#and i also know i can literally learn this so easily if i jus commit and practice each day

[cheswirls]

i think (one of) the reason(s) i've been so lethargic abt art this month is i've reached a crux where my eye is trained better than my drawing skills so i don't like how my art looks anymore

logically i know the stepping stone from here is to do studies and a bunch of boring repetitious stuff to improve my basics but i don't wannaaaaaaaa (mostly bc it's summer n the semester burnout is real) so i am currently in limbo

[haberdashing]

A Bundle Of Questions (5/?)

Crowley suddenly loses his memory, which would be trouble enough if what he’d forgotten hadn’t happened to include a number of very pertinent tidbits about his current lifestyle and state of existence.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

on AO3

“But then, I suppose this isn’t the first time you’ve comforted me, is it?”

Aziraphale hesitated to reply for a moment. It was true, certainly, but given the circumstances, it was also something of a non-sequitur.

“What makes you say that?”

Raphael���s shoulders straightened a little, his posture improving ever so slightly. “I mean, it’s obvious, really. Clearly, we’ve been fraternizing.”

Aziraphale might have objected to the way that Raphael said fraternizing if he didn’t know well enough that less than two centuries ago he himself had bandied the word about like an obscenity, despite having significantly more context regarding his and Crowley’s situation than Raphael did right now, and frankly Aziraphale’s tone had probably been the harsher of the two.

The angel felt his face heat up as he considered what to say in response. He certainly wasn’t going to deny it, of course, but how much could he admit to, how much was he willing to say out loud, how much “fraternizing” had Raphael surmised the two had committed by analyzing Aziraphale’s words and body language alone-

“Yeah, that’s about how I thought you’d react.” Was that a hint of humor in Raphael’s tone of voice?

“I- what do you mean by fraternizing?”

“Funny you should ask, since really I should be the one asking you. I don’t know, of course--I don’t remember. But if you’re telling the truth, and we’re both not exactly in the good graces of our respective head offices--and we’re living together, to boot? Some kind of fraternizing between the two of us is the only thing that makes sense.”

Aziraphale let out a long sigh before admitting, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“’Course not.” Raphael’s tone wasn’t quite as self-confident as his words suggested, though the front he was putting up probably would’ve fooled most people; Aziraphale, on the other hand, after over six thousand years of dealing with Crowley, liked to think he knew the demon a little better than most, at least. “Now, would you care to elaborate on that a bit?”

“Well...” Where to start? The Garden of Eden? The Apocalypse that wasn’t? The literal thousands of years in between the two, in which Aziraphale and Crowley had gotten to know and... appreciate one another better, bit by bit? Their relationship, their... fraternizing... “It’s kind of a long story.”

Raphael nodded and raised an eyebrow and, while staying silent, managed to convey that Aziraphale hadn’t wriggled out of giving a fuller explanation quite that easily.

“I mean, it, it’s literally as long as a story can be, or one that takes place on Earth, at any rate, given that we met just outside the Garden of Eden-”

“It started that early, huh?” Raphael let out a little snort of amusement. “Good to know. And that means- that’s not long after the War, at that point, and we’re an angel and a demon chatting each other up already?”

Aziraphale considered protesting that the two of them hadn’t been “chatting each other up,” that it hadn’t been a mutual thing, that Crowley had chatted him up and he had just made a few token responses in return, because really, what was he going to do, ignore the demon’s words entirely? But Aziraphale was willing to recognize that if he was to have that argument at all, it had better be with a Crowley who actually remembered the events in question, and therefore would have some chance of both comprehending the argument being presented and being able to rebut it with his own perspective on how it had all gone down.

Still, as Aziraphale deliberately averted his gaze, looking back at the bathtub and the handful of ants that had unexpectedly decided to make it their home, he couldn’t help but mutter, “Well, you started it.”

“Oh? Did I tempt you into it?”

Raphael laughed a little at his own joke, but Aziraphale couldn’t help but wonder--was that all it was, at first? Trying to tempt an angel into conversing with a demon, into seeing Hell’s side of things?

But no, that didn’t seem right. Even back then, even in the very first of their many, many conversations over the years, Crowley had seemed interested in Aziraphale not as just another angel but as, well, himself, curious about what he had to say for himself, how he saw the world before him.

Had Crowley been... interested in Aziraphale in the way they were only just beginning to understand and accept, way back then?

(That was a question that Raphael definitely couldn’t answer for him, another discussion that would have to wait for a more able fellow participant.)

