#given his association with the dark sun and obsession with her

[dmitriyuriev]

She did not like the sun, because she always believed that it mocked and ridiculed her.

[bright-side20]

Symbolism that I have been obsessed with today—a play on something I have posted before.

Elain and Lucien as the sun and nature/Earth. A reliance upon one another to continue the cycle and to cultivate life.

Feyre and Rhys as the stars and the moon, the collection of the cosmos and spread of space. The endless abyss of both darkness and light, and the holders of all life.

Nesta and Cassian as fire and steel, the very forge of the deepest core of the Earth. The magnetic force that grips life by the reins and reinstates the hearth and warmth.

Gwyn and Azriel as the tides and the winds, the interwoven relationship of connection—Yin and Yang. The language they speak can only be heard as the kiss of the wind crashes down against the crest of the waves. The very essence of life.

The romanticism of life and how it is formulated between each couple and what they represent has been so utterly sexy to me today.

Now, I have no idea why I got this, because it's very easy to tell from my profile that I’m not an Elucien or Gwynriel stan. But still, it doesn’t really bother me,people can be as creative as they want with the books they read. However, it's also very important to keep in mind the canon text and what the author actually wrote.

This is how SJM symbolized Elain and Azriel:

the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.

Lovely fawn and death, light and dark ;this is how SJM chose to symbolize them together. I’m not going to delve into the mythological symbolism,I’m just going to continue with SJM’s canon text:

_In HOSAB, SJM used a portrait of dark and light that was extremely similar to the symbolism she chose for Elain and Azriel, calling it 'the symbol of balance':

"It's a symbol of balance," she explained, moving away a foot, but keeping the dagger at her side. Her crown of cloudberries seemed to glow with an inner light. "Two intersecting triangles. Male and female, dark and light, above and below ... and the power that lies in the place where they meet."

Where did Elain and Azriel meet?

He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” ..... Elain weighed my words … and slowly closed her fingers around the blade. ..... Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.I saw the painting in my mind...

They met when they both held the TT at the same time. It was the bridge of connection between the lovely fawn and death, light and dark. It was where their power lay and balanced each other. Later in the story, Elain emerged 'out of the shadows',which is Azriel’s power,and killed the KoH.

_In HOFAS, SJM again stressed the importance of the union of light and darkness:

Such light and darkness-the power lay in the meeting of the two of them. She understood it now, how the darkness shaped the light.

_Oh, and in ACOFAS, SJM also highlighted the balance of light and darkness:

Nuala went on, “It’s a time of rest, too. And a time to reflect on the darkness—how it lets the light shine.”

In conclusion, SJM is canonically obsessed with the balance of opposites,in this case, life and death, light and darkness,and the power that lies in their union. She has already given that symbolism to Elain and Azriel: the lovely fawn and death, light and dark,they are the ballance of the opposites.Their first union led to a pivotal event: killing the KoH, with more to come in future books.

In no time, Elain was described as a goddess of the earth or something. She's always associated with light, life, and beauty, gardening is also a way of giving life.

Also, Lucien has always been associated with fire, SJM literally called him the Lord of Fire. I don't understand the determination to make the sun his symbol, apart fro that Helion is his father. One of the reasons Beron didn't kill the LoA for betrayal is that Lucien inherited her power: flame.

"Lucien not Beron’s son, but Helion’s. His power is flame, though.They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him."

And that’s what he’s always been associated with. He might also be a spellclever through his father and oddly met a cursed flame queen. Still, SJM has never used a symbol of the sun with him,she always highlights his fire power.

[rcreveal]

Dare I Close My Eyes to Slumber-Ch 1

Aziraphale doesn't sleep and he's always passed it off as a sign of his incredible work ethic. But is that the only reason? What if he's never been able to sleep and has 6000+ years of insomnia instead? Share Aziraphale's attempts at sleeping through the ages and his final success after he calls on Crowley for help just after their celebratory meal at the Ritz.

This is a sweet and caring canon compliant Aziraphale POV (though some angst and worry on his part) with through the ages relationship development between Aziraphale and Crowley.

Thanks to my beta readers at the Whickber St Writer's association: @playdohangel, @sakascal, @sixshotsinatumbllr, @bohoteacher

Chapter 1

If ever an afternoon were made for napping, it was this one. And perhaps Adam had recreated the world with ‘perfect napping afternoons-adults only, kids wanna play undisturbed,’ in mind.  Sunshine broke through the skylight of A. Z. Fell and Co. bookshop, illuminating dust motes that played merry games of chase among the innumerable drafts in the old building.  An errant sunbeam had slipped over the railing and down the spiral stairs to play in fiery curls after passing over a dark pair of sunglasses set on a horse statue. The tick of the grandfather clock steadily marked the passing of the seconds.  Even the gentle breaths of the demon sleeping on the Chesterfield sofa added to the drowsy afternoon. 

Aziraphale set down his pen with a click, unable to concentrate. This only made Crowley smack his lips and roll up on his side. If the demon had been awake, he would have seen an uncharacteristic furrow in the angel’s brow and a frown on his lips. How did Crowley do it? Sleep! For over six thousand years, Crowley had napped on sun warmed rocks, dozed in hayricks, slumbered in beds, always waking with a smile on his lips and a spring in his step.

What a thing for only a demon to master! Personally, Aziraphale had given it up as a bad job a long, long time ago.

 ***

Aziraphale remembered roaming all over the Garden, utterly charmed by the creatures! So much more amazing ‘in person’ as it were than ‘on paper.’ Even the mock-ups in Heaven hadn’t prepared him for the cheeky way the little red-breasted robin hopped towards him with unexpected intelligence in those liquid black eyes. She was observing him! Or the delight he felt in the whir and flutter of her tiny wings when she accompanied him on his explorations of the Garden.  

Most of his time was spent observing the new creations obsessively. Certainly the animals’ breathtaking diversity was a never-ending delight, but so was finding the things that they had in common.

For instance, breathing.  Everyone was doing it, animals, insects, trees! Taking a deep breath, he smelled.  Chemicals, in the air, from the soil, and plants and creatures, he could detect them! Once he’d started, breathing just happened on its own.  Usually breathing was slow and regular, but it would change to be faster or slower depending on what he was doing, or along with his own little gasps and sighs of delight.

Then there was consumption - everything had to eat something, well, except the plants, although come to think of it they were ‘eating’ the sun and air and water weren’t they? Oh, and everything made waste, too. While observing consumption and waste was fascinating, if rather squelchy, he had no desire to experience that cycle of life. A bit too messy. 

Sleeping however, that looked quite fine. On his belly peering down a burrow in a meadow Aziraphale had observed rabbits fluffed up and nestling down to sleep. All of the creatures slept in some form or fashion, some quietly reposing in ones and twos or clumps.  The special beings, humans, cuddled when they slept. Every being he observed was relaxed, without care, full of trust that they could completely abandon themselves to a state where they couldn’t see, barely attended to what they heard, felt, or smelt! Why, even the snake-shaped demon slept coiled up in the sun. Sleep looked so peaceful. Peace was a blessing from God, so it stood to reason that sleep must be a blessing!  Since he was an angel and angels were all about blessings, he ought to try this ‘sleep’.

Following the general theme of making somewhere soft to curl up, he gathered some sweet smelling grasses in a meadow where he might see the night sky. Laying down on his side he fluffed a great white wing over himself as the cool evening air spread over the Garden. Oh, how eagerly he awaited the blessing of slumber when he closed his eyes that night in Eden.

As Aziraphale relaxed away from his duties, questions rose in his mind, terrible, dangerous questions. 

What happens if a mouse or an insect eats the special apples? Will they be in trouble, too?  Is it just the humans? Why them? Won’t it be hard for humans to resist a taste of apple if they have to walk by the tree every day? It smells so delicious, and the fruits are so pretty! 

Wildly, his thoughts jumped to a totally different tract. Even more dangerous, since he knew what happened to those who uttered such questions aloud, what had happened to the star-making angel he’d helped who had first asked.

Why does all this have to end? The star garden we made was so lovely!

Gasping, he had sat up from his nest, looking around wildly, heart thumping. Had anyone noticed? Were those his thoughts? But he’d never thought like that before! Not really. Not totally. Not when he was awake. He’d made sure of that!

The mental bulwarks he’d constructed after the Great War had kept his mind from straying towards even the hint of such thoughts for aeons. He certainly wouldn’t ask those questions aloud! His stomach clenched with worry while his lips pressed in determination. Asking those questions wasn’t part of the Great Plan! Everyone who had asked those sorts of questions in the Beginning had …they’d had to leave! Leave the Light.

With an effort, his mind firmly closed on the terrible memory of wailing angels, their faces shocked and horrified, falling as they struggled to fly, the gravity of the place Below pulling them down as they were cast from Heaven. The light of the grace of God being pulled away, leaving them dim and darkening as they plummeted from sight. 

Leave was a word that would have to stand in for that dreadful memory. Images of the Starmaker angel he had once assisted come to his mind, though that angel’s name remains out of reach. The lack of memory terrifies in its own way, like even the Starmaker’s name was erased when God’s grace was withdrawn. Hurriedly Aziraphale puts those memories away, too. Upbraids himself not to try and remember the angelic names of those that left.  

The angel Starmaker was a demon now, he had left, too. 

Shaking, his breathing ragged and shivering through his nose, Aziraphale got up and walked stiffly back to his post on the Eastern Gate, pacing there as the innumerable stars came out in the vault of Heaven. 

Watching the slow twirl of the night sky overhead, Aziraphale pondered how such inappropriate questions had come from his mind. An angel wouldn’t think such thoughts and he certainly was an angel! Such thoughts did not come up in his usual waking existence. He diligently watched his thoughts and if any whiff of such a thought came up, it was rooted out and thrown away into the rubbish heap. Where such things belonged!!! 

Unfortunate that the rubbish had just been dumped all over him. (Unfortunate, he liked that, unfortunate was a much better word than terrifying.)

Aziraphale sat looking up at the stars, tightly holding his own hands, sometimes wringing them.

Towards dawn he concluded, if sleeping meant being assailed by those unangelic thoughts , he simply wouldn’t sleep. He certainly didn’t have to. Looking out the Eastern Gate at the lightening sky of dawn, the soft clouds tinged with pinks and violets he decided sleep was just an Earthly thing, like consumption, not meant for angels. Smoothing down the front of his robes, he let out a breath he’d been holding, his visage smooth and serene again.

Then glancing sharply over the sleeping Garden, brow wrinkled in sudden concern, he thought, Oh! The poor creatures!  Were they in danger from inappropriate thoughts like he had been? Their corporations required sleep, he recalled. How could he help? Should he try and watch over them? Straightening his back, he stood tall, determined to help in whatever way he could.

As sunlight gilded tear tracks on his face, Aziraphale determined he would do everything he could to stay in the Light and help the creatures here.

So he didn't sleep.

[relicsongmel]

Sister Iris' Name

WARNING!!!!! Do not be fooled by any seemingly serious analysis to follow. This is a Shitpost. Proceed if you dare.

There’s a lot to be said about all the reasons I’m utterly obsessed with Sister Iris but by far the funniest example of my Kin-Adjacent Projection is one of my theories regarding Iris’ real first name that somehow manages to have quite a bit of substance behind it despite the fact it’s a straight up Meme Headcanon

I have a lot of thoughts on the Iris Name Drama and while I’m not 100% committed to the idea that “Iris” is just her temple name, one idea I DO like is the notion that if Mr. No-First-Name Hawthorne went to all the trouble to cut all ties to the Feys. If he made sure his daughters would never again be associated with that matriarchal society by virtue of replacing their last name. Who’s to say the twins’ first names weren’t changed as well, in a sort of final fuck-you to Kurain (and especially Morgan)?

I know it sounds odd but given how miserable Iris and Dahlia’s life in the village must have been as the powerless daughters of the woman who failed to become Master, I don’t think it would have taken much convincing for them to want to start over with wholly new names (that’s precisely what “Melissa Foster” does later, in fact). It also makes for a more believable explanation of Mia not recognizing Dahlia as her long-lost cousin in Turnabout Beginnings (even after learning her “true” name—to say nothing about not having seen her in eleven years).

Iris and Dahlia not being the twins’ original names also explains why the two don’t fit into the Fey naming convention of having a first name that starts with the letter M. And before you ask about Pearl, her being an exception to this rule actually makes sense thematically, because her name breaking the pattern is indicative of Morgan’s intent to use her to break Kurain tradition and dethrone the main family. The twins, however, are a different story—Bikini states that Misty took Morgan’s position about 20 years prior to BttT, and since Iris is 25 according to her profile…that means she and Dahlia were born back when Morgan still thought she was set to inherit the Master’s seat, and her eldest daughter would also eventually succeed her. To put it simply, Morgan would have no motive or reason not to follow tradition at the time she had her first children, if losing out to Misty was the true source of her bitterness and contempt for Kurain culture—and what eventually drove her to plot murder over it (I’m sure some would argue that she was always just a Spiteful Bitch but to me it’s a lot more interesting and tragic if she wasn’t).

“Wow Mel, that’s a lot of background and thought-provoking analysis! What’s your conclusion?” Lol. Lmao even. All this to say, there is absolutely nothing stopping me from saying Iris’ birth name…is Melanie Fey.

An M name. French for “the dark one.” Symbolic of how her character design is meant to mirror Dahlia’s—dark hair and dark pink clothing, contrasting with the fact she still has a light of goodness inside her…unlike her sister. Her sister, who has bright red hair and white/light pink clothing, masking her much darker true self underneath. The tragedy known as Dahlia Hawthorne Marisol Fey.

Another M name, Spanish for “Mary of the Solitude,” but also containing the word for “sun.” The sun, the center of the solar system. The Master of it. Marisol, daughter of the fallen Master, with nothing left but her blinding light. And if her light can’t lead as it was meant to…then the only thing left is to use it to burn the world to cinders.

The vengeful sun, Marisol…and the dark moon with no light of her own, reflecting the light back, in hopes that maybe the sun will see she’s still worth something.

Melanie Fey.

I, Melanie Relicsongmel, can make a well-thought out and justified explanation for headcanoning Iris’ first name to be the same as my own and the fact I can get away with it will never not be hilarious to me. Never ask me for any Iris meta ever again because clearly I cannot be trusted with this kind of power. Don’t say I didn’t warn y’all

[sillybouquetsoul]

Cloud Castles - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Hades and Persephone's Twin (ao3 link)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 5k

Pairing: Aisha/Sein

Story Summary: They dance just out of each other’s reach, but each time brings them closer together.

OR

Aisha and Sein navigate through the dark fairy tale of their own making, one encounter at a time.

Chapter Summary: Aida, the Goddess of Spring is loved by many gods; except one.

Her twin Aisha, the Goddess of Rot, is unloved by many; except one.

<< previous: chapter 2 <<

While Aida laughs and frolics among the flowers, Aisha watches from the shadows. 

Aisha doesn’t like the sun—it’s too bright, leaving her exposed to invisible eyes. In the world of gods and goddesses, there’s no place where you can really hide from the divinity. High above and down below, the gods and goddesses are always watching.

And Aida, her sweet and naive twin, the young Goddess of Spring, inexplicably attracts attention everywhere she goes. Aisha is never far from Aida, but she’s grateful to remain in her sister’s shadow. While Aida devotes hours to making flowers bloom, singing with the birds, and stealing sips of nectar and honey when she thinks no one is paying attention, not even the bees, Aisha is content to read under a tree, letting stories and fairy tales take her thoughts to a place beyond the blooming garden around her. 

It’s no wonder that Aisha escapes notice. Mortals avoid her, while the gods seem to forget about her existence entirely. Not many voluntarily associate with the Goddess of Spring’s twin, the Goddess of Rot. 

Just as the smell of flowers makes Aisha’s stomach churn, her own smell of rot and decay has a powerful effect on both mortal and immortal senses. But the twins’ love for each other is stronger than their opposing natures; throughout years of exposure, Aida has become the only one who can touch Aisha without instantly recoiling. 

“You smell like the earth,” she’d reassure Aisha even though her younger sister didn’t need such sentiments. “It’s a good smell. Nature needs the earth to thrive, just like I need you!” 

But what if, Aisha sometimes thinks, what if you don’t need me anymore? Sooner or later, a god will want to take you for his wife, and you’ll no longer be by my side. No god will allow me to stay with you. He won’t tolerate my smell. None of them do. 

She’s all but given up hope that someone will want her. It’s an empty dream. Appearance-wise she’s identical to Aida, but their similarities end there. 

Aida already has a long list of admirers and potential suitors vying for her hand. Anya, their mother, has her plate full shielding Aida from the brunt of love letters, perfumes, flowers—this always made Aisha laugh; what fool would present flowers as a gift to the Goddess of Spring?—and jewelry sent to Anya’s temple, all addressed to her daughter. Aida likes and appreciates the gifts well enough, but it’s impossible for her to make use of them all. 

Reading the love letters is one of Aisha’s guilty pleasures. For perishable gifts, like parchment letters and flowers, she’s tasked by her mother to decompose them. It’s a fair trade: entertaining herself with the written contents before crumbling them into ash and soil. These letters and flowers have greater use for nourishing the earth than their original purpose, in Aisha’s opinion. 

The interests of other gods, however, are harder to fend off. Once Aida becomes of age, wars may be waged for her hand in marriage. Gods and goddesses are petty and selfish like that, unable to let go of an obsession until they possess it. 

Their mother is constantly on guard for unannounced visits from another god, especially any one of the Big Three. Perhaps among the Big Three, Nemo is the most ideal candidate. Relative to his older brothers, he seems the tamest and most reasonable. But when possible, Anya would rather keep Aida to herself. 

Why wouldn’t she? Aida is a perennial blossom. People are only ever drawn by her beauty, but her mother and sister perceived her as something to be nurtured and protected. 

For that reason, Aisha always makes sure that the boundary of rot surrounding the garden is intact. She crafted the boundary herself, through a clever and intricate use of her abilities as the Goddess of Rot. When outsiders come close, they’re instantly assaulted by a strong, pungent smell reminiscent of rotting corpses. If the smell doesn’t deter them, then the hallucinations do: images of dead creatures, dried blood, and white bone. 

Each step across the boundary sets off a sensory trigger; starting from smell, to taste acting as the last defense. Whoever manages to withstand all five excruciating sensory triggers is either a spirit, or one of the Big Three. 

The Big Three have yet to enter Anya’s garden. All mortals revere Anya as the Goddess of Harvest, so they know not to incur her wrath by trespassing into her garden without permission. 

Aisha thought this balance of power among them, delicate as it is, would hold forever. But for immortals, forever is not a long time. 

They expected Carlo, the God of Sky, to act first. He was proud and entitled, infamous for his numerous sexual conquests since long before Aida and Aisha were born. For him, Aisha would be nothing more than a trophy. He felt the compulsion to voice his thoughts at every turn, unsolicited or otherwise, seemingly in love with the sound of his own voice from how often he talked over others. 

Then there’s Nemo, the God of the Sea, who rarely spoke unless prompted by Carlo. What he made up for in silence was the strength of his storms at sea, where he willfully sunk ships at a whim. He made his home in the deepest trench, and whatever he did there was anyone’s best guess. Even though he was quieter than Carlo, he too was easily swayed by beautiful women; he was just more discreet about it. 

Finally, the God of Death, Sein, was the most elusive one. He occupied a separate dimension entirely, ruling an underworld overridden by ghosts and spirits doomed to eternal damnation. He never showed up to Olympus unless war was on the horizon. He was the only god among the Big Three that hasn’t already taken a wife—or rather, multiple wives, yet. 

While Carlo and Nemo are venerated by mortals, tens of thousands of their statues hewn in their likenesses scattered across the continent, Sein has no such devout followers. As a result, no one apart from the primordial gods knows what he looks like. Aisha tried to find pictures of him in books before, but the illustrations only depict a large and dark silhouette, faceless, shapeless, sometimes with sharp teeth. 

She will do her utmost to prevent Aida from falling into Sein’s hands. Carlo or Nemo she can deal with, but Sein is a complete mystery. 

People that go to the underworld don't return. 

There is a presence at her boundary, stealing her focus away from the book in her hands. 

For a while, it hovers at the edge of the boundary. It is an unfamiliar but ticklish presence, like cold fingers teasing around the boundary, as though sizing up Aisha’s powers. 

But after a few seconds, the boundary suddenly collapses, and the presence passes through all five levels of her rot. 

The book falls out of Aisha’s hands. She stands up, shaky in the knees, and without thinking she runs to the center of the garden, where Aida is. Sweet and naive Aida, unaware of the powerful god that’s about to appear before them. Their mother is not around to protect them. 

“Aida,” she says, doing her best to keep her voice steady. “Please hold my hand.” 

