#it already meant a lot to me but now it has another layer

[little-cereal-draws]

In a strange way, Izzy's speech to that nose prince guy is even better now. They can cancel ofmd, they can cancel every queer show they have, they can erase them from digital existence and leave them to rot in a vault, but that won't stop us. We'll remember the shows, we'll make more queer art, we'll tell more queer stories, we'll move away from them and start our own platforms if we have to. Nothing they can do will stop us because we're fucking pirates

[bomberqueen17]

tone indicators

I reblogged this post without adding any commentary bc queue and not a lot of computer time lately but like okay here's the thing about tone indicators:

they're yet another in-group set of coded speech. like an inside joke, or a meme, or a conlang. if you are in a group that uses them, they're great and perfectly comprehensible.

but if you don't happen to have come from inside a group that uses them, they are exactly as exclusionary as any other heavy jargon or inside joke or acronym. I mean have you ever listened to soldiers talk? The US Army communicates in heavily jargon-ified speech, liberally laden with acronyms, so much so that it's a self-referential joke to make up obscene or deliberately-obfuscated ones to slip into official reports since the sorts of people who'd kick up a fuss about obscene language won't understand them.

It is exactly the same thing. Except that's exclusionary on purpose, and tone indicators are exclusionary in effect but tout themselves as inclusionary.

So if I, an outsider to this, am reading along, and after a sentence, there's a / and then between one and three letters, that is not enough information for me to use to look it up.

This is absolutely inaccessible if you are not alreadhy in the group that uses it.

I wouldn't mind if the people who used them were just like 'oh ha sorry jargon, i'll try to explain if it's not clear, sorry i forget you guys don't know them' just like any other inside joke or meme or whatever.

But I was in a discussion with someone on a Discord and when I was puzzled about them including these weird slash-acronyms after their statements they were like oh how nice for you that you're not neurodivergent and don't need to use these.

Uh no. The opposite actually. I'm the kind of neurodivergent that needs context. I handle being excluded from conversations very poorly. And that's where I get pissed off, that people seem to be holding these up as the new be-all end-all of Finally Solving The Problem Of Ambiguous Tones In Social Interaction. The hell you are, kids. They're just another layer, and I'd say the worst one yet, out of many many many attempts to solve this exact problem. They are fundamentally inaccessible. Don't mistake the fact that you learned them (somewhere, in some context inaccessible to me) for them actually being universal.

Considered against the many different solutions that have been offered since text-only speech was invented, tone indicators stack up as among the very least-accessible of the lot, since they contain so little context in and of themselves-- if a key is not provided then they're totally inaccessible, and are exceptionally difficult for non-native English speakers, and in general require so much memorization or cross-referencing as to be prohibitively hostile to outsiders.

And that's fine, if what your'e doing is just meant for talking to your friends. But don't come into my conversations and berate me for not having memorized whatever incomprehensible set of acronyms you've newly-decided are the new universal truth. And what drives me the most insane is how many of these acronyms someone has now decided to assign a whole new meaning to are acronyms that are well-known and already existed and are in heavy use. So if you try to look them up guess what you get! is it gonna be the newly-created version or the one that's been in use for fifty to seventy-five years??

For one, P.O.S. has had a specific meaning in written and spoken English for a really damn long time and if you call me a piece of shit in the actual language I speak I am absolutely not going to interpret your conlang as having intended something nice. (YES REALLY THEY'RE USING THAT ONE TRY TO GUESS WHAT IT MEANS. NO. NO! I know. Fuck! That's wild. Absolutely the fuck not.)

[genericpuff]

Hello! I’m just here bc I’m a little confused on what you meant by Smythe drawing out “each individual asset” when she was making comics? Now, granted, I can see that it made her file ginormous, but me personally as someone who knows nothing about making online comics but is really wanting to get into it (and also as someone who has a ‘too many layers’ problem myself), is there a way to avoid using too many layers?

My current way of making comics has been to draw the panels individually and then format them (which I know is terrible management wise and also messes with the quality) but I honestly have no other idea of how to do it properly, and seeing how stunning Lore Rekindled looks, I don’t know how you would manage to put all that lighting effects and little details on the same layers. (But also I may be thinking of it wrong so I’ll let you talk qwq)

Ah I can actually give you a visual breakdown of what I meant by that!

So in this you can see there are a TON of layers, and not even all of them are visible because some of them are stuffed into FOLDERS that have been left closed. BUT if you look REEEEALLY carefully-

^^^ These layers right here? That's specifically Minthe from this panel in Episode 61:

(the unique pose here makes it real easy to tell that this is the corresponding panel, you can see the matching body shape with the dark shading that's clipped to the base layer below it!)

So what this means is that Rachel didn't draw all her characters on one base layer, she drew every single character in every single panel separately. Now of course, she could merge all these layers together as working on separate layers helps make it easier to work on elements that collide separately (like one character being 'underneath' another character like Hades is here) but because she has all of those clipping layers with the shading already added in, she likely didn't merge them afterwards because that would actually create MORE problems (because if she merged the Minthe layer in with Hades, then the shading for Minthe that she painted outside of the lines would show up on Hades and then she'd have to erase it which is just a bunch of extra work).

You can also tell all these characters are on their own layer because the layer thumbnail EXCLUSIVELY shows those characters. A layer will show as much canvas length as it needs to cover what's in that layer, so if the thumbnail is only showing one character, that means there's NOTHING ELSE on that layer. If there were more elements on this layer than just Minthe, the layer thumbnail would look more like this:

Now let's compare it to Rekindled's layers! I'll use a completed page to make it fair as we use a lot of extra layers in the post-production phase where we add the texture effects and glow and all that fun stuff, plus I'll even make it a more complicated page like that big nymph explanation spread from Episode 51:

So I'll break it down to make this make more sense:

BG 2 Copy (technically this is supposed to be BG 1) - Basically the panel shapes, what I'll do is mark out the panels with flat blocks and through that we'll add background elements in a clipping layer (usually done by Banshriek). Often times they'll do multiple layers to make the process easier and then merge them all together in the end. With these shapes operating as panels, it means I can just auto select the whole layer, invert the selection, and easily erase whatever's outside of it (such as the lineart and base colors that I put down afterwards). I could just use masking layers like I did in [AFTERBIRTH] but I find this way works better for the process of making Rekindled.

BG 2 - This is where we add objects / foreground elements. So stuff like furniture, interactables, anything that needs to be kept separate from the larger background to make it easier to work with. This can also include "floating" panels that need to be above other panels, such as this:

All of the backgrounds are then nested in a folder for organization purposes (we also sometimes use clipping layers on top of those folders to apply extra effects over anything contained within that folder without affecting other folders, that's a common technique that Banshriek applies)

Then we get into our Characters folder:

BASE - This is where I do the majority of my work, all the characters in every panel on a page are flatted into this layer. Sometimes I do have to create separate layers to, again, make it easier to work with overlapping characters, but usually those layers will be merged before I go into the shading process. I simply shade on a single layer by using the lasso / magic wand tool to select my area for painting, the flat colors make it really easy to do that. Sometimes I need to create a secondary shading layer if I've put down dark colors that start to bleed into the lighter colors, but again, I merge when I'm done into a single shading layer. We also sometimes employ an Add (Glow) layer into the clipping set if we need a glow effect that's exclusive to the characters and doesn't travel outside of their base colors.

There's a (leaves) layer here that I used for the dryad because I needed the leaves to be above the base layer, after that I selected the leaves elements so that I could erase the lineart in the layer above it where needed.

LINEART - It's lineart, enough said haha That said, I do think Rachel actually uses clipping layers for her lineart in places, it seems to be visible in some of her process videos where you can see the lineart present in a clipping layer, and that would explain why there are panels where the lineart suddenly 'cuts off' and doesn't travel outside of the base layer, like so:

GLOW - This is where we do an Add (Glow) layer that isn't restricted to the base layer, it's where we add all the fun lil' glow and sparkle effects over the characters !

The CLOUDS layer is, like the leaves, a background element that needs to be above the base layers rather than constricted to the background.

Above the Characters folder you can see what I mentioned earlier where Banshriek has added more post-production effects that are exclusively clipped to the contents of the Characters folder. This means the effects / blend modes do NOT affect the background layers or anything above it.

The BLUR (Overlay) layer is something we just started doing over the past several episodes, it's a technique I actually picked up from 66 of City of Blank where I merge all the layers into a new visible layer which I then apply a Gaussian Blur to at around 60% and then set to Overlay (and then I adjust the layer opacity until it looks right, usually around 25-35%), it gives it a bit of a softer "dreamier" vibe in the final colors and really helps unify everything!

CANVAS - This is an Overlay layer which is also set to an opacity of 25-35% where I go over the panels with the Add Canvas brush from the Kyle Webster set, unlike the Canvas overlay texture in CSP I can actually choose the colors I want to use which means I can match the canvas texture color to the mood and environment of the scene (ex. I'll use a very light blue for scenes in the Underworld). Not only does it give it that signature texture from S1 of LO, but it also helps balance out the effects of the BLUR layer.

The SKETCH layer sits on top of everything and gets turned off once all the base layers and lineart are down, and ofc the SPEECH folder is just where all the text is kept.

I know everything I just laid out is a LOT but ultimately it's how we operate, it works for us! But it also begs the question of why Rachel operates the way she does because a lot of it seems extremely unnecessary and more likely to bite her in the ass (the more layers there are, the bigger your file size gets, the risk of drawing on the wrong layer increases as well as the risk of posting a panel that's missing elements because the layer was left turned off by mistake, etc.) And it's more so concerning with how she operates with her assistants because if she's still using this many layers when collaborating with other people, hooo boy. Though based on what I've observed of what her assistants contribute, I get a lot more of the sense that she circumvents this by having the artists do the flats separately and then importing them in as separate assets that she then just imports into the page and places them where they need to be. Still not a great workflow IMO because it's what's led to a lot of the issues of characters "floating" rather than feeling like they're actually in the environment-

-but that's still an issue that could be solved by Rachel just taking more time to actually flesh out the backgrounds and lighting to give more of an impression of the characters actually existing in the space. Like that Hestia panel could easily be fixed by just giving the background a bit more detail and putting actual shading underneath her (and lighting from whatever direction it's coming from).

Either way, regardless of whether or not Rachel's process is productive or not, I hope that breakdown helps explain how we do it in Rekindled! Learning how to manage layers is definitely a skill that can be tricky to harness, but once it "clicks" there's a lot you can get away with. Ultimately how you do it is up to you, but my best piece of advice to offer is to just be open to other types of workflows because you don't know how much you might be shooting yourself in the foot doing things the hard way when there are often way easier and more efficient ways to get the same job done. That's basically the vibe I get from observing Rachel's workflow, it seems like she's still using methods that she thinks are working for her (and probably did work just fine for her when it was JUST her) but could be vastly improved for her and her team if she'd just get over the initial hump of stepping outside of her comfort zone. Would probably make for a better comic too LOL

I hope that helps! Good luck! ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

[thewritetofreespeech]

Night 211: Selûne's Hallowing

words: 1.2K rating: G pairing: Gale x Tav summary: The annual festival for the Moonmaiden comes to Waterdeep, and with it old friends.

Ao3 - 1000 Night Series

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“What is a moon cake made out of anyway? I’ve never had one.”

“Never?!” Gale asked, gob smacked. “Oh, well you are in for a treat! The bakeries only make them during Selûne's Hallowing. Pure white. The base is made of finely ground almonds with the slightest hint of Clarry, and a golden berry compote between the layers. It’s a delicacy.”

“And we’ve gotten one so large when it’s only just the two of us because….”

“Well…they only make it this time of year….”

Gale and Tav walk back home with their purchases. Intent to spend the night of Selûne alone in quite reflection (or rather forgetting about the whole thing and just drinking wine with their cake while the moon was out, as Gale intended) when they came across a crowd that wasn’t there before in the center of town.

“Sounds like quite the ruckus. Perhaps we should…” Gale didn’t even get the chance to suggest they continue home and stay out of it, as Tav was already walking over to see what was going on. He admired a lot of the catlike traits in his wife. Her grace. Her reflexes. Those gorgeous eyes. But this curiosity thing of hers was going to get them into serious trouble one of these days. Or rather again….

They make their way through the crowd towards its center to see what everyone was so enamored with. Immediately getting a glimpse of shining armor and brilliant wings. “Dame Aylin?”

“Izzy!”

Tav broke through what remained of the crowd to run over to the Selûnite cleric, who welcomed her with open arms. “It’s good to see you Tav.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were staying at the cloister outside Baldur’s Gate.”

“Wherever my mother’s presence is welcome & honored, her sword shall be there to anoint her followers with the light of her abiding joy.” Dame Aylin announced.

“And Selûnite clerics are welcome to attend any festival in Faerûn. We decided we would come and see you.”

Tav smiled and hugged Isobel again. Gale smiled as well at the sweet display. He knew how desperately sometimes Tav missed their friends. He knew because he missed them too. Though he was happy to have his life with Tav alone, sometimes ‘alone’ was not enough. It was good to see them.

The couple invited the other to the temple of Selûne where they are staying to catch up, as Isobel had some preparations to make before tonight. Gale, for all his years in Waterdeep, had no recollection of this place or any memory of visiting the temple on his own in years. If he ever did. He felt a little bit like an interloper in the Moon Maiden’s walls. “So, how has life been treating you?”

“Life is resplendent.” Dame Aylin replied when Tav asked. Almost as eager as a pup to share how happy she was, in contrast to the dominating figure of the aasimar. “Every day with Isobel is a gift. Each one more joyous than the last.”

“Aylin likes to wax poetic on our relationship.”

“You don’t say?” Tav gave a cheeky little side glance at Gale. Who, for his part, pretended to not know what that look meant.

“I speak nothing but the truth!” Aylin's voice boomed before it turned soft again. "The century I spent locked in the Shadowfell was torment. But not because I was alone in the dark. Rather to be without my mate was the worse fate imaginable. The pain of Shar's fanatics was nothing compared to the pain in my heart, stabbing and sucking, without my sweet Isobel. Now that she has been returned to me, I would spend another 100 years in that hells for each day in her embrace."

