a month or two he’ll be your boss. Hm. The Bear is going to need an HR.

He hums, nodding. “We’re not telling Syd?”

“What’s there to tell?” You grin, crossing your arms. “You suddenly have free time, Bear?”

He takes a beat, thinking, then just takes a deep frustrated yet amused exhale. “I’m gonna fuckin’…” He can’t think of a threat. “…Get you.”

You snort, “You’re gonna get me?”

“Fuck you—!” “You’re gonna fuckin’ get me, Bear?”

“I—” He tries to hold a straight face, it doesn’t work. “Yeah, I am.”

“Can’t wait.” You nod, grinning, turning back to the doors. “You told me to ask how menu’s going tomorrow.”

“I did.”

“It’s tomorrow.” The door dings, opening on the eighth floor; you step out together. He switches his grip to hold the box in one arm. Alright Biceps, we don’t need to brag here...

“It’s… We’re getting there.” He grimaces. “Syd’s recipes are always… Almost perfect.”

“Ah.” You nod, you know your friend well enough to know where this is going. “And she fucks up one thing hard?”

“Mhm.”

“And when you tell her it’s okay and give her a hand she just feels worse?”

He nods. A touch surprised you’re right on the dot so quickly. “Everything ends up perfect, but I think she’s finding the edits…”

“Demoralizing.” You walk down the hall together, he nods. “I know what she needs, I’ll find an in.”

“You always do.” He hums, you walk just a touch ahead of him, unknowingly walking past his door. He pulls you back by the back of your jacket, making you stumble back into him. This seems to be this villain’s intention; as when you turn around, he’s quick to grab your chin and kiss you.

“It’s very good.” He emphasizes, again, before opening his door and acting like everything’s totally normal and fine. Since when did he turn the tables and make you the desperate one? Son of a bitch.

Ah. Actually, subtract any attraction you had in this moment— He lives like this? Books on the floor, by the window. Jeans on the dinner table, because they were in the oven. The kitchen actually looks alright— You’re almost certain that’s purely for utilitarian purposes while they’re working on the menu. This motherfucker better have a bed frame or him asking you to sleep over would be downright offensive. God, he’s wonderful. God, you’re an idiot.

You find Syd at the table, moping, head in hands. Carmen sets the box down, sitting beside her. You pat the top of her head. She silently moves one of her hands to go over yours. You nod. The silent exchange of girls who know.

“Yeah?”

She nods, grumbling. “Yeah.”

Carmen has no fucking idea what’s happening and he’s never been more intrigued by a near wordless social interaction in his entire life. What? You’re not even making eye-contact. What the fuck is happening?

You fish through the box with your free hand, grabbing a pot. You place it in front of Syd. “Look.”

She peeks through her fingers. A tiny but flourishing nursery pot of basil sits before her. You speak. “You’re gonna hyper-fixate on this basil I’m gifting you, and then you’re gonna crack back into it with the dual burner until I’m done fixing the oven.”

She nods, putting her hands in her lap, “Yes, Chef.”

You pull out a second nursery pot, setting it down for Carmen. “For you.”

“What for?”

“Basil grows like a motherfucker and it’s getting unhinged. I need to start pawning off to people that’ll make good use of it. A-K-A, chefs.” You look at Syd, pointedly, “Talented chefs.”

You hand off the heating pad— Wrapped in brown paper with a card tied to it, to Carmen. “For Nat.” You add, when he looks confused, “Can’t imagine I’ll see her sooner than you will.”

He looks even more confused, when you hand him a spray bottle full of reddish water. It’s one of the good spray bottles, too. Continuous. Carmen wouldn’t know the difference, but you do. “Rosemary. —Water, that is.”

He squints; you clarify, gesturing to your own hair. “You mentioned, losing hair, so— Thought I’d make some, with the trimmings of rosemary I had. Got ginger and cloves in it, too.”

Why have you trapped him in hell? You’ve remembered such a specific off hand from days ago and acted on it? And he can’t express the grandiose level of affection he feels right now? Are you serious? You’re the devil. You’re absolutely the devil. He just coughs out a ‘thanks’.  

“And, the pièce de résistance,” You pull out the old ass, boxed up double burner countertop stove. “A stovetop that ideally fuckin’ works. It was my single claim to fame in my college dormitory.”

Carmen’s already opening the box. Sydney smirks, curiosity peaked. “Was that legal?”

“You a fuckin’ RA?” You grin, poking her forehead. “It was not. And that’s exactly why everyone loved me— Didn’t serve them fuckin’ hot pockets.”

The configurations of Carmen’s apartment would be great for literally any occasion besides the current one. The kitchen is narrow, and so, when you pull out the stove to check the back, there’s an estimated no fucking room left for Carm and Syd, so they sit at the dinner table with your stove top. You’d think they’d look like they’re doing a cute hot pot. No. They look like two conflicted and confused twelve-year-olds working on a science project.

So do you, honestly. Wiring is definitely more your speed than plumbing, but if you’re being honest, this is the first oven you’ve worked on without your dad, and you’re having a hard time remembering everything. There’s a lot of embarrassed Googling on your phone, when you're sure they’re not looking. They can’t know you’re even slightly incompetent!

You’re pretty sure it’s just a couple damaged wires, fried from overwork— Easy fix, if you had wire. You don’t. Slightly harder fix. But soldering is your bitch really, you’re in your bag. You look stupid, wearing chunky goggles and a respirator, but you’re in your bag, baby! What’s that one saying? Skills make you hot? That’s not a saying.

But it is true. When Carmen’s able to peer into the kitchen, quickly looking over his shoulder when Syd takes a moment to write a measurement or direction down, you look stunning.  Respirator and all. You just look correct there, in the kitchen. His kitchen. So stunning he feels guilty. Do you find it annoying? Constantly fixing errors behind him? Probably. You say it’s not a lot of work, but that can’t be true.

“How’s The Bear, ‘sides menu rework?” You ask, raising your voice in the kitchen.

“S’good.” Carmen. “I’m in hell.” Syd. Not hard to tell which statue is lying, here.

Syd stutters on, “Nat’s takin’ care of baby Michaela— Which is very good and—and cool, actually.”

“But?”

“But we’re back to handling the business side entirely ourselves, for like— The next month. Maybe two? Fuck, are we doing the wedding without her?” Sydney almost burns her sauce, Carmen’s quick to move it off the burner.

He mutters, “Don’t even start to think about it. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.”

“Oh yeah, wedding— Have you gotten your menu yet?” You call from the kitchen, muffled by your respirator.

“Oh my god!” Sydney exclaims, and Carmen is wincing. She can’t tell you things are going wrong; doesn’t she know that? You’ll fix it, if things are wrong. You always fix it. Fix him. You’re gonna put him in your phone as Carmy Bad News. If you haven’t already. Start a support group with Tif.

Syd continues, “They’re so fucking particular and somehow also vague—Like, ‘we want salmon and chicken’ for main course— What kind of preparation? ‘Surprise us!’ Okay, how about roasted chicken—? ‘Mmmm, no, not that’. I’ve been told ‘non quello’ at least ten times in the last four days.”

No, you’re witty. Bad News Bear. Fuck, that’s definitely his name in your phone, isn’t it?

“Fuckin’ nightmare. Y’know, I’m the only fucking bartender? For like three hundred guests? Thank God they’re not asking for a custom cocktail or anything, I’d lose my shit.”

Sydney laughs, and she steps back into her flow easily, reducing the sauce without burning it, now. She looks more serene than she has in days. What? How are you doing that? What are you doing? Are you casting a spell?

“Can you even fucking imagine what their couples’ cocktail would be?”

You groan from the kitchen, laughing in return, “Not you too, Syd! Must you make me work!?”

“C’mon maestro, make a cocktail!”

“Bleh. Uh… They give long island iced tea energy, but it’s a wedding so— Like a boozier negroni?”

“That sounds fucking disgusting.”

“I didn’t say it’d be good, I said it’d be their couples’ cocktail.” You’re both giggling, like school girls. It’s like you said— You become teens, together.

Despite the fact that Syd is making an incredibly complex dish, and you’re fixing an oven—His oven— Ridiculing the other impossible tasks set out for the both of you… Despite all of that, you’re laughing.

Carmen is, what, nearly thirty? A restaurant owner, with a full crew, who attends Al-Anon, and is only now truly registering the power of an unsolvable burden being shared. Not fixed, shared. Talking. Laughing. God, this all comes so easy to you, doesn’t it?

You finish soldering, test each burner, and the oven— All working, thank God. You quietly cheer in the kitchen, removing your respirator and goggles. “We’re good here! Fixed!”

“C’mere!” Syd calls out to you, and so you do. Eagerly. She hands you a fork. Unprompted, she does the thing. You’d missed the OG, really.

“Beef Oxtail, pressed in a Foie Gras casing, seared. Basted in a King Oyster mushroom sauce. Pureed greens on the side.”

“I never know what the fuck you’re saying.”

She pushes the side of your face with the palm of her hand. “Put it in your mouth and chew.”

You want to make some sort of kink joke, but you respect the already struggling man in the room and take a bite. Hm. Hm. You put a finger over your mouth, swallowing. “...Now it might just be my unrefined palate.”

“That’s why we have you try it.” Carmen pipes in. Syd nods, following. “It’s important to know the baseline.”