“But really, that was an awfully big move to make, especially way back then, when we’d just stopped being at each others’ throats... I mean, metaphorically, you know, during the War and all-”

Aziraphale nodded in perhaps an overly energetic gesture. He knew, he remembered those years well enough even now, all the lives lost in a battle that ultimately changed little, and he would very much like to stop remembering them and change the subject as soon as possible.

Though as it turned out, Raphael didn’t need prompting to move on to a different subject entirely.

“So why? Why did we speak to each other? Why you and me, specifically, speaking to one another? I mean, you’re cute and all-”

Aziraphale’s heart fluttered when he heard that, and while he wasn’t sure if he was going to tease Crowley about those words, exactly, when all this was said and done, they were definitely going into the “to be remembered” pile just the same.

“-but that’s not really enough to go and betray all the forces of Hell for, now, is it? So why you? What makes you so special?”

Aziraphale gulped, and while he could feel Raphael’s gaze upon him, he didn’t dare return it.

“I... I wish I knew.”

His hands were shaking a little, now, but he couldn’t help it--and Raphael wasn’t the only one of them allowed to have emotions, after all, wasn’t the only one entitled to have feelings of his own...

...and there was a decent chance that Crowley wouldn’t even remember all this in the end, wasn’t there? Granted, memory loss was uncharted territory for them, but that seemed to happen in books as often as not, at any rate.

So Aziraphale continued.

“I’ve... wondered myself, sometimes, even in so many words. Why me? Am- am I special in some way? Or was it just because I happened to be the one sent to Earth, was it bound to happen to whatever angel you hung around with for long enough, and I just- just happened to be the lucky one?”

Aziraphale tried to laugh, there, but it didn’t quite come out right.

“But I know it wouldn’t have worked the other way around, at least. I wouldn’t have been able to put up with any other demon like that, certainly not to the point of- of-”

Aziraphale seriously considered using a certain four-letter word to describe their relationship, but decided against it. Crowley always railed against four-letter words, anyways; perhaps this one would be no different.

“-of such close companionship, being best friends- only friends, really, for a bit there... I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry about that. But the point is, I don’t know if it had to be me, but it had to be you.”

“Really?”

Aziraphale chanced a glance over at Raphael, who had stood up and moved closer to Aziraphale, wide-eyed and staring right at him, clearly intrigued by what he had to say.

“So, let’s turn the question around, then. What makes me so special?”

Aziraphale laughed, for real this time, though it was soft and a little shaky. “Where do I start?”

The question had been meant as rhetorical, but Raphael answered it anyway. “Wherever you like, I suppose.”

“Well--back in ancient Mesopotamia, before the Flood, you hated the idea of it, not because it was part of the Divine Plan, but because it was- well, was so cruel to so much of humanity. You’re a demon, and yet the thought of so many people dying, so many children not getting a chance to grow up--you didn’t relish the pain it would cause, you despised it.”

Aziraphale paused for a moment before adding, in a quieter tone, “You don’t happen to remember that now, do you?”

Raphael wordlessly shook his head.

“That’s fine, I mean, that’s just one bit, there’s got to be a million of them--you saved me back in Paris, during the Revolution, when I’d gone to get some crepes and was about to get my head chopped off for it, you came in and miracled me right out of it!”

Raphael’s eyes narrowed a bit as he said, “I don’t think ‘miracle’ is quite the right word there.”

“Well--whatever your lot call it, then!” Aziraphale took a breath before continuing. “And that wasn’t the only time you saved me, either. You- you walked on consecrated ground just to stop me from getting killed and making a fool of myself, and you saved my books, too, saved them from utter annihilation in the blink of an eye!”

“Is that all?” Raphael was clearly smiling, now, a strange sort of smile that Aziraphale couldn’t fully interpret.

“’Is that all?” No, that’s not all, after six thousand years- you- you even made Hamlet a success for me, just because you knew I liked it when I saw it! Don’t try to deny it, either-”

“I mean, I don’t remember doing it-”

“I know you don’t, of course you don’t, that’s not the point-”

Raphael started laughing at his own joke again.

“I could keep going, you know-”

“Oh?”

“But I think I’ve rather made my point clear already.”

Raphael looked a little disappointed at that, but nodded understandingly. “Yeah, I think I get where you’re going here, rambling on about how amazing I am...”

Aziraphale could feel his cheeks go hot and warm at that statement, but, well, Raphael wasn’t wrong.

“...and actually, I’ve learned a few things about you now, too.”

“Did you remember-”

“No, I don’t remember any of that, but-” Raphael let out a sigh. “Look. Let me just- just rephrase what I heard you saying just now--not the bits about me, but the bits about you--and maybe you’ll see what I mean.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure where Raphael was going with all of this, but he was curious enough to want to hear the demon out. “Alright.”