Aida readily acquiesces. She probably thinks they’re about to start dancing as her eyes light up with joy. Aisha isn’t sure whether to laugh or scream. 

“Whatever happens next, don’t let go, alright?” 

“Oh! Okay then. Are we playing a new game?” 

Aida isn’t foolish. Unlike goddesses of her age and status, she’s simply been given too little room to grow. She grew up sheltered from the outside world, so her demeanor is child-like compared to Aisha. Aisha can’t even tell her to run, because where can Aida run? 

“Yes, we are.” Aisha says through gritted teeth. A game that they didn’t consent to. 

“Are we?” A third voice joins them, so deep and chilling that shivers race down Aisha’s spine. It sounds like the voice of Death. 

She turns her head, and Death stands there, smiling at them. 

His dark robes are stark against the colorful backdrop of flowers and greenery, so out of place that at first, she wonders if he’s an illusion. But no illusion of her making, or any immortal’s, can possibly recreate that face and smile. His black hair is long and wavy, half of it swept across his face, almost concealing his left eye. The rest is tied in a half ponytail, the ends curling up at the nape of his neck. From a distance, he doesn’t look as big and foreboding as Carlo, though his long and slender frame makes him seem taller. 

But the energy in the garden has changed. Instead of the light, sweet fragrance they’re accustomed to, the air suddenly feels restrictive and abnormally heavy. The flowers near his feet are drooping. If nature can also sense and respond to his aura, then this is no illusion. 

Aisha has to force the words out of her mouth. “You’re not welcome here, God of Death.” 

“How rude of me. Please allow me to introduce myself,” The God of Death dips his head, the smile still fixed in place. Contrary to his tone, he doesn’t look apologetic at all. “The title ‘God of Death’ is terribly dreary, so please call me Sein. May I know who I’m speaking to?” 

Aisha tightens her grip on Aida’s hand. “You already know who we are. Why do you come here without my mother’s permission?” 

“Anya isn’t the most cooperative chaperone for her daughters, I hope you understand. And don’t worry, I won’t stay for long. The flowers…” he surveys the garden critically. “Their smell makes me dizzy. I’d prefer not to destroy any part of Anya’s garden either, so it would be in everyone’s best interests to listen to my proposal.” 

He leans to the side, peering behind Aisha. “Don’t you agree, Goddess of Spring?” 

Aisha steps into his line of vision, heart stuttering when his attention refocuses on her. It’s jarring to be looked at directly, especially when it’s the God of Death. 

Aida tugs on her hand. “Aisha, let’s just listen to him.” 

“He can’t be trusted.” Aisha whispers fiercely. 

“He doesn’t look dangerous.” 

“Are we looking at the same god? His very presence is slowly killing the garden!” 

“Goddess of Spring,” Sein interrupts them. “I appreciate your faith in me. But dear Aisha has a point. Sometimes, fear is the only intelligent response.” 

Aisha bites her lip so hard that she draws ichor. Fear and dread and rust—that’s what her own ichor tastes like right now. 

“Sister, please let me handle this. I will protect you.” She doesn’t need to look behind to know that Aida is pouting. But Aisha can’t take her eyes off Sein. She fears that he’ll disappear right before her eyes and seconds later, Aida will be gone forever. 

“You’re not the first god to come with a proposal, nor will you be the last. If you want Aida’s hand in marriage, you must get in line.” 

Sein throws his head back and laughs.

“I’m well aware of the Goddess of Spring’s popularity. But I’m not here for her.” 

Her thoughts run cold. What is he talking about, who else is in this garden with them—

The God of Death isn’t looking at Aida. Even though Aisha blocks his view of Aida, he doesn’t seem perturbed in the slightest. He makes no attempt to approach Aida, unlike the handful of lesser gods who managed to sneak past Aisha’s defenses in the past. 

He steps forward until he’s at arm’s length from her, a trail of wilted flowers in his wake. She hears Aida’s pained cry behind her, but for Aisha, wilted flowers aren’t of consequence. Her sister can always make flowers bloom. There are too many flowers in this garden, and none of them ever die. Aida would never allow a flower to die under her watch. 

“I’m here for you, Goddess of Rot.” Sein murmurs, the words intimate and soft, as though they’re only meant for Aisha to hear. 

“Is it my time to die already?” She asks, lifting her chin indignantly. 

“Die? Oh, no. You misunderstand me,” he places one hand on his chest and bows slightly. “I’m not here to kill you.” 

In another setting, in another universe where they weren’t immortals, the scene and gesture would have seemed romantic. The God of Death bowing—a hand over his heart—before her, a goddess overlooked by both mortals and immortals alike. She realizes that despite the difference in social status and power, they’re quite similar to one another. Both forgotten immortals: one dwells in the underworld, while the other is hidden behind her sister’s blinding effervescence. 

But somehow, he sees her. 

“I’d like you to join the underworld and rule by my side, Aisha.” 

Sein leaves after telling them that he’ll visit again in the next full moon, and that he hopes Aisha will have made up her mind by then. 

Aida is understandably distraught. 

“Aisha, you’re not seriously considering his proposal, are you? You can’t go! If I’m not getting married, you can’t either!” She shakes her head wildly. 

Aisha consoles Aida, but her mind is still reeling from the earlier encounter, from Sein’s shocking proposal—not meant for Aida, but her. 

Aisha can’t wrap her head around that: an immortal who isn’t after Aida. Nobody is immune to Aida’s charms. It’s strange and borderline terrifying, not knowing what the God of Death is thinking. Why would he choose her? 

She needs answers, none of which Aida or Anya can give her. The next step is to gather more information about Sein. He must have another motive. None of the Big Three can be trusted, and Aisha would be a fool to let Sein’s ambiguous proposal sway her.

It may also be a misdirection tactic. He could be trying to reach Aida through her. Ultimately, Aida is her biggest weakness. 

The moment Aisha realizes this, she finally regains her composure. Yes, of course that’s his goal. Sein is a god, and all gods dream of claiming goddesses like Aida. He’s simply using a different approach than the others, by targeting and eliminating Aisha first before pursuing Aida. 

She has to admit that it’s a clever method that almost fooled her, and she blames herself for not seeing through him sooner. 

“Don’t fret, Aida,” Aisha says, brushing a wayward blond hair out of her sister’s face. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep you safe.” 

“You won’t marry him?” Aida demands. 

“No. His proposal wasn’t really meant for me anyway.” 

Aida wraps both arms around Aisha’s waist, burrowing her head into Aisha’s neck. The scent of flowers intensifies as though they’re sprouting in her lungs, choking her, but Aisha hugs her back. 

Aida never complains about her scent of rot, but out of a mutual consideration, they break apart after a few minutes. 

“He’s…” Aida trails off hesitantly. Aisha nudges her to continue. “He’s not what I expected.” 

“Me neither. He unsettles me.” 

“Really? I thought you’d like him.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

Aida giggles. “He doesn’t like flowers. He hid it pretty well, but I could tell the smell bothered him. He reminded me of you a little bit.” 

Aisha cracks a smile. “I don’t mind flowers. It’s just that I gravitate towards—”

“Dirt, rot, and decomposing matter. I know very well, Aisha. It seems like you’re fond of dead things too, huh?” 

When Anya returns, the twins waste no time telling her about the God of Death’s visit. Anya immediately flies into a fit of rage, cursing Sein’s name in colorful variations of the ancient tongue. Aisha and Aida placate her with ample reassurances that they were unharmed. 

“Did he touch you anywhere? Did he feed you fruits from the underworld?” Anya grips Aida’s hand firmly.

“He didn’t! Aisha stood between us the whole time. My reliable protector.”

“That’s good. What about you, Aisha? Are you alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine, mother.”

The Goddess of Harvest sighs in relief. “Good. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you both.”

“None of us knew he would come. Please don’t apologize for something beyond your control,” Aisha pats her mother’s hand. “But on the next full moon, please make sure that Aida is with you at all times.”

Anya looks at her sharply. “What? That brat is coming back again?”

“He says he is. It would be safer for Aida to be gone then, in case he plans to take her.”

“You should come with us too, Aisha! Let’s all hide away for a while.” Aida suggests with shining eyes. “Oh, we can go someplace you've never been! The beach, or the mountains, or the forest…”

As appealing as a vacation sounds, Aisha shakes her head. “He’d be able to find us easily. Mother’s temple is the safest haven for you, sister.”

Aida slumps in disappointment. Meanwhile, Anya watches her younger daughter intently.

“What do you plan to do on that day, Aisha?”

Aisha squares her shoulders before sharing the thoughts that have simmered within her since Sein’s departure. “I’ll be a diversion. When he finds out that Aida isn’t here, he’ll give up. I’ll create an excuse for her absence, and I’ll also try to find out when he’ll visit next. Perhaps then you can engage with him in another location, mother.”

Anya frowns. “I don’t like this idea. It puts you at so much risk. What if he harms you? I think you should come along with us. Or better yet, I will be here to receive him while you two stay in my temple.”

“That won’t be necessary, mother. I have a strong feeling you’ll end up fighting, and… I believe in your strength, but we don’t want you to get hurt. The garden could be destroyed if you clash with him. Aida spent so many years perfecting every part of the garden. It would be such a shame if her efforts went to waste.”

Aisha takes a deep breath. There are flowers everywhere; in her lungs, mouth, and head. The flowers are always happier whenever Aida and Anya are around. Petals unfurl, and their sweet fragrances thicken in the air. 

She curls her bare feet into the earth, pretending that she can feel the nonexistent dead, rotting things buried deep underneath. 

“Please trust me on this. I will deal with Sein.” 

The night of the full moon is serene. The sky is clear, and the moon’s pale light illuminates the garden, as though Selene herself is watching the events unfold from high above. 

It won’t be entertaining, Aisha muses as the minutes tick by. Because Aida is long gone. 

“What a lovely view.” 

She turns around at the familiar voice. At first, she doesn’t see him in the darkness, but he voluntarily steps into the moonlight, casting a shadow that seems to stretch on forever. He was more discreet this time; she hadn’t even noticed that he crossed her rot boundary. 

Most would panic or freeze up when faced with the God of Death, but Aisha only feels calmness. Perhaps because this isn’t her first time meeting him, and the knowledge that her sister is out of harm’s way helps alleviate her biggest concerns. Their mother is more than capable of protecting Aida. 

“Yes, the garden looks quite lovely at night. Unfortunately, it’s too chilly yet for fireflies to show.” 

She can’t hear Sein’s footsteps, but she sees his shadow moving towards her until it engulfs her own. She imagines the flowers withering in his wake. 

Somehow he materializes behind her, close enough that she feels the coldness of his breath, skating across the nape of her neck as he speaks. She suppresses a shiver. 

“I wasn’t referring to the garden.” 

“Well then, I hope I gave you a compelling reason to admire the garden in its night time glory.” Aisha parries the compliment smoothly, though her heart rate quickens. 

That compliment isn’t meant for you, she reminds herself. 

She pivots, and there he stands: clad in the same dark robes, enigmatic smile, and unfathomable stare. 

“The garden itself is adequate,” Sein says without looking away. “The darkness mutes the bright colors, so I find it easier on the eyes. I can almost ignore the smell of the flowers as well, if I concentrate hard enough.” 

He steps forward. “But I don’t need to inhibit my senses to admire you. You’re lovelier than the garden.” 

Aisha scoffs. “Shouldn’t you save such praise for the right goddess?” 

“I’m speaking to her right now,” Sein pauses to look around. “How convenient that the Goddess of Spring is gone. I’m actually quite relieved.” 

“Why?” Something isn’t right. He seems unfazed by Aida’s absence. She wonders how long he’ll keep this act up. Sooner or later, he’ll break. Although the chances of Sein actually hurting her are slim, she can’t rule out the possibility. Hopefully she won’t get hurt too badly. 

“I told you. I’m only here for you.” 

Aisha crosses her arms. “It would be easier if you’re honest about your intentions. Trust me when I say I’ve heard every excuse on this earth.” 

“Oh?” He brushes his tousled bangs out of his eyes. “I’ve been nothing but honest since I first came here. Why do you think I’m lying?” 

Is he playing dumb on purpose? 

“Because…” 

If he’s not willing to admit it, she’ll force him to. 

She lets her control slip, and a putrid stench begins to fill the air. Suppressing the rot inside her consumes a lot of headspace, but she’s used to it. She’s spent her whole life perfecting control, winding that knot of power in and around itself to prevent seepage, to avoid inadvertently distressing her family and their precious garden. Some days, the pressure of holding back splits her head open, and she’s on the verge of splintering apart; but then Aida is there, and though she’s unable to help much except to sing softly as a distraction, her voice is enough to pull Aisha out of the downward spiral. 

Letting go now feels forbidden. However, Anya and Aisha aren’t around tonight. 

By now, most gods or goddesses retreat with a hand covering their nose, expressions twisted in disgust. Aisha expects Sein to react similarly; he’d last no more than a few seconds before escaping the garden, cursing her name to hell and back. 

But the God of Death does none of those things. If anything, he looks pleased, something akin to approval in his gaze. 

“Because?” He prompts, standing in place and speaking normally as though he isn’t in direct range of Aisha’s rot. The grass beneath their feet is turning yellow, brown, and then disappears entirely to be replaced by bare soil. If she isn’t careful, the whole garden may turn into a barren wasteland. 

For a moment, the most selfish, shameful thought occurs to her. Aida has had this garden all to herself for centuries, but Aisha doesn’t. Even here, in their childhood home, she has to exercise caution. While Aida can make as many blooms as she likes without consequence, Aisha’s rot continues to fester inside as the years pass. 

It’s unfair, and she only realizes that now. 

“Because everyone wants Aida,” she says, feeling disconnected from the garden, from this conversation, from her own body that’s rotted through, undesirable and unlovable. “You’re using me to get to her. I know.” 

Sein chuckles. “Wrong. Care to try again?” 

Losing patience, Aisha throws her hands into the air. “I’m not in the mood for games. What do you want?” 

“I’ve said it already but you refuse to believe me. I want you, not your sister.” 

“Stop it,” Aisha says roughly. She hates how tempted she is by that admission. It’s a lie. “I won’t be made a fool again. It’s Aida you want—”

“Are you convincing me or yourself? You wound my pride, Aisha,” the amusement in Sein’s voice vanishes. “There are only so many times I can bear to repeat myself.”

“No.” 

Sein’s eyes are sharp and cold in the moonlight. “Is that your answer?” 

“What? No, I meant…” She looks away. The ground beneath her is no longer green grass, just dirt. “How are you still here? Most would run off because of the smell.” 

“I don’t mind the smell of rot. Did you forget that I rule the underworld? I think you’d enjoy it there. It can give you far more than what this garden offers, which isn’t much to begin with.” 

Sein takes one step closer, and Aisha steps back, mind blank and panic surging through her veins. It’s crazy to believe anything he says, but so far his actions align with his words—as ludicrous as they sound to her. 

Fending off attention on her sister’s behalf is second nature to Aisha. But this… 

This is unmapped territory, and she has no reinforcements. Her two companions in the world are sequestered in the Goddess of Harvest’s temple, where they’re twining flower crowns or discussing ways to beautify their garden. They won’t return until sunrise. She’s utterly alone with a god who will overpower her. 

“Would you like to experience the underworld?” Sein offers brightly. He seems almost excited at the prospect, the tension in his face relaxing as a smile dawns. “Consider it a trial stay. You can leave whenever you like. I won’t force you to stay.” 

“What use would I be there?” Aisha demands, instantly assuming that there must be a functional purpose to his offer. No one asks anything of her, except to act as a deterrent against unsavory gods. 

“I don’t expect anything from a guest during their stay. Unlike my brothers, I do have manners,” his lips curl into a sneer at the mention of Carlo and Nemo. “But should you decide that you like the underworld, and that you’d rather stay… Well, I’m sure we can come to a mutual agreement that will satisfy both of us then.” 

Is she imagining the sudden heat in his eyes? Aisha doesn’t allow herself to dwell on that. She has a strong sense that the mutual agreement would benefit him far more than herself. “What do you mean by mutual agreement?” 

“Let’s leave that discussion for the future.” Sein deflects the question with a flippant wave of his hand. “Do you accept my offer?” 

“What happens if I say no?” 

“Then I’ll leave. You won’t get this opportunity again, even if you regret it sometime later. And no one can enter the underworld without my permission.” Sein says easily. 

Knowing that he won’t punish her for saying no is a relief. Aisha lets her shoulders drop. 

“Where do the souls of gods go after they die?” She asks curiously. “Are we all not destined to end up in the underworld?” 

Sein laughs. “Excellent question. I don’t expect anything less from a brilliant mind like yours. Unfortunately, if you’d like to know, you’ll have to come with me.” 

She shakes her head. “Even if you don’t tell me, I can find the answer myself. Through books.” 

“Ah, yes, books. Have I mentioned that I have collections from the dead libraries?” 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

“Y-you do? In the underworld?” Aisha asks, awestruck. “How is that possible?”

Dead libraries were wealthy institutions of knowledge that have been purged or destroyed eons ago, mostly because of stupid humans, or occasionally, a god’s greed to keep the knowledge for themselves. As such, the resources contained in dead libraries were lost forever to dust and time, out of her reach. 

At least, until Sein claimed otherwise. “Of course I do. The Library of Alexandria, of Antioch, of Serapeum, just to name a few. All dead things belong to me.” 

She shivers at the finality in his tone. It’s true then, that his influence encompasses more than departed mortal souls. He sounds awfully confident, looking proud that he managed to surprise her yet again. The dead libraries that he mentioned are a substantial part of her wildest dreams, and she’s accepted the impossible yearning of never being able to access them in reality. 

But the picture he’s describing depicts a world bigger than herself, than the tiny garden she was raised in. He dangles knowledge and books above her as bait, ensnaring her within his trap. Whether or not he’s speaking the truth, Aisha’s mind and heart have already decided. 

She knows scant little about him, but she already thinks that they understand each other quite well. She isn’t afraid of dead things, and he isn’t repulsed by her presence. Perhaps they can even get along.

“Alright, Sein. I accept your offer.” 

She reminds herself that she has a way out. That he isn’t scheming to kidnap her for good. Aida and Anya’s faces come to mind, but when she thinks of them, she anticipates their worry, confusion, and rage. Those feelings don’t belong to her. 

Amidst her turmoil, Aisha finally dares to look at Sein directly. Then she wishes she didn’t, because the moonlight bathes him in silver and white, emphasizing the fine-boned features that all primordial gods, including her own mother, possess. In that moment, she thinks that if he were widely known and had marble statues hewn in his likeness, he could rival Aphrodite’s popularity among mortals. 

His dark hair and darker eyes are unique from the flaxen-haired gods and goddesses she knows. But somehow, the darkness of his aura has steadily abated since their first meeting. He seems friendly, which confuses her to no end. 

As Anya once told her, “You could never resist trying to learn and understand new things, can you?” 

Her mother meant it as a compliment then. But deep down, Aisha had known for some time that the thirst for knowledge would culminate in her own ruin and downfall. True knowledge seekers burn bright, but they don’t burn for long. She sees herself burning already, set aflame by the god from hell standing before her. 

As though sensing her thoughts, the God of Death smiles, white teeth flashing in the dark.

[ganymedesclock]

[enters the cat door.] Pale King? :)

PK is great because while we get a lot of impressions of what he's capable of, overwhelmingly his work is left for us, self-evident and finished, in such a state that we are not given hints on how he did it or what he did. This obviously has a lot of canon significance to who he is as a person-

(especially when the nature of much of that work is itself somewhat inscrutable; how exactly does he record his voice in whispering stones that only speak to certain parties when the rest of the setting is limited to actually writing things down?)

-but basically what it amounts to is that it's headcanons all the way down, baybey.

PK is... obsessed. This, to me, is the thing that stands out to me at an immediate glance of anything he was capable of. He fashions himself as a rational arbiter; possibly even a thing emotionless, unbiased, but really, it's obvious that certain ideas drove him so powerfully that anything, including unimaginable agonies and cruelties- barely factor. His mind as we explore it has very few guards that try to drive us out and kill us, few true barriers that stop us from moving forwards- but an enormous, vicious, whirling mechanism, beautiful and terrible, that polices every inch we move. You can proceed, the white palace says, if you're perfect. If your timing is perfect, if you never dare the metal teeth that surround you, if you choose exactly the right things and move only as the space is designed to move- and if you are willing to suffer, truly and awfully, then you can proceed, the palace is yours, it is open and the barest adversity will stop you.

This is not the mind of a person who lets things go easily. This is not the mind of a person who is actually detached. This is a beautiful machine, elaborate, precisely calibrated, and it makes miracles.

And it is, quite frankly, an absolute inhospitable nightmare. It might as well be the surface of the moon, not for alienness, but for the sheer ludicrous notion that anyone could live or love there. His mind is a haunted house to end all haunted houses; it'd be a fine locale to find in Silent Hill. The few rooms that actually seem like recollections of real places- the nursery, the workshop, the throne room- are all unsettling in different ways.