“…It’s got like,” You hand the fork to Syd so she can try it, while you think. “A bit of a bitter aftertaste? Which might be the… goal?”

Syd spits it out the second it touches her mouth, she shouts your name, your actual name— A rarity. She’s so terrified that she forgets the Walk-In bit she’s been in on all week. “I just fuckin’ poisoned you— Oh my god?! Are you good? That was— Fuck! You swallowed that?!”

She grabs your face like a concerned mother, also maybe to check if you have superpowers, you’re not sure. All you know is there’s a golden opportunity to make another sex joke and you have to hold back. Life is so unfair.

Carmen takes a quick taste, also spitting it out. “I’ve got it, Chef, don’t sweat.” Immediately looking to the drafted recipe card to see where they went wrong.

Syd almost squeezes your cheeks like a stress ball but thinks better of it, letting go, groaning, beyond frustrated at this point. “You shouldn’t have to fix it— I should fuckin’ have it, at this point.”

Carmen's trying to ignore how much he relates to the sentiment. He's not the focus, right now.

“We make mistakes, Chef—” “Syd.” You snap your fingers, pointing to her, interrupting Carmen. “Can you help me grab something, from my car? It’s kinda big.”

Carmen’s quick to chime in, already going to untie his apron, “I can—”

“No!” You look at him pointedly, trying to communicate through look alone. He kind of gets it? “It’s… Girl stuff.”

Syd squints. “You need me to help you carry a big girl thing?”

“…Are you fuckin’ helping or are you gonna poke holes?”

“What are you actually dragging me out for?”

“Technically I do actually need your help grabbing something, it’s just not a girl thing. And it's also not from my car.”

“Oh?”

You walk out of Carmen’s building with his keys, and gesture out to every apartment buildings treasure trove— The spot everyone throws their furniture when they move out and don’t know what else to do with it.

“Bookshelf!” There is actually one pristine looking bookshelf, a cheap one, definitely just something from IKEA. But it’s better than the fucking floor. “I spotted it on my way in, we’re gonna bring it up for Carm.”

She groans, hating the concept of manual labour, but still walks with you and grabs one end anyways. “Why didn’t you make Carmen carry his own bookshelf?”

“Because you need a fuckin’ pep-talk.” You pick the other end of the bookshelf up. It’s thankfully not that heavy. You walk backwards so you can keep facing Syd.

“…I don’t—” “Yes the fuck you do.”

She kisses her teeth, you frown. “What’s up, Adamu?”

“It’s just fucking annoying— I keep, I keep fucking it up. I keep—Keep—”

“Doing too much.”

She gives you a look, ‘are you serious?’, type look. You continue. “You’re doing too much. You’re not cooking like you.”

“I can cook like Michelin—”

“I never said you couldn’t. Watch your step.” You interrupt, walking over a bump in the sidewalk. “You can do star level shit, Syd. But that’s a grade, not a type.”

She kind of reels, at that. You continue, “You cook great complex dishes, you always have, I’ve tried them. But now, you’re all caught up trying to prove some shit, to Carmen, to—to— Who gives stars? The tires guy?”

She laughs, almost dropping the bookshelf. “Yeah, I’m trying to impress the tires guy.”

“Fuck you.” You snort, stepping up the stairs. “What I’m trying to say is, you should make what you want to eat, not what you think you should eat.”

She nods, you stop on top of the stairs, both taking a second to breathe. “…Thanks.”

You nod back, hands on your knees for a second before standing back up, opening the lobby door. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, Syd.”

“More like coach.”

“Can you let me have one hot girl career, please?”

When you get back up to Carmen’s, he’s already grimacing. You and Syd are split apart by the bookshelf standing between you in the hall. “Fuck is this?”

“It was free and I’ll clean it!” You press your hands together pleading. “C’mon, you can even put your jeans in it!”

“Jeans on a bookshelf?”

You turn to Syd. “Better than the oven.”

“I think he’s doing that to dry them.”

“I think it’s ‘cause he doesn’t own a dresser.”

“It’s both.” Carmen clicks his tongue, single-handedly picking up the bookshelf and carrying inside. Alright, does he need to show off this much? Whatever. It’s definitely not making you feel any type of way at all.

You squint, watching him walk further in his apartment, and then to Syd. You speak at the same time. “He stays doing too much.”

As promised, you wipe down the bookshelf, making sure it’s free of grime and roadside pests. Syd and Carmy work together in the kitchen, with a now functioning oven. You load the shelf up with the books on the floor— Thankfully they’re piled into categories already, so you don’t have to bother him about that.

You’re tempted to clean his living room, but that would probably be rude, right? Don’t want him to take it as you saying he’s a slob. But they are taking a while… Alright, you’ll just throw out trash. You won’t fold blankets or pick up dishes or anything. Just trash! No big! He can’t be mad at you for that.

You pile together the garbage, then sneakily throw it out in the kitchen trash can as fast as you can, before he looks. He’ll think he’s just sleep cleaning, or something. “How’s it goin’ in here?’

Carmen pipes up, eyes focused on the dish as Syd plates it. “Good.” Syd holds the plate in one hand, and silently corrals you with the other to sit at the table. You do. She sets it down the plate before you, handing you a fork and knife.

You look up at her expectantly. She shakes her head. “Eat first, this time.”

She looks serious, so you nod, cutting into the dish. It’s different from the last one. Instead of oxtail, it’s pastry. Or at least, a puff pastry exterior. You’re pretty sure it’s Pillsbury, you remember Carmen buying that, the other day, on your excursion.

Inside it, you believe is the beef oxtail, there’s other things, too. Some sort of sauce, some greens— Oh well, no time to bask in the cross section because Syd looks like she’s about to explode. You take a bite. You nod, chewing.

Syd starts, “Searing the duck caused the bitter taste— So instead of- Of searing the outside, I coated it in the mushroom sauce, the greens— Not pureed, this time, for texture. Your basil, too. There’s a crumble of feta, for a subtle tang. And then wrapped it all together in puff pastry, and baked. It’s sort of like, a varied take on a beef welling—”

“You made a fucking gourmet hot pocket?” You swallow, wheezing. The second you say this, Sydney’s focused face beams, laughing, like she’s just pulled off the most perfect prank of all time.

Carmen was so intrigued and focused on Sydney’s explanation, that you watering it down to hot pocket and being right makes his entire system reboot. He cannot stop smiling, aghast. He's been helping Syd make a hot pocket for the past hour?

“I told you to make what you want and—” wheeze “—you make a fucking hot pocket?!” You double down, laughing with her, she’s trying to defend herself but she can’t stop wheezing in tandem.

“I— I can’t fuckin’ stand you!” You snort, covering your face with your arm. “I hate your ass, oh my God, Syd.”

“Did—” snort “What did you think?” She recovers, slowly but surely.

You shake your head, handing her the fork. “It’s sick, Syd, obviously, it’s fucking perfect… Chef.” You tack on at the end, almost forgetting. “I’m not gonna be able to have an actual hot pocket, ever again. You’ve ruined my life.”

She takes a bite for herself, nodding. She does a small cheer, pumping her fist. “Let’s fucking go.” She points her fork at you— Purely on muscle memory, and you both instantly remember the days of her testing out recipes and you pairing them on first taste. She’d point her fork to you like a microphone. It was a fun game between two nerds.

It’s a reflex response for you, even now. “Barolo. Savory, dry, red. A young one, though. Light body. Could also do an Amarone, if you’re not buried in money.”

She hands the fork off to Carmy to try it, then writes the pairings down, mumbling, amusement still in her voice. “How the fuck do you do that?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think I have some wires crossed.”

“Fire, Chef.” Carmen swallows his bite. “We cannot call it a hot pocket on the menu.”

“Then what’s the point!?”

Leaving Carmen’s place is objectively the most awkward experience— But also the funniest. You offer to wait for Syd and drive her home— You’ll need a second to pack anyways while they make their business plans.

When you do offer, of course, Carmen stutters short, almost asking you again to sleep over or at the very least stay late, but saves it, realizing himself.

Syd accepts the ride offer. You pack up and wait for her to be done. When she is, Carmen offers to carry your things down with you both, in which Syd accuses him of thinking you’re both weaklings— He does not have a defense case for this, he has to let you go. You can tell he wants to kiss you at the door, and you do too. Sadly, you’re equally down bad, but he can’t know that…

You say your goodbyes, Syd helps you load your tools and hotplate in the trunk of your car. Your phone vibrates. Text from Mister New York.

‘Look up I’m on the balcony. 8 floors.’

You look up, sure as shit, he’s out there, cigarette in mouth. Unlit. He waves, you wave back. He texts again, in rapid succession.

‘Thank you’

‘For helping Syd’

‘And the oven and the hot plate and the bookshelf (not necessary)’

‘nbd + I think it’s v necessary’ Does Carmen understand acronyms? You’re risking it, here.

‘and cleaning my trash’ Sonofabitch.

‘ah fuck. I don’t think you’re messy!!! I just wanted to help!!!’

‘I know. You’re you. Be safe.’

Oh goddammit, stupid dry texter, saying something so gah. You jump as Syd taps the roof of your car behind you, getting your attention. Watching from a far distance, Carmen laughs, though you don’t notice it.

“Are we going?”

“Yes! Sorry!” You hurriedly pocket your phone, waving one last time as you get in your car. Syd sits beside you in shotgun, her pot of basil sat safely in her lap. You drive off.