Raphael held up one finger in a manner that looked somewhat accusatory. “You liked Hamlet. You saw a play made by a human--and not one with a clear moral, or even a comedy, but a tragedy, a depiction of humans suffering at one another’s hands with the only clear moral at the end being ‘be glad you aren’t any of those guys’--and you liked it, enough that you were glad to see it become a success.”

“That’s not fair, you can learn things from Hamlet if you try, schoolkids still are today as a matter of fact-”

“You sound as impressed that I saved a bunch of your books from getting destroyed as you are that I saved you.”

“They were first editions, all of them, exceptionally rare and incredibly valuable, and- I mean, you can get bodies-”

“You went to France, in the middle of the Revolution, because you wanted to eat some crepes.”

“That- well- there’s really nothing like a true Parisian crepe-”

“And in ancient Mesopotamia, as you were watching another bit of the Divine Plan slide into place, not only did you hear out the ramblings of some demon who didn’t like the idea of it, you listened well enough to remember the details of his- er, my argument, thousands of years later.”

That one Aziraphale didn’t have a comeback ready for, but he opened his mouth anyway, perhaps hoping that once his mouth was open, the words would come naturally.

They did not.

“You don’t need to defend yourself like that, you know.”

“What?”

“I’m not listing these off to- to accuse you of some grave misdeeds, or something-”

Aziraphale laughed, shakily, a laugh partially of confusion and partially of relief, as he realized that he had been trying to defend himself, as if the one listing off what he noticed in Aziraphale’s speech had been Gabriel instead of Crowley Raphael.

“Then why list them at all?”

“They’re just... different, not what you’d expect of a proper angel, I suppose. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I bet the me who remembers it all wouldn’t think of any of them as bad things. Though I don’t know if he- I? Know what even counts as a bad thing, really...”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he had ever talked to Crowley--or Crawley, it had been back then--outside the Garden of Eden. How Crowley/Crawley had suggested that perhaps what he had done by convincing Eve to eat the forbidden fruit wasn’t bad at all, that maybe he’d been good and Aziraphale had been bad and wouldn’t that be funny, if they’d played each others’ roles right there-

“Actually, I do remember something else now, I think.”

Aziraphale looked over Raphael’s face. He wasn’t crying, wasn’t even close to it, and in fact his mouth was quickly forming a wide grin. Whatever he remembered, it wasn’t traumatizing like his Fall had evidently been.

“What do you remember?”

“You-” Raphael laughed a little before starting over. “You gave away your flaming sword? Am I remembering that right?”

Aziraphale covered his face with his hands and turned away. If eating the forbidden fruit had been humanity’s original sin, giving away his flaming sword had been Aziraphale’s, proof that he wasn’t a real angel, a proper angel, that he was really very bad at his job and very bad at advancing the cause of Heaven and no matter how much work he put into hiding that, it would never be enough-

“Hey, look at me.”

Aziraphale turned back towards Raphael, but kept his hands in front of his face, peeking out only through thin lines between his fingers.

Raphael laughed a little. “Stop that, you look ridiculous right now... just look at me, angel.”

The way Raphael said “angel” this time didn’t have the anger and sharpness it had had before; it was softer, sweeter, closer to how Crowley would normally have said the word.

Perhaps that was why Aziraphale acquiesced, letting his arms rest at his side once more.

“You saw people who were struggling, and you did what you could to help them, without asking permission or worrying about how it would affect you... maybe Heaven would consider that bad, but I sure don’t.”

Raphael shot Aziraphale a grin as he added, “I think I’m starting to see what makes you so special.”

[theboondogglepub]

He Trained and Thought of Past Friends.

On a pale day in a snow draped white field a shirtless sweaty man with feline ears swung a large and heavy tree log. The wooden heft over twice the miqo’te in size, easily double his body weight. His body strained as maneuver after maneuver was done with the branch held tight to his chest. The strain on his face displayed the effort needed to brandish it in any form, and yet he still did. Each motion was like a dance done with a profoundly heavy partner, and he swung it near like a weapon. Only where he had walked was the snow distorted, and at the edge of the field a log cabin of tiny design stood, and on the cabin’s deck the thickly robed figure of a lalafell sat on a small chair.

“Tell me about them, Corsa’ir.” She said between soft and relaxed exhales, cooling the tea in her tiny fingers.

“Aren’t I…” He huffed, thick white exhales of frozen breath catching with each audible physical exertion, “- supposed to be concentrating, Faol?” The air hummed with a strange energy around and where the man moved.