"Oh Aylin....."

Gale frowned. His pride a little wounded. He'd have to stop by the library at some point and brush up on his poetry studies soon.

"And you, my friend, you have married your magus and set up home here."

"I have!" Tav reached out and took Gale's hand. Making him blush a little. "We're very happy here."

"Good. You deserve it. The horrors you have faced, restoring me to my full glory as the Moon Maiden's charge, surviving a most insidious foe that would enslave all. So few have accomplished so much, and any reward pales in comparison to your honor." It was Tav's turn to blush, and Gale felt a little foolish for being jealous. "And you, Gale of Waterdeep. You deserve praise as well. I have no care for magicians now. Such are their scheming ways and accursed arts. But you? I know our champion did not overcome their trials alone. For that, my gratitude seems a feeble reward."

"Oh, I think the gratitude of a god child is more than enough reward. Besides," Gale squeezed Tav's hand, "I already got my reward. And Dekarios is fine. I don't go by 'Gale of Waterdeep' anymore."

"Hmmm...I am not familiar with this place. Where is Dekarios? Did we pass it in our travels my love?"

The mortals all chuckle, and Isobel tells Aylin, "I'll explain it later."

The four of them continue to chat for a while before Isobel must see to her duties for the festival and the locals leave.

"It was nice to see them." Tav commented as they walked across the waterside to their home. Aylin and Isobel would be leaving in the morning. They wouldn’t have time to see them again before they set off. Nor did they know when they would see them at all.

"Oh, to be sure. Dame Aylin is still a most impressive and intimidating figure. Isobel seems much happier as well. Free of her father's shadow, literally and figuratively."

Tav chuckled at Gale's quip, then took a long step in front of them to circle back and face him. Halting their progress. "Did you mean what you said?" Gale was puzzled on what she meant as he had said a lot of things that evening. "About all this....being your reward?"

"You really have to ask?" If she did, then he was cutting a much less finer figure to Dame Aylin than he originally thought. "You, this life, is the greatest reward I could ever imagine. To have you by my side every day. I would fight another 100 Elder Brains if I had to. A 1000, even. And a few adolescent ones.” Tav giggled at his quip and Gale felt gladdened to see her spirit’s lift.

He then lifted her chin toward him. Kissing her as the sun sank into the sea. “I love you. With my whole being. Sometimes I feel that this reward is too great for me. That I’ve been given blessings with both hands. Feel a little greedy keeping it all to myself.”

“Oh, well in that case…” Tav stepped past him to pretend to leave, but Gale quickly scooped her in his arms.

“Oh no you don’t! The gods may be shelling out blessings with both hands, but I have two quite fine ones here to keep you.”

They finish their walk home just as the sun faded away completely. Watching the moon rise and sail across the night sky, like the ships below cross the sea. Focusing on their own blessings granted to them by the Moon Maiden, or whatever deity saw fit to see them happy. Gale really didn’t care which one. But if he ever found out, he’d be certain to toss a few extra coins in their offering next time he went.

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

repenting

artwork credit: "The Great Hop" by Dillon Samuelson

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~ 1.5k words

summary: Dave and you, two utterly scarred people, meet for stress relieving sex only. But damn, it’s hard. 

tags/warnings: explicit, angst, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, allusions to unprotected p in v, smut (creampie, f!oral) but it’s hidden in between words and metaphors, church symbolism I guess, a whole lot of confession metaphors, DM me if I missed any

a/n: I missed writing for my man Dave and I just want him to feel good. So I tried to give him some comfort. Basically my plea for his innocence, your honor, Dave has done nothing wrong. thanks to @guiltyasdave for sending me hugs and beta'ing <3

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

Dave is not a good man. He wants to be but somewhere along his way it got dark and he got confused and took a wrong turn. And then another one and another one. And now he is playing the lead role in this play that is his life.

He is tainted, dirty, he stains whatever he touches. He is Midas but what he touches doesn't turn into gold, it starts rotting. Innocence got corrupted by his badness. And so he looks for someone who is not innocent anymore, someone who was already dying so he is not the one to blame this time. And you? You looked for your own darkness in someone else. To be swallowed whole and to not have to feel for one fucking moment and to feel everything at once.

Of course your paths crossed, scavenger and carrion always end up together. But the lines are blurry between you both and neither one of you knew who was who. Not that it matters, not in the slightest.

It was a silent agreement. You meet, release stress and never ask questions or get personal. Two adults with needs. With the hunger for connection and life, but too scared to connect more than your bodies. 

Being open and permeable for feelings other than lust only meant pain in the long run. And both of you’ve had more than your fill. You are overflowing with pain. You do not want to add to that.

You set up meetings. A hotel room or your place, it was all the same. All you needed was an hour to release whatever has built up since the last time you’ve met. 

It was impersonal. A ‘Hello, how are you?’ at best. And every further attempt at small talk got cut off either by you or by him, with a yank of a shirt, with a shove to make the other one stumble onto the bed or against the wall. With a kiss that eats every word out of the other’s mouth and replaces them with grunts and moans. You had a routine: anger, grief, repenting. It was the perfect recipe for people like you: too lonely to stay alone but too afraid to let the mask of numbness fall.  

What you both did was ugly and selfish. Taking what you needed and giving what you didn’t want to carry around with you anymore. It looked like hate sex. It felt like it, too. But the hate you felt wasn’t directed at the other one. It was directed at yourself and the constant feeling of being a failure, a disappointment. You fucked the hate out of your bodies until it left you and got stuck on you instead. It manifested itself in the sticky residue of sweat, slick, spit, semen, sometimes blood. And when you washed the layer of anger and lust off your skins there were still imprints left. Silent witnesses of what you did to each other.

At times you were like animals, all canines and claws, more fighting than fucking. More scratching and biting and bruising than making use of holes and crevices. When you fought for domination it was never about dominating the other one, it was about dominating your own demons that ran a dictatorship in your souls and brains. And when the skin tingled where later the first bruises would bloom in rich scarlet and purple and the scratches started swelling and stinging you licked your wounds.

You licked his, the red ridges on his chest and thighs, those crests that tasted of salt and copper and your fury. And Dave licked yours. Soothing the imprints of his teeth in your softest flesh with his tongue, pressed flat against the underside of your breasts and the flesh between your shoulder blades. He cleaned your skin off the white, salty trails of your angry tears with little licks. Both of your palates were coated in salt, iron, despair but it all tasted better than the contempt for your own existence.

With the tending of each other's wounds comes a softness you both don’t want. Softness from soft touches makes the hard crust soften and crumble. Dave clearly sees the hurt in you, not just on your and his body, but the one behind your eyes whenever you avoid his gaze. He could smell it, the fear of being seen oozed out of your pores, only covered up by the strong stench of stubbornness and faked independence. He wasn’t mad about it, his scent was the same. You both knew, you both feigned ignorance.

You never kiss like lovers. If you kissed and it didn’t leave the taste of a penny on your tongues, you did it wrong. That’s what you’ve told yourselves. 

The soft kisses play pretend and dress up as the more tender bites and sucks and they only show up when you were sure the other one was not paying attention. 

It is a dance, a tango, a push and pull of what is and what could be. If only you were not broken and utterly ruined. It is sad for Dave, seeing you mourning the ability to let yourself be loved. Your heart was shattered into pieces, the biggest one missing since you were a child. You couldn't even remember how it felt to be whole. To feel love without it running through the cracks of your poorly glued together heart. 

If he only could, Dave would give you the missing pieces. His pockets are full of pieces, of sharp edged shards of the lives and people he destroyed. Each life taken becomes a fragment he carries with him. And in the moments he became too careless, too happy, he cut himself with one.

The blood on his hands is his, too. 

‘Can’t break what's already broken,’ you tell him every time. But the sound never makes it past your lips, always getting stuck between your teeth. And so you write it on his skin with your fingers. The letters inscribed with invisible ink made out of sweat and desperation on his back and stomach. By now, after months of meeting him, his body is littered with your messages. 

Be brave. Have your fill. Eat me, chew me, spit me out. Make me numb. Make me feel. I want to be alive. Please. Oh God, please.

It takes Dave a little while before he understands it, but the feeling of lightness in his soul after he leaves you - it doesn’t come from physical exhaustion and orgasms only. You hear his confessions. His silent confessions he licks into you. 

Therefore repent and return, so that your sins may be wiped away. And he gets on his knees, every time, and looks at the mess he left inside of you, already spilling out because Dave never made a minor mess in his life. 

Dave wants to be good and so he cleans up the mess he made. On his knees, before you, the weight of your thighs heavy on his shoulders and his fingers almost touching while he spreads you open. 

His head ducks before you like a penitent in church as your body silently writhes, knowing what would come.

He takes his time since there is no rush in repenting. Being full of sin is never ending, especially for men like him. So why try to finish a confession when the list of wrongdoings is endless.

Dave speaks silently, mouthing his failures against you, licking his secrets into your cunt and he is amazed by the way she so patiently swallows his sins.

I kill. I am no good. I will hurt you. Forgive me.

He fills you up with his bitter truth, bitter like his cum that trickles out of you. It’s all bitter, salty, freeing. The more he repents, the deeper his tongue pushes his confession inside of you, the tighter you curl your fingers into his hair.

And your cunt takes it all, all the anger and fear and decay Dave carries inside of him. She sucks it in, clenches around his words like she is chewing on them. She does not judge, you do not judge. It is all the same, it all is pain and that is what you know. It doesn’t scare you.

I destroy. I just want to be good. Hold me. I am broken. Forgive me. I hurt.

He feels it in the way your body tenses and your cunt tightens. ‘Dave’ is the only word that tumbles from your tongue, in the same rhythm you rub yourself onto him. Just a few more silent whispers and pleas, he knows the ritual of confessing by heart.

Make me better. Forgive me. Forgive me. Please.

A broken cry, his or yours, probably a shared one. He keeps his mouth open, ready for his absolution. And with you coming, his absolution comes, gushing out of you. Every sin and every word, no matter how bitter and poisonous it was, got turned into something sweet and harmless. He drinks you in, swallowing the innocence you give him.

Forgive me for I have sinned. A tender bite to your inner thigh, a kiss in disguise, a thank you with canines and claws.

‘Forgiven,’ you write onto his scalp, massaging the letters into his skin and hoping they reach his heart this time.

find my Dave York masterlist here

find my general masterlist here

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th Girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Some chances are taken too late. You only realise what you've lost when you're starting to lose them. Goodbyes are hard, especially when you've just started.

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Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST, turn back now I'm warning you, goodbyes, intimate scenes, MAJOR heartbreak, swearing

References to Call Me By Your Name

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Chapter eight: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph

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It was hot that morning. I woke up in a layer of sweat, windows exuding heat, hair clinging on my neck, my blanket on the hardwood floor.

George sits on the window frame, taking the heat opposite of how I was.

I get up, groaning with a slight headache. I place my feet on the floor, keeping my eyes closed for the time being, trying to relax and gain back my senses.

There'd been a feeling in me this whole time, but as I woke up, it felt so much more evident. A clench in my chest.

I don't know where it came from or when it started, but I felt it there. It never really took my attention. Maybe it was from whatever position I was in. Or if I hadn't eaten or drank enough.

Summer is just around the corner, but I don't want it to start. It was always something I looked forward to.

Dipping into cold waters under the heat of the afternoon sun, eating fruits with their juices spilling over countertops and silverware. Tanning, sunburns, dry mouths from salt water. Then winter comes and you wait for summer again.

It's probably because I'm expecting something I know won't be there. But what is it? I have a summer job now, and I'm headed to Paris. What else could I possibly want?

I know exactly what. It's not that I'm afraid of it. It's because I can't change it. And it hurts.

Summer is when I'm supposed to be happy. He's ruined all of that now. I've got to get a grip, too. He won't care, so I shouldn't. But I care. I care a lot.

This isn't something I should think about. I'll forget him as soon as I get to Paris. I'll forget anything that's happened between us, even if nothing really did. I'll forget, and I'll forever have that feeling that I felt now. That something's there, and I'm not giving it attention.

Because deep down, I know what it is. And, it hurts.

××《☆》××

The walk to school was short-lived and ordinary. Nothing special happened. It was just brighter; which didn't really match my mood.

I was also a bit late. Most of the students were already heading in, and the bell rang as soon as I stepped through the gate.

I make my way up the staircase, keeping my head downcast and not paying anyone any mind.

All throught class it wasn't special. We did assignments, lectures, and all common school things. But the sound of pages being flipped, ink on paper, pattering of floorboards, it comforted me. I knew those sounds would stay with me throughout my life. People don't.

When class was dismissed, I took my time. I might not see this school again. I might move back to Paris. I might not see Michèle or Simone as much. And I won't, more so refuse to see Joseph ever.

It was afternoon now, so everything's brighter than this morning. And everything's hotter, too. I shade my face with my hands, squinting to see Callum's well-known car on the side of the road.

He's outside leaning on the door, smoking. I'm guessing his third cigarette today. He still has his wide smile on, and I wonder if his cheeks ever hurt.

"Good afternoon, pretty girl." He says as he patches his cigarette out. "How are you?"

"Hot." I shrug, going around the car with Callum as he opens the passenger door for me. I get inside, him as well after doing another roundabout the car.

"Well, love how you state what I already know." I think about that sentence for a while, sensing it was off. I realise what he meant, and I smack his arm.

"Oh, what now? Let me be funny!" I roll my eyes as he starts the car, a faint smile on my face. One thing I know for sure is that Callum is one of the people who would stay with me throughout my life. He was the reason I'm going back to Paris, the reason I have somewhat of a career. And I'm glad I met him, even with the circumstances of difficult feelings.

Whilst I talked about my day to him, I had realised nothing special happened because I didn't interact with Joseph. The day felt gloomy. It felt so underwhelming, so boring, because he wasn't involved.