You’re half way down the road, when Syd pipes up again. “So y’all are fucking, correct?”

You almost brake check the guy behind you.

 “How do you fuckin’ do that!?”

the opening is dedicated to my dear friend and i who have sent our wordle results to each other everyday for the past like year and a half.

Things of note, one - people usually skip the shit up top-- I made a spotify playlist! Listen if you like, I'm not your dad.

Two, I know this is a self insert right, i know what I set myself up for-- Do you know the hell i am in as a syd x carmy girl writing scenes with both of them and it NOT being them? What have I done, to myself? The only coping mechanism I have is imagining in this universe Syd is a lesbian. And that is helping.

The hot pocket recipe-- Who fucking knows, if that would taste good? I think it would? In theory? I fucked with a dish from Daniel NYC, to make it into a bit. Would it work? ....Beef wellingtons do, I can't see why this can't???? Idk man.

Rosemary water w cloves and ginger does fucking work btw. I am part of the so stressed out i lost my hair brigade. Also basil does grow like a motherfucker.

We're seein' a little bit of that tenseness that comes with being in an 'almost relationship' both of them feel like they've got something they can fuck up now. Poor birds. They'll be okay. Probably.

I'm really excited for the next chapter, I don't wanna give shit away, but it's gonna be,,,,,, different. I haven't seen anyone try this kinda formatting on tumblr before, and I'm excited to see what you think. Between my moving and how complex the choreography of it is gonna be, it's gonna be a much longer minute between this chapter and the next, I fear. But listen, you already knew your ass was gettin' spoiled with a chapter every two days. Hehe.

As always, please come yap to me in the replies/inbox/dms/reblogs. I love to hear thoughts!! It sustains me, baby!!

Next Part

[fruitzbasket]

twiyor eden au headcanons 📚

• [redacted] adopted the name loid after imigrating to ostania with his mother, partly for assimilation reasons and partly because he wanted a fresh start. his mother changed her name as well so he wouldn't feel alone in that.

• loid achieved the highest score in eden's admission tests to date. there was quite a bit of opposition to him joining the prestigious school, but ultimately it was decided that a flow of students between both countries could be a good step toward peace. that's how the characters from westalis are accepted into eden.

• yor is not particularly academically gifted, but she's insanely physically gifted. an increasing number of sports trophies in eden's trophy room are only there because yor was part of the team. she excels at sports.

• no one really wants to approach a guy from westalis first and loid isn't particularly talkative. he keeps mostly to himself—until this girl in class speaks to him. apparently, the teacher paired them together for class. not that loid hears her at first, too fixated thinking she'sprettyshe'sreally pretty. they finish their activity without any issues, and yor admits that she's been wanting to approach him for weeks because he looked lonely on his own.

• franky is in a different class, fiona is his junior, and sylvia is his senior.

• yor herself doesn't have many friends (and the ones she does have aren't all that nice to her), so she can empathize with loid. while loid himself didn't feel lonely, he finds yor quite pleasant to be around. they quickly grow close.

• loid's favorite subjects are history and literature. yor's favorite subjects are pe and arts.

• yor's parents aren't home a lot of the time. she ends up going to loid's mom for advice/help.

• i've never had those so i'm not sure what they're called, but you know those classes where students learn how to take care of a household (as in, doing cooking, finance management, etc)? so, that's where loid finds out just how terrible yor is at cooking. he exchanges their dishes so she won't get scolded by their teacher. yor gets quite emotional about it and vows to do better.

• it's not uncommon for loid to bring cookies he's baked to yor. since they can't eat them during classes, they try to be subtle about it. it turns out they're great at being sneaky.

• yor's grades start improving after spending time with loid. in turn, loid is not as stressed anymore. they balance each other out.

• when he starts thinking of yor in a less platonic way, he does absolutely nothing about it. it's yor that holds his hand first. she pulled her hand away in 0.2 seconds, but she did it! he becomes a little braver after that. not much though. he might get kicked. it happened to some guy that confessed to yor, or so he heard.

• he thinks he might kiss yor during a summer school festival, but she almost passes out after eating from the same spoon as him.

• high-school age loid has real beef with middle-school age yuri. it's a little embarrassing for him.

[talonabraxas]

The Caduceus

Hermes, personifying the dual powers of the Secret Wisdom, carries in his right hand a powerful symbol which represents the breathing in and breathing out of the cosmos and unites all the dual aspects of manifested existence. The caduceus of Hermes was said to have been given him by Apollo. It is a wand with two serpents twined round it, surmounted by two wings. The ancient Greeks believed it to exercise influence over the living and the dead, bestow wealth and prosperity, and turn everything it touched into gold. They called it Kerykeion, 'herald's wand' – it was the emblem of heralds and ambassadors, giving them power and inviolability. While the rod represents power, the serpents symbolize wisdom.

The wings of the caduceus symbolize the 'winged radiance' of those who have achieved the dynamic equilibrium of the two lobes of the medulla, the petals of the third-eye chakra, as well as the lightning speed of Hermes as Messenger of the Gods. Like the twining serpents, Hermes is known as the equilibrator, balancing the pairs of opposites, inspiring the alchemist's belief that without him neither Isis nor Osiris could accomplish the Great Work. The caduceus also symbolizes the fall of spirit into matter from the archetypal world to the creative and formative worlds and finally to the material world. Thus it essentially represents the astral light, the means through which Hermes wields his great power of transformation. The astral light is variously described as an "ambient and all-penetrating fluid . . . a ray detached from the (Spiritual) Sun's splendour," – the girdle of Isis that twines around two poles, and the winged dragon of Medea as well as the double serpent of the caduceus. It is the vehicle of life, representing time and eternity: the tempter and the redeemer. The wings of the caduceus signify the spiritual transcendence of time and temptation.

The rod of the caduceus is called a 'laya rod,' a central staff surrounded by the positive and negative energy of the serpents. It is the neutral Sushumna, the channel of the Sun's One Ray. All wands and staffs of power derive from this idea, just as the guiding power of Hermes is reflected in the prayer to the Christos which promises, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil; for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." The magician's wand, the 'baton de commandement' of ancient cave-paintings, and the lightning rod, are all aspects symbolic of a principle of controlled power.

On the western pediment of the Temple of Artemis at Corfu is a gorgon figure flanked by two lions. She stands in a 'pinwheel stance' which conveys movement without locomotion. Around her waist are coiled two serpents, entwined at the front, their heads arching back to face one another at her bodice. She is a guardian warding off evil and protecting the goddess within. As such, this stone figure represents protection through balanced duality. For the Great Serpent in the Garden of Eden and the 'Lord God' are one. Or, as the ancients taught, "Demon est Deus Inversus."

Agathodaemon and Kakodaemon are offshoots from the same tree of being, and evil is a force which is antagonistic but essential to good, giving it vitality and existence. These two entwined serpents, symbolizing the astral light which is not only the vehicle of life but the auxiliary of good and evil, reflect that matrix which ever seeks equilibrium. As long as nature remains 'untamed,' the opposition of the two forces (quicksilver and sulphur) manifests in a destructive mode. Hermes (Mercury) introduces the equilibrating element. The Hebrews called the astral light OD-OB-AOUR or 'Great Agent of Life.' The magnetism directed by the active will represented the right-hand serpent of the caduceus or OD. The left-hand serpent symbolized the passive OB. The golden globe at the summit of the rod was AOUR or 'equilibrating light,' the neutral point. The secret of magnetism could be mastered through ruling the fatality of OB with the intelligent power of OD, thereby gaining the perfect equilibrium of AOUR.

The solar and lunar spirals describe forces unfolding outward and simultaneously turning inward. They represent the expanding and contracting forces of nature, the alternating yin and yang, the two halves of the world egg as well as of the brain. A continuous oscillation between the two serpents accompanies the involution and evolution of spirit. The involution of spirit into matter is a progressive downward cycling, the 'sliding down of Aeons' of the Alexandrian Gnostics. The 'Downfall of Pleroma' (Gods and Devas) is allegorized as 'the desire to learn and acquire knowledge.' The seven 'rectors' break through the 'seven circles of fire.' These are the seven Devas who were born to act in space and time, to break through the seven circles of the super-spiritual planes into the phenomenal world. Allegorically, they rebelled against God.

In the nineteenth century 'primitive matter' was thought to have been formed by the act of a 'generative force' throwing off atoms endowed with varying forms of energy. It was believed by some that lowering temperatures and electricity within the 'original protyle' conferred upon newly-born elements their particular atomicity. Sir William Crookes, an intuitive chemist, pointed out that double spirals describe the process by which the elements originate. Such a figure would comprise three simultaneous oscillating motions, each at right angles to the other. Projecting this figure in space, curves describe loci where various chemical elements form within one cycle of oscillation. In the next cycle, conditions of temperature and time would have changed and the atomic groupings would be lineal descendants of the first group; and so the process would continue. Projected in space, the curve shows a central neutral line relating to electrical and chemical properties, with a positive spiral on the north, a negative on the south. This strongly echoes the metaphysics embodied in the caduceus. Though limited to material genesis, scientists have suggested that eventually matter would be reabsorbed into 'the point neutral as to electricity' or the 'zero point' analogous to the neutral globe at the summit of the caduceus rod – what The Secret Doctrine terms the "Inter-etheric point" upon which the universe revolves, a laya point, "which hiding place can be traced in the world of matter." Rotating neutral centers fixed by Fohat carry the full load of accumulated atoms from the start, and remain balanced.