The nursery is the loveliest and also the most unattainable; a place for two people who are never coming back to the person who left them behind in the first place and didn't even set a chair for himself- the workshop is cluttered, creepy and miserable, nowhere you'd expect a god to make miracles; the throne room is bleak and dark, and has pillars set like fangs and the only chair so hard and uncomfortable it won't save your progress or give your player character a second of rest.

There is only one mention, anywhere in the game, of coldness associated with anything even adjacent to PK- the description of the pale ore characterizes it as "emanating an icy chill"- and when I remind myself of this, actually go looking for it, it shocks me. PK, to me, is so powerfully and intensely an ice person. Not just in the superficial senses- oh, he's cold, oh, he's callous, oh, he suppresses his emotions and opposes the fiery, sun-aligned Radiance; but that while neither of these gods have any ability to "get over it" whatsoever, the way they hold onto things is drastically polar opposite.

Radiance boils. Simmers. Screams and writhes and rages and pulses to her emotions. Those infected by her plague begin to feel as if they are burning alive the more her influence extends. She is a heat that stokes itself higher and higher and higher, to frenzy and fury, and the coldest it can get is if she methodically banks herself down to coals to pretend for a single utilitarian moment she's not as angry as she is, so she can whisper sweet words just long enough to coax someone onto the cinders.

PK... freezes over. He holds onto things perfectly, as if they never left, as if they never changed. When you walk over the nursery memory it looks just like White Lady could come by and put an infant Hollow in the cradle and sit down to rock them to sleep. It's so clean. So expectant. So empty.

And yet, there's something completely inhospitable to life about it. How could anyone live here? How could anyone be happy here? The game Silent Hill: Shattered Memories has a theme of a happy childhood frozen over in invading ice; that's very much what comes to mind here, even if Hollow's childhood was troubled long before they'd have anything to do with this room. PK ices over, is a person who stopped his own heart at one point just to serve another purpose and, superficially indifferently, left that body behind to rot without any sort of respect or acknowledgement. @rukafais drew a headcanon a very long time ago to the idea that PK could just will his own blood to stop flowing, and that's long one I've stuck with- a living person who is at odds with himself because of this absolute glacial inhospitality.

PK is also... clever. Inventive. One could almost argue too clever for his own good. If there's one way his obsessions are utterly unaffected by this ice and sense of detachment, it's that while Radiance is revolted by, fears and hates the void, PK... was fascinated by it. It's probably the most dangerous non-Radiance thing in the kingdom to him and yet he built his palace right next to the abyss; built a great lighthouse and a smaller alcove room that- unlike the spaces in his own mind- you can actually imagine him sitting, maybe for hours, maybe for days- just staring at the void sea. Dropping things into its grasp only to fetch them back out. Pouring it into shapes, and seeing how it held.

This also seems to convey itself in the shapes that his magic takes, or that similar pale white magic in other places (such as around the dreamers' monument) form; they are extremely intricate. Impossible filigrees of light that dangle in the air. Nowhere is this more obvious than the Pure Vessel fight, the moment where Hollow is remembering what they once were- at the point they were trying to be everything PK wanted of them, everything PK cares about. Hollow's attacks in that fight are beautiful. Ornate. The temporary spikes summoned from the ground have the same woven, 'watered' pattern that we see on the Pure Nail once Ghost acquires it.

So these ideas, of PK- icy stillness, obsessive detail, and insatiable curiosity- condensed for me a lot into how I imagine him fighting or handling situations. I imagine him as fighting with a spear very keenly- not just long reach, but that I associate PK very strongly in my mind with the concept of dissection and vivisection. Everything in its place, labeled, named, and known, consecrated by the light with identity and purpose- the hungry, predatory curiosity of a hunter picking apart prey, but with enough academic backing that they're looking for something more than the juiciest pieces to eat.

So, I imagine PK fighting with spears, and impaling or cutting implements... in that I imagine him fighting like a surgeon, pinning and mounting something or herding it into place.

[rocorambles]

Ignorance is Bliss

Pairing: Kageyama x reader, One-sided Atsumu x reader 

Genre/Warnings: Yandere Kageyama, NSFW, Toxic Relationship, Misogynistic Behavior and Thoughts, Mind Break, Implied Manipulation

Summary: Atsumu learns the hard way how true the saying ‘ignorance is bliss’ is and he wonders how much simpler life would have been if he had never gotten involved with you. 

From what Atsumu knows of Kageyama Tobio from their high school tournament interactions, from what his cheerful orange-haired teammate tells him, and from their encounters in the professional circuit, he thinks he has a pretty clear picture of who the blue eyed setter is. So imagine his surprise when he meets you at a hangout Hinata has organized. 

You’re not the only female at the event, with many other attendees choosing to bring their significant others, and Atsumu has a blast trying to pair up all the unfamiliar faces with past and present opponents and teammates based on appearances and personalities alone. He’s on a roll, but pauses when he gets to you. 

There’s a wide grin spread across your face, your eyes excitedly shining as you vigorously nod at something Hinata is saying before you erupt into a boisterous, stomach busting laughter that echoes throughout the entire room. You’re wild, cheerful, fun, and if he didn’t know Bokuto was single, he’d automatically assume the two of you might be a couple with your similar radiant and untamed personalities. 

Maybe Tanaka, the baldy from Karasuno? No, he’s married to that pretty manager he was always obsessed with since highschool. 

Kuroo? The messy haired businessman seems like someone who wouldn’t mind a wild lover, but it seems unlikely from the way the cat-like man hasn’t even looked your way once the entire time. 

Before he can think of another guess, he freezes at the sight of Kageyama walking to your side, intimately pressed against you as he moves some food from his plate to yours, a slight upward twitch of his lips and an unfamiliar softness in his eyes as he gazes at you. 

No freaking way. 

When Atsumu thinks of the type of woman Kageyama would date, he thinks of sweet, well-mannered girls, caring and nurturing motherly types who would be patient enough to deal with the admittedly emotionally and socially challenged athlete and take of their idiotic, but well-meaning boyfriend. 

He doesn’t think of women like you. A woman loud enough to rival both Bokuto and Hinata. A woman as warm as the sun. A woman who can so easily ignore the stubborn setter’s barked commands for Hinata and her to quiet down and behave properly. 

Atsumu doesn’t miss the scowl, the hint of disappointment in blue eyes when you ignore the dark-haired setter. 

Looks like even though Kageyama’s “King of the Court” title hasn’t been used or brought up in years, some things never change. And Atsumu wonders how long the two of you will stay together before Kageyama’s need to be in complete control and authority destroys everything between the two of you. 

Not long, he thinks, as he weasels his way into the conversation, intent on getting to know you better so that when you come crashing down from Kageyama’s tyrannical rule, he can be the one to catch you and show you a life, a relationship where you can truly be loved and appreciated for exactly who you are, a kindred wild spirit like himself. 

Atsumu doesn’t see you much after that since both the Adlers and Jackals are incredibly busy with pro season, practicing, and traveling, but the two of you text back and forth constantly, hitting it off right away just as Atsumu knew you would. He’s quick to lunge for his phone with every ping, eyes constantly checking for new messages, chortling and smiling like a giddy fool in love with every text you send his way. 

The conversations start off amazingly, no usual awkward small talk or niceties usually associated with getting to know someone, and Atsumu feels like he can truly be himself, unfiltered as he rants to you about something stupid Osamu did that annoyed him, sends a dumb inappropriate joke your way, shyly tells you about his hopes and dreams. And his heart soars as you match his sincerity and openness, revealing more and more of who you are to him, making it harder and harder for him not to fall in love with you. 

But as time goes on, he swears you’re changing, and he’s not sure if it’s for the better. 

When you see him at events, practice games, and real matches, your ear-splitting grin turns into tiny demure smiles, your bone-crushing bear hugs you greet him with become polite bows, your rowdy laughter that could rival Kuroo’s hyena howls become soft giggles hidden behind a hand you raise to cover your mouth. 

Even your messages are changing and he glares at the properly punctuated and grammatically correct sentences you send him now, his crass jokes responded to with a boring and safe “haha” or completely ignored. 

You’re different now and Atsumu hates it. 

He hates the way Kageyama seems to proudly beam at your politer mannerisms. He hates what a perfect polished couple the two of you make. But mostly, he hates how he can feel you slipping further and further away from him. 

It’s not a surprise when he receives the expensive, high-quality letter in the mail, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less as the blond setter stares down at the beautiful winding cursive scrawled across the card in front of him, grimacing at the picture perfect engagement photos Kageyama and you had taken together and chosen to incorporate in the wedding invitation. 

The selfish child inside of him has half a mind to toss it all into the garbage, forget about it, forget about you. But then he remembers that fateful day and he knows he owes it to that raucous laughter and toothy grin he memorializes and reminisces on to suck it up and celebrate your big day, usher in the next chapter of your life while you end the portion of your story with him. 

The wedding venue is disgustingly cookie cutter perfect and Atsumu internally retches at how boring and normal everything is, so unlike the woman who had intrigued him and who he thought he knew.  

What happened to your dreams of eloping in a jaw dropping national park? 

What happened to your disdain towards getting married in a church by a pastor? 

He grimaces as he stiffly stalks down the aisle and plops down in a pew, waiting for the ceremony to start, waiting for this whole thing to be over, waiting to go home and forget any of this ever happened. 

It’s easy to zone out as the background music plays, as the speaker drones on and on, and he only looks on in mild interest as the groomsmen and bridesmaids make their way down the aisle, some familiar faces walking past him. But nonchalance turns to something nauseating, something terrifying within Atsumu when he stands up with the rest of the guests as you make your way down the red carpet. 

Is that really you? 

Logically he knows it must be you, facial features, body, and every other physical attribute matching exactly what he remembers of you. But your eyes…

Had they always been so empty? 

No. He knows they hadn’t and he briefly closes his eyes, remembering how vibrant, how fiery those two orbs used to be, feeling sick to his stomach when he opens his eyes and truly looks at you, looks at how vacant and lifeless your eyes are, looks at how perfectly trained and almost robotic your prim and proper steps are. 

It’s like you’re nothing more than a living and breathing doll and a sinking suspicion begins to build in his gut as he scrutinizes the black-haired setter carefully watching you as you make your way towards him. And Atsumu thinks he might throw up when he can’t help but notice how similar the look Kageyama is giving you is to the look Kita had given his German Shepherd when the dog had obediently performed a trick for his master.  

He knows it might be a crapshoot, knows it might be too late now that the ring around your fourth finger chains you to the blue-eyed setter, but regret and guilt for not noticing earlier and love for the woman he remembers drives him and he continuously messages you in earnest long after the wedding. He talks to you like nothing’s changed, hoping one of his awful jokes will elicit some type of reaction from you, praying that the photo he snaps of your favorite onigiri from Osamu’s restaurant sparks something in you, ignoring the painful sting he feels at your politely austere responses, not letting your emotionless replies deter him. 

But it’s no good and he can’t help how off his game he is when they play a practice match against the Adlers, can’t help the way his temper is even shorter than normal, can’t help how he lets his emotions inhibit his skills every time he sees Kageyama across the net. And when he’s finally benched and told to cool his head, all he can think of is what awful things had Kageyama done to break you down so thoroughly, slumping down in his seat with a towel over his head, mind spinning with its wild imagination. 

He’s so lost in his head that he doesn’t notice the sound of a whistle marking the end of the match, doesn’t notice the slight commotion as the two teams bow to each other, doesn’t notice the figure making its way towards him. But he does notice the way another pair of shoes enters his field of vision and he lifts his head, body instantly tensing as blue eyes regard him. 

“Come over for dinner tonight. She misses you.” 

You missed him? 

Hope blossoms in Atsumu’s chest and his heart is racing as he rings your doorbell, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. But he droops a bit at the impersonal cheery greeting you welcome him with as you beckon him in, graciously taking the flowers from him without even a second glance or spark in your eyes when you see the assortment he had painstakingly chosen, treating him like he’s just any visitor and not a close friend who you haven’t seen for months.

And suddenly Atsumu wonders if he really should have come, feeling lightheaded and disoriented as he watches you flutter around the kitchen, a pretty pink pristine apron wrapped around you as you hum to yourself as you slave over the stove, urging the two men to catch up while you cook dinner. 

It all feels surreal, like a dream. Bad or good? He can’t decide. It’s jarring to see the woman who always insisted on ordering in greasy junk food, who did everything in her power to never step foot in the kitchen, who always went on and on about equal rights for men and women, become a perfect stay at home housewife, tending to the needs of her husband before hers, serving Kageyama and him so obediently, so submissively. And yet, there’s something oddly...enticing about the whole scene playing out in front of him as twisted as he knows it sounds and he feels disgust at himself when bitter pangs of jealousy strike him. 

How can he be jealous of Kageyama? How can he even entertain the idea of being okay with this role you’ve been forced into? How can he be jealous when deep down he knows something’s not right? Knows that you would never have easily or willingly let yourself be molded into something so against everything you believed or thought? Knows that your spirit and mind have been thrashed and tweaked so much that you’re completely broken and mindless, a docile little puppet for Kageyama to completely control? 

But he can’t deny the longing and awe he feels as you gracefully set the table, ladling plates with piping hot delicious food, charmingly smiling as both men compliment the meal, fawning and hovering over them as you make sure their cups and plates are always filled, shooing them over to the comfy living room as you prepare dessert and coffee for them and wash the dishes. 

Atsumu’s throat goes dry when you literally kneel in front of both of them as you place the tray laden with mouth watering pastries you had just baked, coffee, milk, and sugar in front of both of them, eyes unable to look away from the way your neck naturally arches downwards in submission. And he almost whines when you stand up from your humble position on the floor. 

But he’s jolted back to his senses at the brisk command Kageyama directs at you, disbelief and fury grounding him when you don’t hesitate to obediently kiss your husband good night and retire to your room as ordered after wishing Atsumu a pleasant evening

The door to your bedroom has barely closed before he’s lunging at Kageyama, fists bunched up in the front of his shirt. 

“What the fuck did you to her?! She’s a grown woman. You can’t just order her around like a slave-”

He’s cut off as he’s abruptly shoved away and there’s a tense silence in the air as Kageyama scoffs and straightens out his shirt. 

“She isn’t just any woman. She is my wife. All I did was bring out her true potential, which is why you are going to stop talking to her. I didn’t put all this work and effort into perfecting her for you to come and ruin all her progress. She isn’t the same woman you knew, Miya. She’s a married woman now. A woman married to me. So do us all a favor and forget about her.” 

Panic builds in a frenzy inside the blonde setter’s chest. No no no. He can’t just give up so easily. He needs proof. He needs to help you. 

“There’s no way she willingly just changed. What the fuck did you do?” 

Bone chilling tension once again floods the room and Atsumu nervously shudders at the cruel smirk that spreads across Kageyama’s face. 

“Does it matter? The results are all that matters. Isn’t that what you used to say when Kita-san used to talk about process? Plus, it didn’t seem like you minded all that much when my ‘slave’ was kneeling in front of you.”

Bile rises in Atsumu’s throat and he can’t think, can’t breathe as he’s forcefully shoved out the front door, unable to deny the harsh truth of Kageyama’s words, unable to stop imagining the horrors you must have gone through. The rest of the night is a blur as he somehow makes it back home, shaky hands washing his face, brushing his teeth, body shivering and trembling from something other than the cold as he curls up under his covers. 

But safe in his own environment, his own home, his own bed, his mind wanders and he thinks back on the night. He thinks about how perfectly the back tie of your frilly apron accentuated the curve of your waist, hips, ass. He thinks about how nice it felt to be taken care of, to have everything being done for him as he sat back and relaxed. And his hand slips underneath his briefs as he thinks about how utterly angelic you looked on your knees in front of him, head and eyes demurely turned down, as he wonders if Kageyama has you trained just as well in the bedroom. 

If he had simply asked, would you have crawled between his thighs? 

He groans as his hand wraps around his cock, thumb playing with his tip as he imagines your tongue swirling around his head, spreading his pre-cum and your saliva everywhere as you greedily taste and lap at his length. And as he begins to stroke himself, he imagines it’s your throat taking him all the way in, he imagines your doey eyes peering up at him from underneath fluttering lashes, seeking approval, making sure you’re pleasuring your lover, your husband. 

God, it’s so easy to imagine replacing Kageyama, imagine being your husband, imagine having you as his perfect slutwife and his back arches, eyes seeing only white and stars, body pulsating with pleasure as he cums harder than he’s ever had before at the thought of using your body as he pleases every night, at the thought of you eagerly serving him day in and day out, at the thought of fucking you raw, breeding you, impregnating you with his seed, letting everyone know exactly who you belong to with your swollen pregnant stomach and leaking tits as your bear his children. 

But he chokes out a sob as thick white spurts splatter across his hand, a few teardrops leaking from the corner of his eyes as he buries his face in his pillow, self-loathing and disgust curling inside of him at his traitorous thoughts, a silent plea for forgiveness and a desperate prayer for you to at least be at peace echoing in his head as he cries himself to sleep.

[baebaejooheon]

Corpse husband x cottagecore! Reader headcanon

Just a cottagecore esque thing where it’s readers birthday and they throw a big meet up/sleepover thing.

Fem reader just bc. Mentions wearing a dress/skirt

A/N: uhhh leave me alone Ik I have a series in the works that I haven’t written for in months. Leave me alone 😎 not edited pls it’s rlly not good , as well as written at 6 am. Based on a maladaptive daydream I had for like a week straight. I could turn this into a real fic if anyone wants it but like ahaha I can barely write once a year 😌🤚🏻 I will probably reread it and fix it later but as of now you get what you get. I literally just typed this on my phone with no sleep so like 🤗🤪

Originally posted by datchidatchi

A little background, Y/N lives in a medium sized cottage esque house. She has a small garden in her back yard, as well as a free roam fluffy brown cow named dellie, and a big chicken coop. As well as a duck that roams the property and a couple of other animals. As well as a huge flower field a little off the premises. (All of this is infact important.)

It’s Your 23rd birthday, and for this big occasion you decided to invite over all your friends, even those who live outside of the country, to your small home in the middle of nowhere. This would be the meetup that would break the internet.

Many people were invited. The typical among us group:Jack, Felix, Rae, Sykunno, Toast, Poki, and even Corpse who was given the option even tho the likelihood was low given the situation.

A few SMP friends you had made through association were also invited: Karl, Alex, Nick etc.

Many people, lots of fun.

The morning of your birthday, You awoke to many messages and posts for your birthday. Lots of bomb selfies on the feed as well as #HAPPYBDAYY/N trending on Twitter. Along with this, you were greeted with a few texts from your non American friends stating that they arrived safely or that they were checking into the hotel rooms they had booked for the weekend.

When the time came for the party, most of the people had managed to show up. The party was in full swing, everyone had a drink in hand, posting pictures, celebrating being together as well as it being your birthday.

Filling the trending tab on Twitter with so many hashtags

Around 10 pm you got a call from corpse and decided to head upstairs to get some peace and quiet from the loud music in your living room.

Answering the phone the conversation wasn’t anything special, corpse wishing you the fourth happy birthday for that day, as well as asking how everything was going. It was a normal conversation, that was, until his breath hitched and his voice started to quiver as he grew quiet, barely mumbling. Asking what was wrong, corpse went on a small tangent about how he wished he was more confident with his looks, how he wished it wasn’t scary showing his closest friends what he looked like etc. and how he wished he could be there at the party with everyone.

“Corpse I’ve told you 100 times. I understand your situation and it’s ok that you couldn’t show up. I don’t hold it against you, but I didn’t want you to feel left out :))”

“What would you say if I said I just pulled up in an Uber and I’m absolutely terrified of what’s gonna happen?”

Sneaking out of the back door as quickly as possible and running to the front lawn preparing herself. Corpse steps out of the car and You just jump in his arms. like full on koala grip on this man.

Holding his face and just showering him with compliments. Lots of reassurance and sweet nothings.

Heading to the back porch in order to allow him to calm down and prepare. The two end up sitting outside in the dark talking for like 30 minutes.

Finally working up the courage to head inside. You hold his hand the whole time and you see his hands start to shake.

Stepping into the living room, Jack noticing corpse was there, smiling but not saying anything after realizing he’s nervous. Meeting eveyone for the first time really being hard on him. No one else knowing what he looks like so no one really has a reaction

“Look who I found”

“Oh Y/N!! We were wondering where you ran off too. Who’s your friend?”

Corpse just hits them with a “uhh, hi 🤗”

Everyone freaking out as soon as they realize who it is and trying to talk to him.

Phones were put away for most of the night in fear of leaking anything.

You going the extra step to check everyone’s camera rolls (with consent of course) just incase and deleting any photo with any form of corpes face.