"And it's so weird because we hadn't talked since that dinner." I tell Callum, who's been listening to me this whole time. We decided to go to a lake to cool off. It was a bit well known, but not too crowded since the school season isn’t off yet.

I made a quick pick up in my house, including a goodbye to George.

Going back, Callum nods. His hand flexes on the steering wheel.

"So, let me round this up. Joseph's mother invited you to dinner, then teased both you and him, then when he walks you out to their place, some girl-"

"The girl from the alley."

"The girl from the alley pops up from nowhere, fully dressed up."

"Exactly."

"But, why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I mean, sure, I've never met her, but who could compete against you?"

"Okay, Callum, whatever-"

"No, I mean, how stupid can Joseph be to pick anyone but you?" This makes my breath catch on my throat.

"Don't call him stupid, Callum. He's fucking brilliant."

He quiets down, smile fading just a bit from my serious tone.

"Sorry." I had apologised.

"No need. It's fine. I just... you know what I meant."

"Yeah, I knew what you meant. Just... instict, you know?"

"I get that. You're in love, so you're defensive." He shrugs and starts to smile again. He's holding in a laugh.

"Shut up." I glare.

"Not gonna happen." I don't want it to happen.

××《☆》××

The next morning was the same. It was hot, I took a longer shower, got dressed, said goodbye to George, and headed to school.

This time, I met with Simone. I ask her about Michèle, getting worried that she hasn't come to school for two days straight. Before she could respond, she stopped in her tracks, seeing Jean Pierre across the hall.

"I- I'm sorry, Y/N, but I really need to talk to Jean Pierre. Stay here, please?" She scrunches up her face in guilt, but I simply shrug it off, knowing that if she wants to talk to someone, I shouldn't stop her. Especially if that someone is her boyfriend. Or whatever he is.

They go ahead to talk, me staying at the same place she left me, keeping a close eye on them. I lean against the wall, the hallway now a lot more quiet than when the bell rang a few minutes ago.

Their conversation lasted for only a bit because I saw Jean Pierre walking away. I head to Simone's side.

"So, what did you talk about?" She's still, and there's no emotion on her face. I worry.

"He just broke up with me." Oh. I pull her into a side hug, not knowing whether she was devastated with the news or if she was okay with it. She looked like both but neither at the same time.

I nod towards the stairwell, deciding for the both of us we should head to the courtyard to have our break. Or the bathroom for a quick cry.

We pass by a group of boys, and one of them keeps his eyes on me. Then, when I turned to glance at who it was, I realised it was just an eye.

In that moment, everything in me faded away. All the hate towards him, all the sadness, all the misunderstanding. I just wanted to talk to him again. For one last time. So I did.

"Joseph," I stop in my tracks. I tell Simone to keep going, that I'm fine left alone. She nods in acknowledgement and walks down the staircase.

I turn around to meet his stare. My breath catches in my throat, not having this kind of interaction in a while.

I walk towards him, a bit slow. "Can I talk to you?" I pause. "Alone?"

His friends tease him and push him around lightly, but his eyes are still as well as his whole body. I fear his heart might be, too.

He simply nods and silently eyes his friends to go. We're left alone near the window and take a seat in the space.

"You must be wondering why I'm talking to you again so suddenly." He stays quiet, looking down.

"Joseph..." I scoot closer. I bring both my hands up to his cheeks, only hovering above them.

He stays silent. I bring my hands back until he leans forward and into them, gently grabbing my wrists and holding them still. I feel the air come out of his nose as he exhales, body slumping down.

"I'm sorry. For everything. Ignoring you was one of the most stupid things I've done. Being angry was second." I tilt my head to see if he's opened his eye, but he keeps them closed. His thumb rubs one of my wrists.

"You should be with anyone you want to be with. It shouldn't matter to me. But, it did." He lifts his head, peering an eye. His mouth opens, then closes again. I keep going.

"I missed you. I've been missing you. I miss all the times we weren't mad at each other." I caress his cheeks, and he leans into my touch.

"I was never mad at you." Joseph says, but I shake my head.

"You were. And that's fine. It's okay to be mad at me. I get it." He furrows his brows at me.

"Don't say that. I was never mad at you. I've never been mad at you."

"But what about all those times you shouted at me? Those times in the streets?" He sighs deeply, not as relaxed as before.

"I was mad at myself, but I was letting it out on you. And I'm sorry about that. But trust me, I could never be mad at you."

We just stare at each other after. The silence fills the air, and it's the first time it was like this in a while. I had to tell him.

"I'm leaving." I feel his breath stop, and it's so nauseating.

"What?" He mumbles out.

"I'm leaving." I repeat.

"For the summer?" He squints, the gears turning in his head. I wish it was only for the summer.

"No," I look down. "For good."

He pulls away from my hands, sitting straight again.

"No..." He shakes his head. "Don't lie to me."

"I would never." I look him dead in the eye, not wanting him to think that I would ever do.

"Exactly. I know you'd never. So why are you lying to me now? This is some joke, right? Like a cliffhanger for next year. Right?" I simply stare at him.

"Y/N, please tell me you're lying. I'll let it slide. Tell me you're lying." He begs, grabbing a hold of my dropped hands.

I don't move. I don't look at him. I don't say anything. That was enough of an answer.

"No..." He whispers. He does it all over again as he gets up and paces. He rubs at his eye, and I get up and say "Stop."

He stills. I see the tear stains reflect off his cheeks from the sunlight outside coming in. His head is down as it was before. I sigh deeply, placing my hands on his shoulders.

"Come here." I pull him in, and he immediately engulfs me in an embrace. He sobs desperately, and I try my hardest not to join him.

A series of "please don't go"s spill out of his quivering mouth, and my brain goes numb. He's shaking. His heart is pounding. His mind's all over the place.

I hush him, rubbing his back like I do with a baby, whispering nothings into his ear. When he stops, his body is still slumped down to hold mine.

"We wasted so many days. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asks once we're sat back down the window.

"I tried. I promise. We were still mad." He laughs, and it's been such a long time that my brain got nostalgia.

"Fuck. I'm gonna miss you all over again." He bites his lip as he looks down, fiddling with the inseam of his pants. I purse my lips together.

"We'll keep in touch." He shakes his head.

"You'd be everywhere."

"I'll call your home phone."

"I'm not gonna be home in the summer."

"I'll call wherever you are."

"Thank god you thought of something for that because I was ready to start sobbing again." He laughs again, and the suns back in his eyes. Like it left and came back.

I grab a hold of his hands, stopping him from fidgeting. I make him look back up at me.

"I promise I'll phone you every day. I'll send you letters, postcards, and pictures. I'll even send you some magazines I'm in." I shrug, and he smiles.

"I don't think you have to do that last one. I'm keeping my eye on every magazine booth here on out." We chuckle together. We stay quiet again, then Joseph tucks my hair behind my ear.

"You're beautiful, Y/N Pardine. You'll do great out there. I'm only a phone call or a pen away." I flush at his bluntness and smile sweetly. He does, too.

××《☆》××

The party happened. We spent almost the whole time together. We had even danced.

An American song called "At Last" plays in the background as Joseph holds me, dancing slowly.

His hands cup my waist, my arms wrapped around his neck, his forehead against mine. I play with the ends of his hair as he caresses my body.

We laugh, we drink, we talk, and we glance. We do what we missed. We held each other. We absorbed one another.

There was a time in that party that happened between Simone and Jean Pierre. Thank god he finally said something of the truth, because that breakup was a straight lie.

Anyways, the night ended, but nothing happened. I don't know what I was expecting, but there was a feeling something special could've happened to me. Like a string tugging on my insides.

Something to do with pretty pink lips.

××《☆》××

The next morning, I woke up with his arms around me.

He smelt of fading whiskey, cigarette smoke, and expensive cologne. Just as he always did.

His eye patch was off, his hair a mess, and his jacket's on the floor. His shirt is wrinkled, he's breathing evenly as one does in their sleep, and there's a small snore coming from him. It's adorable.

When I get up, or at least try to, his grip on me tightens. Not in a way that hurts, but it's strong enough for me to come collapsing on his chest. He's warm again.

"Five more minutes." He groans, and I sigh deeply. Five more minutes will be alright.

Ten minutes pass, and only then do we get up. I hand him a towel and some clothes, my father's again, then one of my own, then usher him to the bathroom. I fix our bed, pick his jacket up off the floor, and fold it neatly.

Once I hear the shower turn off and the door creak, I try my best not to turn and just... stare. It's creepy, I know. But, who could blame me? I mean, I was leaving for good.

Right. Leaving for good.

I feel his arms wrap around my waist, his head tucking into my neck, his nose poking at some sensitive spots. I squeal silently, and he chuckles to himself, the vibration of his chest spreading around my back.

"Want some breakfast?" He whispers. George lies by the windowsill, watching the both of us in embrace. His tail moves around, eyes blinking slowly. He's glowing from the sunlight hitting him.

"If you don't mind. Please, and thank you." I turn my head a bit towards him. He nods, pressing a kiss to my hair. I smile to myself whilst I check things off my list last minute.

He's done with breakfast by the time I finish my quick shower. I'm fully dressed now. The only things missing are my coat and my suitcases.

Joseph sits across from me. We were in this position before.

"So, how's Callum? Still a prick?" He says as he stabs on some of the eggs he made. I finish my bite before answering.

"Callum's doing fine. I don't know why you've always been so off about him. He's a good guy." I shrug, tilting my head for an answer. "What's got you like that?"

He sighs, dropping his utensils gently on the table top. I place a hand over his, and he turns it to hold mine.

"Felt like he stole you from me." He mumbles, but it was clear enough for me to hear.

I purse my lips at this remark. "No one's gonna keep me away from you. Except that girl that actually did." I laugh as Joseph groans.

"I already told you, I didn't even know her." From this, I kept going.

"Well, then why did you basically call me a slut?" I raise my eyebrows in amusement, as to show that I moved on from it. Still, I was curious.

He pauses. For a long time. I begin to worry, thinking he actually meant it. I try to pull my hand away, but his grip turns firm.

"No." Joseph whispers out of desperation. He's taking deep breaths. I can tell he's overthinking. But I need to know the truth.

"You've got to tell me, Joseph. Otherwise, we'll shrug each other off again. Do you want that?" I push on him. He needs to tell me. I need to know.

"No. I don't want that. Just..." He closes his eyes, readying himself.

"The boys wanted to talk to you. I couldn't let them. I knew how they meant. And I'll just put it simply that they meant badly. So I had to tell them things about you that weren't true so they could get pushed away from the idea of you." He cups my cheeks from across the table. I lean into his touch.

"I don't want anyone to take advantage of you. Thank whatever god is up there that I found out because if I hadn't..." He breathes in deeply, caressing my face with his thumb. "I don't even want to think about that. Okay?"

I nod. I get up from my seat to give him a hug. He remains seated, his face pressed up on my stomach. I rub his back and comb fingers through his hair.

He stands up slowly, hands still attached to my hips. They roam up to my wait as he hovers over me, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat. He's so close. His nose just bumps into mine. He's looking down at me. At my eyes. At my lips. His breath is haggard.

"Callum's probably waiting." I whisper, my breath fanning over both our lips. Our lips only an inch away from eachother.

"Let him wait." His voice is low. He's starting to make my knees buckle.

A loud crash is heard throughout the flat. I yelp away from him. Now we're feet away from each other, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. As if we did something. And we didn't even.

George meows on the kitchen counter, staring at us innocently with the keys now on the floor. I sigh deeply, walking towards him and picking him up.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but," I hand George to Joseph. "My baby's yours."

His eye widens in surprise, then he switches his gaze from me to the cat, then back to me, then back to the cat.

"I can't..." I shake my head, smiling.

"He's yours, Joseph. That's final. He already loves you more than me. It's alright. Plus everytime you see him, you think of me."

He flushes, demeanour relaxing. "I already think of you too much."

It's my turn to flush now. But I respond. "Good."

××《☆》××

We arrive at the train station. I bid a thank you and goodbye to Joseph's mother, hugging her for a short while. Joseph carries all my belongings.

I spot Callum at a bench.

"Callum, you remember Joseph." I nod to Joseph. He drops my things next to Callum's.

"Of course I do. The infamous lover boy. It was nice meeting you, man." Callum shakes Joseph's hand. Joseph purses his lips tightly, gripping on Callum's hand.

"I'm still not sure about you... but she trusts you, so I should, too." Callum nods firmly. They let go of their handshake.

"Well, I better get our things in. Say your final goodbyes." He moves to go in the train. Me and Joseph are alone again.

"Got your pretty things intact?" Joseph teases, and I simply laugh.

"Yes, I do." I look up at him. He moves closer, hands on his hips.

"One day, I'll hear those words again." There's a feeling in me. Like dejavu, but a feeling from the future. I couldn't explain it, but what he said made sense. Like I knew, I would say those words again, too.

We stand in silence. I walked closer, embracing him for one last time. He leans down, his hands tight around me, his head over mine. I feel a lump in my throat.

We held each other for one last time. We smelt each other for one last time. We absorbed each other one last time.

I try to pull away, but he pulls me back in. The lump grows bigger.

When we finally pull away, my eyes start to sting. I palm my throat, trying to push that growing lump down. His hands are on my shoulders. He lets go.

"Goodbye, Y/N Pardine." He mutters, his voice breaking.

"Goodbye, Joseph Descamps." I mock him with a smile on my face.

I turn around and walk on the train. Joseph follows me, guiding me up the steps. His hand holds onto mine. I hang on the pole.

The train blares its horns, and it starts to move very slowly. The tears escape my eyes. He wipes it away.

"Y/N," he says. "I love you."

I sob. I laugh. It's a bit ugly.

"I love you, too. So much."

He stands on his toes and kisses me. His pretty pink lips are finally on mine. I grip the trains pole harder.

The trains blares again, and my kisses become more desperate. The train moves faster and faster, and Joseph starts to run. His lips start parting from mine, tears dropping even more.

"Come back to me, Y/N!" He shouts. He's still running. He's laughing now. And he's crying. He's beautiful. He gets farther, farther, and farther.