The Divine Pyrnander teaches that "the Gods distinguished the Nature full of Seeds. And when all things were interminated and unmade up, the light things were divided on high and the heavy things were founded upon the moist Sand." When things were formed, they were sustained by Spirit and "Heaven was seen in Seven Circles . . . The Gods were seen in their Ideas of the Stars . . . and the Sphere was lined with air, carried about in a circular motion by the Spirit of God." Similarly, in modern astronomy, scientists speak of whirling gases made up of light hydrogen atoms evolving into heavier elements by 'spontaneous synthesis.' This cosmo-chemical process is described as unfolding in the same oscillating, caduceus-like pattern. Hydrogen atoms, the first of the series, are able to bind and to release a second electron, and in the absorption and emission of the necessary small amount of energy, all the wavelengths of the hydrogen spectrum are evolved. Since all further color distinctions are due to similar atomic and electro-magnetic variants, it would seem to follow that the potential for subsequent evolution exists at the earliest point. The unfolding spectrum can be related to the serpentine oscillation producing the original elements. In the language of the ancients, the Seven Devas break through spiritual planes into the phenomenal realms. Spirit involves into matter, its manifested spectrums circling down in series through the astral matrix.

These dual forces conjoin at the center of the seven-fold nature of man. The full force of the conjunction of the lunar and the solar serpents is uniquely experienced in human nature, and the perfected man who has balanced these universal forces is, like Hermes, a God of the Crossroads and a Mediator between Two Worlds. At the point of intersection between the macrocosm and the microcosm stands man. This is 'the cave of the heart,' the battleground of the dual forces of life. The vertical axis is the road of descending and ascending power. The horizontal axis is the manifestation of this in the world. Strong interaction of the contrasting forces along the two axes produces a spiralling motion that is the basis for identifying the aspiring disciple with the uncoiling serpent, and the perfected men of all ages as Nagas or Dragons of Wisdom.

Through his sacrifice the Serpent-Saviour initiates a new winding on the spiral of the next dimension, marking the beginning of a New Age. He is like The Redeemer on the cross. Through him man pulls himself up at the moment of death into the lunar foundations of the next world. The Adept who touches the earth like the serpent's tail sacrifices his life to lift up the whole in his journey back to his Spiritual Seat. He is the Spiralled Serpent of the Tree of Life.

The trunk of the Asvatta tree grows from heaven and descends at every Beginning from the two dark wings of the Swan of Life. The two Serpents, the ever-living and its illusion (spirit and matter) whose two heads grow from the one head between the wings, descend along the trunk, interlacing in close embrace. The two tails join on earth (the manifested universe) into one, and this is the great illusion.

Ophios and Ophiomorphos, Apollo and Python, Osiris and Typhon, Christos and the Serpent, are all convertible terms, all Logoi. "One is unintelligible without the other." They are spiritual saviours and physical regenerators; the former ensure immortality for the Divine Spirit and the latter give it through regeneration of the seed. The serpent or saviour has to die because he reveals the secret of the Immortal Ego.

Human consciousness is related to the balancing and flow of subtle energy currents. The Sakti of Siva actively revolves around the Siva lingham, the neutral rod of the caduceus. The lotus centers in the body are pierced by the Sakti energy passing into progressively finer vibrations. The Buddha termed this 'the untying of all the knots in the inverse order.' Man approaches the Divine through spiral stages of initiation. Apollonius of Tyana spoke of the Second Hour when "by the duad, the zodiacal fish chant the praises of God; the fiery serpents entwine about the caduceus and the thunder becomes harmonious." This is one of twelve zodiacal steps of successive initiation, another being to study the balanced forces in nature and learn how harmony results from the analogy of contraries, "to know the Great Magical Agent and two-fold polarization of universal light."

The Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismegistus bears the following inscription "The power is vigorous if it be changed into earth . . . Ascend with the greatest sagacity from earth to heaven, and then again descend to earth, and unite together the power of things superior with things inferior." Such is the practice of theurgy which involves communication with, and bringing down to earth, planetary spirits and angels. Total purity of mind, heart and body is needed to perform this sublime magic. In the school of Iamblichus, priests who evoked gods during the Mysteries were Hierophants. Like the Brahman Grihasta, the Theurgist liberated his own astral body, which then took on the form of the God and served as a medium through which the "special current preserving ideas and knowledge of that God could be reached and manifested." Through theurgy, the initiated disciple ascends the spiral to communicate with the Augoeides rendered visible through the medium of his astral body.

The magic of theurgy and the art of healing are alike based upon the principle of establishing an equilibrium of forces. Because human nature denotes the polarity of spirit and matter, a struggle between the two manifests. Since the centripetal and centrifugal forces are interdependent, if the action of one is obstructed, the action of the other will immediately become self-destructive. There must be a restoration of equilibrium so that the currents of life can perform their proper function in the body. The Navajo medicine man carefully delineates a design in colored sand which precisely combines the correct elements of color, symbol, direction and balance. In the center of this mandala the patient will remain seated throughout the lengthy chanting which, together with the sand-painting, will evoke the contrasting forces in nature necessary to re-establish the proper equilibrium in the patient.

The knowledge needed to heal oneself is the same as that needed to ascend the spiral of initiation into the still center of the Higher Self. The great shadow of the astral light ever deludes man and the shadow-serpent entwined around him obscures his vision. Let man mark that serpent well and understand its essential force while turning his mind ever upward toward the Spiritual Sun. The ardent disciple strives to realize Siva through the balanced forces of his whole nature, thus embodying every aspect of the golden caduceus. This is the natural potential of man. The perfect balance achieved, the soul soars upward on radiant wings.

Tree of Life as the Caduceus of Mercury. Each number corresponds to a planet/god e.g. 8 is Mercury, 7 is Venus etc.

The serpents represent the Ida and Pingala nadis, while the shaft/wand is Sushumna.

Image from “The Book of Thoth” by Aleister Crowley (1944).

[accirax]

Fourth Anniversary Art Analysis

(Credits to DRDTdev for the art, obviously. Please support the original post.)

Yeah guys, this is definitely Charles, trust me. (/j)

In all seriousness, the reveal of what Teruko's brother (more or less) looks like got me thinking about a couple of things. I'd like to ramble about them in a space less directly linked to the public fourth anniversary art!

The first is that we've (basically) confirmed that Teruko's brother is older than her, something that I don't think we actually technically knew until now! I always got those kind of vibes, but it's nice to know for sure.

The second is something that most people have picked up on-- his white hair color. Between DRDT and altDRDT, the only people who we've seen with white hair up to this point are XF and Dandelion (I think those are the names people agreed upon???). Both of those seem... unlikely to be Teruko's brother, although, for what it's worth, they do both use he/him pronouns. That's not to say that Teruko's brother couldn't have dyed his hair after he and Teruko last parted, and still be someone else we know, like Teacher. However, I could also easily believe that DRDTdev may have wanted to draw this art as a soft disconfirmation of the "Teacher is Teruko's brother" theory before people got in too deep. It's too bad, though, I did like that one.

One of the reasons why I liked it was because of the synergy with Teruko's favorite color being red due to "association." However, even if Teruko's brother still is Teacher, it seems like he has no red in his design as of the last time Teruko saw him. I suppose red could still be his eye color, but I'm going to take this mean that Teruko's positive association with red is due to somebody else-- likely either Xander or Mai, or possibly still Teacher, but without him being her brother.

Lastly, and most importantly, I find it highly interesting that, at this point in time, Teruko's brother is shown with several scrapes and bandages, while Teruko has absolutely none. It got me thinking about the nature of Teruko's luck.

I wonder if Teruko's bad luck operates in a way where it will hurt whoever is around her until she's the only one left, at which point it has no one to attack but herself. (The only comparison I can think of is to the Death card in the card game Fluxx, so shout out if you know what I'm talking about.)

As long as Teruko is the "protagonist," her luck will go after the "side characters". But, if Teruko isolates herself, then the luck will go after the hero.

Now, there is a bit of contradictory evidence going on here, because Teruko has had unfortunate things happen to her since entering the killing game and being around other people. Most notably, the time that she slipped and fell while holding the cake, and when Xander tried to kill her. That's why I'm wondering if there's also an element of how much Teruko cares about these people involved. Like, if Teruko cares less about someone, they don't pop up as a "side character" punching bag as much. Or, if Teruko caring about someone is the inciting incident to turning an entire group of people into "side characters"-- that way, if she had no friends at any of the schools she attended, she could have avoided dooming them all.

Teruko cared a lot about Xander, so his betrayal was the tipping point. After she took one last blow, the scales tipped and more bad things started happening to the other students than to Teruko. Teruko falling down transformed into the much worse luck of Min dying. And, from then on, the "side characters" started taking the brunt of the bad luck (J's secret being revealed, Eden being bullied and threatened, Ace nearly dying, etc), while Teruko remained mostly fine.

If there is an element of how much Teruko cares about people involved, it would give her a lot of incentive to be a loner and actively make people dislike her.

Anyways, just a thought. This one is pretty off the cuff, so I wouldn't be surprised if I'm missing something or overstepping here.