A group selfie with just corpse’s hand doing a peace sign

Many drunk escapades

Everyone finding a place to crash for the night. Some staying awake on their phones, some heading to hotels, some alresdy passed out for the night.

You check in on corpse before you head to bed, knowing today was a lot for him.

“Surprisingly? One of the best nights I’ve had in awhile :))”

Heading off to bed.

6 am rolls around and ms Y/N is up at the crack of dawn to do morning chores for the small farm.

Cute hobbit esque dress. Brown skirt, off the shoulder white flowy shirt tucked in, white frilly apron, brown corset belt Etc. you know the fit

Walking down the stairs, you see corpse on his phone in the dark sitting at her dining room table. Everyone was still asleep and it seemed like corpse hadn’t even slept a wink. You know, his insomnia and all.

“What are you doing awake? It’s only 6 am and you partied pretty hard last night?”

“Farm life doesn’t stop for a hangover, but I could ask you the same thing mister :) come on you can help me out”

Corpse is 100% not dressed to do anything outside, especially not any farm work.

Tells him to wait on the back porch while she gathers some stuff from the house. coming out with a messenger bag as well as a basket and a blanket.

Sets everything down and continues to feed the animals with corpse, asking him to grab the big bucket of feed. showing him the ropes, filling up everyone’s water dishes. Collecting eggs etc.

Corpse just watching you with a smile on his face. Your just talking to all your animals, yelling at fiesty hens for pecking at your legs and/or talking to Gerald the duck for getting in the way.

Corpse lowkey obsessed with dellie the cow. Pets her and coos for like 5 minutes straight.

When they finish the sun is barely rising everything still looks like a silhouette from far enough away. putting what needs to go inside away, and then grabbing the messenger bag off the porch.

Dragging corpse to the flower field just down the hill at the edge of the property.

Laying out the blanket and sitting just talking for hours.

You plays music from your phone through a small speaker, dancing around and twirling, lost in your own world.

Corpse’s Instagram story is just full of videos and pictures of you in the sunrise, small captions like happy birthweek to the most amazing person Ik. Or damn who knew farm girl had moves.

Literally 30+ story posts at 7 am.

Corpse takes a picture of you making a flower crown. Shadows cast across your skin, the small bit of sunrise light casting a soft golden glow. The field of flowers all around. Literally goddess worthy.

Fans going crazy reposting the pictures, spamming Twitter etc.

His camera roll is FULL of pictures of her.

Giving corpse A flower crown full of an array of wild flowers

Dancing together. Just twirling and laughing.

City boy corpse loving the farm life

Secretly of course

Relaxing and just sitting with eachother as it slowly reaches 10 am.

“Uh, thanks for this morning, I had a lot of fun.” A small sleepy smile on his face. The flower crown crooked on his messy curls as he just stares into your eyes.

You both end up leaning in for a kiss bumping noses as you gently pull away

Definitely the best birthday gift you could have asked for

Heading back inside to see how everyone’s doing.

Rae being one of the few awake asking where the two of you had been seeing it was already around noon

“Those of us awake took it upon ourselves to raid your kitchen sorry not sorry”

Corpse getting sleepy wanting to take a nap seeing as it was noon and he was running on little to no sleep.

You let him rest in your bed as you occupy everyone downstairs

Everyone leaving around 3 pm, corpse is still asleep so you go outside to check on all the animals once again.

Letting Gerald in the house bc he’s being a pain in the ass.

When you come into the house you see corpse coming down the stairs rubbing his eyes and streatching. His shirt twisted and raising slightly, the jewelry and chains he was wearing now gone.

Giving him a good “morning” kiss.

The day is filled with you cooking for him. Making fun of his foil troubles, watching movies, laughing and overall joking.

Spending the rest of the night cuddling together and making the most of the time you had together.

Making things between you official

✨Extra✨

When you post about eachother to tell the fans that the two of you have been dating for like 6 months the captions are wild.

Corpse is like “ugh look at my gorgeous girlfriend, so pretty, so nice and kind, the most amazing person ever” just full on simp. The pictures he uses are from the morning after your birthday.

Your picture is just you guys holding hands. His usual chains and jewelry. Caption just “eww a city boy 🤮, gotta take all the love I can get tho”

[moribundanchor]

The Pelle/Dani Receipts, Post Twelve: Runes

Big, huge Hårga hugs and thanks again to @daydreamers for expertise and editing on this post!

So. Runes. Specifically, the Elder Futhark runes, as Pelle tells Dani in the Director’s Cut, the “special little language” of the Hårgans. Throughout the film, runes are insinuated into basically every surface of Hårga and its people. So many tattoo opportunities, y’all. And it doesn’t even technically start in Sweden. Ari stuck a board featuring the whole Elder Futhark alphabet in Christian and Mark’s apartment. You can see it on the bookcase to Pelle’s right in the couch scenes. So, the film’s usage of the Elder Futhark is a deep, deep rabbit hole full of all the multivalent subtext we crave from this film, but they’re also absolutely blaring evidence for the Dani/Pelle ship. Throughout the film, like many of the background details we’ve discussed, the runes serve as a repetitive chorus of their fatedness for each other, but better still, the runes footnote the film’s ambiguous resolution as their genuine happy ending. So let’s dig in.

Dani has two main runes associated with her, Raidho and Dagaz, and they are both merkstave versions, that is backwards, lending them a negative reading. Oooooh, scary. Except negative readings aren’t necessarily negative either. All runic readings are subjective and contextual, which is why we decided to talk about these last. Let’s not forget that Dani begins the movie at the bottom of an emotional well.

Raidho, literally ride or wheel, refers to a journey. Yeah, Dani’s on one of those, seems legit. This is the only rune that Ari takes care to point out the meaning of within the film itself, when the elder Arne shows the Rubi Radr to Josh, pointing to Raidho on its side and telling him that that one stands for grief. Grief is a legitimate reading of Raidho merkstave, so let’s just take that interpretation at Arne’s word and combine it with Dagaz, Dani’s second rune. 

Dagaz is the last rune in the Elder Futhark, and it means day, symbolizing accomplishment, fulfillment, and new beginnings. As a symmetrical rune, it’s questionable whether it can be merkstave, but Dani’s Dagaz rune (technically runes, as she also has them on her shoes) does lie in opposition. Its negative reading in that case would be hopelessness, blindness, or cataclysmic change. Not fairytale stuff, right?

But Raidho and Dagaz appear together on Pelle’s drawing and on Dani’s dress. Also note that runic inscriptions are read right to left, and the tapestry of the “little love story” is an in-film clue to that reading order. With that in mind, together Raidho merkstave and Dagaz merkstave tell of a big change, even an ending, yes, but an ending to Dani’s grief, and that is what her journey in this film describes. Here, two “negative” readings equal out to a positive in the sense of Dani’s ultimate growth and transcendence. But wait, there’s more.

You will notice the runes on the Hårgans’ clothing, of course, as though they are their personal cult cutie marks, but the embroidered runes are often surrounded by other symbols, esoteric symbols and more complex runic talismans, which deepen the reading of the central rune, like footnotes. In Dani’s dress example, Raidho and Dagaz are flanked by merkstaved Tiwaz runes, with sun symbols above and below. Tiwaz (literally “the god Tyr,” the god of law and justice) is one of the runes featured on Christian’s robe during the sex ritual, and it describes justice, honor, authority, self-sacrifice. Its merkstave meaning then reads as conflict, imbalance, lack of communication...separation. And so, in the specific context of the dance competition, while Dani’s main runes shown in Pelle’s drawing forecast (or possibly straight-up spellcast, depending on your interpretation) an end to her grief, the more complex version she wears for the dance tells of that happening through a conflict and a break...but the sun will come out tomorrow, tomorrow. It is a new dawn for Dani as the May Queen.

Her shoes, which we only see during the dance, are more complicated. First, the embroidery is done in faded red thread, and we know that red appears very selectively on Hårgan garments. Siv wears a ton of red throughout the festival. Maja and Inga also wear striking red additions to their costumes at the Fire Temple ceremony. Ingemar has a single red button on his waistcoat. So red may convey authority, fertility, sacrifice, or even be a brand of shame, but it always seems to mean something.

As for the symbols on her shoes, again we see the merkstave-ish Dagaz rune, but it is alone in the center, no Raidho. So we’re looking at a big change or an ending again. Instead of suns, we have snowflakes, recalling the Spoiler Tapestry in the beginning, the way it began in frosty dark death skullhead weather and ends in summer dinner and dancing beneath the scariest sun since Teletubbies. To the right, we have a bind of three Tiwaz runes, and to the left, we have an Ingwaz (seed) rune, combined with a merkstave Kenaz. The triple Tiwaz is a victory rune, taken from an Old Norse poem where a Valkyrie was woken from her slumber. Three is a holy number, and that’s definitely something we know the 9-multiple-loving Hårgans pay attention to. This rune means the sleeper Dani is about to be awoken through a victory. Meanwhile the Ingwaz rune refers to coming into harmony and reaching potential. It’s also a fertility rune. Kenaz (torch) is a rune that normally describes transformation, knowledge, and the harnessing of light; merkstave, it speaks to darkness, lack of illumination and a relationship breakdown. Taken together, reading right to left, Dani’s shoes basically say: there will be a great change where she will be awoken from her slumber through a victory, she will have a breakup and/or her illusions will be shattered, but that will bring her ultimately into harmony, and there is the added implication of her fertility, bolstered by the red thread, being part of this. THAT IS ON HER SHOES. 

For what it’s worth, you will also notice Hanna wearing Dagaz in opposition, like Dani, and the elder Sten wears a merkstave Raidho, in yellow no less. You can peep merkstave Raidho and Dagaz elements on the temple doors, too. So even if you eschew our deep dive here, these runes cannot be looked at superficially, as merkstave = bad = Dani doom. If Dani’s doomed, so is Sten and Hanna and the whole damn Hårga, and you may think that, but it’s not terribly likely they’d write it on themselves, is it? Sten doesn’t look doomed to us. Sten looks quite jolly, actually.

OK, time to obsess on Pelle. Pelle has one rune on his Hårgan tunic that he wears for the majority of the film, Fehu, and this seems more straightforward. Fehu means wealth, specifically mobile wealth, specifically cattle. As we mentioned earlier: moo, Dani; moo, sacrifices. And since Pelle’s the one bringing new blood and their new queen, the association of Pelle with prosperity is quite fitting. Add to that the way Fehu and Raidho tend to pop up all over the village, particularly on the maypole. The maypole combination of Raidho (not merkstave) and Fehu speaks to the way the Hårgans believe the dance around the maypole enacts (and reenacts) a ceremony that brings them prosperity, and having Dani and Pelle as Raidho Barbie and Fehu Ken is just kind of perfect in that light.

Pelle’s Fehu is surrounded by four symbols. Let’s have a crack at those, too. First we have what looks like a closed eye up top. At the bottom, we have a cross. The cross is not actually a cross; it’s a combination of four Isa (ice) runes, and we know this because there are four dots arranged around them, telling us, hey, these are four symbols not one. Then to the right, we have another talisman that looks like a crucified diamond with five dots. Again, the dots mean that these are individual runes drawn as one symbol as a kind of shorthand, so this symbol is actually Ingwaz again, quartered by four Isa runes. Finally, to the left, there is another Isa rune crossing a Tiwaz, and the absence of dots here means that they are a bind, or they are meant to be read as one thing (or are a spell for one thing).

The closed eye symbol is a bit of a guess here; it might represent Pelle’s unclouded intuition or maybe, in view of Dani’s suns and the association of Raidho with the summer solstice, it is meant to symbolize Fehu’s complementary association with the winter solstice. We prefer the association with his intuition given the events of the film. But what about the other symbols? Isa is a rune that describes the self or the ego. On the positive side, it is about will and focus, but on the other side, it is everything bad about ice: rigidity, blindness and self-preoccupation, being frozen. Again, symmetrical runes like Isa don’t merkstave, but they can lie in opposition, and so we have two pairs of Isa indicating, at the right, self-fulfillment, with the added implication of fertility, and coming into unity with the family after the will breaks through the metaphorical ice. At the bottom it is the same reading, only without Ingwaz. Will and self-control overcomes lassitude. And then again, one last time, Tiwaz crossed with Isa, read as one thing, not a series like the previous shorthand symbols, invoking justice and male energy to, again, break through the metaphorical ice. Taken together, it’s a formula for Pelle and the family’s triumph. Governed by his unclouded intuition, Pelle’s will overcomes that of his four differently-blind friends, bringing new blood and justice and unity with the family for the betterment of all, and the two breaks in the rightmost configuration carry the added implication of Pelle bringing into the family Christian’s and Dani’s new blood.

Finally, as discussed briefly in posts 10 and 11, Pelle changes his shirt on the morning of the dance competition, swapping Fehu for Wunjo (joy). There do appear to be a couple flanking symbols on this shirt, too, but we never get close enough to see, so we’ll just have to go with Wunjo’s face value. Again, this is the rune that emphasizes harmony, family, and the art of correct wishing, i.e. wanting (and getting) what is good for you. Pelle wearing Wunjo when he kisses Dani is a sign that he, the anti-Christian if you will, is her wish come true. This choice is not only incredibly positive for his relationship with Dani, but illustrative that there is a difference between Dani/Pelle and Dani/Hårga by virtue of the fact that he changes back into the Fehu shirt for the Fire Temple ceremony. Insofar as Dani is part of the family after the ceremony, the prosperity spelled on his Fehu-emblazoned tunic applies to her, too, but the Wunjo shirt is for her and for her victory...and his victory over Christian for her sake. The implication is that their story will not simply end with Dani assimilated into Hårga. They have special, personal significance for each other. While the ending shots of the film are a little ambiguous, the runes promise the May Queen and her consort are going to be just fine, y’all.

Again, would you like to see our fanfics?

Of course, there’s tons more to explore in the film that doesn’t speak specifically to Dani and Pelle’s love story, and even while we compiled this list, we were continually noticing and discovering the significance of new things. There’s no reason to think that will stop just because we’ve posted the Receipts. Still, we hope that you will enjoy the evidence we have compiled here for not only the legitimacy of the Dani/Pelle ship, but its promise of a happy ending for the OTP because, by Ari’s own admission, for better or worse, Midsommar is a wish fulfillment fantasy.

For more, click on The Pelle/Dani Receipts Masterpost

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: Episode 9

This episode starts with Zhao Yunlan being a bloody good boss. I’ll talk about how the opinions of others must have affected this man’s perception of himself a little later on, but in this scene it is important to note that Zhao Yunlan is supportive, caring and loyal. Wang Zheng comes to him in tears, asking for permission to leave and see the home she had just remembered, and he not only supports her verbally, but drags his entire team on the trip with her the very next day. Sure, he has are ulterior motives, as he strongly suspects one of the Hallows must be around the same area, but I maintain that Zhao Yunlan would have insisted on going with Wang Zheng regardless.

There are complications to this trip; namely, Wang Zheng is a ghost energy being and can neither be in sunlight, nor leave the SID really. Thus, the plan to take her on the trip includes buying a doll. The implication is that Wang Zheng can be somehow placed inside it, and thus be able to move, but the details of how this is done are actually curiously hazy. I’m not sure if censorship is the reason for muddled writing, but there really is very little explanation for the ghost in a doll situation.

Guo Changcheng is tasked with securing a makeshift body for Wang Zheng, and the boy, eager to act fast, and without much to work with in terms of instructions, ends up buying this.

We can only thank the Universe for the role of Wang Zheng not being played by a blow-up doll for three episodes straight.

Zhao Yunlan instantly realises that being places inside this thing might be a little bit upsetting for his subordinate, and lashes out at Guo Changcheng with an excellent “Is the thing above your neck a urinal?” This snaps Zhu Hong out of her mirth, too; she rushes to her friend’s side to offer emotional support, and will remain there for the entire episode.

I love this blocking, in which Zhu Hong is the only one who feels comfortable approaching Wang Zheng in a situation where she is seemingly being mocked by her male colleagues, as Zhao Yunlan and Guo Changcheng look on, unable to offer a meaningful apology.

The evening prior to this Shen Wei is musing over ancient map of the region. His costume is arranged deliberately so you can see the Pendant of Pining hanging around his neck.

I am really wondering when this was shot, because it looks very out of place. The costume differs from Shen Wei’s usual attire, including chinos and an uncharacteristically ill fitting shirt. His hair looks so wrong I am wondering if this is styling, or a different haircut entirely. And, since we’re on this train of thought, his eye colour is so off I genuinely spent quite a bit of time examining the shots in order to figure out whether he’s wearing contacts. I don’t think he is, by the way, but the colour grading makes his warm syrupy-brown irises look almost olive green.

During the scene it is revealed Shen Wei’s only worry in regards to leaving the city and rushing into what could be trouble is a possibility of Zhao Yunlan encountering danger in his absence. It is easy to see that Shen Wei here firmly associates his own worth with his work as Hei Pao Shi, and his own needs with Yunlan being safe and sound. You could trace this thought process back to the mountainside conversation ten thousand years ago, and to years of loneliness and isolation that followed. While, frankly, equating self-worth with comfort of other it’s not necessarily so unusual, and neither is equating it with one’s work, Shen Wei’s disregard for his own life is still horribly upsetting.

The morning after, Zhao Yunlan with his team and Shen Wei with his students move out of Dragon City. Destination - North-west. I have to ask though, why is Shen Wei taking his students with him? I get that it’s a cover but also: he can totally just teleport where he needs to and do his stuff as Envoy, can he not? It’s fast, efficient, and can all be done during the night without arousing any suspicious.

As it happens, Shen Wei goes by car, which breaks, and causes him to instantly cross paths with Zhao Yunlan. What I like about this meeting is that we see it from an outsider perspective, as we drive into the scene with Lin Jing, Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng.

“Is that Professor Shen? This must be their destiny. They keep meeting each other wherever they go.”

Zhao Yunlan confesses that he feels like Shen Wei bugged him and pops up everywhere he goes; Shen Wei counters by saying that in this case Zhao Yunlan who followed him. Zhao Yunlan can just laugh awkwardly. It’s kind of adorable how the two men just basically admit that they’re stalking each other, and are both kind of okay with that. Shen Wei then introduces the other man to his students as his good friend.

Zhao Yunlan, having already figured out that he is not likely to get any answers from Shem Wei, goes on a charm offensive with his students. I think this is the first time Shen Wei sees Zhao Yunlan using his jovial manipulation on others, and he is not particularly happy about what he is witnessing. Below are the series of facial expressions he wears every time it happens throughout the episode.

The way I read it, this could equally be jealousy, or the daunting - and incorrect - realisation that Zhao Yunlan is being like this with everything that moves. He could be even beating himself up for falling for this man’s charm now that he sees that Zhao Yunlan using the same wide smile as a tool to placate, gain trust and access information. In his mind, this is a further confirmation that he is not in any way special in Zhao Yunlan’s eyes. Again, Shen Wei’s supposition cannot be further from the truth. But you could imagine how he may have come to make to this conclusion.

In this particular case, Zhao Yunlan uses his charm to get some information out of Jiajia, and ends up hearing the direction of their expedition.

Shen Wei nervously adjusts glasses in the shot which is not even his close-up. It’s lovely, seeing how good of an actor Zhu Yilong is. Good actors don’t need to be directed to to most of the little things their characters would do, and don’t have to be told what their character quirks are.

Shen Wei very politely shuts Jiajia up when she starts talking about the earthquake, asking her to get out of the sun, despite this not being a hot day.

“Chief Zhao, you are really good at making people talk.”

As he is making this observation, he is offering Zhao Yunlan his water, because the man mentioned that he may be thirsty, and hydration is important. Should I once again be obsessing over how their fingers are touching here? Perhaps not. I am, once more, doing it anyway.

During the conversation that ensues here, Shen Wei reminds Zhao Yunlan that he was asked not to leave the city, and makes one more attempt at forcing them to part ways after the car fixing is done. Chief Zhao is having none of it. He reminds Shen Wei that no promises were given, and suggests they work together and protect each other instead. It’s interesting how their end goal is similar: they want to keep each other out of harm’s way. But for Zhao Yunlan, who works with a team, this implies sticking together. For Shen Wei, who has been alone for what could have been centuries (we are never given a timeline for when his magical coma ended), this implies being as far away from each other as possible. Many things about their relationship will change - but this one will never do.

Zhao Yunlan proceeds to charm his way into driving Shen Wei’s car. He is after all very good with people, and he’s not afraid to use this skill to keep himself near the Professor.

Next, we have intercut scenes depicting conversations in two separate cars.