Then he's gone.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter eight: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph

Next- Chapter nine: ______

××《☆》××

I'm actually crying omfg. This hits so diff w the song in the background. Its short but omfg the angst. Help me. Hahhahahahaha.

[queenoftheimps]

So I know people are debating what, exactly, the 'something special' was for Daniel, with some theories being that Louis was going to offer to turn Daniel -- which I honestly hope is the answer!

But -- another, less fun thought occurred to me, which is: ...remember after episode 4 when there were those jokes about Louis letting Lestat have one last nice day before putting him down (twice)?

...so, uh. What if the interview itself was Daniel's 'one last nice day' before he was dinner in the dining room?

I could be wrong (BELIEVE ME, I WOULD LOVE TO BE WRONG) but I have been wondering since Season One why Louis is holding the interview now , because he doesn't actually seem to care all that much about the 'great convergence'. The answer that made the most sense to me is: Daniel has Parkinson's and he was gonna be too sick to fly to Dubai on his own soon. This was the last shot to do this with Daniel, specifically.

(Also interesting: you spent two weeks on this interview but don't actually think the book should have been published. What's that about, Louis?)

I don't think any of this even necessarily counteracts the idea that Louis likes Daniel, or even that Daniel has a possible prior connection with Armand. Louis offered to turn Daniel in Season One and he snarkily rebuffed it! I could see him thinking 'okay he's already sick -- this'll be a way to tie up loose ends for both of us, resolve our unresolved business, and give him an easy way out, and bring it all full circle from 1973'. This is Louis, after all, who insists that Armand's method of easeful death 'isn't violent'.

As for Armand -- Armand kept telling Louis he didn't want him to do the interview. That could honestly go either way, either because Armand knew (correctly) that Daniel was gonna blow up his whole setup, or possibly because he didn't like this plan to begin with. Or both! Armand has lots of layers!

But I will note...it's interesting that when Armand says "You should end it" to Louis in the first episode, Louis immediately reads that as "You should end Daniel" and not "You should end the interview and send Daniel home," which is what Armand actually meant.

IDK, I do need to stress that I am very often wrong about my theories, so I would like to be wrong about this one. But! This show also tends to rip my heart out, so who knows.

[sitp-recs]

omg love the water recs you shared!!! what a good idea for how to make a list. what about fics set in gardens or featuring gardening? recs from followers welcome too! thank u livvvyyyyy

I’m so happy that you enjoyed the water-centric recs. And thank you for the excellent prompt! I’ve really enjoyed these, most involve gardening and a couple feature gardens in a special way even if it’s not the focus, so I thought I’d include them too🪴

I Fall On Grass by @tackytigerfic (T, 3k)

Harry loves his garden, and he loves his sons, and he also loves— Well, he definitely feels something for Draco, who is currently distractingly topless under a pear tree. The language of flowers isn't much good when it comes to big declarations, though; Harry needs to find the words to tell Draco just exactly what he's been feeling all these years.

To the Rhythm of the Waves by @tsauergrass (G, 3k)

They found a lot of things together: the cottage, the garden, their lives, each other. Then one day, Harry finds a hammock.

In the Garden After Dark by @the-starryknight (M, 3.5k)

Unspeakables work in teams of three, but when Draco and Harry lost their third, Draco left too. Now he's back, Illusion magic stronger than ever, and Harry is less lonely in his arms.

Harry, Harry, Quite Contrary by @maesterchill (T, 4k)

It's almost Midsummer, and that can only mean one thing! Time for Upper Itchington's annual Tidy Streets contest. Draco Malfoy is supremely confident his street will retain the title. It just takes one contrary neighbour to bollocks things up: a certain Mr Harry Potter.

Garden War by @cibeewastaken (T, 5k)

Harry and Draco are quarantined in their houses, a lake across from one another. What better ways to spend this time than to annoy each other with letters and attempts to prove that their garden is better ?

This Delicious Solitude by Omi_Ohmy (M, 17k)

Draco is sent to investigate Harry’s extraordinary carrots for the Prophet after whispers of cheating rock the world of competitive vegetable cultivation. But how’s he meant to get anywhere when Harry won’t even let him past the garden gate?

A Ghost in the Garden by thistle_verse (E, 27k)

Harry and Draco are thrown together on an investigation into a sinister political movement.

Orbit by HenryMercury (E, 52k)

They don't like each other. They're not friends. There's not even a ceasefire of any sort because they're fighting as much as ever—but there's definitely something different about it. An added layer of self-awareness they don't dare identify, but which colours every Scared, Potter? and Do your worst; each You wouldn't dare and Then prove it.

along each garden wall by @oflights (E, 61k)

Draco has to have a baby (or have one on the way) at the time of his fast-approaching 35th birthday, or he's going to lose his home to his vile cousin. Harry offers to help, but their complex past—even beyond Hogwarts—prompts Draco to set out on a long journey of friendship, kittens, gardens, motorbike rides, and more.

That Old Black Magic by bixgirl1 (E, 77k)

Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.

Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

Dronarry:

Trillium by @wolfpants (E, 13k)

Harry and Draco are shagging. Ron’s got a hunch, and the only way to find out is to volunteer his services alongside Harry’s in the Big Malfoy Manor Cleanup of 2010. What could possibly go wrong?

Silhouettes by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 17k)

Draco's trying to fix the Burrow, Ron's trying to grieve, and Harry... well, just what is Harry actually doing, anyway? A tale of grief, gardening, and ghouls, bad memories, bad puns, and bad flirting, and nudity both accidental and very, very deliberate.

[andersons-bayonettes]

Dragon Age: Vows & Vengeance... The podcast that you are...

It's mediocre.

Now, let me explain. Vows & Vengeance was never meant to be an absolute amazing podcast, it's as supposed to make you hyped for Veilguard/show you the companions. A little teaser to bridge the waiting time until release, that it did pretty well.

However. I loved the story of the podcast up until Episode 7-ish. I still liked episode 7, but I could tell it was going somewhere I probably didn't want it to go. Episode 8 was... Episode 8 exists.

But let me actually get to critique it, before bashing it.

I listen to Podcasts a lot. Some of them Lore Podcasts, other Story Podcasts, with or without narration, talk podcasts, amateur and professional. This one felt like it wanted to be professional - while not quite being there - but still felt amateur enough to be a little off-putting. I don't mind most voices (including Nadia's, I think she's fine.) yet tge acting/writing was sometimes whacky at best. I felt like most voices were just way too similar. I often, especially at the start, got confused who is speaking. It got better, of course, but you don't want your listeners questioning who of your main characters is speaking.

Additionally, the podcast was meant to bring some characters closer to you, it was supposed to be a "hey, look at this, this is what they will be like, are you excited yet?" Kinda thing which worked for some. Mainly, the episodes featuring Lucanis, Emmerich and Taash did a really excellent job characterising them. I am ABSOLUTELY down to see more of them. Bellaras was fine, could be better, could be worse. The episodes with Davrin and Neve were... Not well for characterisation. And don't understand me wrong, you get to meet them, yes, but while most characters showed multiple layers, Neve and Davrin both just seemed like you just met them. I forgive them for the Lace Harding episode because we already know her from Inquisition.

Now, I don't mind Solas not showing up often. I think it's fitting. At the end of Inquisition, they out a heavy emphasis on the fact that if Silas doesn't want to be found, you can not find him. He was supposed to be that sliver of danger lurking all around, but where exactly, you'd never know. Thus, Nadia chasing Solas for weeks was absolutely fitting. Even if I think it's funny how Silas's plans have been ruined twice now by people he used as a pawn, doing something he didn't anticipate.

The ending was very, very, very lackluster. The funeral was nice, the demon battle was okay. I don't understand why they had to squeeze in this "I've been haunting you since you were little" crap, it was absolutely and entirely unnecessary. It's sad we spend so much time wanting Nadia & Elio to be back together, rooting for them to finally get a happy ending and all we get is "I killed him, anyways, lemme kille you now". One last talk maybe would have been nice, or let the demon, in one last attempt to stop Nadia, transform back into him. I know it's cliche, but it's cliche because it works.

Or, have the demon kill Elio in front of her. Let's say teh demon used Elios connection to Nadia to cross over, let him kill Elio and the ending would have been a lot cleaner in my opinion. Semantics and personal preferences aside, if they ever make another Podcast, I do hope they find someone who has experience in how to do them. The actors were good. They absolutely were, I assume it's a directing issue.

All in all it was a decent podcast. It has a lot of issues, but it also has a lot of good aspects, makingbit overall, well, like i said, mediocre.

[dozing-marshmallow]

BAKING WITH TOTAL DRAMA CHARACTERS SCENARIOS

(Photos aren’t mine by the way!)

BAKING WITH LINDSAY

(AS A BIRTHDAY SURPRISE)

You were surprised when she told you she didn’t have a mani-pedi appointment today. As if the day couldn’t be more convenient.

In Lindsay’s world, there was no such thing as baking unless it was done for her. And she was no expert in cooking either, which is why she was hesitant to bake.

“I don’t get it... Why am I putting four eggs in when five is my lucky number?”

Yep. As long as she was in the kitchen you could not let your guard down.

“What are you saying? What’s with all this flour? And this butter? Is that supposed to help me remember it?”

Alright, you both definitely didn’t have the same image in mind,“Remember what, Lindsay? We’re baking.”

“Ohh bake!” See? “I thought you meant pake, you know like password authenticated blah blah... Oh I’m soooo happy that wasn’t the case, you really aren’t complicated in that way, (Y/M)!”

She still messes your name up sometimes. But on the bright side, her motivation and inner child was found.

She loved pouring the sprinkles into the batter and tried her best to not break any when mixing.

You strictly put yourself in charge of dividing the batter evenly between each tin and swapping them around fifteen minutes within oven baking.

In the meantime, Lindsay managed to get started on the icing- not without constant confirmation that she was doing it right. Seems like she learnt a lot already.

All was looking well, until you noticed something out of place in the bowl. Feeling icky, you carefully extract it,”Lindsay... Is this your hair?”

“Oops...”

You fixed her hair into various styles until the timer went off.

She was gasping in amazement to how solid and fragrant they came out, asking if she could just eat them like that, and you don’t blame her.

Fast forward to icing the layer in between the combined cake and it as a whole, you were about done preparing the piping bag from a separate bowl of icing when she suddenly pleaded to do it.

Anxious, you handed it over to her. Your worry about any mistake she could make was short lived when remembering that even if it did come out slobbery, you know that her intentions were pure and it’s not like anyone else was going to eat the cake anyway. Until watching her actually pipe made you realise she was no amateur:

She was way better at it than you expected.

Seriously, her flowering and swirls were so high in symmetry, it was practically perfect!

“Duhhh! I do makeup! Hair and makeup! I’m like basically holding a curler, ooo I wonder if I could use this bag to style my hair instead? This has to be Victoria’s Secret to smelling so good!”

Logic never went well with Lindsay’s talents. And that was fine with you.

“Taa-da!” She cheers out,”Ohh it’s so pretty... I almost don’t wanna eat it!”

You congratulated Lindsay for her fruitful efforts and asked if she knew why you wanted to bake a cake with her specifically on that day.

“Because you like like me?” Her response after her time of self complimenting over the finish product was done.

“Yes, and also...” This is it.

You grabbed your 1 candle and 7 candle, placing them next to each other on top of the cake.

She watched as you lit them up in seconds, and without warning, the occasion hit her.

“Ohh right! Now I know why my Facebook’s blowing up like crazy today! It’s today!” As though the piped cursive writing of her name on top of the cake didn’t tell her too, but when she started clapping her hands together with that big smile on her shiny lips, it made up for it,”Yaaay! Seventy one today! Can’t believe how long it’s been since I first picked up a magazine. And was born, can’t forget about that, duh. Uh oh. Does that mean I’ll get frail and wrinkles now? Aww I don’t wanna give up tanning! Not yet!”

“You don’t need to worry about that for now, Lindsay, because it actually says seventeen. You’re seventeen today, and for another three hundred and sixty five days. Happy birthday, baby.” ⟡

BAKING WITH GWEN

(HELPING HER OUT)

“A pie, huh? Which flavour you thinking, apple, blueber-“

“Blackcurrant. We’ll be making a blackcurrant pie... that okay with you?”

When Gwen told you that her clique were hosting a get together party, you were almost as enthusiastic as she was.

But...

Because this was Gwen’s first time going to a party, she never thought she would have to worry about oven temperatures and accurate measurements up until now where the group agreed to whip up something individually that everyone could all share and eat.

That’s why she came to you with this dilemma! Her one and only.

Definitely not so she could simultaneously spend time with you.

You believed the thought process behind her choice of baking a blackcurrant pie was genius: the lattice crust on top could mimic a spiderweb and the colour behind itself was the real thing that appealed to the goth eye.

At the start, Gwen was nervous. She never did this kind of stuff before and didn’t want to screw it up, especially if her friends were going to eat it.

That’s why you suggested: I’ll make the crust, you can make the blackcurrant filling.

Oh how she loved crushing the blackcurrants,“Just imagining it’s Heather’s head right now.” She said with a smile.

Isn’t she so cute!

After pouring the sauce in the base, Gwen’s ambition really skyrocketed- you couldn’t deny how happy you felt when she insisted on making the perpendicular crust for the top, and that was just one example.

Even with all the red on her hands, she really was an artist.

“This is fun! It’s really like painting! Only with dough and fruit.”

Now, all the pie needed was no more than thirty minutes in the oven. To pass the time, you guys decided to do some drawing in her bedroom.

And it came out beautifully! The crust was golden brown and the blackcurrant juices were steaming with sweet flavour. Delicious... You can tell by Gwen’s eyes that she can’t wait to sink her teeth into a slice of it.

But her craving was quickly replaced by annoyance, upon realising how messy the countertop and floor was.

You cheekily remind her that she could’ve just bought something and passed it off as hers if she didn’t want to go through the trouble of cleaning everything up.