She sipped a cup of orange hue tea, pale purples eyes looking out on the hard at work man. “You can do two things at once.” She spoke plainly, curt and without much emotion, her high voice just a bit too saccharine to be tolerated. “To wit, you must do two things at once. Ergo why I’m going to distract you. If you want to do this, you’ll need to manage at least doing two things at the same time. So keep up your exercises, and tell me about them.”

The miqo’te swung the log. “What exactly do you wanna know?”

“Well let’s start with the ones you miss and work our way down, shall we Mr. Boon?” The lalafell seemed to chuckle at a passing thought as she tapped her chin. “Unless you’d prefer to begin with your paramours, or are they one in the same?” She quipped.

“No… well some. I guess all’a them.” He spun with the log in his hands, a breath caught in his throat as the effort and strain shook his legs. “I guess… I miss em’ all, yeh? I also can’t stand em’ all too sumtimes. It drives me crazy sumtimes too, loike really stabs at me. They can’t get along, they fight each ovver back n’ forth loike bickerin’ children. An’ I feel it near acutely. An’ then they get all sullen an’ don’t talk tah each ovver cause they’re as balanced as a avalanche of rocks. It… its too much sometimes.”

“They sound like everyday people then, so what makes them any different? Is it because of the echo?” Faol dropped a cube of sugar into her tea and idly stirred.

“Llymlaen save me… not you too.” Boon stopped and rested the log, lungs burning. “Jus’ how did you find out I have th’ echo ennyroad? I don’t go about spoutin’ it off fer a damn reason.” The brief pause was a poor choice, quickly the chill in the air causing Corsa’ir to shiver. “An fer another thing, why is it so cold here? It should be the warm season.”

“You’re changing the subject again.” Faol took a sip of her tea, eyes seemingly both unfocused and trained on her speaking companion. “Is deflection your default setting Mr. Boon?” An exhausted toss of her hair had the lalafell look about the snowy island setting before turning back. “If you must know, the island suffers an unstable combination of nearby elemental crystal deposits. Sailors call it one of the 56 deaths, so named for being one of several reasons ship travel has difficulty reaching the New World. Now, let us get back to you. Is it because of the echo that you can’t stand them? Or are you emotionally stunted and can’t commit to relationships?”

“Wow, pretty harsh don’che think? I ain’t never heard a Lalafell talk as ‘at.” Corsa’ir picked up the log again and began to swing it anew. “I uh… I can’t blame th’ fact that I see emotions on them. People always have ‘em, emotions that is. I jus’ see them an’ feel them a bit more than an empathetic person would.”

“Well, my name is Faol, Mr. Boon.” The lalafell took a sip of her tea. “Which is ironic as you’re really less an empathetic person than me.” Another sip of tea.

“Hey there now. How th’ hell do you know I ain’t a empathetic person?” Another swing of the log.

“Because I’ve observed you for a sennight. You’re entirely selfish, self-absorbed, prone to rash emotion, and averse to common logic when it comes to your own life and situation. You are, in as few words as possible, a narcissist.” Another sip of tea. “So, tell me about them.”

Corsa’ir audibly sighed… loudly. “They’re m’ mates. Chuckaboos as is told, meanin’ good friends. They’re good people, all of them. Maf an’ Cath, smart as can be. Little emotionally neutral, play that whole exhausted learned sort...but good. Eme is… well she’s both great an’ exhausting. Always feel loike she has somethin’ she wants t’ say an’ never does an it drives me crazy.. Mos’ of em’ are jus’ good people tho, plain an’ simple. Ashe, Kayne, Jun, Rei,  an that Naih lass. E’en that big elf they added... Z has a habit of sayin th’ wrong thing but is o’erall good.” Boon began to swing the log with earnest, picking up speed and effort to contort and heave the wooden beam more deftly.

“And?”

“And what?” He tripped in the snow, slipping and landing in a pile of upheaved frosty white powder. From his two fulm deep hole a cough came. “Can I be done yet? Been trainin’ loike this fer days now an’ not really seein’ th’ point to it.”

“And what about the rest?” Another stir of her tea. “You can be done after that, I think you’re finally ready for the next stage of the training.”