Happy fourth anniversary DRDT, happy ???th birthday Mai, and a happy day to all of you!

[hallofharmony]

ok i've been meaning to make this post for a while bc i haven't seen anyone else do this but

sky: cotl terminology!

sky fandom has a lot of terminology that could be confusing if you're a new player or just don't interact with the fandom that much. below is a list of words you might see around and what they mean. let me know if i missed anything ^-^

Sky kid/skid: the little guy you're playing as.

Moth: New players in sky. usually rock the default look. they're called this because the brown cape kinda makes them look like real moths :3

Butterfly: An advanced moth. usually wear base game cosmetics like plain capes and masks. have figured out the general mechanics but not enough to be considered an advanced player.

Veteran: Someone who's been playing for a while. you "officially" become a vet if a spirit from your first season comes back as a TS.

Chibi: player who wears the base game mask that makes them small, known as the "chibi mask".

Ikemen: players that are subjectively considered "handsome". Usually vets that wear rhythm or fire prohet pants, any of the elders' hair and owl hair, among other things. ikejou is the female equivalent.

Ts/traveling spirit: a spirit from a past season returning after a lengthy period of time (at least a year) where you're able to buy their cosmetics for regular candles while they're at home for 4 days.

Sc/season candles: orange candles that are strictly used to buy seasonal cosmetics from current season spirits. you obtain them from doing dailies during season, as well as getting them from candles scattered around the realm

Cr/candle run: refers to an activity where you go around collecting candles

wl/winged light: The little glowy guys that give you wings, increasing your stars

wl run/winged light run: refers to an activity where you go around collecting winged light

wedges/stars: the pattern on your cape that indicates how many winged lights you have

Owl hair: hair that has 2 tuffs that resemble an owl. like the season of rhythm ult hair or the season of performance ult hair

Ult/Ultimate reward: Cosmetics you receive from the season guide when you buy the season pass. Ults are the only cosmetics that don't return after a season ends.

Chibi fall: A glitch utilizing chibi mask. here's how to do it.

Oob/out of bounds: referring to going outside the wind walls and outside the borders. oobing is a big part of sky culture :)

Piggy rocket: a glitch utilizing the piggyback friendship emote, where when 2 players press the piggyback icon on each other at the same time they shoot in the sky, never seeming to stop.

Wind walls: invisible walls made of wind that prevent players from going outside the level to places they shouldn't be.

Krills: fan given name for the big scary dark creatures that roam in wasteland. As far as im aware, they're only ever strictly referred to as "dark dragons" in game and never as "krill" officially

Tgc/thatgamecompany: the developers behind sky.

sky: The Light Awaits: The beta of sky (before the current beta) where tgc allowed a handful of people on to test the game. thought to include this one as i was confused to what it was when i started playing :)

Elder names: again including these because i was also hella confused about them as a new player. but you might see some people use these names to refer to the elders, all of them being from concept art

Daleth: Isle elder

Ayin: Prarie elder

Teth: Forest elder

Sahmekh: Valley elders (sah being the spiky haired twin and mekh being the other one)

Tsadi: Wasteland elder

Lamed: Vault elder

Alef/Resh: Eden Elder/ The king

that last few are spoilers for the end game.

Ac/ ascended candles: candles you obtain after giving winged light to statues in eden. for every 4 statues you get 1 AC

Orbit: the place you end up in after you die in eden, where you go to be reborn.

Megabird: Giant star swirl thing you see at the end credits and hinted at throughout the game. called "megabird" in concept art and made out to be a god. more info

[nerdraging4point0]

Blood of Eden // Part Twelve // Noah Sebastian Urban Fantasy AU Fic

Tropes and Tags: MM, MF, MFM, MFM, instalove, too much sex, tattooed men, polyverse, shapeshifters.

CW: 18+ only minors DNI. Urban Fantasy romance, Smut. Angst. Fluff (ish), Story includes D/S themes, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of drug use and distribution, mentions of prostitution, unprotected sex, male receiving oral sex, female receiving oral sex, cuckolding, P/A sex, P/V sex.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @dominuslunae @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran @th0ughts-pr4yers @skulliecadaver-blog @hayleylatour @littlefoxkota @anameunmusical @talialovesmiw @sacredthefran @jilliemiw86 @darkmxgician

Rosa moved around her new kitchen, having become familiar with every cupboard and drawer. She gathered a plate and fork for herself as she carefully unloaded the various take-out containers she had picked up on her way home. Jolly had been called away on very short notice, summoned to an urgent meeting upstate that would take him several hours away from home, Noah had gone with him.

Noah had pleaded with Rosa to accompany them, voicing his uneasiness at the prospect of leaving her alone for several days. But Maria and Oli vehemently objected, insisting that the compound was teeming with security personnel who would undoubtedly subject Rosa to rigorous screening the moment she set foot inside. They argued that the apartment, where Rosa could remain with Maria, Oli, and Nick close by, was the safest place for her right now. Noah understood their concerns, but his desire to keep Rosa by his side was palpable. As she opened the boxes of food placing the portions on her plate, the familiar flavors and textures of the meal did little to distract her, for her mind was thoroughly occupied by the request Maria had made earlier that day. Rosa replayed the conversation in her head, recalling Maria's earnest tone and the way her eyes had pleaded for understanding. It was not an easy decision, and Rosa knew it would require careful consideration.

The months of healing had afforded her the time and opportunity to truly immerse herself in uncovering the mysteries of Celestial magic. Though it felt strange to refer to her previous life as a "human" one, the reality was that for so many years, that had been the only existence she had known. Now, with her newfound abilities and the vastly different world she inhabited, the distinction between her past and present selves seemed more pronounced than ever before.

The archives that Jolly had granted her access to, however, proved to be frustratingly sparse when it came to information about Celestial magic. Much to Rosa's dismay, all records pertaining to this esoteric branch of the arcane arts had been systematically deleted, leaving gaping holes in the historical accounts. The only details that remained centered around a brutal uprising - a cataclysmic battle that had pitted Celestials against a powerful mage, with hapless human armies conscripted to fight alongside the mage's forces. The casualties from this conflict had been staggering, with historical accounts chalking up the massive loss of life to a devastating plague. But Rosa knew there had to be more to the story than the official narrative allowed.

Much of what she uncovered had long been dismissed as mere myth or fantasy, but upon closer inspection, these accounts described very real and remarkable abilities. Some were relatively minor, such as heightened senses or the capacity for extrasensory perception. Yet others were far more extraordinary, hinting at the potential for interdimensional travel and communication. This idea of beings and realms existing beyond the confines of our own reality captivated her, and she became increasingly convinced that it held the key to understanding their unusual circumstances. The notion of forging telepathic connections with entities from parallel dimensions seemed to offer the best explanation for the strange phenomena they had been experiencing.

Her archival research prompted so much more knowledge about the hunters, helping her piece more of her scattered jigsaw puzzle together. The creatures known as the "hunters" had been created long ago by the enigmatic Celestials, powerful beings who imbued them with extraordinary abilities to serve as protectors and companions. But when the Celestials disappeared, a new chapter unfolded - the hunter DNA was carefully extracted and preserved, its secrets held within lab files for the purpose of future cloning and reproduction.

This revelation shook the very foundation of Noah's identity. He was not simply himself, but rather the latest in a long lineage of cloned hunters, each lifetime a new incarnation yet sharing an unbroken genetic thread.

On one hand, it spoke to the remarkable resilience and adaptability of the hunter species, their essence persisting even as individual forms changed. Yet the thought of Noah - the Noah she knew and cared for - potentially being replaced by a clone, a facsimile bearing his likeness but lacking the same irreplaceable essence, was a heartbreaking prospect.

Rosa picked at her food, her feet tucked under her while she sat on their couch, watching the sunset over the city. Hunters were sterile, so their DNA being stored and reused was the only way to ensure they continued on, otherwise they would have become extinct years ago-without Celestials they had no way to make the creatures immortal. Rosa let out a heavy sigh, fully understanding the request Maria was making of her.

Mistress.

Noah’s voice in her mind, had a soothing calmness wash over her despite his physical absence. His words had a way of enveloping her, like a warm embrace, even from miles away. She spun around the apartment, her eyes darting from corner to corner, desperately searching for any signs of his presence - a forgotten item, a lingering scent, anything that could make her feel closer to him in that moment. But the apartment remained hauntingly empty, a stark contrast to the connection they shared.

Please don’t stress.

Hard not too, I've got a lot on my mind.

I can tell. The words were laced with sarcasm and she couldn’t help but snicker.

How’s Jolly? I miss him. I miss you both.

He is…fair. He doesn’t like being away from you any more than I do.

I can tell. Using his own words against him, she smiled, the warmth returning to her cheeks. She could feel him, his energy and essence, just as vividly as he could feel her. It was as if an invisible thread bound them together, allowing the exchange of unspoken words and unwritten expressions. Even when he was physically distant, she could feel the warmth of his smile radiating through the void, a soothing reminder that she was not alone.

With a weary sigh, she set about tidying up the aftermath of her solitary dinner, gathering the dirty dishes and depositing them unceremoniously into the sink. Turning on the faucet, she let the warm water cascade over the porcelain, swirling away the remnants of her meal as she methodically rinsed each plate and utensil before loading them into the dishwasher. Feeling the tension of the day begin to ebb, she made her way to the bathroom, shedding her clothes as she went and stepping into the steamy shower. The rhythmic pattern of the water against her skin was soothing, washing away the grime and stress, and she emerged refreshed, wrapping herself in a soft towel.