“Y-You think I would do something like that just so I wouldn’t need to clean? Jeez, I’m not that bad! I couldn’t handle the dreading guilt of doing that to them. Besides, I made it with you. That alone already tops off any other pie I could have bought instead.” <3

BAKING WITH ALEJANDRO

(IN CELEBRATION OF A SPANISH FESTIVITY)

“It would be an utmost honour, mi tesoro.”

In light of his Spanish roots, you were going to be baking “Pan de Cea” which was some kind of bread that’s traditionally made in favour of this summer festival called “festa de exaltación”.

You couldn’t wait! However, because you weren’t so familiar with bread baking, you were naturally amazed by Alejandro having known the entire recipe off by heart.

“No need to be ashamed. Unlike my love for you, this recipe will be very easy for you to understand.”

And what would be a day with Alejandro without his charming lines?

You loved and hated the warm effect they had on you, even more so when they escalated to a physical level.

He loves to stand right behind you, with his hand being on yours when you were mixing the yeast, the flour, the salt, the olive oil together... 

He’d pour the water so majestically into the bowl and took over when your arm got tired of stirring.

After the dough was hard, he claimed that you’d have to leave it in the bowl under plastic wrap for a day,“I know I’d feel safe if you stayed here all day with this dough, your beauty is the perfect thing to maintain a high temperature.”

Pretending you weren’t flustered, he laughed and invited you to get churros with him to make up for the spare time- it was only fitting.

Timeskip to the next day where the dough was hard, just how it needed to be on the parchment paper. Two minutes of watching Alejandro rub the dough in olive oil felt like two hours with the frequent looks he shoots at you.

Once he’s done, he pampers you by also literally massaging you during the hour needed for the bread to rise. Guess he thought you got jealous of it.

Jealous was a stretch, but you didn’t think you’d groan when it was time to take the loaf out. At least it smelt as pleasant as it looked.

As you were about take a piece, Alejandro stopped your hand with his to take it for you instead. This was nothing out of the ordinary, Alejandro just enjoyed having the liberty to feed you like that.

“Delicious... You did so well...”

“Don’t hold yourself at such low standards, mi amor! We did very well. Words alone aren’t enough to describe how proud I am of you. Feliz festa de exaltación.”

“Happy exaltation party!”

For the first time in your relationship with him, he was the one caught off guard,”Did I say it in English before?”

¡Era canela fina! ///

BAKING WITH CHRIS

(JUST WANTING TO SPEND TIME WITH HIM)

Initially, he would accuse the activity something only for “peasants” to do so you quickly reminded him that it was an insensitive thing to say and it wasn’t always about material things; sometimes it’s just about wanting to spend time with him outside Total Drama.

Once he’s gotten over his pride, he joins you, on the condition that you made cookies- since, according to him, it requires the less mental strength.

This probably won’t be surprising, but he made you do most of the work (at first). Claimed that his hands would be “soiled” if he touched the “filthy” ingredients for too long.

In the beginning, he was mean spirited as Chris enjoys to be i.e pouring a handful of flour down your clothes, forcing your face down the sink with the tap on, general shoving.

You wouldn’t have minded if you could’ve also had a laugh whenever you tried to recite the treatment.

Yeah he would be seriously insulted if you tried even doing something as little as rubbing a chocolate chip against his cheek.

It wasn’t until you threw an egg at his head out of anger and watched the yolk oil down his hair where he took accountability that he went overboard. Sure, he was laughing while he did.

But his hair was ruined for the rest of the baking process so you were too.

Afterwards, there was less “joking” and more compassion. Somehow now that he temporarily moved past his sadist ways, Chris began to involve himself a lot more in the whisking and licking your finger and vice versa of leftover batter.

The rolling of dough into a collection of spheres was arguably the best part.

“Look Chris! I made one that looks just like you!” You held up a cookie circle, obvious that those two lines of dough were purposely added to be on top to mimic his hair.

“Oh? What a coincidence! I made one that looks just like you too!” He declared, revealing a sticky slob of dough in his hand right after he said that.

“Oi...” You smile helplessly,”That’s not a nice thing to say to your spouse.”

But hey, if he didn’t tease at all, was that really Chris?

Post setting them on the tray and into the oven, Chris immediately rushes to the shower, and by the time he’s done, you were on your fifth cookie.

He whined at you for not waiting for him, but you’re quick to hand the one you’re on to him.

He finishes it, not without reminding you that you were the only exception to treating him like a “regular” person. Which in his books, was a deadly sin.

Needless to say, he’s impressed; despite him letting on so little, you’ve been with this man long enough to know otherwise. You could only smirk when he makes dismissive claims that they would’ve came out better if it was just him making them as he took spontaneous sips of his glass of milk.

By the end, he’s really glad you had this time together. He won’t stop thinking about it for a while. Heck, he’s more excited about baking with you again than you are.

Even if he won’t admit it.

Yet. :)

[fixfoxnox]

Luke's Spicy Snippets (10)

Note: Had a request for some Ghost/Reader with lots of tattoos and piercings!! So here that bad boy is!!

Warnings: Reader has a dick piercing, hand jobs, smut, no use of y/n

Pairing: Ghost/Male! Reader

He worked his tongue over his boyfriend's chest, trailing from his navel slowly up. His tongue piercing tracing along Ghost's skin pulled a shiver from the blonde.

Ghost's body tensed and he arched up into the man above him, a desperate gasp escaping his lips as his boyfriend flicked his tongue across one of his nipples, the cool metal against his burning skin added an extra layer of pleasure to the movement.

Ghost's breathing grew heavy and his hands were quick to grab tight to his boyfriend's shoulders, gripping desperately at the inked skin. He tried to trace the tattoos with his eyes, desperate for something to take his focus away from the three fingers pressed inside his tight hole, ever so slowly stretching him out.

His boyfriend was being mean, he knew that from the moment that he'd been guided into the bedroom with a hand groping at his ass. He could tell this was going to be one of those mean days where he was forced to appreciate every piece of what his boyfriend had to offer him.

Every piece meant that the tongue flicking at his nipples made sure that the piercing would hit with every move. Every piece meant their cocks rubbing together as his boyfriend fingered him open, the various piercings along his boyfriend's dick rutting against his sensitive skin. All of it was almost overwhelming for Ghost. He appreciated his boyfriends piercings constantly, but like this? Like this it was so much easier to love them.

"Simon," his boyfriend whispered against his chest. He was still rutting their cocks together and still slowly pumping his fingers in and out of him, keeping him right on the edge of not-enough pleasure.

Ghost tried to answer, but his words only came out as a small groan. His body felt hot and the attention that his boyfriend was attacking him with was almost too much. His mind was already tilting toward just giving in to what he knew his boyfriend wanted.

The chuckle that vibrated through the air lit Ghost's insides on fire. It was unbelievably hot, but also certainly a bit embarrassing for him. His boyfriend knew that he had him right where he wanted him.

Slowly his boyfriend started trailing his mouth away from Ghost's nipples, their chest sliding together as he worked his way up to connect their mouths in a heated kiss. Pleasure shot down Ghosts spine and a whimper escaped his throat. With the change of position, his boyfriends chest was rubbing against his own, the piercings through his boyfriends own nipples providing a sweet friction.

"Simon," his boyfriend nipped at his lip before pulling back, a wicked grin on his face. "You want me to fuck you, baby?

Ghost groaned at the words, his head falling back against the pillows as the fingers working in and out of him sped up to a quick pace. "I hate you," he managed to maon out after a moment, his nails digging in to his boyfriends shoulders.

"Do you now?" He chuckled and started to trail kisses along Ghost's neck, nipping and biting when he could. The pleasure zipping up Ghost's spine was enough that he could only glare at him for a moment before another moan tore from his mouth as his boyfriend took both of their cocks into his hand, rutting them together more effectively.

It was all too much for Ghost to handle. The hand on his cock in combination with the piercings rubbing against him. The fingers pounding in and out of him at a quick pace. The piercings brushing up against his nipples with just enough force to pull a shiver from his spine. His mind fizzled out quickly and he found himself taken by how gorgeous his boyfriend was and how desperately he wanted to feel those piercings inside of him.

"Please," he finally moaned out, his voice shakey.

"Please what, Si?" Amusement was clear in his boyfriends voice and, if Ghost wasn't too far gone, he would have blushed at the tone.

"Please, he managed again, gasping as his boyfriend's fingers just brushed against his prostate. He didn't hit it again. "Please," he spoke a bit more desperately. His hands yanked at his boyfriend's shoulders, "fuck me, please I need you. I need to," he tilted his head back with another groan at the thought, "need to feel you inside of me."

His boyfriend captured his mouth again in a sloppy kiss, his tongue licking across Ghost's teeth, forcing its way as far into his mouth as he could get it. When he finally pulled away, it wasn't without a few satisfied nips to Ghost's lips. "Thought you'd never ask."

He pulled his hands away from Ghost quickly, reaching out for the lube that had been discarded on the bed earlier. A decent amount went into his hands as Ghost watched on, squirming in place, desperate for the pleasure that he knew was coming.

As soon as he was satisfied with the amount of lube over his dick, the bottle was discarded away and his hands were tightly grabbing at Ghost's thighs. He used his grip to drag the large man down the bed toward him, a grin pulling at his lips as he noticed how red the action had caused Ghost to turn.

He gave a few ruts of his cock against Ghost's ass, moaning at the feeling of the friction against his cock. Finally, when Ghost gave a low whine at his teasing, he started to slowly feed his cock into his boyfriend.

For Ghost, the feeling was almost overwhelming. His mouth fell open and he could only stare on with glazed over eyes as he was split open on his boyfriends cock. With every inch that his boyfriend sunk into his tight hole, he could feel another piercing brushing against his sensitive walls. He could hardly breathe for the way that they rolled inside of him, providing a familiar friction that he adored.

Both he and his boyfriend gave a loud moan when he finally bottomed out. Their breathing was heavy, though that didn't stop Ghost from arching upward as his boyfriend gave a slow roll of his hips. "Feels," he gave several shakey gasps as his boyfriend started to slowly pull out of him, "so, so good. Fuck-"

Ghost scrambled for some sort of purchase as his boyfriend began almost immediately with a bruising pace. Their hips slapped together with every move and heat began to curl over Ghosts's gut and seep into his mind, taking any coherent thoughts away from him. All he could focus on was the continuous slam of his boyfriends cock against his prostate and the way that his piercings rubbed deliciously against his walls.

He grabbed at Ghost's chin, turning his head to face him with a wicked grin. "Pretty boy," he gave a low chuckle and continued fucking into him, his own pleasure from his piercings and Ghost's tight heat around him made it hard to focus, but he managed. "Taking it so fucking well, Simon. You, oh fuck, you're so fucking perfect." He leaned down to nip across Ghost's skin. He traced paths with his teeth until he could nip at the man's ear and whisper to him, "Like feeling me inside of you? God, you're so fucking tight and you're fucking close already, aren't you?" His hand wrapped around Ghost's cock to begin stroking him over quickly. The move caused Ghost to arch up against him again and choke on his own moans, his moans and pleas grew louder. "Like that you can fucking feel them, don't you?" He gave a chuckle and tightened his grip on Ghost's cock so that he could stroke him faster. "Dirty boy, Simon. Don't worry," he slapped Ghost's thigh hard, "I'll make sure you won't stop feeling those piercings for fucking weeks."

Ghost knew that he would make good on his promise.

[itsdeniini]

OMG, hi!! I've become a huge fan of your work, it's so pretty the aesthetic and everything, I really enjoy reading your posts 💕

Can I ask for a twin flame reading for Jungwon?

˚୨୧ 🍵💭 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ hi c: ty for ur kind words boo ! here is the : JUNGWON'S TWIN FLAME TAROT READING >ᡣ𐭩<

໒꒱🌱⠈⠂. n 0 t e 〃

♡1: i am a self-taught tarot reader, and the interpretations i provide are personal. if anyone would like to share their own insights, i would be more than happy to hear them! please be kind <3

♡2: in this reading, I will be talking about a person from the future and how their relationship will progress at the moment when they are already know each other; that's the twin flame that he's yet to meet.

GENERAL READING 𓆤

Jungwon's twin flame is currently trying to work with him on how to mold their lives together to be one in the physical aspect. There could be talks to meet up, important phone conversations, being honest, open, and vulnerable with one another. And part of Jungwon is ready to accept this, but part of him is hesitant due to the turmoil in the past; he doesn’t want to repeat another cycle and end up with The Ten of Wands, and that's the only thing that's holding him back. At the same time, I feel Jungwon has successfully broken through any negative thought patterns that prevent him from moving forward in his own life because I pulled out all the other 10’s of the tarot deck here, EXCEPT for the Ten of Wands, so that's very good! The only ones here are the wands, but this is recent past energy he has either finished moving through or will be moving through. Next in his current energy, I have The Knight of Cups, The Ten of Pentacles, and The Eight of Swords, so this really tells me he has a slight fear of this connection finally taking off because it would mean that it enters into a new cycle that he doesn’t know exactly how it’s going to go because it won’t be easy because his twin flame is a mischievous and unpredictable person, and this scares him beyond anything. What he doesn’t see with this is that on the other side of fear (the moon) is the Ten of Cups. This is quite literally everything he's been wishing for and manifesting. And this is something that will be in balance, indicated not only with the Six of Pentacles but also with the Temperance right next to it and the Nine of Cups. He will keep pushing through his fear; the turbulence of separation is falling away naturally, and this is meant to let it fall gracefully as he sheds previous layers to move into your true divine happiest self. They’ve had or will have breakthroughs that will be long-lasting and will bring happiness and the opportunity for new beginnings.

Now on to the near portrait of Jungwon's twin flame:

☀️ In Cancer

First of all, she is a girl and is a very intuitive person with a lot of knowledge. Her intuition comes naturally. She likely relies on her gut feelings and has a strong inner knowing that guides her decisions. When she is off her professional field, she is often sensitive, emotional, and deeply connected to her home and twin flame. Being a water sign, she can easily pick up on Jungwon's emotions, understanding him like nobody else.