Lin Jing is driving Zhu Hong, Guo Changcheng and Wang Zheng in the jeep. There, Guo Changcheng tries his darnedest to offer exceedingly moody Wang Zheng apologies and consolation, but his weak attempts to very little to lighten the young woman’s dark disposition. In the meanwhile, Zhu Hong is seething with resentment and jealousy. She notes discontentedly that Zhao Yunlan once again chose to go and spend time with Shen Wei, hypothesises on why Shen Wei is unmarried, and then goes into a long-winded rant about Zhao Yunlan being an uncaring person. Lin Jing reluctantly participates in this conversation, but he does not look very much like he cares for it.

I have mentioned in my previous recap that those around Zhao Yunlan comment on his crassness, and now I am wondering how much this creates a vicious circle for the man in question. He may have heard - from his father, from his previous romantic partners, from his colleagues - that he is a failure, a boorish, unloving and superficial man who only does things to chase clout and carnal pleasures. It is difficult to not internalise that, and Zhao Yunlan may have just grown to see this as an unshakeable truth about himself.

As for Zhu Hong’s part in this, it is easy to call someone not responding to your advances an uncaring jerk. It does not, however, necessarily make them one.

Curiously enough, the only person speaking up in defence of Zhao Yunlan here is Guo Changcheng. He notes that he considers Chief Zhao to be a nice person; despite only being with SID for a month, he is able to see good intensions behind the bristles. No doubt, this is another case of Xiao Guo being incredibly empathic.

In the other car, Zhao Yunlan is driving Shen Wei and his students. Here, we see the chief continue to crack jokes and use his bountiful charisma to find out more about their expedition. Presumably, this has been going for a while, and Shen Wei’s patience finally runs thin when Zhao Yunlan states that their research must be very important. “Thank you for the compliment”, states Shen Wei flatly, according to subtitles.

According to my dictionary however, what he actually says is, roughly, “Chef Zhao overpraised [us]” (“赵处长过奖了”), which even with my very basic comprehension of Mandarin, I can see as overly formal and clearly dismissive.

Zhao Yunlan seems to be taken aback, and a few seconds pass before he composes his features into one of the chuckles he uses as a mask: it is loud and wide, but does not quite reach his eyes, sliding off his face almost instantly. In the passenger seat, Shen Wei is slowly and deliberately readjusting his own mask.

We cut to Zhu Jiu trying to secure assistance of a whole bunch of Youchu he drags out of the cave. It goes even worse than his other plans do, with the beasts grumbling and effectively refusing to do any work whatsoever.

Zhu Jiu’s ineffectiveness is actually pretty sweet on rewatch, and I am starting to kind of appreciate Wan Naichao in this role. It’s not that I find his performance particularly good, but between the costume, the wig and the script, he does not have an awful lot to work with, and he nonetheless appears to have so much fun hamming it up to his heart’s content. He is not intimidating by any stretch of imagination, but he is surprisingly, albeit ironically, watchable. And, honestly, I would rather watch an actor being hammy and enjoying it than visibly longing for death on set.

After passing a checkpoint through a combination of Zhao Yunlan’s connections and ever-present charm, the now joint SID/DCU expedition shuffles around in cars once again. Despite their destination being allegedly twenty kilometres (or about 12.5 miles) out of town, it takes them a whole day to reach it. Who knows, maybe the Seastar’s measuring units are different.

This time, it is Lin Jing driving, with Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan having relocated to the back. We see that Zhao Yunlan has got a cold again - which could theoretically be from being so close to the hallows. He sneezes, and Shen Wei microexpressively overreacts.

Then, Zhao Yunlan unceremoniously arranges a pillow on Shen Wei’s shoulder and settles in for a nap. Does he remember napping on Shen Wei’s shoulder a few nights prior to that? Because he might do, considering how comfortable he feels with this casual close contact.

After a momentary panic, and a comment about flu meds, Shen Wei not only lets Zhao Yunlan do it, but also rearranges his pillow several times to make it more comfortable for the other man. I have no hot takes on this apart from just... those two. I love those two. How are they so adorable.

The car enters CGI fog, and promptly get stuck. To make matters worse, Lin Jing says he does not have a phone signal and asks Shen Wei to check his phone. “He does not have a mobile phone”, deadpans Zhao Yunlan before Shen Wei even opens his mouth.

Finally, Zhao Yunlan’s head vacates Shen Wei’s shoulder, and the professor leaves the car to scout the area. Jiajia tries to follow, but Zhao Yunlan dissuades her and goes after Shen Wei himself, catching up just as the other man is starting to scry the surroundings with his powers.

Zhao Yunlan enters the scene quoting poetry to highlight the beauty of their current location.

Shen Wei instantly tries to send him back: partly to continue using his dark energy, and partly, perhaps, out of genuine worry. In response Zhao Yunlan notes that Shen Wei is the only one who can order him around. This is not all done in cheek: it’s actually kind of true. Even before finding out that Shen Wei is powerful and ancient, and imposing, Zhao Yunlan is readily listening to him, and following his lead.

As a precursor to returning to the car, Zhao Yunlan takes his jacket off and drapes it over Shen Wei’s shoulders, despite the other man’s loud protestations. Again, Yunlan has got a cold, and he is visibly filling the chill air later in the scene. He has no way of knowing that this jacket will become a catalyst for his suspicions about Shen Wei’s alter ego, so there can’t be any other reason for him forcing his jacket onto the other man apart from a desire to make sure he is warm and comfortable.

Shen Wei stares at Zhao Yunlan in absolute wonder.

It is easy to believe that the idea of someone wanting to look after him is foreign no Shen Wei: we know from the text of the show that before Kunlun no one has shown him any consideration, and seeing Shen Wei now, it is not difficult to imagine, heartbreaking as it is, that no one has done it since.

Jiajia’s scream cuts through the air, interrupting the scene. As the two men take off in the direction of the sound, Shen Wei grabs Zhao Yunlan by the elbow as they run out of the shot.

When they rejoin Jiajia and Lin Jing, she girl stammers a few words about ghostly presence that she witnessed, and Lin Jing confirms her words, sharing his knowledge about ghosts seen in this area. Zhao Yunlan reprimands him for speeding feudalistic and superstitious concepts. Just remember that their HR manager literally is a semi-corporeal dead woman. This line is such a blatant and somewhat tongue-in-cheek appeasal of the censorship, that it sounds delightfully silly.

The group finally reach the remote village they were heading to. As everyone files out of the cars, they notice a strange looking crow nearby - clearly Ya Qing is checking in on them. Lin Jing proceeds to tease Xiao Guo, saying the young man in unlucky. Chu Shuzhi is looking disapprovingly at this comment, but it’s actually Zhu Hong who shuts it down. She does use this excuse to make an impolite jab at Shen Wei, noting that the misfortunes are someone else’s fault, while looking at her romantic rival from the corner of her eye.

Shen Wei graces the screen with another one of his “why does the snake woman hate me?” faces. 

It’s quite amusing that as the group starts walking towards the guesthouse, Zhao Yunlan sends his people off while he himself deliberately lingers in place, so he can walk with Shen Wei, sneaking a hand across the professor’s back. 

Just as the company enters the premises of the guesthouse, they find a human skull. Of course they do. But the reason I am including this here is to point out that Shen Wei’s reaction is to cover Jiajia’s eyes. Zhu Yilong does not do it in all of the takes used in the scene, which indicates to me that this is an in the moment acting choice. 

Shen Wei then leads his students away to give the SID a chance to investigate. While Lin Jing and Zhao Yunlan do just that, Wang Zheng sinks to her knees and starts praying to comfort spirits of her ancestors. Hilariously, this goes unnoticed for a while.

After completing some preliminary checks on the skull, Zhao Yunlan suggests they park the investigation for the night, citing that he does not want students and their teacher to get ill as the reason for doing so. Da Qing notes that this is more considerations than he shows his subordinates. I don’t think he means it, but it’s a lovely little jab at Zhao Yunlan’s unmistakable crush.

Inside the house, everyone settles in to hear Wang Zheng’s tale of the Hanga tribe. What follows is an massive exposition dump. She sets up as “some things she heard from rumours”, but considering how forlorn she is throughout this tale - and that she was praying earlier - it is pretty obvious that she is of the Hanga tribe herself.

Again, I love the blocking here. Zhu Hong is keeping her shoulder in front of Wang Zheng, protecting her from the strangers (and Shen Wei) that they are sharing the table with. Zhao Yunlan and Da Qing are watching from afar, and Chu Shizhu is perching above them on the stairs. The composition is easy on the eye, and implies that the SID men are ready to protect those at the table from all directions.

Soon, they are interrupted by a villager pretending to be a ghost, and a reluctant village head explains that the outsides may not be welcomed because there has been a murder here in the recent days. Zhao Yunlan and Zhu Hong leave to investigate the crime scene. As they do so, Zhao Yunlan catches the woman gazing upon him in adoration, and freezes uncomfortably, for a second before laughing it off.

He should really force himself to have an uncomfortable conversation with her, but he won’t do it until pushed.

In the meanwhile, Zhu Jiu is having more luck riling the actual ghosts up than he did with the Youchu. After some hesitation - and some baseless threats from our unfortunate villain - the Hanga tribesmen launch an attack against the guesthouse.

Just to note: their masks don’t look anything like the masks Wang Zheng drew. Considering that the guesthouse parts of the episode was likely to have been shot together, I don’t see any explanation for this as it pertains to production.

Chu Shuzhi and Xiao Guo leap into action to fight the ghosts - and the young man actually successfully fends one of them off. They are soon joined by Lin Jing, who leaves Shen Wei in charge of looking after the students and Wang Zheng inside the house. The ghost woman energy being asks to be let outside because she guesses correctly that the ghostly warriors are here for her, but Shen Wei refuses to let her go. The reason he states for denying her is that “Zhao Yunlan would never agree to it.” He knows that the other man would never put his crew in danger - and adopts the same attitude.

Shortly after, Zhu Hong and Zhao Yunlan arrive on the scene.

Here we see for the first time Zhao Yunlan’s painful flashback to his mother’s death, followed by him freezing with the gun in his hand. Zhu Hong does save the way by snatching the weapon away from him and firing it, but she also goes on full offensive afterwards, berating the man. Hers is not a kind response at all, and this type of a reaction is likely to be the reason Zhao Yunlan has not felt comfortable talking about his tragic past, perhaps even seeing it as something to be ashamed of.

After the ghosts disappear, Zhao Yunlan stays outside with his team, and uses the Dial in attempt to locate the other ancient item which he knows is somewhere close.

Shen Wei, on the other hand, tells Wang Zheng about the totem hidden in a cave, and asks her for any information on the matter.

His interrogation does not get him anywhere, but he does get suspicious enough to refrain him from drinking the drugged water she offers everyone present in the very next scene.

It is clear from this shot that after toasting with warm water, everyone goes to down their cups - apart from Wang Zheng and Shen Wei, who lock eyes over their cups for the second.

Having escaped her protectors in the night, Wang Zheng heard towards the cave in which Sang Zan’s spirit is kept, Zhu Jiu hot on her heals, and we witness the first of many flashbacks to her life and death.

Next up, Episode 10: Death By a Thousand Flashbacks.

—

Notes.

The next post here will actually be some thoughts on the Lost Tomb Reboot which I have spent this Easter Weekend binging. And if this post is more Zhu Yilong-centric than usual, this would also be why.

[ineloqueent]

hi tina 💞 not sure how easy this is, since my astrophysics knowledge is nearing -273 *C, but you could do mutuals as astronomical sights? comets, planets, galaxies etc... sorry if not!! 💖✨

anna! and anon! you’ve given me a wonderful chance to ramble about space. you may come to regret it, however...

if i’ve forgotten you, please do not take it personally! i didn’t mean to. my mind is just but a glorified puddle :)

@archaicmusings — vega

vega is the brightest star in the constellation lyra, and happens to be my favourite star. don’t ask me why vega is my favourite star, or why lyra is my favourite constellation, because i haven’t got a coherent answer for you. i’ve just always been drawn to them. a bit like cal, really. i feel like we’ve known each other for far longer than just four months, and she’s so lovely that i’m fairly sure i could say anything to her and she’d just accept me for whatever rubbish i’m rambling about this time. and, in the depressing year that’s been 2020, cal has been a bright star.

@drivenbybri — halley’s comet

honestly, is there anything more iconic than halley’s comet? there can’t be much. probably the best known comet of all time, halley’s comet is a short-period comet (and if you’ve read starstruck, you know how much i prefer short-period comets to those long-period comets with their damned 200-year perihelions, even if certain people suggest that this makes them quite special), meaning that it is visible from earth every 75-ish years. halley’s comet last made an appearance in the lovely year of 1986, and will thus appear next in 2061 (i’m so excited for my 59-year-old self!!!). halley’s comet, though well-known, is still a rare breed, so to speak. it is rare, and extraordinarily beautiful that a comet appears to a human twice within their lifetime. sofie is rare, just like halley’s comet, and equally beautiful, both in heart and with that lovely curly hair of hers. i’m honoured to know her, just as i shall be honoured to see halley’s comet one day.

@brianmays-hair — cassiopeia a

cassiopeia a (or rather, the remnant of cassiopeia a) was a supernova within the constellation of cassiopeia. for those of you who do not obsess over interstellar matter the way that i do, supernovae are explosions of massive stars, or white dwarfs drawn to nuclear fusion, within their final stages of life. not much is known about how these explosions necessarily take place, and nasa has only caught on video one such explosion, back in 2016. the most commonly presented image of the remnant of cassiopeia a is a false-colour image, composed with three different wavebands of light. it is, as you can see, very beautiful. supernovae radiate energy and light throughout the cosmos during their existence, and thus having a great effect on the space surrounding them. i therefore liken jess to cassiopeia a because she has a brilliant personality, vibrant and inspiring, which comes across especially in her writing. but of course, the beauty of cassiopeia a has nothing on her.

@deacyblues — sirius

as far as we humans and the scientists among us know, sirius is the brightest star in the observable universe. housed within the constellation of canis major, sirius has always been monumentally important in terms of navigation, since ancient times. i tell pearl this all the time, but truly, i mean it; her outlook on life is inspiring, how she never fails to be positive even in times of great trouble. like sirius, pearl is a light, ever-present within the mindset of living for today, ever-determined, and unfailingly kind.

@joemazzmatazz — black hole

please let me explain before this gets taken the wrong way: I LOVE BLACK HOLES. i specifically want to study black holes, whenever i get the chance to specialise within astrophysics. they fascinate me to no end, with a kind of allure that only the mysterious can hold. furthermore, black holes may be the key to understanding the universe; if we understand black holes, we will be able to make headway on other matter, such as dark matter, and dark energy, the latter of which makes up the majority of the observable universe, and will lead us to astronomical (if you’ll pardon the ill-worded expression, and the unintentional pun) conclusions concerning both the beginning of our universe, and the eventual end. regan, just like a black hole, is a wealth of information, especially concerning the knowledge she harbours about disney, and the business management sector of it. it’s quite truly inspirational.

@im-an-adult-ish — the milky way

ah yes, the milky way. home to all of us. and that is the essence of my explanation here. meredith has such a friendly way about her, and she’s the kind of person you can easily turn to and feel welcomed. a bit like our little corner of the universe <3

@almightygwil — the sun

i think this is probably self-explanatory, if a bit repetitive, but ellie is a ray of sunshine. but perhaps that sells her a little short, because ellie is just so genuinely lovely that she must herself be the sun. her writing talent astounds me (you could say it blinds me, ha ha), and she never fails to be somehow both sweet and very chaotic at the same time. it’s very admirable (and certainly relatable, on the chaotic front). the sun itself, if we think about the surface and the fusion that takes place there, is both the sweetest sight ever seen, and quite chaotic, so i think it fitting that ellie is the sun.

@hijackmy-heart — callisto

callisto is one of jupiter’s moons, and my favourite, because it looks like a piece of the night sky decided to curl up into a ball. i don’t know nat too well, but i know that she’s gorgeous, like callisto, and loves roger taylor. let me explain. jupiter, in roman mythology, is the god of the sky and of thunder. in norse mythology, thor is the equivalent of jupiter, and to me, roger has always had a bit of that typical scandinavian look going, with the blonde hair and blue eyes (not to say that all scandis look like this, but he fits the stereotype :)). nat loves roger, and callisto orbits jupiter, so there you have it.

@six-bloodyminutes — the moon

the moon has a serenity about it, and mo has a knack for telling quite wild things with a most casual air. for instance, according to my sources, when a certain dorm room caught fire (?). mo thus bears this serenity, akin to the serenity i associate with the moon, with equal grace and chaos.

@dancingdiscofloof — pluto

pluto! the not-planet-oh-wait-maybe-it’s-a-planet-jk-jk-unless..? i still think that pluto should be considered a planet, despite the many arguments against the poor sod. pluto was once a planet, and should therefore have remained a planet, for the plain and simple fact that taking away its planethood was like giving a person a present, and then taking it back immediately afterward. anyway. i’m rambling. i also do not know rove very well, but i know that she’s kind, and, judging by the memes she shares, both of ryan gosling and tom hanks, that she is quirky— a bit like our beloved pluto.

@imcompletelylost — aurora borealis/aurora australis

also known as the northern lights/the southern lights, the polar lights, the merry dancers, the fox fires, or swarms of luminous herring (you can thank my ancestors, followers of norse mythology, for that one), the aurora is an astronomical phenomenon precipitated by the complete ring of light surrounding the poles, “which at its brightest has a distinctively green tint” (may, brian, et al. the cosmic tourist. carlton books, 2016.). yes i just made a citation from one of brian’s books. don’t worry about it. anyway, particles emitted from our sun are caught by the magnetic fields of earth’s poles, and thus produce this ethereal effect. but you know what the aurora has always reminded me of? disco lights. and libby is noting if not the queen of disco. oh, and, libby’s makeup talents? the aurora could never.

@aprilaady — butterfly nebula

the butterfly nebula is incredibly beautiful. but also, depending on from which angle it is beheld, it looks quite different. dor will surprise you, in the loveliest way possible (and sometimes the funniest) with a kind word or a joke, or even just a relatable comment. she has so many talents, being rivetingly smart within so many fields, especially the sciences, and in this, conveys multitudes, like the butterfly nebula. one might say her soul is painted like the wings of butterflies...

@doing-albri — solar eclipse

the alignment of the sun, moon, and earth. difficult to see, especially in totality, if you continually live in the same place. but there’s something magical in that alignment, i think. something quite poetic. it’s partially in the name ‘eclipse’ and partially in the nickname— a “ring of fire.” i saw the solar eclipse in august of 2018, and looking up at it, i was quite awestruck. you’re not supposed to stare directly at solar eclipses, because despite the moon overshadowing the sun, you can still damage your eyes significantly by looking at them. vi is so bright, both in her attitude and in her intelligence, and thus i’ve chosen the solar eclipse for her. also, when a solar eclipse occurs, using a piece of cardboard with a hole (or generally any thick-radius circular object with an opening), you can recreate the phenomenon on another surface, resulting in beautiful patterns and light-art, which i think speaks to vi’s eye for aesthetics.

@imalososos — meteor shower

meteor showers are perhaps some of the most beautiful phenomena i have ever seen. back in the summer of 2016, i stayed up all night to watch the perseids rush across the sky, and i was not disappointed, by any means. within the early hours of the 12th of august, an estimated 80 meteors darted across the heavens each hour. meteors, in essence, are clusters of mineral, usually debris from comets, which enter the atmosphere of a planet, and thus seem to shoot across the sky. now, you may be wondering, what’s the bloody blooming difference between meteoroids, meteors, and meteorites, and why are we talking about meteors in particular? well, meteoroids are cosmic debris that have not yet entered an atmosphere; as soon as a piece of cosmic debris enters a planet’s atmosphere, it is classified as a meteor. as for meteorites, nothing is a meteorite unless it strikes the ground. anyway. you didn’t come here for my science ramblings. meteors are also called ‘shooting stars,’ and let’s be honest, they’re space’s idea of art. streaks of light across the sky? sounds like a painting to me, and darya, among many other things, is an artist— and a brilliant one, at that. so i think it very fitting to describe her as the art of the universe <3

@mazzell-ro — saturn

i! love! saturn!!! being the only planet in our solar system with highly visible rings, it just stands out to me. it’s absolutely gorgeous, and an object of much inspiration to me, when i was little and decided that space was absolutely something i wanted to see. i could write an eight-verse song about saturn, i love it so much, and honestly, i think ro could write one too; she’s an excellent musician. but aside from its lovely rings, saturn is unique because its composition, in the ratio of its gases, would allow the planet to float in water. ro is uniquely wonderful, and her writing!!!!!!!! makes me so soft and happy and makes me want to give her the word. quite how i feel when i look up at saturn.