Settled into the sheets she turned out the lights, cuddling close to the shirts she had on the sheets next to her. Lifting the fabric to her nose, she breathed deeply, savoring the lingering scents of Noah and Jolly, offering a fleeting sense of solace as she finally sank into the welcoming embrace of her mattress, the empty expanse of the bed a painful reminder of their absence.

The next morning she was up early, dressing in a sleek business casual suit Jolly had bought her a few weeks ago, pairing it with a classy set of heels before heading out the door to meet Maria. As Rosa descended the stairs and made her way to the parking garage, she couldn't help but feel a sense of nervous anticipation.

When Rosa reached the garage, she spotted Maria's beige SUV, its engine idling softly. The dark-haired woman greeted Rosa cheerfully as she climbed into the plush, cream-colored leather interior. The vehicle had a warm, inviting aroma - a blend of spices and freshly brewed coffee. Maria reached into the center console and retrieved an iced beverage, handing it to Rosa. "Jolly told me what you like, so I took the liberty of grabbing this for you before we head to the lab," she said with a smile.

The pair pulled out of the parking garage and into the busy morning traffic. Maria made several turns and stops before Rosa could see the lab in the distance, the very lab she had tried breaking into months ago-the night that shaped everything that was unraveling before her. "Maria, I don't even know if I can do this," she admitted solemnly.

Maria gripped her steering wheel with two hands, leaning back in her seat as she sighed. “I understand, I realize you may not be able to help with the magic, it’s still new and I can’t expect you to learn something so complex so fast. But, at least take a look at what I’m doing, I have to be doing something wrong. You were able to construct a serum that could nullify magical abilities from just everyday human items.”

“That’s far from trying to improve in vitro fertilization of two magical beings.” Rosa argued.

“But if you could do that with human items imagine what you could do with a full lab at your disposal.” Rosa took another sip of her coffee letting the creamy liquid run down her throat.

She’s not wrong, you know.

Rosa couldn't help but roll her eyes in exasperation as Noah once again barged into the conversation, inserting his two cents without being invited. As she rolled her eyes, a telltale smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a reaction she quickly tried to conceal by turning her head slightly to the side. She knew it was futile to try and hide her amusement, as Noah was always hyper-aware of her reactions, no matter how subtle.

She suddenly wished she could have the same bond with Jolly, it would have been nice to have his input, sure, she would often go through Noah as a third party. But having him directly linked would have been more beneficial.

He agrees. Noah once again interjected her train of thought. His words specifically, are: Whatever makes you comfortable sunshine. Rosa once again smiled as she and Maria pulled up to park in the lab garage.

“Remember,” Maria warned “You are my guest, try not to make small talk with anyone, and don’t go anywhere without me. If the magistrate catches you we don’t know what they will do.”

“Do you trust anyone here?”

“Only one person.”

As they entered the lab the air was thick with the sterile, clinical scent of disinfectants and chemicals, an atmosphere that seemed to smother the senses. Rosa instinctively kept close to Maria's side, her eyes darting around as they ascended to the top floor of the sprawling laboratory complex. All around them, the space bustled with activity - scientists in crisp white coats hurried through the halls, clipboards in hand, their faces a mask of concentration as they moved with purpose between the various laboratories and testing facilities. Machines beeped and whirred, their digital displays flashing with readouts and data. The sheer scale of the operation was almost overwhelming, a hive of scientific discovery and innovation that felt simultaneously fascinating and unsettling. Rosa could hardly keep up with all the stimuli assaulting her senses, yet she knew she had to remain vigilant, to absorb every detail of this strange new environment as she followed Maria's lead deeper into the heart of the lab.

Maria cautiously made her way through the winding hallways, her steps slowing as she approached the door to one of the offices. Pausing for a moment, she peered inside, her gaze immediately drawn to the petite figure seated at the desk. This girl was no more than a few years younger than Maria, her short, pixie-style haircut framing a delicate, focused face. Maria watched, transfixed, as the girl's eyes remained intently fixed on the microscope in front of her, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Maria's voice trembled with unease as she gripped her handbag, her knuckles turning white with the intensity of her grasp. "Hey," she said hesitantly, her gaze darting around the lab, "Where's Mark?" The question hung in the air, a palpable tension settling over the room.

The other girl, her tone clipped and her attention seemingly focused on the microscope before her barely looked up as she replied, "Called in sick. What do you need?" Her disinterested manner only served to further unsettle Maria, who could feel her own fingers shaking slightly.

Swallowing hard, Maria forced her words to flow smoothly off her lips. "We had a project we were working on, and I wanted to run some ideas by him." Despite her best efforts, Rosa could see the telltale signs of Maria's distress – the slight quiver in her voice, the barely perceptible trembling of her fingers.

The girl finally looked up from her work, tilting her head as she regarded Maria and Rosa with a calculating gaze. "What's the file?" she asked, her tone revealing a hint of curiosity. "I can take a look."

Maria's response was immediate and decisive. "It wasn't a lab project, it was a personal outside-of-work project. But thanks. I'll check back tomorrow." Without further explanation, Maria gripped Rosa's wrist, pulling her back down the hallway with such force that Rosa found herself spinning around, struggling to keep up with Maria's hurried pace.

Maria's grip on Rosa's wrist was growing tighter by the second, the skin turning an angry, flushed red as Rosa struggled in vain to free herself from the vice-like hold. Despite her desperate attempts to wiggle out of Maria's grasp, the older woman only responded by clamping down harder, her fingers digging painfully into Rosa's delicate flesh as she forcefully dragged her into the nearby office. Rosa's heart raced with a mixture of fear and confusion as Maria hastily ushered her inside and slammed the door shut behind them, effectively cutting them off from the prying eyes and ears of their coworkers.

Practically shoving Rosa into one of the chairs, Maria tossed her bag onto the desk and immediately began frantically dialing a number on her phone. The shrill ringing that pierced the tense silence of the room made Rosa's stomach churn with dread, an uneasy feeling creeping up the back of her neck as she realized this was no ordinary work-related call. When the line finally connected, Maria's voice took on a desperate, almost pleading tone as she muttered a single phrase - "Pick up, pick up, pick up" - under her breath.

The gruff, whispered response from the other end sent an icy chill down Rosa's spine, and she instantly recognized the voice as belonging to Jolly, though the usually jovial man sounded uncharacteristically on edge. "Maria?" he hissed, the strain in his voice palpable. Rosa could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, her intuition screaming that something was very, very wrong. And when Maria uttered the cryptic words "Mark called in sick," Rosa knew they were in the midst of a crisis.

“Whose in his place?” Jolly responded in his own voice, starting to show signs of concern. Rosa's heart raced as she listened to the exchange between Maria and Jolly, her mind swirling with questions and concerns. The appearance of this mysterious "girl" in the lab, who didn't seem to belong there, had clearly unsettled them. Rosa could feel Noah's growing anxiety radiating through their connection, his claws digging into the ground as his breathing grew labored.

“Some girl, she’s too put together for the lab, I've never seen her before. She was looking into the microscope with no slide.” Maria leaned back in her chair, bringing one of her manicured nails between her teeth.

“The magistrate?” Jolly’s question didn’t seem like he was guessing more like an analytical remark.

“I have no idea.”

Rosa felt Noah growl, she could sense his claws digging into the ground wherever he was. His breathing labored.

Noah? Rosa reached out, her fear making her feel on edge and missing the protective hunter by her side. The conversation between Maria and Jolly wasn’t secret, but Rosa felt they were keeping something from her.

Master has been worried that the magistrate is onto them. Not specifically for you, but it’s possible. He’s been suspicious and what we are hearing is only confirming those suspicions.

Rosa could sense the strain in Maria's own voice as she agreed to call Oli, unable to leave the lab herself lest it draw unwanted attention. Rosa gripped the edges of her seat, her own anxiety mounting as she tried to piece together the full extent of the danger they now faced. Whatever was happening, it was clear that the stakes had been raised, and their precarious position was now even more tenuous than before.

“Rosa,” Jolly’s voice broke through her thoughts and she leaned over the desk as if to hear him better, “Nick will take good care of you while Noah and I make it home. We are desperately trying to excuse ourselves now, it shouldn't be longer than eight hours and we will be home.”

“Okay.” her own voice shaking.

“Don’t worry, sunshine. We’ll keep you safe.”

As soon as Maria disconnected the call with Jolly, she immediately turned her attention to contacting Oli. It took a few attempts to reach the hunter, who had just been roused from a deep slumber. Though groggy and disoriented at first, Oli was quick to snap into action once Maria expressed her urgent concerns. While they waited for Oli, Maria handed her a book, instructing her to feign interest in the story's contents. The elaborate ruse - whenever Maria's unsuspecting coworkers entered the room, she would casually introduce Rosa as a visiting cousin who was simply staying with her temporarily at the office as Oli caught up on his much-needed rest. The clever deception worked flawlessly.