Influences: 🪐♅

Saturn’s influence suggests that she's a person who values hard work, has a strong sense of duty, and approaches life with a mature and realistic attitude. Uranus’s influence indicates that she's a person who is original, forward-thinking, and possibly unconventional. She may embrace new ideas and technologies, often standing out for her uniqueness. Also I can associate her overall energy with the Solar Plexus Chakra from the 7 Chakra system, it is associated with personal power, self-confidence, and control. A strong Solar Plexus Chakra suggests she is someone who is confident, has a strong sense of self, and can assert her willpower effectively.

Personal Style:

She has a preference for classic, elegant, and professional attire, like suits and ties for example. She values a polished and put-together appearance, likely reflecting her disciplined Saturn influence.

Interests and Passions:

EDM/Dubstep Music >.< This genre of music aligns with the innovative and unconventional traits of Uranus. She's into Enhypen music a lot; that's just her style. Her favorite song could probably be Go Big or Go Home or any other song that Enhypen will release in the future with this sound. Additionally, she may be into self-care and exploring new technologies that could make her appearance better; she is most likely attending cosmetologists and facial massages quite often, not forgetting also about make-up and hair salons.

Career:

She's most probably not from the showbiz field, although she may actively run a page on Instagram or any other social media; I would say she is implicated in the medical field, or perhaps she is an educator or teacher.

Personal Traits:

Dark hair

Dry sense of humor

Family-oriented

Egotistical (mostly at the work place)

Materialistic

Protective

Tan Skin (she may be of a mixed race or have it naturally)

[dorylinae-supremacy]

Taking a break from writing striped hat so I can ramble about fae AU's again they're one of my fav things ever.

Tags: DSBI, dark Techno, dark Phil, dark Kristin, mentioned Kristin, kidnapping, impersonation, usual fae stuff tbh, its like 600 words of me rambling about fic ideas below the cut, read more if thats your jam.

Idk if I've mentioned it before but I've been toying with the concept that fae take the face of the first human they've tricked and then it slowly morphs into something thats more their own.

This isn't rooted in any actual folklore as far as I'm aware but I like the vibe it adds. It adds another layer of terror to every interaction with them. Each time you come across a fae, you're looking into the eyes of their first victim.

Maybe they tweak it a bit here and there so they can lure other humans better but I like to think it stays mostly the same. It also adds another layer to things from the fae's perspective as well.

A fae close to their family might deliberately pick out and push a human into a deal if they think it'll make them look similar to their other families faces.

It can also add a layer where fae bloodlines might literally just prey upon entire human families purely for aesthetics. The worst part is a human might not even know that thats the case, they might just chalk it up to a generational curse or bad luck.

Something like this wouldn't apply to four seasons since they werent born fae and thus already had their faces but that wouldn't apply to Phil. The dude they see could genuinely just be the face of some unlucky traveller centuries ago.

These faces could also be used as lures for other humans who might've known the tricked person before. All the fae has to do is look a little scuffed up and beg for help in a hidden circle and they've got a steady supply of victims.

It also means that if any of the humans they steal do get out somehow, the people they knew might turn away from them and assume a fae is tricking them.

I know I'm rambling but its such a tasty plot device.

But anyway I wanna try it eventually. I have one fleshed out fic in my head where fae!Wil tries to trick human!Techno but kinda messes up the order that you're meant to do things.

Fae take the face after as a trophy of sorts, he took it before making any deals to try and be more relatable to him since they're both kids.

Human!Techno is, of course, a very well adjusted prince and naturally decides that this fae is his twin and that he has to have him. So with the help of years of training against fae, he's able to trick Wilbur and steal him.

The rest of the fic is Wil being terrified because the yoink has been reversed but even after he reveals the fact that he's a fae Kristin and Phil have already decided to keep him. No running for him :)

But I have another in mind where twinsduo end up taking the faces of two princes in a kingdom but then get mistaken for actually being them.

Maybe the princes were playing in the forest before getting yoinked but either way a royal guard comes and just drags them back to the castle.

They can't really do much about it since they're super young fae and there's a lot of iron around but things only get worse when the antarctic empire invades and takes them hostage, still thinking that they're the actual princes.

Originally they were just gonna bide their time until they can go back into the woods again but now they're being kept as hostage and Phils getting more and more interested in how odd they keep acting.

Obviously it ends in them getting surprise adopted but I'm not sure how to get from point A to B yet so more brainrot will be scheduled for when I work it out.

[andkisses]

♡ fifty-fifty split | sunghoon ♡

Sharing an apartment with Sunghoon, your best friend since you were both 12, has ups and downs. Sometimes (a lot of times...) he doesn't do the dishes. But he always splits rent, utilities, and any other costs 50/50. And tonight? You find another good thing about him being just across the living room...

♡ sunghoon x gn!reader | wc. 2.2k ♡ genres/tropes: fluff!!, friends to lovers, roommate!au, casual hurt/comfort ♡ mentions of/warnings: bugs and creepy crawlies and reader is afraid of them; one pet name usage (love) ♡ a/n: i swear this man is my enha muse... enjoy lol inspired by true events </3 copyedited as i went so vaguely proof read lol enjoy <33 ♡ masterlist ♡

What should have been a peaceful late night of relaxation had turned into a nightmare. You'd done your self-care—shower with matching body wash and lotion, skin care with your favorite serums and moisturizers. Vanilla overnight lip balm applied. All that was left was to snuggle down into your covers and delude yourself into whatever romance you were reading or watching (you hadn't decided yet) that night.

     And that's when It showed up.

     You were scrolling through your phone, trying to see if a new drama would catch your eye before you defaulted to the book on your nightstand. The covers were mid-pull, almost tucked beneath your chin. You had scrolled again, mindlessly searching for something—anything—to curb your romantic tendencies for the night when—

    Out of the corner of your eye—

    Something dark and squirmy and creepy crawly on the edge of your covers, the part almost to your neck and chin.

    It's over before it begins—you grabbing at the figure and dramatically chucking whatever it was across the room. You turned on your phone flashlight, waving it around your dark room looking for any sign of whatever that was. You kick the covers back, combing through every layer and blanket before coming to terms with your new reality.

    You had no idea where that bug went—or if it was even real. And the uncertainty of the event and its aftermath meant your room?

    No longer a place of relaxation.

    Your hand pauses before knocking on Sunghoon's door. Yeah, he's your friend and all. Your best friend, at that. But what if he's busy doing something? Hanging out on a call with his friends or gaming? Yeah, he's your best friend, but he loves to tease you and surely this situation would lead to that, and... you aren't sure if you could handle him treating you like that right now. It's not that you despised his teasing, you most certainly adore his attention every time you have it. But tonight...

    "Are you gonna come in or just stand there like a serial killer?"

    "How do you know I'm even out here?" you huff, indignant that he cut off your thoughts.

    "Kitchen light's on," he calls through the door. "You're casting a shadow under my door. Very serial killer-y. Come in."

    You sigh, turning the knob and pushing his door open. Sunghoon sits on his bed, wearing the grey hoodie you think compliments everything about him. In his hands, resting on his lap, is a journal. You watch as he seamlessly places his pen inside, closing the book and setting it on the side table furthest from you. You watch as his eyes take you in—his shirt you stole a year ago and never gave back (even if it doesn't smell like him anymore), pajama pants, socks. Nothing spectacular, but your heart has already convinced you he's staring because it's you.

    You forgot to calculate your stupid crush into this. Honestly, falling for your best friend who also happens to be your roommate?

    "Let me guess," Sunghoon hums, smirk on his lips as he leans back against the wall, hands politely folded in his lap. "I forgot to send you my share of the rent."

    "No, I—"

    He holds up one finger, as if saying aha! "My share of utilities?"

    "No, Sunghoo—"

    "I did the dishes I promise!" His hands are both up, palms out, a stupid grin on his face.

    "There was a bug in my room." You step forward, shutting the door behind you. You wanted as much room between you and that thing—even if you're still wondering if you even saw one or not. Sunghoon didn't need to know your doubts about that. "I'm here because there was a bug in my bed."

    Sunghoon leans forward, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and patting the spot beside him. "Not because you're madly in love with me?" he teases, and you roll your eyes. If only he knew. "Because that was going to be my next guess."

    "No, it's—I—" You sit down beside him, feeling his weight on the bed shift as you join in. You didn't think it had bothered you this much, or you didn't want to think about it at all. But sitting here? Trying to recall it?

    "Hey, wait." Sunghoon's face has shifted, his brows knit together with worry. "For real. Are you okay?"

    "It's just..." You close your eyes, trying to find the right words. When you open them again, you turn towards Sunghoon, whose stare moves over your features, searching for anything he can do. "It was so icky. It never actually touched me, but I feel like I can feel it on my skin.

    "Where?" Sunghoon asks softly. His attention and care, the calming atmosphere of his room lit only with small table lamps and string lights, are already helping.

    You go along, pointing to your arm. "Here. Like all over. It's nasty."

    "May I?" he asks,

    You pause, confused and unsure as to what he's asking about. But this is Sunghoon, and you trust him with so many things already. You nod.

    He turns his body more toward you, and you mirror him. Sunghoon takes one hand with his larger, warm one, cradling yours in his palm. Then, with his other, he places his hand at the top of your shoulder, moving down softly and slowly, drawing warmth all the way down to your wrist. Any sensation you thought you felt has been replaced with a real one now. Sunghoon does it again once or twice—you're now feeling dizzy, intoxicated with such an intimate touch—before switching to your other arm and repeating the process.     Once he finishes, Sunghoon drops your hand back into your lap, his lips quirked into a half smile. "Did that help? Is it gone?" You watch in a haze of feelings as Sunghoon reaches behind him, pulling his hoodie off effortlessly. His hair is ruffled now and all you can focus on is how good the black t-shirt he's wearing underneath looks. He places the hoodie in your lap, then reaches up to cup your cheek, his fingers threading behind your ear into your hair and against your scalp. "You felt cold. You take it."

    "What are you doing?"

    Sunghoon squints, unsure, but doesn't remove his hand. "I'm... taking care of you." He doesn't say it like a question.

    You shake your head, and his hand falls away. You grip at the hoodie in your hands, still warm from being worn. "No, nuh-uh. Is this how friends take care of each other?"

    "I'm not sure I'm getting what you're saying," he says, frowning. As he pulls back you lean forward, and his eyes widen just enough.

    Just enough to keep you talking.

    This ball of feelings had been pushed the moment you decided to come to his room and seek out comfort. If you didn't want to sleep in your room, you could have slept on the large sofa the two of you had saved up for and invested in together. You bought a couch together. Do regular friends do that? And then the touching and his warmth and openness and his hoodie in your hands and—and—

    "I lied earlier."

    You feel bad for how confused your best friend looks. "What? Seriously are you okay?" he asks, taking the back of his hand to press lightly against your forehead.

    You reach up, taking his hand in yours and bringing his knuckles to your lips. There's no going back now. And since he hasn't kicked you out yet, you keep going, ball still rolling. "I lied earlier," you repeat. "I do like you."

    You watch the blush on Sunghoon's cheeks, mindlessly wondering how you can see it happen again. Sunghoon blushing? Because of you? He clears his throat, but instead of withdrawing his hand, he threads his fingers between yours. "I actually asked if you were madly in love with me."

    You nod, and you feel Sunhoon squeeze your hand tighter as his eyes widen. Now, it seems, his in shock. "I just... I adore you and I don't know when it happened. It certainly wasn't when we met and you called me a loser and then we got paired together on the next group assignment." You stop to catch your breath as Sunghoon laughs, drawing his free hand over his face. There's a soft, carefree smile on his lips when you continue. "And then I saw you date other people and it felt weird to be excited when it didn't work out. And then we moved in together and got the couch and—"

    "Can I kiss you now?" he interrupts, bringing his hand back up to cup your chin between his thumb and forefinger, half-lidded eyes alight with happy mischief.

    You squeeze his hand, acting as an anchor. "Would you believe me then?" you ask.

    His whisper ghosts against your lips. "I already do."

    He tastes sweet and tart and strong, like cherries and coffee. He tilts his head, nose brushing past yours as he kisses you, tenderly and thoughtfully and in a way you know you'll never, ever get enough but it won't stop you from trying. He shakes his hand from yours to wrap his arm around your waist, and your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. You pull apart, gasping for air, trying to blink past the haze in your eyes before deciding that no, actually, neither of your were done. And this kiss? You can feel him smiling as he lets go of your chin to wrap that arm around you. You start laughing, pulling away as he plants kisses on your cheeks and nose and chin and jaw. You two topple over, a laughing mess with limbs already tangled together, like you already both knew.

    Like you'd been loving each other for a long time.

    "Can I tell you something?" Sunghoon asks, brushing his nose against yours. You'd been in his arms before, obviously, but this? Here and now? It's different—a good different.

    "Yeah, I guess so," you reply. "I'd rather you kiss me more, though."

    "What? We aren't doing a fifty-fifty split like we do on everything else?" he asks, propping himself up. "I have to do all the kissing?"

    "Do I not deserve to be spoiled?" you ask, cheeks hurting from your smiling. The hoodie had been lost, probably fallen to the floor when you grabbed his shirt. But you aren't cold anymore.

    Sunghoon laughs, grabbing the journal and paging it open to where he had bookmarked it with his pen earlier. His eyes scan the page, but he doesn't share. "I was actually writing about you... us... I was trying to get my thoughts out on paper when you showed up." He shrugs, placing the pen back to bookmark his spot and returning the journal to the nightstand. He levels you a soft and dreamy stare. "Maybe that bug was Cupid."

    "I literally cannot believe you right now."

    He laughs again, flopping back down beside you. Somehow, you'd found your way to the middle of his bed, head resting in his pillows. The two of you lay on your side, face to face, as close as each of you dared.

    "Be honest," Sunghoon requests. "Was there really a bug?"

    You whack at his shoulder, and he hooks his arm around your waist in response, pulling you closer. "Yes, there was!"

    Sunghoon shrugs again, leaning in to kiss you. "Okay, I'll call the exterminator in the morning."