@mistiermistshazierdays — zodiacal light

you may recognise this term as brian’s speciality from when he was studying astrophysics. but what is it? zodiacal light is that strange triangle of light that appears glowing in the sky after twilight and before dawn, and is the subject of much earth-based astrophotography. extraordinarily beautiful, scientists are still not entirely sure what the phenomenon is, but most research and practical experiments are in favour of zodiacal light being sunlight reflected off of cosmic dust (also known as stardust!). now, if my knowledge of ancient greece and its mythology serves me, the name phoebe comes from phoebus, and (thank you google) means ‘bright.’ zodical light… bright… phoebe… you might say it’s a match made in the heavens. quite literally if we’re talking space. phoebe, you kind soul, you are stardust.

@speciallyred — andromeda galaxy

and last, but certainly not least, dear anna. i name thee the andromeda galaxy, partially for your own name, and partially for its poetic beauty. andromeda, the neighbour galaxy of our deal ol’ milky way, is actually about 2.5 million lightyears (15 trillion miles, 22.5 trillion km) away from us, here on earth. call me vain for the number of times i’ve described the beauty of space throughout this rather extended exposition, but andromeda is startlingly beautiful. one reason for this objective beauty is that andromeda is estimated to be home to roughly double the number of stars within our own galaxy. anna is one of the most talented poets i have ever come across, hands down, and what be the food of poetry, if not the stars?

[sepublic]

Infinity Train Tarot Deck!

           The idea came to me while discussing the Infinity Train and the idea of crossroads, which reminded me of the Wheel of Fortune tarot card in the Major Arcana! And naturally… This made me imagine Major Arcana tarot cards, themed after Infinity Train!

           The first thing we have is the Emperor and Hanged Man. Now in some stories, the Hanged Man IS the Emperor, after he’s essentially fallen or been overthrown; So it’s the Emperor’s ‘fall from grace’ (ba-dum tsss). So naturally… Simon Laurent is a PERFECT fit for this! That shot of him lying around on Grace’s throne with his new hair-down get-up is perfect for the Emperor Card, it’s him flaunting authority and royalty! As for the Hanged Man; It’s Simon hanging upside, clinging to the bottom of that bridge during the Season Finale… He’s doing the 4-shaped pose, with only one foot clinging to the bridge; The foot with the malfunctioning shoe, as the other one was used by Grace to fend off the Ghom. Simon, the Hanged Man, about to ‘fall from grace’, both in the literal and metaphorical sense…

           Next, we have Wheel of Fortune. Naturally this fits the Infinity Train’s wheels… They’re kind of a big deal, as a means of killing denizens, usually; But they DID come close to killing off Simon and Grace, respectively! The wheels of the Infinity Train keep it going, as the Infinity Train itself represents a crossroads, as befitting the tarot card! This was the first tarot design I came up with, and if I ever had to draw/design it, I imagine a morbid reference to denizens getting wheeled is in order.

           Next, we have the World! It’s about the finishing of a loop/cycle, before it begins anew, the end of a journey to start with a new one! Kind of like how Tulip ends Book 1 having finished her adventure on the Infinity Train, and is now heading to Osh Kosh with a new life and look in a sense! For this, I considered the ‘zero’ that a passenger ideally reaches, as it’s the end of their journey on the train, but the beginning of a new life after their ‘recovery’. Perhaps the zero can be fashioned like a globe? Alternatively, given the motif of loops/cycles, perhaps it can be an infinity symbol, comprised of the Infinity Train itself, with the wasteland as the background? Or it’s a passenger’s exit!

           The Lovers is obvious, it’s Amelia and Alrick! Their relationship was what set off basically every major conflict in this show, aside from the Infinity Train’s own existence of course! Its reverse meaning can also be imbalance and a misalignment of values, which fits with how Amelia’s love for Alrick and her ensuing grief led to her hijacking the Infinity Train, and indirectly causing Grace to start a cult whose whole purpose is to get their numbers up; Not just a misalignment, but an outright reversal of values!

           Next up is the Chariot! I’ve chosen the Infinity Train’s front car/engine for this… The Chariot is about willpower, action, and determination, and its reverse is notably a lack of direction… The Infinity Train’s engine pulls the entire structure, giving it direction! Notably, the Infinity Train itself is rather binary and controlled in its directions; Passengers can either get their numbers up, or down, representing a somewhat black-and-white view of ‘progress’.

           Grace is the Empress! This makes sense, she’s a counterpart to Emperor Simon, and the Apex’s true leader in both of its incarnations. Not only does this fit with Grace’s desire to be at the top, in-part because of her upper-class upbringing… But it also invokes ideas of femininity, beauty, and nurturing! And, Grace is definitely feminine, and certainly beautiful- Especially given the way she checks her compact mirrors often, as she’s someone concerned with her appearance to others on both a literal and metaphorical sense! But there’s also her essentially taking care of the Apex, trying to be a parental figure to make up for her own lacking parents!

           Strength is Hazel and Tuba! Not much else to say here, honestly- The image of a woman and her lion translates well here! One of its uprights meaning is compassion, which fits in with Hazel’s compassionate nature… Not to mention, Tuba is easily the strongest of our protagonists by a long shot!

           For Judgement, I would choose an image of Ghoms rising from the wasteland’s dirt! The art for the Judgement card frequently depicts beings rising from the earth… And in a sense, Ghoms could be interpreted as the Infinity Train, or at least the narrative’s judgment! Simon goes too far and tries to murder Grace in cold blood after she saved his life a second time, and right on cue, a Ghom appears to kill him! Ghoms are associated with Death, and Judgment and Death are intertwined…

           The Tower represents a mishap in journeys, so naturally I chose One-One atop that structure he was on in the climax of the Unfinished Car! That same structure of floating buildings that he’s standing on when Tulip talks to him, and finally gets the guy to snap out of his programming! The Unfinished Car in general represents ‘disruption’ in how the Infinity Train’s journey and plans are supposed to go, a break in its programming, especially as a result of Amelia’s unplanned hijacking of the engine! The Tower is chaos and revelation, which One-One causes and later undergoes in the Unfinished Car.

           Death is an interesting one for me. While its name implies some negative stuff, in the end it’s a card about change, about new beginnings, and its reverse represents those who are averse to that and want things to stay the same! I think a dual-image of Tulip and Amelia, one above and the other facing down, would work… Tulip boarded the Infinity Train because she couldn’t handle the changes in her life from her parents divorcing, and Amelia had the same reasons, amidst a more literal one with Alrick’s demise! There’s also the idea of including Simon as a skeleton, given how he straight-up dies as a result of his inability to accept change, one that goes further than Amelia’s ever did! If Amelia were to appear on this card, she’d be wearing her cloak to invoke the Grim Reaper’s image.

           Next up is the Sun, and it’s… Jesse! This one is fairly straight-forward, he’s a got a very bright personality and he’s brimming with positivity! Both times he boards/exits the Infinity Train, it’s daytime and outside; In contrast to Tulip and Amelia being at night, or Grace being indoors! And Jesse spawns in the Hill Car, which itself is a bright and sunny place! Not to mention…

           To complete the duality, we have Lake as the Moon! Jesse and Lake go hand-in-hand together, they’re inseparable if the Book 2 finale is any indication, their bond overrides the Infinity Train and even causes it to glitch! The Moon reflects the Sun, fitting of Lake’s reflective nature, and admittedly, what Mace suggested about Lake being a narrative parallel to Jesse as well! There’s the idea of confusion and introspection, which relates to Lake’s themes of finding her identity. She relies on trickery, both to initially dupe Tulip during her debut, and later to earn her exit on the Infinity Train!

           For the Devil, which represents the idea of entrapment, especially of those who could easily leave but choose to stay thanks to their own bad decisions… I’ve chosen either Amelia’s mech, or Mace and Sieve! Amelia’s mech represents her own willing entrapment within the Alrick-sounding persona she created, it’s representative of her refusal to let go of her grief and to move on- And it was made by her, representing how ultimately it was Amelia who had the power to let it go, but didn’t!

          Not to mention, the Devil as an archetype is used to represent corruption and the swaying of bad influences… Which fits in Amelia being a dark reflection to Tulip, luring her in with the promise of her own car with the ideal reality, and Amelia’s mech being the ‘false god’ that Grace later worships, setting her down the wrong path! The Devil could also be Mace and Sieve, as there’s the idea of being trapped in their roles and choosing it as Flecs, binding others with the law, etc. Not to mention Mace’s obsession with killing Lake, and Sieve’s determination to avenge his fallen comrade afterwards. Hmm. Perhaps the Devil card should depict both Amelia’s mech AND the Mirror Police!

           Temperance is a fascinating one to me. It usually invokes the image of pouring liquids, and involves ideas of good health, balance, cooperation, and teamwork… While its reverse meaning is the opposite as chaos and not working with others! This could be Alan Dracula, contrasted with Perry the Parasite… Alan Dracula is a fickle creature, and hard to get on your side, fitting in with the idea of teamwork and cooperation! But under Perry’s influence, he’s seemingly more cooperative…

          Only, Perry’s presence is causing poor health as Dracula’s body shifts rapidly, and him and Perry conflict over control! Perry himself isn’t such a cooperative guy after all, it seems. But then there’s also Randall… He’s water, invoking the image of pouring liquids! Water is a big theme with Temperance and going with the flow, which describes his personality, and his hivemind nature encourages teamwork from his very first appearance! Like with the Devil, perhaps Temperance can be both… A Perry-infested Alan Dracula at the Food Pyramid Car, with a river of water that’s actually Randall!

           Justice goes to the Steward! There’s the idea of being an objective force of decision, which goes with how the Steward is both helpful to the Infinity Train, as well as Amelia for a while, and a deterrant to our protagonists Tulip and Lake! It is a physical force for One-One, the conductor, and he is the one who ideally passes judgment in a sense as a construct of the Infinity Train. Justice is about being objective and not letting emotions cloud your decisions, which goes in hand with the Steward being a literal machine with no feelings. I imagine the image for Justice would have the Steward and its arm-tendrils holding the ‘scales’, and on either end is One-One and Amelia!

           Next up is the High Priestess, the one and only Samantha the Cat! There’s the idea of being intuitive, creative, thinking outside of the box, being both passive and receptive, as well as curious- Traits that go well with Samantha! Among the things it can represent is a woman influencing your life (AKA Samantha with Simon and Tulip), but also someone who just knows what’s the right thing to do- And as Samantha herself said, she ALWAYS does the right thing! Its reverse involves being disconnected and withdrawn, as while Samantha is social at first glance… We see how her close relationship with Simon ended. The High Priestess is also privy to sacred knowledge, which works with Samantha knowing a lot about certain characters and the Infinity Train, and how to get about!

           Atticus is the Hierophant… There’s the idea of being one for wisdom, tradition, institutions, that sort of thing! Hierophants are classy and educated people and are always willing to listen. Atticus is certainly a classy, cultured individual as the King of Corginia, and he’s arguably the wisest and most experienced of our protagonists! He is a leader, but also a follower, willingly supporting Tulip in her journey… And supposedly, the Bishop/Hierophant is one who stands up against Death when even kings falter. Atticus ‘dies’ and is reborn, he helps Tulip come to terms with change… He’s the first to attack Amelia in her mech, and a brief yet effective obstacle for Mace and Sieve!

           The Fool is… Tulip, this time with emphasis on her in particular! If the Major Arcana tells a story, The Fool is the very beginning, Card number zero… The Fool is the protagonist who goes through the adventure before ending with the World! Given my previous assignment for the World, the idea of ‘zero’, the beginning of a journey… Amidst the Fool also being an outsider with limitless potential, Tulip made the most sense! The Fool isn’t necessarily about being smart or dumb.

          Tulip is our first protagonist, the first character we see, and it’s her that starts off the entire series! It’s Tulip’s journey that sets in motion the events of Books 2 and 3, with her reflection becoming a person, and Amelia’s change of heart inspiring Grace’s redemption! She has the most conventional journey of our protagonists with a defined beginning and end that we’re present throughout… And some artistic depictions of the Fool give them a dog as a companion! So obviously this is Tulip, accompanied by Atticus, and probably One-One as well! Some depictions of the Fool also show them as a vagabond, which fits with Tulip running away with just a backpack of belongings, and how this lands her a ticket aboard the Infinity Train!

           For the Star, I think I’ll choose… A Passenger’s number, specifically one turning zero! In the Major Arcana’s story, the Star comes after the Tower, just as Tulip’s number goes down after the events of the Unfinished Car! It’s about light and hope amidst the darkness… Just as Tulip’s newfound resolve following Atticus’ transformation earns her the exit home, just as the glow of her palm acts as ‘guidance’ amidst the confusion and darkness of the Infinity Train. It’s a way home, and symbolic of recovery… So Tulip’s exact moment in the darkness of the Ball Pit Car, when her number reaches zero, makes sense! Since I’m going with a passenger’s number for the Star, this probably means the World will be either an exit and/or the Infinity Train in a loop around the wasteland.

           The Hermit is soul-searching, inner guidance, introspection, and helping others achieve that as well… So why not have the inner workings of the Tape Car, the process by which tapes are made with the help of those Mini-Ones, Porters shuffling about! Is in the Tape Car that the Infinity Train itself sees into one’s heart and the issues that’s plaguing them, and forms a measurement for a passenger’s number… It’s in one’s own tape that someone can confront their traumas, entering their own mind, and even talk to themselves! Perhaps the specific image would involve the old passenger whose pod Lake hijacked, but in the middle of his tape’s recording! As an old and experience dude, he -unwittingly- provided guidance for the younger Lake!

           And finally, the final tarot card for me to figure out, the Magician! This one will be… One-One! I know we already had him with the Tower, but it doesn’t hurt to have a repeat focusing on the little guy himself! The Magician IS Number One in the deck, after all! Some depictions have the Magician with an infinity symbol above his head… surrounded by foliage, the growth of new ideas, which relates to One-One’s association with Tulip and her ability to spring back from anything! It’s about new beginnings and opportunities, the Magician; And One-One provides this for passengers as the conductor!

          Some would even say the Magician, within the story of the Major Arcana, gets the ball rolling for the adventure and protagonist! Among the Magician’s traits are inspired action and power… One-One is in charge here (ideally), and his job is to help inspire passengers to make a change in their lives and recover! However, the reverse is manipulation, representative of the darker undertones to One-One’s job. Some depictions of the Magician have him with one arm pointed to the universe above, the other to earth below… So artistically, we’d see both halves of One-One, Glad-One facing up with Sad-One pointing down!

           Ultimately, these ideas aren’t exactly set-in-stone, and I’d consider reworking them to include even more imagery, characters, and scenery from the show itself! So any ideas are much welcome, appreciated, and encouraged!

[phantastus]

Is there any symbolism behind the bird scientific names tags representing Silent Hill characters? Like, did you pick them for any particular reasons? 👀

Oh man, well, I guess I never went into detail about them anywhere. They definitely were picked for a reason but the reason is related to a currently-unwritten fanfic and literally who knows when that’s going to happen (Gravity needs to get finished first and who knows when that’s going to happen :’]), so I might as well try and do it now.

When I was in college I started coming up with concepts and symbolism for a fic project and because I’m obsessed with birds all of it involved birds and the title of the fic was appropriately “Four and Twenty Blackbirds”, with the ‘four’ specifically referring to Harry, James, Heather, and Henry (because they were the main characters). Each of them had a different ‘blackbird’ species representing them. 

So when I decided to make separate aesthetic/inspo tags for individual characters (I already have a #silent feels tag for general SH inspiration, but I am crazy and it was NOT CONVOLUTED ENOUGH FOR ME), I decided to use the scientific bird names since it was conveniently already cemented in my brain. THIS IS GOING TO BE VERY, VERY LONG SO I’M PUTTING IT UNDER A READMORE. Click for pretentious Silent Hill fan analysis.

HARRY MASON | CORVUS BRACHYRYNCHOS (American Crow)

Harry Mason is the “”generic”” all-American protagonist who rises to a heroic status pretty much out of sheer determination and a commitment to his loved one. He’s not an unusual person, in fact he’s deceptively normal-- so the American crow felt right for him since they’re so common. You see them so often you don’t even think about them, but they’re smart, resourceful, and resilient survivors (something that especially comes into play with Harry post-SH1 when he’s eluding the Order). Harry is underestimated because of his normalcy but he’s capable of incredible things.

Also crows (and other corvids) have deep, almost humanlike family bonds between parents and offspring. They’ll maintain relationships even after the babies grow up and become fully self-sufficient, with the adult children regularly visiting their parents and socializing or helping to take care of younger siblings.

In the context of the fic Harry’s symbolic/prophetic connection to such a common “pest” species is sort of a derogatory assignment on the part of the Order/the town, as he’s seen as a heretic troublemaker (CULTS HATE HIM!! LOCAL MAN STEALS MESSIAH AND THWARTS FATE WITH ONE COOL TRICK!)

JAMES SUNDERLAND | CORVUS CORAX (Common Raven)

Ravens are like the most symbolic corvid, every gothic poet/novelist/artist and their grandma used them to represent death, grief and malaise, and James’s story is nothing if not filled with all three of those things. I mean, come on:    “By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”            Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.” -Edgar Allen Poe, u know where it’s from.

Also in college, I got very interested in the myth “Raven Steals the Sun”, which has a number of different variations (it’s a story shared across multiple First Nations peoples of the Pacific Northwest and Alaska, there’s no one clear origin-- you can read about a couple of versions here!) but most involve the titular Raven delivering the Sun to the world after stealing or freeing it from a dark place where it was kept. Depending on the version, Raven's motives can either be purely selfish or more benevolent, and sometimes starts the story as a pure white bird who is stained black with soot in the act of taking the Sun. The duality of Raven’s intentions as well as the theme of light/warmth being hidden in darkness until it’s brought out felt fitting for a character whose motivations are complex and left a little ambiguous in canon (James grapples with whether his own act was purely selfish or one of love/mercy) AND someone who is naturally warm and caring but slipped behind a cold, dark wall of depression and self-isolation. The theme of being permanently marked/transformed by an act, whether for good or for bad, felt fitting too.

(Obligatory Disclaimer That My (Very White) Personal Interpretation Should Not Remotely Be Considered An Authentic Take On The Myth And Is Not Intended To Be Appropriation. For fic purposes the story would only have come up as an interesting symbolic parallel/running motif among many others, not a Literal Connection. James is a clueless white dude and Silent Hill doesn’t even take place on the west coast.)

“BUT WAIT! Doesn’t stealing the sun from a malevolent party and freeing it sound sort of like Harry rescuing Alessa/Cheryl/Heather??” Yes, this was going to be a source of in-character confusion and a surprise twist when it turns out they got their birds mixed up. Blah blah nothing is as it seems and destiny is mutable.

One time while I was walking on a foggy beach I got followed around by an enormous raven who was just sort of waddle-hopping after me looking forlorn and scruffy and the experience stuck with me and now all these years later my enormous galaxy brain is just like “That was Big James Energy”.

Wow that was long, I’m sorry.

HENRY TOWNSHEND | CORVUS FRUGILEGUS (Rook)

The most obvious symbolism is probably the chess piece with the same name-- that felt fitting for Henry since he’s probably the protagonist who has to do the most strategizing. Between his limited inventory and his progressively-more-cursed apartment and escorting Eileen and his five billion trips across multiple fractured Otherworlds, my poor guy has a lot to mentally keep track of. In the fic, he was going to wind up being the one to keep track of all the weird complicated bullshit items and rituals they had to complete to get through the Otherworld.

The rook chess piece also resembles a castle, and unlike the other protagonists whose stories progress in a linear fashion, Henry operates from/returns to his home base shitty cursed apartment.

BUT ONTO THE BIRD the rook is a corvid like the crow and the raven, and shares their pest/death omen status in popular culture. Just appropriate for SH protags in general since they keep getting in the way of the cult’s business and also misfortune follows them.

In the SH3 Crematorium Puzzle (I’ll talk more about that in Heather’s section), there is a poem:    "The black Rook is the praying sort    Who hears the gods in the skies    His whispered petitions go on without end    And glassy and dim are his eyes" Obviously this does NOT describe Henry as a person, but it IS eerily reminiscent of the title that was thrust upon him: Receiver. Maybe if Walter’s plans had succeeded, this is how Henry would have ended up.

There is also an old belief that if rooks abandon an established “rookery” (place where they regularly roost), it’s a sign of calamity to follow. If Henry the Certified Homebody (tm) bursts out of the apartment complex and goes staggering down the street, you should get out of that apartment complex.

HEATHER MASON | AGELAIUS PHOENICEUS (Red-Winged Blackbird)

Oh boy this one’s probably the weirdest but here we go.

The first obvious thing is that unlike the other three, the red-winged blackbird is not actually a corvid (it’s from the Icteridae family, not the Corvidae family). In-universe, this was supposed to represent Heather being inherently different from the rest (like... she basically is an iteration of the Silent Hill deity), even if she seems to be a normal human. Harry’s act of stealing her from the Order and changing her appearance/name to hide her was going to be depicted as “dousing Her in black ink, but [the ink] not able to fully conceal Her radiance”. The red and gold shoulders of the blackbird visually symbolize her “””true nature””” peeking out.