It was an agonizing wait, those forty minutes that felt like an eternity. Maria sat there, fidgeting anxiously while Rosa kept glancing at the clock every few seconds. When the pair finally arrived, Oli's entrance was as dramatic as ever, the man sweeping in with an intense, almost predatory energy that Rosa recognized all too well. She'd seen that look in his eyes before, that laser-like focus and determination that made him seem more animal than human in that moment. It was the same fierce intensity she'd witnessed the night she first met him, when he was zeroed in on his target like a hunter closing in for the kill.

Oli immediately enveloped Maria in a tight embrace, as was their custom, but there was an unmistakable edge to his movements, a restless, almost agitated quality that put Maria on edge. Maria whispered something low in his ear, his own words hissing and whispering back to her. Nick appeared more subdued, his usually carefree demeanor replaced by a somber, almost grim expression as he entered the room in his neatly pressed black dress shirt and slacks, his long hair pulled back hastily into an unkempt bun.

With a gentle kiss on her cheek, he turned to face me, his arms extended in a silent request for a similar embrace. Rosa stood from her seat, a mix of trepidation and understanding passing through her as she allowed him to pull her tense weight into his arms. The hug was tight, almost desperate in its intensity, betraying the gravity of the situation.

“Listen carefully, you’ll go back to Jolly’s with Nick. Pack a bag in case we need you to run. Stay in Nick’s sights at all times.” Rosa nodded with Oli’s instructions, putting a fake smile on her face as she turned to Maria, pulling her into a hug like they were closer than sisters.

“They will be home soon. Everything will be okay.”

[reasonsforhope]

Catherine Borowski has always had an active imagination. As a child, she dreamed that the car park on her north London council estate would be transformed into a garden. The reality was quite different. “No one had a car, so it was empty, grey and depressing,” she says. Now a sculptor and event producer, Borowski has made it her mission to fill unloved urban spaces with flowers – albeit virtual ones. 

She and her partner Lee Baker are the founders of Graphic Rewilding, a project to install huge nature-inspired artworks into the urban landscape. “Where real rewilding isn’t possible, our goal is to inject the colour and diversity of nature into rundown spaces, urging people to notice – and find joy in – the world around them,” says Baker.   

The pair believe that flowers possess serious powers, even when they’re not real. “We know that spending time in nature is good for us, but studies show that even pictures of plants have a positive effect on the mind,” says Baker. He cites research published in The Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine, which found that imagery of plants in hospital waiting rooms can help reduce feelings of stress in patients. 

Baker, a painter and music producer, has long understood the benefits of biophilic design. Having suffered a breakdown 10 years ago, he found that drawing flowers was the only way to soothe his buzzy brain. “I would set out to draw dystopian landscapes, representative of my state of mind, but I’d always end up drawing flowers, which uplifted me,” he says.

It was around this time that Baker met Borowski, joining her production company as creative director. The pair have collaborated ever since, launching Graphic Rewilding in 2021. Since then, they’ve installed floral murals at locations including Earl’s Court station, Lewes Castle and Westfield Shopping Centre in Shepherd’s Bush – all hand drawn by Baker. “We love galleries, but we focus on public art,” he says. “This way, our work is out there for everyone to enjoy.”

This year the pair have grand plans to create a series of stained glass pavilions (think greenhouses with colourful floral-themed panels), which they hope might find homes at Kew Gardens and the Eden Project. “The way light shines through the glass is magical,” says Borowski.  

Even so, they concede that art is no match for Mother Nature. “Some people have suggested that our project detracts from real rewilding efforts. But both can co-exist,” says Borowski. “Of course we want more green spaces.” adds Baker. “But we aren’t gardeners. We’re artists. In the absence of nature, we want to create inspiring spaces through art.”

Overall, the response has been hugely positive. “The joy that these artworks bring is palpable,” says Baker, highlighting an early project in Crawley, West Sussex. “Many people in the town were employed by Gatwick airport and Covid had taken its toll,” he recalls. In a bid to spread some joy, the duo painted brick walls, billboards, benches and even bins with their signature floral flair. “Peoples’ reactions were heartwarming. There were so many smiling faces,” he says.

Elsewhere, in Earl’s Court, the pair transformed “a ratty piece of tarmac” into a modern-day pleasure garden, which is now often filled with children dancing and doing cartwheels on the way home from school. “Putting art into a place that previously felt unloved feels like cultivating joy where there was none,” reflects Borowski. “If something like this had been installed on my estate when I was a kid, it would have been a dream come true.”

-via Positive.News, November 6, 2023

[ask-eden]

[ Reference Art as of 10/2/2021 ] [ Chrono Posts with Caulklun ] Caulklun

Nonbinary, They/Them

Giratina's personal Mewsistant Strongest with Ghost/Dragon type moves and abilities

Older sibling to Madoka

+ More Information below the cut +

+ Information here may update or change with time +

-> Has known Eden and Alaxia since they were all kids. Used to play with them frequently. -> Studied hard and often competed with Alaxia academically -> Attempted to compete with Alaxia physically (failed pissed cried shidded got wrecked in rugby) -> One of the few who never actively looked down on Eden for his choices

-> Unaware of Alaxia's true intentions/what he really is. Trusts Alaxia and respects him deeply. -> Isn't aware Giratina is actually dead, as their relationship was never that close to begin with. Continuing doing their duties as normal

-> One of the leads on the Celebi Hunt

[sunstream7]

Sandrock Shitposting

[thatskynews]

OK SO. Lore

Krills reside in Wasteland, the place currently experiencing constant cloud cover.

krill were not there before the cloud cover was there.

Krills also reside near the top of Eden Peak.

in-between wasteland and eden lies vault...

so why havent krills spread to vault?

In the crescent oasis, krills are seen in the final quest. when a storm is raging.

ok so. krill have bad eyesight. they kill creatures of light.

but when the krill try to attack something but realize it has the Krill Juice on it (krill repellent) they fly away. Crabs just so happen to produce Krill Juice. on their bodies.

perhaps crabs (their children) get mistaken for light creatures and get attacked, but the krill's antennae detect the pheromones (krill juice) and divert before any harm can be done.

Crabs have shells, their real bodies are exposed in the bottom thats why they pull their legs in when they get attacked but not flipped and also why they hate being flipped

krills have metal exoskeletons and their real bodies are inside and thats why krill are so clink clonk

So krill are adult crabs. but why dont krill exist in the kingdom before wasteland and eden were engulfed in storm?

ITS SIMPLE

crabs can only fully mature DURING A STORM OF THAT SIZE

THE STORM HAS DIED DOWN THATS WHY ALL THE CRABS IN WASTELAND ARENT KRILLS

crabs: forest, valley, wasteland, vault, eden

krill: wasteland, eden

the crabs are everywhere but the krill are only where there was once/ is a great storm

,... if i was a spirit in sky i would be the Crazy Krillologist

putting my answer under read more as it's long -ymir

Crabs are actually have signs of being native to the realms (see: the passive crabs from Sanctuary, that iirc don't shed darkness), and seem to actively be mostly corrupted by darkness (the crabs from the shard events having active darkness on them, leading them to become hyper aggressive and those passive crabs do not attack players).

Crabs are creatures of the dark, but it is likely from the fact they're suppose to show that darkness has always been in the realms and that before what wiped out the spirits it was very peaceful (mostly). Places like Hidden Forest were darkness mining sites, and it likely made many sickly and polluted the areas leading to the rain being worse. The bells used to call the rain away and to call for the rain likely was used to try and control the dangers of this build up, controlling when spirits would have to take cover most likely.

The description of Prairie's Elder pin also pushes at it being an agricultural center for the Realms, as hinted by its landscape as well. It is VERY likely the bells used also pushed away the pollutants from hitting Prairie as heavily (but it still hit the lower regions, seeing Sanctuary's large darkness plants and pollutants.)

Darkness affects Valley less due how high it is, but it still has gotten hit due to how close it is to the center of the factories. Golden Wastelands was where a good majority of the factories were (and mostly off to the side from the main path, but WERE linked and using pipes to move around darkness), and due to this, it had become highly polluted over time leading to the dangers and likely pushing for new solutions to lead away the creatures that were becoming a problem, as well as internal fights. Wastes HEAVILY hints to it being highly dangerous but made mostly to try and protect Vault from harm and protections against enemies (in some old concept art, there's some old details of other things that was planned originally to be some dangers, but most aren't much a concern to consider due to being scrapped). There's more things about vault that makes me curious, mostly the use of HOW the archival systems work likely using a mixture of darkness that reacts to light to produce energy (which we do see in places like the abyss areas iirc and no longer simply concept art). the use of darkness here likely also caused there to have some spills or leeching to allow darkness to affect any creatures inside as well. The Ghost light creatures inside are their own curiosity to me, but not of concern here too either.

but Eden? oh boy.

Eden obviously has architecture of a very important site to the culture of the spirits at least, and it's also very likely used to be a factory of it's own or at least some sort of possible experimental grounds. (there are hints of other things, but ya know, silly lil things :)!) Eventually the eye is shown to have occurred, and is possibly shown to have started to chip off as well.

why did I write down a good summary of the lore linking towards darkness in general?(skipping over some other seasonal stuff mostly) I think the krills can be from multiple things in origins in reality.

Krills are beings that hunt light, and can still be tricked from covering yourself in darkness. The potions of krill repellent likely use darkness to make it look like it would for their vision of crabs, darkness falling off of them. it's likely made to be far more safe for skykids though.