    "What? You aren't going to save me yourself?"

    "And give you an excuse to leave me and go back to your room?" Sunghoon's hold on your waist gets tighter. He shakes his head. "No, I'll call in the morning, thank you."

    You roll your eyes. "Some prince charming you are."

    "I'm calling, aren't I?"

    "Make it up to me," you say, and Sunghoon nods. "Tell me how long you've been in love with me."

    He laughs, blush coming back up to his cheeks as he rolls his head into the pillow. He looks back up at you shyly, and in such a way that makes you blush. You can feel the heat creep across your cheeks, the tips of your ears, down your neck. His eyes flick there before coming back up to yours.

    "You told me you definitely didn't like me when I first called you a loser," he says, voice soft now. "But I think I did. I thought you were the coolest person ever, and I couldn't believe you were talking to me. So I panicked and called you a loser."

    "Really smooth," you say, reaching to push Sunghoon's hair out of his eyes. You revel in the way you see him shiver slightly beneath your touch.

    "I know," he says, "but if I hadn't called you that, our teacher wouldn't have paired us together so we could 'get along.' And then we never would have bought a couch together."

    You laugh, small and light, and Sunghoon smiles wider still. "What? You don't think we would have met or connected any other way?"

    Sunghoon shakes his head. "I don't even want to think about a world where I never got to know you."

    "Then don't," you offer, threading your fingers through his hair. "And kiss me again."

    His hands splay against your ribs, warmth radiating against you, his lips moving against yours before you're done talking. "Whatever you say, love."

[inevitably-ineffable-husbands]

Crowley's Past: Was He Archangel Camael?

With S2 now having been out for a few weeks, and the theories running wild, I think one of the unanimous beliefs within the fandom is that Crowley was SOME sort of Important Angel Before™. I touch upon the MANY clues in the various parts of my initial GOS2 Thoughts Meta, so I won't go into too many of those here, but inevitably this separate meta started out as the pulling-and-expanding-upon of the Archangel Crowley theory, primarily the "Raphael" theory, since I have loved that theory to bits since its inception early post-S1.

That was until my friend Peter finished watching the season early last week, and presented to me an alternative theory as to Crowley's identity that I thought deserved its own post breakdown, since I haven't seen this theory before.

NOW, I should make it clear I haven't been as DEEP in the fandom as many of y'all since S1 aired, so it's probably come up before S2 as just a light mention, but I personally haven't seen anything, so what follows is a joint speculation between my real-life, not-in-GO-fandom-spaces-whatsoever friend Peter, and myself, with my contributions being the expansion of his theory and linking it to what we already know.

The theory is this: Crowley might actually be Archangel Camael.

Please, PLEASE note that I am aware that authors and writers change things for creative liberty and originality, so please take this entire theory with a grain of salt (or go nuts with me, I'm happy either way!).

I'll TRY to keep this concise, but y'all know me. You can skip right to the "Conclusion" for a point-by-point breakdown if you don't want to read everything, but I hope you'll at least give me a chance to explain within the body of this meta.

I apologize in advance if any of my thoughts are a bit scattered. Here we go:

The Initial Text

Here is the initial text Peter sent to me after he finished watching S2 (and this was after I mentioned that the popular running fandom theory is that he's actually Raphael):

Okay… well - disclaimer I did not go to religious school and my biblical studies were a great many years ago. As I recall Lucifer was not one of the 7 archangels - he was meant to be but he rebelled before he was appointed (and there is some wiggle for a fictional story). So, based on what we have seen Crowley was one of the 7 but he hung out with the wrong people and asked too many questions. He never says his real name when we see him as an angel it is comically dodged - for a good reason. Crowley has a login and proves he had clearance way above a level 37th angel. He can see the top most important meetings… like he may have been allowed to attend in a previous life… And one line sticks out to me “one fallen prince has already gone to Hell. Two shows a problem.” As I stated Lucifer was not a Prince - we are not talking about him. Gabriel was banking on going to Hell like his “brother” - I’m guessing Camael, the one who Sees God - who ironically has cursed eyes now as a demon - the Prince of Fortitude (also Love and Charity). He often breaks his demonic spirit in cases of charitable needs or love. Crowley is one of the big Seven to be entrusted with creating the cosmos ;)

Naturally, this had a lot of things click for me, and I'm going to break them down below, with my additional research into the points that Peter made since he mentioned that he was going off memory.

Who Was Cameal?

When Peter mentioned this angel, it boggled my mind that I never actually recall knowing of this archangel. I went to a Roman Catholic school up until Grade 12, and with that comes Religious Ed classes, which also feature World Religions in the later grades. Funnily enough, I found out WHY I never heard of Camael:

Camael is not recognized by the Catholic Church due to the Vatican's decision to ban the veneration of angels not mentioned in the Bible [SOURCE]

Kind of explains why I only heard of Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael (which now adds another layer to a theory I will cover further down in "Does Crowley Remember?"), then.

Reading further:

[He] is the Archangel of strength, courage and war in Christian and Jewish mythology and angelology. [SOURCE] He is claimed to be the leader of the forces that expelled Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden holding a flaming sword. However, in iconography he is often depicted holding a cup. [SOURCE]

A Flaming Sword, you say??? Interesting. Here's a good place to point out that there IS also a theory that Crowley and Aziraphale are one single archangel that was split into two (and Gaiman has stated that in original drafts of the original book, they were at first one character, so this fact might be an afterthought of that original idea). Also, interesting that this angel is depicted with a cup, traditionally used in Christianity to depict wine, which is Crowley's drink-of-choice. So, there's that.

Another standout point for me is the Adam and Eve bit (which I bolded above). The Snake of Eden is TECHNICALLY the instigator (the "leader") who encouraged the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden. "Forces" in this reading of it could be the metaphorical definition of it; the knowledge of good and evil, and the desire to see beyond the Garden. AND also the Flaming Sword itself BEING the object of force given to the couple for protection.

Furthermore, Crowley's a strong and brave character, given all the shit he endures time and time again. Strength (and bravery for that matter) can mean many things: emotional strength, physical strength, possibly also a strength of character and an unwavering belief in the values one holds dear. I should also note that it's interesting that an angel of war, should Crowley indeed be this character, wants nothing to do with a war and is actively trying to stop one: an angel of War can absolutely NOT want a war, because he knows it's wrong.

And without the Angel of War up in Heaven to PREVENT any war at all? Well, they would just get all willy-nilly crazy on the idea of War without having any pushback on it, wouldn't they?

Kind of like how Gabriel was to be demoted (cast out) for denying Heaven a War. Funny old world, isn't it? Seems the parallels write themselves.

What's in a Name?

Because Peter mentioned the name meaning, I had to look into it myself, and indeed, one of the various meanings of Camael is apparently "he who sees God" in Hebrew.

As Peter stated above, I think this is very significant because it's seemingly only Crowley who has "demon" eyes that he himself cannot change. It's the ONLY part of him that always remains a constant, and why he is forced to hide them. We know from S1 and bits of S2 with Shax that other demons can change their eyes because we see them mimicking other humans time and again without the black eyes if they choose to.

Crowley's eyes could have been cursed specifically because was ordained as "the one who sees God" and possibly was the ONLY angel who ever "saw" a physical God in the literal sense (it's implied in the show that no one actually SEES a physical god). It's possible that Crowley being cast out literally burned his angelic eyes and left a visible scar that can't be fixed or erased – a forever-reminder of what he did and can no longer do. AND as the one who sees God, he indeed was a very high-ranking angel.

In the GO universe, I suspect he was indeed the FIRST Supreme Archangel, tasked with creating God's Vision (HAH) of the Universe. And when Crowley questioned what the point of creating such beauty was only for it to be destroyed, God (or, I suspect more likely, the other Angels) saw it as Crowley questioning their "vision" in the metaphorical sense.

Does Crowley Remember?

In light of Season 2, and some interesting exchanges and moments of Crowley with other angels, some people speculate (and as I watch the series more, I'm starting to also agree somewhat) that Crowley may not remember everything from Before.

Now, while I do like this theory a lot, and it makes sense with the context clues from S2, I don't think it's that he doesn't remember anything at all, however, as many versions of the theory postulates.

My speculation is this: what if, by having his Angelic Name removed from recognition in the Bible, and going through a similar Trial to Gabriel, THEN by Falling the traditional way, the memories are still there, but they're just a bit fuzzy and scattered? It could also explain why some of the other Archangels DON'T remember him... he was removed from the memories of other ranking angels (Saraqael is the only angel to seemingly remember who Crowley was, so I postulate that she WASN'T a top angel until fairly recently, because of the named angels in the next section).

The show brings up the Book of Life in S2 on several occasions, leaving me to believe that this will be an important item in the next season. What if the phrase "it will make it like you don't exist" literally means "don't exist in memories"? Maybe a Book of Life 1.0 existed at one time, and everyone who Fell was forgotten because their angelic names were removed. Because wouldn't that be more awful than never having existed? Remembering that you WERE something or someone, you had a name that you can't remember, that you WERE important to people and events, and having everyone around you who you considered family forget who you are? It's its own kind of personal Hell ... kind of like George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life, a movie that references angels, funnily enough. And Crowley remembers the furniture being there but not where it all belongs. I think his memory haziness is also a side effect of Falling the traditional way (burning sulfer and all that jazz, possibly causes trauma amnesia?).

It's a stretch here, I know, but I thought I would put this one out there as a possibility as to what it could mean (given that Gaiman and Pratchett tend to "play on words" a lot, I think it is worth mentioning this as an alternative meaning).

In S2, when Gabriel was sentenced, the Trial stated that Gabriel would forget his time as Gabriel, but not his time as an angel. I think a similar thing happened with Crowley, only much more violently with the "burning the eyes out" and "staining his wings black" thing.

My friend Peter mentioned that the show avoided Crowley's Before-Name "to a comical degree". I reckon, rather, that Crowley just simply doesn't remember his Angelic name, and his changing of his demon names is him possibly trying to find an identity. I think he recalls it having started with a "C", maybe? And now he's a snake, so he's kind of crawl-y, must be "Crawley". As time moved forward and as he learned more and more about humanity, he changed is namee to fit in better. Having a full Human-esque name makes him feel more connected to the Humanity he prefers.

And because I'm a romantic sap at heart, I think he enjoys spending time with Aziraphale because perhaps some part of Azzie's presence helps Crowley remember bits and pieces of his broken memory. He is LITERALLY Crowley's Emotional Support Angel – remember Shax can read into people, it seems. Azzie brings comfort to him, and seeing another Angel that also questions the choices Heaven makes allows Crowley to feel less alone.

The Original Seven Archangels

It's brought up a couple to several times in S2 the point that "God loves sevens". I actually couldn't remember why Seven was such a big Biblical number so a bit of quick Googling reminded me that "Seven [...] communicated a sense of “fullness” or “completeness” [...]. This makes sense of the pervasive appearance of “seven” patterns in the Bible." (SOURCE).

And of course, after Peter had mentioned it, I had to look a bit more into who the Original 7 could possibly be. Wikipedia mentions it could be Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Camael, Jophiel, and Zadkiel.

Peter was correct in his assumption that Lucifer wasn't one of the original 7 archangels, so that leaves us with Raphael, Camael, Jophiel, and Zadkiel, if we're assuming that Crowley is one of these top Archangels.

I would also like to speculate that "God likes 7's" could also mean (if you allow me to reach a bit) "God's favourite angels are the initial 7". If Crowley happened to be one of these 7, it could explain why he's able to get into Heaven without raising alarm at all, why he still maintains his immense power that set off alarms in Heaven when it was used purposefully against Heaven, why he was able to access the Gabriel Files, and why Sarqael allowed Crowley to continue watching the Trial (because if God allowed Crowley access even when he's no longer an angel, then Sarqael has no reason to believe that he's still not important to God).

Perhaps, in Modern Day, only having four archangels making the decisions symbolizes that, indeed, God's not really calling the shots anymore – and hasn't been for a long time – and that the whole system is all broken and not complete.

It also begs the question: if Crowley was one of the Original Seven (if they are indeed going to go in that direction), what happened to the other three? Did they also suffer the same fates? Were they turned to Scriveners just like Gabriel was to be?

Here is where I will also throw out there that my random thought that Muriel possibly also may have been one of the other three, as my own expansion of this theory, but I digress.

Anyway, I think I found the original Fandom Wiki that Peter quick-referenced when doing his quick message to me, and it's very interesting:

How they were founded as a unit is unknown, but it is said that it happened during Lucifer's rebellion. When Lucifer rebelled against God, one entire choir of angels followed him and was lost. Many angels from other choirs also followed him in his rebellion. It is revealed that Lucifer was meant to be apart of the Seven Archangels as well, however, since his fall he was replaced by Camael. 

Disclaimer here that I understand that Fandom Wiki isn't THE BEST resource, but we're also talking about a fictional story that loosely references actual scripture, so I think it's valid enough, heh.

But I bring this point up because Peter links it to Metatron mentioning the "Prince of Heaven" falling, as Gabriel as being "another" one. "Another one" what?? We have to assume that Metatron means another "Supreme Archangel" as holding the title of "Prince of Heaven", meaning Gabriel was NOT the first and only Supreme Archangel. I don't think Metatron is referencing Lucifer here. In fact, they deliberately avoid saying a name. We just ASSUME that it was Lucifer because that's the "common knowledge".

If GO is going to reference the theory that Lucifer actually fell BEFORE becoming an Archangel, then that means in my theory Crowley became his replacement of the Original Seven. And given that he was possibly the One (and only angel, in my above theory) Who Sees God, he was in-turn given the position of Supreme Archangel, charged with creating, again, God's Vision of the Universe.