I also associate her specifically with the MALE red-winged blackbird (the female looks completely different, hooray sexual dimorphism) because gender is a fuck and Heather understandably has some really intense and complicated issues with womanhood/femininity. One of my favorite aspects of her as a character is how she blurs the line between masculine and feminine, especially since she’s been through so much... extremely gendered violence, to put it lightly. Heather Mason says FUCK YOUR GENDER BINARY.

As a fun side-note, Heather is also represented (or appears to be, ymmv) by a bird in canon! The SH3 Crematorium puzzle (on hard mode) features a series of poems each about birds, and each one represents a character if you squint. Heather seems to be referenced in this one:     "The Wren, with pure heart as yet unrefined     Makes us laugh with his feeble lip-smacking     But still we all know he shall never grow old     And he knows not how much he is lacking." Heather’s role as a brash, foolhardy youth who talks tough to cope is pretty blatantly summed up in there, as is the fact that she’s... functionally immortal and keeps fucking reincarnating. The wren, a plucky little bird, is perfect for her. The part of the main riddle that references the wren is also... ominously on the nose, given Heather’s backstory:     "Burn the one who knows no death     Pure, adored by those above     No prayers within, just simple love.”

YET ANOTHER CREMATORIUM POEM could be construed as representing the town’s God (or the spiritual force of the land, w/e), damaged/corrupted/turned malevolent by All The Bullshit:     "The Kite, hot, crazy, and panting mad     Sweet shackles that tease and excite     Death itself would drive him wild     Red blood that turns milky white"  Heather is a pure-hearted protagonist in one sense, but there’s plenty of not-so-subtle hints to a bloodlust and desire for violence just waiting to break free (ESPECIALLY when Heather does certain things that could be considered taking on the role of God). So to me the Kite is what happens when Heather gets sick of being nice and decides to go apeshit.

“BUT WAIT what does this have to do with the red-winged blackbird?” The inherent trinity of Heather’s character (Alessa/Cheryl/Heather, the Mother of God/Daughter of God/God Herself) deserves a bird trinity too. I’M GREEDY, I WANT *ALL* THE BIRD METAPHORS!

Red-winged blackbirds are bold little shits who will straight up harass birds of prey. Kind of like Heather does to God.

The fact that “phoeniceus” was part of the scientific name was a VERY delightful coincidence-- but I’m not complaining about how satisfying I found it that my Bird Choice (tm) inadvertently connects her to the concept of the phoenix, poster child of pyrogenesis.

That was even longer than James’, I’m so sorry.

SO THAT’S THE META BEHIND THOSE CHOICES FOR THE FOUR MAIN CHARACTERS. If you’re still interested after all that BS, I can write up another (probably much shorter) post for the other characters. Thanks for the ask!

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Be Mine, This Quarantine ~ (II)

Dean pulls out his phone, clicks on the camera icon, and takes a selfie.

He looks adequately grouchy in it - his uninterested eyebrow-raise, an indisputable declaration that clicking a picture of himself irritates and annoys him, as it should every respectable non-preadolescent person. Also, he manages to get Cas's apartment building, a little bit of the night sky, and his very last moving box of stuffs, in the frame.

It's labelled 'Socks' on the top, and should make Dean feel like a dork if he wasn't going to send the picture straight to Sam - the dorkier of the two of them, by far, and also someone who's well-acquainted with Dean's fascination for hilarious novelty socks.

No sooner has the message been sent, it's been seen, and Dean's getting a call from his little brother.

"It's dark." Sam greets, with all the subtle pointedness of a soon-to-be-lawyer. "Why is it dark?"

"Are you just staring at your screen, waiting for me to text you all day?" Dean throws back, and Sam makes a noncommittal sound. "And it's dark cause it's almost nine."

"And you're still not done?" Sam sounds surprised.

"Almost," Dean bites his cheek. He has to admit Sam has a point. Moving in's supposed to be a morning, in-the-sun kind of activity. "In my defense, I started late. Cas made me spend all morning at his place, getting to know Catsanova."

"His cat?"

"It's literally in the name, Sammy."

"Hypoallergenic?"

"Do I sound dead to you?" Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, she is. And cute, too. Black, and it's got whiskers. Responds to 'Cas'."

"Figures." Sam grins, audibly. Kid's always been an animal person - he's probably going to be asking for pictures all the time now. "It sounds pretty similar. So what, you say Cas, and both the cat and human come up to you?"

"Neither of them come up to me, cause neither of them's fond of moving. Big Cas ignores me until I make it like I'm dying, and Small Cas still doesn't really care." Dean laughs. "But I'm going to try and work up to it."

"Good luck." Sam says to that, before clearing his throat. "You should finish moving your socks in, Dean." There's a pause. "Thank you for listening to me about the quarantine thing, I guess. And staying safe."

Dean's first instinct is to immediately dismiss the sentiment, but then he decides not to. And settles for, "You too, Sammy. And thank you for the move-in-with-Cas advice."

Sam lets out a soft, "Yeah."

"But if you tell me what to do again," Dean adds, right after. "And try to threaten me with cheap flight tickets to Kansas? I'm not fucking giving in."

"And you're welcome for the caring about you." Sam retorts, and Dean rolls his eyes a second time.

"That's my job."

"Yeah, right."

"Just shut your face. Smartass." Dean can't contain his smile, in spite of himself. "Stay inside, okay? I've got Gabriel's eyes on you." That's Cas's stepbrother, also in Stanford, and Dean's not really used him yet - but he really could. Dude's sorta obsessed with Sam.

"I -" Sam huffs. "Jerk."

Dean grins. "Bitch."

The phone clicks, and Sam's gone. Dean picks up the last box - it's pretty light, so he props it on his hip and uses a free hand to slam Baby's door shut, and walks into the building he's going to spend (at least) the next three weeks in.

*

"Pizza's on it's way." Cas says from the couch, first thing as Dean enters and shuts the door behind him, setting the box on the floor.

He can't get a normal greeting fucking ever in these parts - but he doesn't really pay attention to it, because every braincell which isn't involved in keeping him alive and standing, fixates all at once, on the scene which beholds him.

He's obviously seen Cas plenty of times before - probably more keenly than he should've been seeing him, to be fair - but this is different. It's like seeing Cas in his natural habitat.

He's in the middle of the couch - typical roommate-lacking behavior - with bare feet propped up on two of Dean's boxes, like there wasn't any furniture around before Dean moved in. And in his collarless bee-patterned shirt and pyjamas which match the brown throw pillows, it's basically like he's dissolved into the couch under the weight of Catsanova who's settled on his tummy, with his hands around her, petting. His hair's enough of a mess that he could've had a reverse-Jonathan-Van-Ness moment by himself when Dean went downstairs for the last time, and his eyes are glued to the TV screen even when he speaks to Dean, and then proceeds to keep up a soft, toddler-voice conversation with his cat.

Holy shit.

Dean loves him.

This is going to be so hard.

"I changed out of my jeans," Cas adds, not even slightly in Dean's direction, per se. "I know you wanted to go out earlier, but it's Catsanova's dinner time now, and I was wondering if the three of us could just eat together. And watch The Middle." The last part, he directs to Dean, eyes wide and curious.

"Uh." Dean says, eloquently. "Sure."

The Middle's exactly the kind of thing Dean should've expected Cas would watch. It's sappy and sweet, and revolves around a hilariously dysfunctional family, and it's half ways to a sitcom and Dean can clearly imagine them bingeing through all of it - piled on the couch with the cat on Cas's lap, and he's still in the middle cause Dean really doesn't mind squeezing on his left as long as their shoulders brush and knees touch, and they're having pizza and Cas is in ratty graphic tees, and -

Alternatively, this is going to be a little bit perfect.

"I'll go change as well." Dean rubs the back of his neck, scanning the room for his bag which contained a set of clothes in case he got too lazy to unpack. As had happened.

"Are you going to be needing any of these?" Cas draws his attention to the two boxes he's got his feet on, by wiggling his toes.

"Nah." Dean checks the labels. "There won't be any pyjamas in DVDs or Boo -" He stops. That's supposed to be Books. "Boo?" Dean repeats, frowning.

"Catsanova likes scratching letters off of words which make them more adorable. Don't you, Catsanova?" Cas grins, running his hand through her fur as he talks about her. She doesn't really pay attention to it. "Say Boo again for us, Dean."

Dean fails to resist the blush. "Screw you. And do you always say her full name, like, all the time? I get that it's funny - or punny, or whatever," Castiel beams at that bit. "But it's kind of a mouthful."

"An earful, you mean." Cas muses.

Dean shrugs, because he's stuck trying to rein in the overpowering affection he feels for this messy, gorgeous guy, who always addresses his cat by her full name, and lets him move in for quarantine. "Just call her Nova or something. She's smart, she'll get it."

"But her name's Catsanova." Cas clarifies, as if it wasn't clear to Dean before.

"Your name's Castiel, Cas."

"I blame you for that."

"Sure you do, Happy Meal."

Cas scowls, not giving Dean more material to work with, and silently going back to watching the TV. "Spoilsport." Dean grins. "Isn't that what he is, Catsanova?"

She, once again, doesn't pay any real attention to them, but Cas's lips quirk up in a smile. They're done discussing nicknames for the cat apparently, so he moves on. "You can freshen up in my bathroom right now. There's no towels in the other one yet."

"Roger that."

Dean picks up his duffel and sets off for Cas's room. He's been to this apartment plenty of times, before. On his way, he passes what's going to be his room - previously, Cas's study slash storage, and takes a detour.

It's the same size as Cas's room, with smaller windows and grey curtains, and looks pretty comfortable, though Dean's more of a spend-all-day-in-the-living-room sorta guy. It's got wardrobes and shelves, for when it's morning and Dean resumes the elaborate routine of unpacking, and a desk at the side, and - oh, fucking hell.

Dean flings his duffel on the chair, which is the only place to sit in the entire room, - and marches out. "Cas!"

For once, even Catsanova reacts to him, jumping down from Cas, and Cas looks downright alarmed when Dean storms into the living room. "What happened?"

"Where the hell's your futon?"

"Oh." Cas pauses. Dean waits, impatiently for an answer, which seems to come to Cas fairly quick, bringing in its wake, a horrified expression of remembrance. "I lent it to Kelly."

"Then," Dean fixes Cas with an accusing glare. If he were standing, that would've been a finger jabbed at his chest. "Where the hell am I going to sleep?"

"Oh."

"Well?"

Cas blinks. And quietly declares - for the benefit of Catsanova, probably, because the two humans already know, and are staring at each other in despair. "I may not have completely thought this through."

*

"I call right."

"Right-now-right, or on-the-bed-right?" Cas confirms, voice coming in from the bathroom where he's brushing his teeth.

"You're on my right when we're sleeping." Dean declares, stifling a scowl. It's not like he's trying to be rude, but he really hadn't expected any of this. He hasn't expected to finish moving in at nine, and dinner at ten, and then proceed to sleep in Cas's bed for the first night he's here.

("I'm so sorry, this is completely on me -" Cas had kept apologizing, with blue eyes in full-on Bambi stare. "I can't believe I forgot about giving away the futon! I'm such a -"

"Whatever, Cas." Dean had frowned back, rolling his eyes. "S'not that big a deal. I'll take the couch."

"Of course not." Cas had looked horrified. "It's cold out here, and my couch is too small - it's just a three-seater. You're way taller than three horizontal butts, plus twice the armrest." Dean had given him a look for that one, and if he wasn't annoyed, he would've been laughed.

"So?"

"You're obviously sleeping in my bed."

"Well, you're taller than three butts too." Dean had sighed, still annoyed - but it slowly subsiding to some sort of thrill which was definitely associated with getting to sleep in Cas's bed.

"I know." Cas had sighed back, a little grim. "I'll just sleep with you.")

Now, Cas exits the bathroom, and walks straight to the bed, setting the pillows right. It's a King-size, so they're going to have enough space, really, but Dean's a little skeptic about getting under the covers first. So instead of climbing on his side, and settling in like his body really wants to, he lingers around, rummaging through his bag even though he has everything he needs.

His phone's plugged in next to his bed, and he's just in a t-shirt and pajamas now. Sure, he usually sleeps in just his boxers, but he has a fair idea of how ridiculous that'd be when Cas, right next to him, sleeps in a full, adorable ensemble.

And that's the last time he's letting himself think Cas - or his bee-themed outfits are adorable.

"I'm going to go put Catsanova to bed." Cas announces, with a smile. "To couch, to be honest. She sleeps inside the couch and I think she likes to think it's her very own hiding spot."

"So that's why I'm not sleeping there?" Dean throws back, stifling a yawn. Somehow, it's eleven, and that's not exactly late, but on a day you've moved into your best friend's apartment, and made friends with his moody cat, it feels pretty late. "Cause the three-butt analogy wasn't your best move, buddy."

"You guessed it." Cas returns, flatly. "I made us sleep in the same bed so that Catsanova's sleep routine didn't get disrupted. Now, how about you actually sleep, Dean?" There's one of those I-know-more-than-you-think-I-do smiles on his face. "You're clearly tired."

"'M not sleeping without you." Dean can't hold in the yawn this time, and it comes out garbling the last bits of his sentence and causing Cas to stare at him in a horrified kind of fascination.

"Before you." He corrects, his cheeks burning, when he actually hears himself. "That'd just be weird."

"Not at all," Cas shrugs. "But sure. Just come with me to Catsanova's night couch."

"Whose couch is it in the morning?"

Cas doesn't really think about it. "Hers, though she settles for indirect use of it's luxury, via our laps."

Dean nods thoughtfully, and follows Cas to the living room. The cat is already all fed, of course, and doesn't really seem keen on playing with them - probably because, and Cas told him this once, cats tended to have bedtime installed in their cat brains. Dean may or may not think that's adorable.

Catsanova curls up in the middle of the couch, much like her (nick)-namesake, and Dean's breath hitches when with a slight purr, puts her head on her paws. She's not a kitten, Cas had mentioned, but she's still so small, that she fits on just one cushion, and with her tail drawn up close, and squinting eyes, she's the cutest thing Dean's ever seen.

"Isn't this somehow better than even the best youtube cat videos?" Cas whispers, eyes turned adoringly at his cat.

"I don't watch -"

Cas gives him a look.

"Okay, yeah, I do, and it is." Dean gives in, rolling his eyes at being called out. "Maybe not better than the kitten falling asleep in the middle of dinner though."

Cas raises his eyebrows, impressed. "You're not wrong."

"But a close second?" Dean offers.

Cas smiles, softly, straight at Dean. He's sitting cross-legged on the floor, with hands around his ankles, and Dean's on the low settee behind him, staring at both the cat and Cas, lazily smiling too.

It feels perfect. In fact, he's so physically exhausted and mentally blissed out that in the moment, that he's not even freaking out about the fact that after this, he and Cas are going to go sleep in the same bed.

(In his right senses, he would've been. When it got suggested - or pretty much, declared, he couldn't have put up a big argument, because if Cas could be so cool about it, how weird would it have been if he wasn't? Why shouldn't he be, indeed?

Except for the fact that he's in love with Castiel and growing increasingly aware of it as the day lives by, there's absolutely no other reason, he's sure.

So after a few weakly presented excuses, including his insistance that it isn't necessary - "Dean, of course it is!" - and bringing back the couch solution - "Dean, why would you sleep on the couch for my mistake?" - he'd given in.

He just couldn't come around to the point that he really isn't sure he'll be able to survive being next to Cas on a bed for an entire night, and figures that it didn't occur to Cas either.

Because of course it fucking didn't.)

"Okay, then." Cas lets out, standing up from the ground swiftly, though Dean holds a hand out. His voice holds a tinge of we're done here, like a superhero in a mission, and Dean grins, in spite of himself. "Let's go."

Since 'putting Catsanova to bed' apparently only includes sitting in front of the couch and staring at her in adoration while she falls asleep and eventually snuggles so close to the back of the couch that she ends up rolling inside, as Dean has now learned, Dean gets up too.

"How'd you like it?" Cas sounds proud.

"Her sleep routine? She did all of it herself." Dean tells him, as the both of them drag themselves to Cas's room. Even Dean knows the house well enough to not have to think about it. "I don't know what I expected, but that wasn't it."

"Did you imagine cuddles and lullabies?" Cas laughs.

"You built it up, buddy."

Cas shrugs nonchalantly, as they reach the bed, and Dean's too tired at this point to even care who's getting in first. All he notices is when they're both in - Cas half-sitting up, legs stretched out under the comforter, and Dean lying on his side as he speaks to him.

"All you did was watch her sleep." He mutters, not really thinking anymore. Sleep is fast trailing his heels, and well, he's stopped running from it.

"I like watching over her." Cas answers, easily. "And it's a sign of trust that she lets me, to be fair. Cats aren't shy, but -"

"Territorial?"

"I guess."

"Huh." Dean closes his eyes. The pillow under his head is the perfect percentage of soft, and it's warm inside the comforter, as compared to the cold in the room. He pulls it up to his neck, trying to tuck himself in without making it obvious.

There's a pause.

"I didn't want to sleep before because," Dean confesses. "Sometimes you look at me." He likes it, but hopefully that doesn't come out in his voice.

There's a weight shift in the mattress, as Cas lies down too. Straight on his back, hand curved above his head, staring at the ceiling.

"It's weird." Dean mumbles. "Kinda."

Cas says, "Okay." But Dean's already asleep, slightly huffing when he exhales, and so there's nothing said in return, and Cas reaches to turn off the lap and goes to sleep, too.

*

Thing is, falling asleep when you're tired is easy. Staying asleep when you're anxious is not.

Dean blinks awake, with a startled breath, and takes a beat to process his surroundings. Gauging by the darkness in the room, it's a long way till sunrise. He stretches drowsily, an unconscious habit of getting up, and his hand nudges against something.

It feels like muscle, and hair, and turns out to be Cas's forearm, because as soon as his eyes get adjusted to the minimal light - he discovers Cas is right there.

They've both migrated towards the middle in their sleep - more Cas than him, Dean assumes quickly, and are still facing each other. When Dean draws his hand back, folding it under the comforter again, there's a few inches between them everywhere - yet suddenly, he's extremely awake, and aware, and losing it.

Cas is quietly asleep, features completely free of tension - with his face smoothed over in sleep, and lips slightly parted. He's unfairly beautiful, and practically a head-jerk away from Dean's pillow, and it's crazy how much it's all getting to Dean.

Even asleep, he's driving Dean nuts.

He doesn't even know what he wants to do - keep staring at this picture of serenity, force himself back to sleep, or something entirely different, but was he does is turn around.

He turns a hundred eighty degrees, keeping his eyes closed, and finds himself facing Cas's bookshelf.

The easiest way to deal with this burst of emotion is to sleep, he convinces himself, and maybe he'll forget about this in the morning. Maybe he'll fall asleep trying to read the titles of the books in front of him, and forget about waking up to Cas in front of him, dreamy even when dreaming, and forget about being overpowered by just about everything in that moment, as he is right now.

He just needs to go back to sleep.

Dean's repeated this to himself enough times to actually be drifting off to sleep, when he feels an arm randomly fall around his waist.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Cas, still asleep, has apparently decided to put his hand around Dean as if he were a fluffy stuffed toy or something, and it's landed ridiculously close to his abdomen, and his toes curl, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

And if Dean inadvertently pushes back towards the warmth radiating from Cas, and ends up little-spooning him because he's somehow backed up until he's reached Cas - then that's just a whole other thing he's never going to think about.

He finally goes back to sleep, not having to try and read the book titles at all, because apparently Cas hugging Dean to himself like a goddamn pillow, is all his fucking insomniac brain's ever needed.

(Although, he's never sharing a bed with Cas again, because he's sure he couldn't survive another such night.)

*

Catsanova wakes Cas up at six, meowing stubbornly at the door because she doesn't care about Dean's private, middle-of-the-night freakout as long as Cas gets up to pay her due attention, and Dean wakes alone at nine, and ends up pretending he's asleep until Cas comes with coffee.

He doesn't look at Dean different or at all, while climbing on bed with the tray - and Dean definitely doesn't notice that he doesn't, because he's obviously not paying attention.

And he obviously doesn't care.

[vermiculus-incipiens]

OOC INFORMATION:

What’s your name? Nat

Preferred pronouns: She/her/hers

Timezone: EST

IC INFORMATION:

Character Name: Lucius Malfoy

What’s a hobby or pastime that your character enjoys? Quidditch. Out of practice now but he still has the occasional habit of flying for fun. His second through fifth year of school was spent playing as a chaser. Unfortunately, the hobby was given up the summer after his fifth year. His father took one look at the captain pin he received and told him to send it back, declaring that his son did not have the making of a quidditch player and needed to focus on his academics (the expectation of his heir securing a Ministry position upon graduating) instead of wasting time on something he wasn’t good at.