Krills- or dark dragons, could simply be mantas corrupted, whales as well, etc. They could easily be many species put into one. They're dark creatures caused by the pollution of darkness, typically pushed on by darkness taking over an entire area, suggesting that they're an entity of darkness as a whole. They react the same way dark crystals do as well, turning red and hurting light creatures. They're simply seemingly following the dark crystals and how they react. Blue dark crystals are ones that show that they are not longer active or have reached a neutral state (likely the state they were originally mined at and then refined away from), and the skykid statues you can not help on the path at the end of Eden before the Eye's storm have these blue crystals growing on them that no longer react to skykids and you can't revive these two skykids leading to the chance of them being from the mass explosion of energy of the Eye's start.

Storm clouds are a sign of darkness in Sky, its very likely rain from before was less dangerous. Crabs being thrown FROM the shards could be crabs grown from the darkness or originally in that sacred area that ate up the remaining light left over from light creatures going to be reborn, which could be a point of them simply originally being scavengers of sorts like some real crabs.

Krill horns likely do have their own use most likely than possibly being antennae, I believe personally them being mostly for the advantage of being able to still attack their prey: making it difficult for prey to escape from flying over the head due to the krill's head without the horns being in the way. Krills metallic sounds could also be possibly connected to the darkness within them since darkness is far more solid than fluid (darkness creatures typically having sharper edges or entirely like smoke, compared to light creatures having this fluidity to them even when complex like skykids.)

Dark dragons are a curiosity though, given how they're created either way.

-ymir

[eirian]

so me and eden talked about it and ive decided to take a sort of internet break with her, just for a week or so. i hate hate hate being so dependent on the internet (particularly social media) for both entertainment and socialization and i feel like being online so much and relying on it for SO LONG (since i was maybe 11?) has really been detrimental to my mental health. and since ive made rent for this month i feel like now is a good time to just step away for a bit.

i still unfortunately rely on the internet for my livelihood--i HAVE to take commissions in order to make rent, provide food, etc, so i wont stop posting art or taking commissions! i'll just be less social i guess. i wont make any posts or reblog anything, i'll just be posting art and contacting ppl abt commissions.

i want to spend more time with my wife. i want to go outside more. i want to hang out with irl people more (i literally have no irl friends). i want to go to meetups. i want to disconnect from the internet so bad i HATE relying on it as much as i do. i mean this so unironically i want to touch grass again

im ngl. i also talked w eden about possibly starting up an irl small business for my art--something along the lines of basically being a caricature artist again, but this time self employed. i'd have my own brand and go to parties and draw people, and volunteer at the local children's hospital sometimes too and draw the hospitalized kids. im honestly just trying to think of ANY job that would help me ease up on being so reliant on social media for income, if possible, that would still be fun for me and not absolutely kill my mental health like my previous irl jobs did. dont get me wrong i love drawing yalls ocs! but i cant charge as much as i should be b/c i dont have enough of a following/demand, so i have to take a lot of commissions before im able to make a decent living. it sucks.

if i could charge more to where i only had to take maybe 3 commissions a month in order to make rent, thatd be ideal. id still love to do commissions for a living! i love drawing your blorbos and i honestly dislike the idea of going back to caricature art--its not my passion by a longshot and its very stressful to do live art so quickly. but im just trying to think of anything to help at this point u_u i cant get on ssi b/c then we wouldnt be able to use my bank account for income and we'd basically have No Money To Do Anything Freely Anymore. so i gotta just. stick with what im doing. IDEALLY id be able to take commissions and post art while not being necessarily Active on social media anymore, but idk how to make that work just yet or if thats even a thing i could do..

anyway. TL;DR im going to take a semi-break from social media/the internet for about a week, but i'll still post art + take commissions + accept messages from close friends on discord. i want to HEAL, man

[ccrisntok]

requests 2: electric boogalo

(sure wonder whos hand that is...) I forgot to screenshot this request before deleting it from my inbox. I think @sunriseindigo requested their fav lil guy Min, but if it wasn't you uh. Hope whoever did request it sees this! I went kinda hard on this bc I have posted Min on this blog ONE time. and that's a crime.

forgot to screenshot this one to, but an anon suggested: Hu patching up Ace after he falls off of a horse. I feel like even if Hu and Ace don't get along, she'd try to come to his games to support him once in a while as the mom of the group! (even if Ace is her least favorite child.) In like 90 degree heat she'd pull up, with enough sunscreen and waterbottles to keep everyone in a 70 mile radius hydrated and safe from skin cancer. And she wouldn't hesitate to help Ace if he gets hurt, ofc!

...

I really fucked up with forgetting to screenshot a good amount of these. whoever needed a pic of Nico beating Ace in a fight, I delivered! The tone in which you asked wasn't too serious, so i hope a shitpost is sufficient for your needs.

(someone requested sora and yuki from sdra2 in drdt and im gonna make that its own post. so just know u were seen anon. also person who asked for more ace and eden, same thing.)

i can always draw Whace. they are my everything.

mans even singing it wrong 💀 (thanks for the request i love whace sm im glad they remind you of u and ur bf :D)

in a better world, Arei is talking to her therapist about Hopes Peak drama rn. (i love drawing arei thank you anon)

honestly this ship had never crossed my mind. i couldn't rlly think up anything too cute for it so i went silly instead kjfaljdf (thanks for the request @weightedblankettt, I LOVE THAT ONE FIC YOU WROTE WITH LIKE THE NICO AND ACE SWAP THING. i literally went "OH MY GOD???" when i saw you sent in a request fkhfla /pos)

Hello again @xmicrophonyx :)) thanks for another request

I feel like Xander would buy a skirt to wear to a protest or something and then he'd go "wait but it matches my hair..." and then wear it like just out and about sometimes. Whit would just have one I think. Just randomly bought it and wears it. And Levi literally makes clothes, so I'm sure hes made a few dresses for himself just to test techniques and such. Ik you didn't ask but I felt like explaining my choices for who I drew 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Ur so right actually. I feel like Veronika would be like "Ohhh weird morally gray old man??? ILY." and he would actively detest her. thank you anon i haven't drawn a soy-bean (syobai) in a loonggg time lmao

Ajhskjfafksaflsga gay peiple. i love them. i really do. thank you anon. gay oepeple. aughgshah. /POS

(people who follow the despair time art tag rn ^^^^^)

Thats it for now!

still doin these so send in some more requests if you feel like it fellas <333

[just-some-guy-joust]

What’s Kazooie’s deal. Please tell me about them.

thank you so much for asking he's one of my favoritest guys in the world ok so

oldies who have been here since the lovecore swag showdown and perhaps those who were here for the deep sea fish tournament may remember the oc i put into the lovecore showdown, amedeo. for those of who don't, the basic rundown is amedeo is a gamer who is so obsessed with being a perfect friend and getting people to love him he gets manipulated and turned into a demon and ends up killing one of his friends before hitting his redemption arc.

for those of you who were here last time and paying attention, you may also remember the oc i put in the doomed by the narrative tournament, eden. she is a normalcore girl who ends up discovering her world is a video game and she is simply an npc. and now she's actively falling into a spiral of helplessness as she tries to help the player escape reality while never giving a fuck about her well being or whether or not she can be considered a real person.

both of these ocs are from the same story. other members of the cast include: the guy amedeo killed who now haunts their electronics and gets a sick robot body, a demon from the monster realm who is the first monster to set foot in the human world in a good while and ruins the world by refusing to do his job as player 1, an assassin who is also the lead/drummer of his band and got paid like 3 bucks to go kill the last guy and he was just fine with it, player 2 of the game who is in a death spiral and WILL delete as much of the game as they can if they don't finally escape, a tv head robot monster guy who is part of the aforementioned band and can't be normal about his crush on the assassin so he just starts mind controlling people in an attempt to kill him, amedeo again i cannot stress enough how much of a freak he is i love him. all of these characters end up involved in complicated plotlines revolving around the center of the story, the gamer club that most characters are part of. they turn into demons, get killed by demons, face the complex morality of being a person, face the complex morality of being a bunch of code in a video game, and more.

and then there's kazooie.

kazooie is a 24-27 year old transgender aroace man who runs the gamer club. he is a solid 5'3. his main hobby is gaming. he acts a little bit like a prick but he's always making sure the members of his club are having a great time. he named himself kazooie because he is autistic and his first fixation was on banjo kazooie. he lost his leg around his tweens and he does not feel very strongly about it, it's just a thing that happened to him.

the most exciting thing that ever happens to him in this entire fucked up convoluted story, is the assassin can't find his original target but kazooie was right there so he figured he'd just kill kazooie and call it good, which kazooie then got out of by talking fast enough about music for the assassin to start rambling about his band and want to be friends instead.

that's it.

kazooie's most important trait for the plot is that he runs the gamer club so he is involved with a lot of the plot but also everything just barely misses him by a couple inches and he mainly just has a normal day while his friends are out here experiencing the most bullshit buckwild experiences possible. and i Love Him. he's everything to me. he is so sweet and lovely and full of mischief and he's so silly and he loves his role and tries so hard to make the best of everything. he is just some guy and its what everyone needs so bad. in the middle of all the chaos, kazooie is always there scheduling club meetings so everyone has a moment to breathe and play some games together. he is so fucking normal.

also he's amedeo platonic partner/bestie/roommamte. ok here's some art of him

all above art by me

all above art by hershelchocolateart