“Fine.” Boon sat up in the snow and rubbed his reddened back. “They… we had somethin’ and then we didn’t. All there is to it. Th’ second I committed m’self to their whole ‘harem’ thing they started droppin’ loike flies. Not literally droppin’, jus… I guess had more important fings t’ do. Started to feel th’ moment I began lettin’ people into that part of my life, they started leavin’ it. In th’ end it wus jus’ me an Katalin and e’en then I knew I was going to leave for her good. I’m not a one woman sorta guy but that’s what she wants e’en if she’s not willing to admit it. An’ that’s what she should get if I’m honest. Katalin won’t be happy til she gets that, an she deserves it.” Corsa’ir sighed and stood up, dusting off the snow caking his reddened exposed skin and trousers.

“See, isn’t it good to talk Mr. Boon?” Faol hopped down from her chair and began walking across the surface of the snow field, her body so light it failed to depress the snow. “Now you can be done. Feel free to drop the log Mr. Boon, it’s time we moved on to far more difficult training.” Faol raised her hand. “Now I want you to focus on the catalyst I gave you. It’s time to summon a weapon.”

[cristicns]

um hello hey hola ! ! i’m ronnie . . . wow i’m late huh but ig better late than never, amirite ? ( *drake vc* but never late is better . . . ) anyWay ya i’m already in love with all of you because i was lurking the shit out of this place while i was out, but yes i am Super excited to get this show on the road ahjsakj ? ? like i had to hold myself back from jumping straight into those interactions in order to make this intro  ..  So appreciate dis . alrightie sO this is the part where i introduce my baby cristian, although the gif up there honestly literally truly sums his ass up ( he thinks he’s slick . . . kinda actually is lmao ) , but i’ll put a few, brief points about him and link yall to his stuff under the cut !

‹ ♢ › click HERE for his bio and click HERE for his stats page !

ok plain and simple , cristian thinks hes Top Shit . . like the actual top dog , so don’t be surprised by his cockiness tbh   .. . although most of the time, he’s pretty slick and very charming so Hes Not all bad

your typical playboy , player, lothario , casanova, what have you . . . so although he doesn’t get spooked too easily, like he’s a pretty strong-willed guy when he wants to be . . . commitment is the Tru Demon for cris 

creepy doll at the end of the hallway ? yawn . commitment ?  . . . HDJDH Now das scary

also he can get pretty defensive and blunt if he feels his confidence or vulnerability threatened . . like he’s a rough-around-the-edges kinda guy so sometimes he can be a bit impolite oops

ALSO don’t trust this guy honestly. .  .like he’s mega shady and sketchy most of the time . . . acts super mysterious and cryptic so ya hes not reliable jus so u know bye

anyway psa: he loves Attention . . . learn dat ..  . 

he loooves to flirt . . . talk people up . . . flaunt himself. . . whatever .. . he’s very much a social guy and always needs to belong to something, like he loves being a part of something and getting attention and whatnot but . . . also having the freedom to run away bc yikeS commitment. .

but lowkey he’s rly soft and guarded about vulnerable stuff ? 

like he grew up in a very warm-hearted and loving family, and although they weren’t really that rich and didn’t have a lot of luxuries, he had a good upbringing and was cradled all his life . like he was far from rich, but he was spoiled , ya feel ? his home life was very Lively tbh, like his mama was always cooking up a storm with all her amazing colombian goodies, there was always Something Loud going on, and everything Was always packed and crammed bc it was a small home for a family of 5 . . . but he always had a smile on his face so we good

so ya thats why he hates being without that warmth and satisfaction he gets from being adored and given attention . . . lmao blame his mama ig idk

 he grew up in a small apartment above an autoshop his father worked for, so that’s where he developed his love for cars . .  . like u dont understand . ..  the mysterybusters van is literally his baby . ..�� any car he owns is literally his baby . .  hes obsessed

hes ALso THat guy who would definitely name their car so Catch him flinging out those name suggestions for the van tbh

so yeah he loves cars and he’s good w them so dont fuck with him and his cars tbh  . . . like he’s bitter as hell about Being replaced

we all know that my mans over here is the driver but i feel like hes kinda that guy who does the dirty work in the group too ?  ? like we got brains behind the operations but he’s very much the muscles y’know ? like he’s the go-to guy if u want something knocked down or built or carried or if you need someone beat up lmao . . . cris is ur guy  . . . he’s like a body guard honestly

did i mention he likes to flirt

he has some tatts .. yum

he likes to work out ...  he likes boxing and fighting in particular. . . n*ce . . . 

has dreams of owning a motorcycle one day ...  he definitely brings that Up at least once a day so be warned

um what else

those Eyes will enchant u tbh . . proceed w caution

has a Cool scar on his chest from working on a car and getting hurt once

oH has two younger twin sisters . . . catalina and claudia

hmmmmmm what am i missing

oh Yeah he likes to Flirt