Do you have any preferred ships or anti-ships? Ships: Lucius/Narcissa Lucius/Severus Lucius/Narcissa/Severus (either a poly sort of deal or a powerful friendship because oh my goodness, do I love how the Malfoys made Severus one of their own) Anti-ships: Anything forced. I headcanon Lucius as demisexual - valuing emotional connections before looks - but he would claim he is straight if asked since that term definitely is not something that exists in the group’s time period.

What do you think your character’s Boggart would be? If their greatest fear isn’t something that could easily take a solid form, what is it? Why? His wife and son are dead. Pre-Draco’s birth had him focused on keeping himself alive long enough to welcome his child. Now the plan is to keep the whole family intact, hoping that they will be given a moment of peace once the dust settles. He has enough faith in Narcissa to know she would be able to manage if anything ever resorted in his death but things seeming to drag out has him certain the war won’t leave his son without one or both of his parents. As for why - Although self-centered, Lucius cares deeply about his loved ones. He is in the habit of referring to Draco as his son, not his heir. The need to produce an heir is a topic his father cares deeply about. Lucius would have been happy with a little girl and trying again or even just having one child, given the amount of struggling it took to bring their first kid into the world.

What’s your character’s biggest pet peeve? People that stand in the middle of the lift when he and they are the only people in the one at the Ministry. Especially if they don’t move to step aside. Arthur Weasley - there’s just something about the man’s very existence that gets on his nerves.

What would you consider to be an eccentricity of your character? His morning routine. Looking good takes a lot of time, money, and effort. The routine involves thoroughly cleaning himself before work, tossing on moisturizer, and making sure his hair is presentable enough to venture into the Ministry. The Malfoy name alone is powerful enough to not need to worry about looks, but Lucius likes accentuating that power with good looks and confidence.

What is/was your character’s favorite subject in school? Why? Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Lucius excelled in those classes and took his education very seriously, to a point of earning top marks, a head boy position, and a non-entry level position at the Ministry during his seventh year.

What time of day is your character’s favorite? What time of year? Sunset. There is something blissful about looking over the garden, spotting the silhouette of the peacocks, and watching the sun go down over his property. Summer. Cold weather makes Lucius miserable. He got sent to the hospital wing during a quidditch incident in his fifth year and is still doubting his knee fully recovered from the bludger that hit it — snow and rain bring the aches and pains out.

What’s your character’s Patronus? If they can’t conjure one, what would it be if they could? Why? A peahen. No reason outside of admitting it seems fitting for him.

What is your character’s biggest vice (bad habit or immoral craving)? Cigarettes. They serve as something to keep his hands busy if his anxiety spikes.

Is your character an introvert or extrovert? How well do they handle social situations? Extroverted introvert. Lucius doesn’t mind having eyes on him but would happily pick curling up on a chaise lounge with a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other over having to deal with people. People are exhausting. He’s never particularly liked crowds but can navigate them without issue. His upbringing involved his father forcing him into social situations and sternly making sure his heir knew how to behave when out in public. Protesting about not wanting to be the center of attention was not an option.

What is your character’s diet like? What’s his or her favorite food? Lucius prefers the best food money can buy. Main preference for greens — he takes his salads seriously. Does wine count as food?? No? *sighs* Alright, well I guess that makes four-layer caviar dip his favorite food. Has to be the recipe his mom preferred or he won’t touch it.

How do you think your character’s psychological issues have manifested and changed your character up to this point? Snob - Very aristocratic. Focused on appearances. Does not associate with those he believes are lesser than him. Do not ask him about his son since he will more than likely go off about how thankful he is for his wife for bringing their child into the world and insist on talking about Draco’s coos and smiles being cuter than anyone else’s kid. Draco being brought up is truthfully the easiest way to crack through the confident mask he usually uses — the kid has him wrapped around his fingers and isn’t even a year old yet Confidence - Lucius naturally oozes confidence and seems calm and collected when in public. However, he is using it to mask the feelings of anxiety and paranoia that are beginning to grate his thoughts. The birth of his son made him aware that he intends to stick around and start doting on his family. He has an underlying fear of doing something that further jeopardizes his family’s safety. Love - Obsessed with his reflection, Lucius has been spending a lot of time focusing on himself and his family. Certainly, he loves every perfect aspect about himself and his wife. The addition of their little bundle of joy has left him realizing he has more love to give than anticipated. Most of which is no longer dedicated to himself. Loving himself proved to counteract the feelings of disappointment and loss that accompanied the physical and emotional distance his father used while raising him (and still uses). He has a decent self-care routine down because of this Proper - Everything has its place in the manor. Appearances must be kept up and things must be clean. Anything remotely out of place can cause him to feel anxious. Lucius seldom wears the same outfit more than twice. He keeps up with fashion and is one of the first to obtain new looks from the top lines Head over heels for his perfect life, wife, and son — definition of the proper pureblood family Mock - snobbish tendencies have left him quick to mock others. At this point, he barely needs to think before a rude comment or scoff passes his lips. Devastating - “It is often said of the Malfoy family that you will never find one at the scene of the crime, though their fingerprints might be all over the guilty wand.” Lucius has a vast knowledge of poisons and no shame in paying others to do the dirty work for him. His ranking at the Ministry has him more in the know about what’s going on than others in the cause. Lucius is also fairly experienced in using lies to undermine coworkers, having an eloquent and confident enough way of speaking to get others to believe what he says Power. Influence - The two practically go hand-in-hand for Lucius. He can pull a lot of influence from the confidence and better-than-everyone facade he typically hides behind. The power comes from having a liar’s tongue, the ability to speak confidently even though he may not truly support what he says, and his having more money than he knows what to do with Close Calls - The near misses have left Lucius anxious about permanently losing his wife. The raid on the manor should have been something he was prepared for. Not feeling prepared followed by his wife getting sent away left him truly believing the love of his life would be gone for good Less Important - as a high-ranking Ministry official and liking to think he’s been fairly dedicated to the cause, Lucius is above menial tasks. He’s not liking being sent on mission after mission and is reading too far into it, truthfully wary that he did something that may have caused the Dark Lord’s feelings toward him and his abilities to shift. Tired - a general way of describing Lucius. Things have hit the point of feeling monotonous. He feels as though he’s just going through the motions when it comes to working and the cause, wanting nothing more for things to settle down so he can shift his focus to his wife, son, and nothing else. Loyal - Once earned, Lucius’s loyalty is unwavering. It is beginning to crack a little in regards to the cause but he is doing his best to keep that to just himself, knowing things will go poorly if he does anything to hint at his being discontent about not being able to focus on family Fear - With the family line secured by having produced an heir, Lucius’s fear of losing his wife all together has slowly begun to dissipate. He is incredibly fearful of doing something to jeopardize the little family they have started and will do whatever it takes to ensure his wife and son are kept safe. This has left him shifting his focus on the cause to ensure he doesn’t do something to fall from where he is currently ranked with the death eaters. One wrong move could prove disastrous.

Give us a headcanon for your character. Anything is acceptable. Lucius’s father is incredibly controlling. The first decade of his son’s life involved strict instruction and proving he was worthy of being the Malfoy heir. Likely took things as far as claiming he could replace Lucius with a better son as a means of controlling his behavior. Abraxas was not opposed to laying a hand (wand in extreme cases) on his son if the situation called for it. He micromanaged Lucius’s life while he was at school, often requiring the head of house to serve as his eyes and ears. Lucius does not like using contractions when he speaks. He tries to avoid words like “can’t,” “don’t,” and “won’t” and prefers sticking to using the full word(s) instead. The only agreement he and his father shared when he was little goes out to him thinking contractions are a lazy way of speaking Lucius is fluent in English, French, Latin, and Italian. Lucius does not like getting his hands dirty. The thought of another’s blood getting on him makes him feel sick to his stomach. He prefers a more behind the scenes approach when it comes to the cause: researching poisons, flowers, etc. and ways of doing damage that doesn’t involve the more sadistic ways of the other death eaters; paying outside sources to go in for the kill; spreading rumors at work to bring down other ministry employees; planning large scale attacks but not usually placing himself in as a main part of the plan; Let the new recruits tackle that and give him something interesting to do He’s hit the point of getting tired of menial tasks and wanting to retire at home with his wife and son

[angelofthequeers]

Salt-Kissed Lips

Disclaimer: I don't own ML.

My contribution to the Leap of Faith zine by @ladrienzine now that we’re allowed to publish our works! It was so awesome to work with everyone involved and it really solidified my love for these blushing dorks!

“Isn’t it fascinating?”

“Father!” Adrien’s heart nearly leaps out of his body through his throat. But when he whirls around, Gabriel Agreste is far from angry.

“I always knew they existed,” the older man says in a hushed voice. His grey-streaked blond hair, madly gleaming cold grey eyes, and pale skin tinged a sickly blue by the light of the gigantic tank are more than enough to give him the look of a mad scientist without the need for some cliché white lab coat. “Everyone called me crazy. But I always knew my Emilie was taken by one of them!”

Adrien’s not exactly sure what to say. Oh, he’s not surprised to see a real mermaid in the flesh; his father’s been obsessed with “the blue tail in the moonlight” that he’d seen just after Emilie’s disappearance for so long that Adrien would’ve been more surprised to find that they didn’t exist. It’s just that he’s never seen Gabriel quite so…unhinged before now.

“They want to take my Emilie?” Gabriel says. “I’ll take one of them! I need to make some phone calls, Adrien. Soon, the whole world will know that these things are real and I’m not crazy! People will stop avoiding you and thinking of you as the crazy man’s son! Take a good look at that thing and know that it’s the reason your mother is gone!”

Once Gabriel’s gone, Adrien turns back to the massive tank that’s part of the marine park in which Gabriel works. The brilliant blue eyes that glare back at him are so full of venom that it’s a wonder they’re not shooting jellyfish barbs at him – wait, can mermaids even do that? Can they speak human languages? Or breathe air? What can they do?

“I’m sorry,” he says. Whether or not she can hear or understand him, he at least needs to make it clear to himself that he’s not his father. The sight of the girl with long dark hair in pigtails, a vivid scarlet tail dotted with black scales, and matching scales across her chest and face, almost like a mask, is like mild indigestion in his gut.

This is wrong. Okay, so Emilie might have been taken by a merperson, and Gabriel’s got every right to be full of grief. But keeping a mermaid prisoner and turning her into an exhibit to be gawked at for the rest of her life? There’s no way Adrien can justify this to himself. The hatred in her eyes isn’t helping, and neither is the fact that…wow, she’s stunning.

Oh no. Does this make Adrien a scaly?

Snap out of it! That’s not important right now!

The seed of a daring idea suddenly sprouts in his mind. Should he dare –?

Gabriel will be furious.

But this is the right thing to do.

But can he disappoint his father?

It’s not like Gabriel’s been much of a father since Emilie’s disappearance. He’s pretty much been raised by Nathalie, his father’s assistant.

He can’t let this happen. If he sits back and lets Gabriel turn this mermaid into an aquarium animal, he’s just as bad as the man that people associate him with. And if there’s one thing he’s not, it’s Gabriel Agreste.

“Hey.” He lightly taps the glass. The mermaid bares her jagged teeth and recoils, her black pigtails billowing around her like seaweed. “I’m gonna get you out, okay?” When she doesn’t seem to comprehend him, he points at himself, then at her, then up at the top of the tank. The hostility fades from her face, replaced with a puzzled frown. “Just hold on.”

Adrien bolts up the stairs out of the room as fast as humanly possible. He can’t be caught – he just can’t – if he’s caught, Gabriel will totally end him – whatever love the man has for his son can’t be any stronger than his rabid obsession with avenging Emilie.

Once Adrien’s outside and at the edge of the tank, he pauses. Is he really going to do this? Betray his father like this? After all these years of searching for the thing that took Emilie…

But this mermaid isn’t to blame. And she’s not a thing. Besides, will Gabriel really just up and be a better father once he’s turned this mermaid into a freak show? Or will he continue to obsess over her and soak up the glory of such a discovery?

Before he can once again doubt himself, Adrien sticks his hand into the tank and splashes, hoping to attract her attention. Once she’s up here, he can grab her and haul her out, smuggle her through the park somehow, down to the beach nearby –

Something grabs his wrist and yanks him into the tank. He yelps, although this is a bad move as his mouth is instantly full of water – he can’t breathe, the mermaid’s eyes are boring into him, he’s gonna be fish food –

He struggles even harder when the mermaid grabs his face. But rather than try and devour him with her terrifying teeth, she wrenches his mouth open and blows bubbles into it. Adrien reflexively swallows…and whoa, he’s not drowning! He can breathe underwater as effortlessly as in air!

“I’m Adrien. What’s your name?” he says to test this, and his voice rings in his head like echolocation in the marine documentaries he loves watching.

“I don’t trust you enough to give you my name. What do you think I should be called?” The mermaid’s voice is melodic, like she’s singing as she talks. It’s a sound that Adrien would gladly record and hoard for himself to listen to again and again; a sound that’s just as beautiful as the girl to whom it belongs.

“Um…” Two strips of red seaweed woven through her pigtails float above her head, almost like antennae, making her resemble a very fishy insect, especially with her wide eyes behind the red scale mask and her black-spotted red tail. “You kind of look like a – a ladybug…”

“Ladybug…” the mermaid says slowly, as though testing the word. “Ladybug. I am Ladybug.” She tilts her head, examining Adrien as though he’s a particularly interesting specimen. Which is ironic, given their positions. “You’re not like the other one. He’s full of hate.”

“I’m sorry about him,” Adrien says. He instinctively reaches out to take one of Ladybug’s pale, red-webbed hands, but stops himself just in time in case touching a mermaid is offensive or uncomfortable for her or something. “He thinks a merperson took my mother years ago. He’s been obsessed with avenging her ever since.”

“We don’t take humans,” Ladybug growls. “Humans beg to come with us. Many of my kind are humans that we saved from their own lives, whether they hated them or were in danger or simply discontent.”

“You think my mum…hated her life?” Adrien tries to wrap his head around this new information. Would Emilie really have gone freely with the merpeople? Left Gabriel? Left…him? Sure, their lives hadn’t been perfect, but no life is, right?

“I don’t know,” Ladybug says. “But if you help me escape, I will gladly share more information with you. I’ve always been fascinated by humans. My friends warned me not to come too close to shore…I should have listened to them…”

“Right! Yeah!” Adrien says. “If I lift you out, I can carry you out of here. There’s a beach just outside here. You can breathe air, right?”

Ladybug smiles and nods. The sight should be terrifying, what with how her sharp teeth are bared like he’s a tasty morsel, but it’s actually kind of cute and makes her look gorgeous, even if the blue tank light is making her appear rather ghostly. Swallowing, he kicks for the surface and emerges into the warm air with a gasp, then hauls himself out of the tank and leans at the edge to dip his hand back in. Ladybug’s head surfaces just a moment later. Now in the natural light of the late afternoon sun, her skin has a rosy glow to it that just enhances her prettiness, and Adrien’s stomach does a flip-flop as he carefully drags her out of the water.

“Thank you, Adrien,” Ladybug says. Adrien takes a moment to adjust her in his grip, shivering at the way her glittery, slippery tail hooks around his arm for extra support. It doesn’t feel earthly, but it also doesn’t feel like the fish he and Gabriel have caught many times before on the rare occasion that Gabriel would spend father-son time with him. Or maybe that was just a way to keep an eye out for mermaids.

“So…you guys “save” humans, right?” Adrien whispers as he stumbles through the building. Thank god that it’s after closing time, so he’s not bumping into people everywhere he turns.

“Yes,” Ladybug says. “We’re not kidnappers. We only take humans of their own free will.”

“Uh…how exactly do you do that? Just constantly blow bubbles in our mouths?”

Ladybug giggles. The sound nearly makes Adrien fall over and cry at the unfairness. How can one person – mermaid – have such a beautiful voice? Maybe Ariel had been truer to life than he’d thought.

“Our kisses have many effects on humans,” she says. “We can entrance them. We can cure them. We can cause disease in them. We can also turn them into one of us.”

“Whoa. Seriously?” Adrien’s brain wants to implode at this overload of information, though thankfully it doesn’t betray him as he carefully pushes the entrance doors open with his shoulder and sets off down the path to the beach. “You can actually make me one of you?”

Ladybug once again regards him with her curious head-tilt. “Would you like that?” she says. “Your father is not a very nice man, is he?”

“He’s doing the best he can,” Adrien says automatically. “He’s still not over Mum’s disappearance.” But even as he says the words, he knows they’re a lie. When’s the last time Gabriel had hugged him? Spoken to him for a purpose other than to issue an order? Spent time with him outside of obsessing over merpeople and dragging Adrien into his vengeful crusade?

And it’s not like anyone else likes Adrien either. When your father’s loony and mermaid-obsessed, people don’t generally see the point in assuming that you’re any better. Crazy by association, he’s been branded. Either that or other mermaid fanatics pester him for information and access to his father.

“The transformation is reversible,” Ladybug says as though reading his mind. Who knows, maybe she can? “If you ever decide that you’re unhappy, you can return to the land. But I wouldn’t be able to associate with you if you chose that. It would be too dangerous for –”

“Adrien! Come back this instant!”

Adrien gasps and ducks behind a thick clump of bushes, praying to every deity above that there’s no sign of them sticking out for Gabriel to see.

“Son! You know how important this is to me!” Now there’s a plea in Gabriel’s voice. “Bring the mermaid back! Do it for your mother!”

But if Ladybug’s right, Emilie would want him to do the exact opposite: to free Ladybug, not take her back to captivity. Squaring his shoulders, Adrien takes a deep breath and then makes a run for it down the sandy trail to the beach. He doesn’t remain unspotted for long; after a few moments, Gabriel shouts his name.

“Bring my mermaid back or you’ll be in more trouble than you could ever imagine!” his father bellows. Adrien’s lungs are burning – his legs are like jelly – he’s fit, sure, but this could be a literal matter of life or death – just a little further, over the soft sand and down the wet, crunchy layer –

The minute his legs hit the waves lapping the shore, Ladybug wriggles and squirms until he loses his grip on her. Although they’re in the shallows and she can’t swim, she’s able to gracefully roll further into the water until the waves catch her and pull her out. Adrien’s heart stops in his chest at the sight of the beautiful mermaid in the light of the setting sun, her tail such a beautiful, deep red and her blue eyes just as piercing as they’d been in the tank.

“Adrien Agreste!” Gabriel’s emerging from the sandy path now. His eyes are wild behind his glasses, and he’s practically frothing at the mouth. Whoops. Adrien is so grounded.

“Adrien!” Ladybug holds out her hand. “Come with me?”

Stay with his fuming father, who’ll probably lock him away for ten years for letting a mermaid go? Who hasn’t even really raised him while obsessing over Ladybug’s kind? Or go with Ladybug, who’d only shown him hostility out of self-preservation and had given him even just a little closure about his mother?

“How can you steal years of work from me?” Gabriel shouts. “Your mother would be ashamed to even call you her son!”

Time seems to stand still as Adrien makes his decision and sprints out into the crashing waves. His hand closes around Ladybug’s just as Gabriel reaches the ocean, and the mermaid grips him tightly and heaves him out until he can’t even touch the bottom.

“Adrien?” Gabriel says. Adrien looks over his shoulder, directly into Gabriel’s eyes.

“My mother would have been proud of me for doing the right thing,” are his final words to Gabriel Agreste before Ladybug tugs him into the orange ocean. When he tries to breathe and gulps in water, he realises that Ladybug’s bubble magic must have worn off…but then she’s cupping his face and kissing him, and all he can do is inhale seawater and kiss back, his eyes fluttering closed, her lips plump and salty…wait, why can’t he kick anymore, why don’t his legs work, how can he breathe so much better than before…

His eyes fly open when Ladybug pulls away. The first thing that catches his eyes is the glimmering black tail that’s replaced his legs, with brilliant green fins instead of feet and green fins up the sides of the tail. Then he looks at his hands and finds green webbing between his fingers, and there are black scales going up his torso diagonally – and there are gills on his neck –

Holy. Heck. He’s a merman. Ladybug had been telling the truth! A melodic giggle escapes the mermaid beside him, and it’s a trip to realise that he can see her clearly despite the growing lack of light.

“You make a very handsome merman, Adrien,” Ladybug says, kissing his cheek. She takes his hand and interlinks their fingers. “Are you ready to go now?”

Adrien looks back towards the shore, where Gabriel’s face can be seen above, twisted in fury and distorted through the water. Then he looks at Ladybug and her shining eyes and pretty smile, and his decision is made.

“Let’s go, Ladybug,” he says.