I think having Crowley be the one who witnesses Gabriel's Trial is important if we're going on the theory that they are mirrors of each other in S2. What if:

Crowley ALSO had a similar Trial when he questioned God (or the other Archangels) about "what's the point of" the destruction of the universe, then subsequently saying "nah" to having Armageddon 6,000 years before the events of S1?;

In said Trial, Gabriel was a presiding member, and, given that we know his prior cruelty from S1, he voted on Camael being cast out in a vicious and cruel fashion "for betraying God". Thus, his eyes burnt and forever scarred to prevent him from ever seeing God again, had his name and memories removed from the Book of Life, and sent to on a one way trip to Hell. I speculate this because Trial-Gabriel certainly believe he was going to "Fall" that way. I'd also wager Camael/Crowley was the last angel to ever "properly" Fall, which is why the modern angels still think that they do it this way, rather than the way they planned for Gabriel. I realize that this point DOES contradict my theory about the other missing Archangels quietly being erased and reassigned, but perhaps BECAUSE Gabriel is SO High up the chain, they HAD no choice but to make an example of him. Perhaps Metatron just quietly deleted the other Archangels' original names without anyone's knowledge.

We now know from S2 that regardless of an angel's status, the angels will veto against anyone who goes against their interpretation of The Great Plan. We now also know that the "Supreme Archangel" is also a "title only" job that has benefits only if you're going to go with the Majority Vote. And if you don't, they're going to make an example out of you.

And I reckon Camael/Crowley, just like Gabriel after, tried to "go his own way" (as quoted by the Metatron) and got banished for it.

Aziraphale really now has himself in a pickle, and I suspect that he will figure ALL of this out when he gets there.

And finally because this is the "Sevens" section of this meta, I also want to mention these "a-bit-reaching-but-still-plausible-theories" that I came across while I was researching:

This tweet speculates that Gabe is morse coding "7"

Michael tweeted 7 dots after S2 aired

CONCLUSION

While this theory doesn't outright bust the Raphael Theory (since there are some similarities with Crowley and Raphael within the theory), as well as the "he was Lucifer" theory (which I also really like, but Crowley mentioned in S1 he was "hanging out with Lucifer and the guys" before he fell, so... I'm more apt to not really run with this theory). BUT it does tie up a lot more things, and it connects things better than the Raphael one does, in my humble opinion.

The TL;DR of this entire post is this:

I think Crowley was an Archangel, that is the only CERTAIN thing I feel.

I think he was Camael, The One (and only angel) Who (Literally) Sees God. He was the First Supreme Archangel who created God's Vision of the Universe.

I think that Camael questioned the Council of Angels why they need to destroy beauty that God created. It didn't make sense to him.

They told him about Armageddon (the S1 one). As the angel of war, and as the Supreme Archangel who had final say, he said "nah". And he tried "to go his own way" to avoid Armageddon.

The Council and Metatron did not like this, saw it as blaspheming against God. Camael then had a Trial similar to Gabriel's.

I think this all happened shortly after the war that sent down Lucifer and the other rebelling Angels, so Heaven was still VERY tetchy about anyone who questioned God and The Great Plan. Because Camael was a Supreme Archangel, the original Prince of Heaven, this was seen as SEVERE betrayal of the Council. For the record, I think the "Before the Beginning" sequence takes place AFTER the War that created Hell.

My belief about the Book of Life is that its ACTUAL purpose is to remove people from being remembered, which is far worse of an existence for someone banished. A metaphorical interpretation of "removed from existence" simply could mean "and everyone forgot about you", à la It's a Wonderful Life, a movie that references "angels getting their wings".

Camael was sentenced in a way that would make an example of him to other angels to remind them of their place: He was cast out of Heaven, his angelic name erased from the Book of Life which caused his other Council Members at the time to forget him, and for him to have foggy memories in turn, although he KNOWS he was an angel (perhaps as a side effect of being cast out the traditional way, you are forced to remember that you once lived in Heaven). His eyes were burnt out to quite literally leave an unremovable scar so he could no longer "see" God and their vision, which explains why Crowley cannot ever change his eyes regardless of how he presents himself. He has to hide them away.

I think Crowley was the last angel to be cast out in this way. BUT because his ANGEL name was erased, none of the remaining Original Council angels (Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel) recognize him. I suspect Sarqael remembers him because she was NOT an Archangel at the time since she was not one of the Original Seven Archangels.

I also suspect that there are purposely missing Archangels for a reason, and the fact that only 4 rather than 7 seemingly run things symbolizes the problems in Heaven and that God has not been in charge for a long time. I think those missing 3 or 4 are actually Scriveners, who were quietly sentenced and erased by the Metatron, hence why Gabriel thought that he was going to be cast out like his predecessor. But because Gabriel WAS a Supreme Archangel, he HAD to be made an example of, just as Crowley before.

"Supreme Archangel" is a Title-Only job, and if you go against the Council, you are indeed made an example of. I think this is purposeful setup for S3 to show that Azzie is in DEEP shit.

EPILOGUE

I still want to expand upon my Angel Theory section from my S2 Meta, but for now, I am so pleased with how this turned out, and I hope you've enjoyed this Deep Dive into another Archangel Theory. I had a lot of fun with this one; I like learning about supernatural things, it's always interesting.

I am interested in others' thoughts on this theory, especially if your memory of your religious education is a bit better than mine! Feel free to expand upon this more, because I am an interactive blog, so it will be added to the post! <3

I hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading!

[grimmswan]

Love Bites (But So Do I) part 6

for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer @cssns

Once Upon A Time Emma Swan/Killian Jones

 “That miserable cur has pressed his luck for too long.” Killian grumbled. “It’s time we dealt with him, permanently. If he hasn’t learned to leave us alone by now, he never will. And I don’t want to risk him finally finding a way to control you.”

He and Emma had discovered the three broken bottles. The contents were tested and found to be potions that were banned. 

 “He must have found a witch dealing in forbidden spellwork. Which means he’s broken the laws of the council. The next time he tries something, we can deal with him however we wish, without risking reprimand from the council for ending a life without due cause.”

Before, Neal had just been a nuisance. He hadn’t done anything that posed a real threat. Killian and Emma could tear him apart, since he was a supernatural being, he could heal, but they couldn’t outright end Neal's life.

 But the moment he obtained those forbidden potions, he had sealed his death warrant.

When they told Nemo what they had discovered, their boss, and sea demon, agreed with them.

 “Dealing in forbidden magic alone is punishable by death. The council know that if the humans believed the supernaturals were trying to control them, we would have a war on our hands. Not only are you now allowed to end Neal for good, but we are obligated to find the witch who sold him the potions and dispose of her as well.”

 It occurred to them that the witch dealing in forbidden potions may be connected to the beast breaking in and stealing valuable items from the homes of the elite.

 Nemo advised Killian and Emma to follow that lead.

Supernaturals were not the only beings to be tempted into dealing in the dark arts. There were many humans who would see the forbidden spells as easy salutations to their problems. And it stood to reason that they might try to cover up the price they paid for such magic by setting up a burglary.

 Going over the evidence of the previous encounters with a new perspective in mind, Emma and Killian could easily see how the thefts could actually be staged.

“Everyone who was robbed had been at a public event prior to the theft. And no one had been at the residence at the time of the break in. That reeks of an inside job.”

“We already figured it had to be someone who was part of the elite. And we guessed it must be someone who’s having money troubles. Now we have a clue to look at someone who might be desperate enough to work with a shady supernatural being. And betray their colleagues.”

“Loyalty is rare. More so when money is involved. There are a lot of people who would sell out their own mother if it meant living a lifestyle of wealth and privilege.”

“And they call us monsters.” Killian shook his head at the irony.

“I hate that so much of you is covered.” Killian grumbled, nuzzling into Emma, trying to get her scent, which was muffled by the layers of fabric.

The clothing plus a hat and a parasol would protect her from the sun touching and harming her delicate skin. Unfortunately for Killian, these items hindered his view of the woman he desired.

“We have to blend in. Trust me, I am not fond that every button of yours is closed. But the formal dress of the business class of the city will allow us to investigate without suspicion.”

By visiting the popular pubs, taverns, and eateries of the working class, the two hoped to overhear any conversation that referred to the break-ins, or someone possibly using forbidden magic.

Walking through the city, to any onlookers, they were an attractive couple simply enjoying one another’s company.

In actuality, they were using their supernatural hearing to listen in on conversations that were a great distance away.

Killian and Emma located a tavern that was popular with the laboring class. They felt it would be beneficial to talk to those who the gentry often ignored. Because they were rarely spoken to, there was a great chance they had overheard talk of the strange thefts. And maybe of someone interested in acquiring a forbidden spell or potion.

They found a table for two by the large window. A slight turn of their heads would allow them to watch the room, or get a look of any passers by.

As they sat at the table, Killian noticed several men looking toward Emma with lust. He had to take deep breaths and remind himself that they had a job to do, and he couldn’t just gouge at those men’s eyes, no matter how much they may deserve it.

Emma noticed her lover’s mood turning sour. Reaching out to him, taking hold of his hand, she whispers so only he could hear, “They will never see me the way you do. They’ll never press their bodies against mine. They will never brush their lips over the most sensitive places on my skin. They will never go home with me. And it won’t be their name’s I will be calling out when you’re making me come.”

She moved closer to him at the table. Sliding her hand over his thigh, moving to cup the bulge that was quickly hardening at her touch, she whispered a promise, “When we are done with our investigation, you and I will have each other, in every carnal way we can imagine. Until then, remember that I am yours completely.”

“Just as I am yours, completely, my love.” Killian whispered back. The primal side of him wanted to take Emma right there. Show everyone who dared covet her that only he could truly satisfy her. Luckily for everyone, the logical side of him realized he needed to keep his instincts in check and focus on the case. At least until they returned home.

Just as the sun was about to set, the couple overheard two men sitting at the bar mention the strange break ins.

“Most bizarre thing I have ever seen. The door was ripped right off of its hinges, but the china cabinet remained unscratched?”

“And that was all that was taken? A Faberge egg?”

“Yep. All of those valuable items. But the creature only wanted the egg. A silver dining set. Crystal drinkware. The thief could have gotten a small fortune for the contents of that cabinet.”

“Isn’t that the same egg that was in all of the photos when the guy who owned it nominated the area’s most eligible bachelor?”

“That’s the one. The thief must be lazy. A little more research would have let the guy know just how much more money he could have made.”

“Well, making any money is going to be difficult. That egg is too famous. There’s not a lot of people who would want to be anywhere near it.”

“There’s always Benjamin Gunn. Or his former captain, Flint. Either might know of a few people who would be willing to smuggle that egg somewhere where no one knows its history. The way I’ve heard it, Flint likes to deal in the dangerous.”

With smiles on their faces, Emma and Killian looked at one another and said at the same time, “Let’s go talk to Benjamin Gunn.”

The couple found the former pirate sitting on the porch of a small stone cottage near the harbor.

“What do you know about a pirate called Flint?” Emma asked.

“Gold and blood. Those are his trademarks. You go up against Old Flint, you best either have the first, or be ready for the second.”

“I recall in my travels that Flint was feared above all the pirates. Except for maybe two others. A man named Silver. And another called Black Beard.” Killian said.

“There is a lot of death associated with those names, lad. I’d be careful if I was you.”

“There is a lot of death connected to me. And I can more than handle myself.”

Killian allowed his eyes to glow a hypnotic blue. He smiled a menacing smile, revealing teeth elongated and sharpened to a deadly point.”

The old codger looked wide eyed at Emma, wondering what kind of woman would walk with a werewolf.

“Death is something we keep close company with.” Emma’s own smile revealed razor sharp fangs. Her eyes, which glowed a haunting green, were rimmed in darkness.

“A vampire and a werewolf? How can this be?”

“We are not here to tell of our love story. We are here to find out where we might find Captain Flint. Or his first mate, John Silver.”

“Silver is not Flint’s first mate, anymore. There was a mutiny. During the fight, Flint shot silver in the leg. It had to be amputated. The way I hear it, a few of his limbs are mechanical now. Flint took off to parts unknown. Whether he’s alive or dead,” The old codger shrugged, “Who knows. No one has seen or heard a word from him in years.”

“Do you believe that either Flint, Silver, or Black Beard have anything to do with the break-ins that are made to look like a werewolf is the culprit?” Emma asked. 

“Neither Flint or Silver would blame another for their work. Both men have always been too proud of what they are. Black Beard, on the other hand, has always used trickery and deception. But he loves the sea. I don’t see him robbing a house. Then again, he may have made a deal with someone.” Gunn scratched his stubbled jaw and thought out loud. “He’s greedy enough. You should talk to Billy Bones. Buy him a few pints and he will tell you the secrets of every sea fairing, black hearted villain alive or dead.”

“Where can we find this Billy Bones?” Emma asked.

“Any tavern near any port. Old Billy doesn’t like to travel too far once he has a little coin in his pocket.”

It took going to three taverns to find who they were looking for. 

Killian purchased a bottle of the finest rum, a bottle of the finest brandy, and a bottle of the finest whiskey. He and Emma sat across from Billy at a table, and promised to give him the drinks if he told them everything he knew about the connection between the robberies and the pirates.

Once he saw the bottles, Billy was all too eager to tell them everything he knew.

“Blackbeard don’t like competition. He’s made a deal with some magic fold to take down Flint and John Silver.” Billy laughed gleefully as Emma poured some rum into his tankard. “Blackbeard got real mad when Flint intercepted a ship carrying some real nice spices. They would have gotten him a fortune, ya see. Instead, it was Flint and his crew who lived like kings for three months.”

“But what would Blackbeard have against Silver?” Killian asked. “You would think he would be glad that Silver tried to take down Flint.”

“Silver damaged Blackbeard’s ship!” Bones cackled. “Cost him a king's ransom in repairs. Half of his crew went off to work for Silver.”

“I thought that no one had seen or heard anything about Flint for years? Why would Blackbeard care about getting revenge now?” Emma asked.

“Pirates have long memories, lass. A hundred lifetimes could pass, and they would still pursue revenge.”

“And Blackbeard is pursuing revenge on Flint and Silver?” Killian asked.

“Yep, found a witch who knew how to make potions that most know not to be messing with. She has him taking certain items from certain people. I don’t know what their end goal is exactly. I just know magic is involved.”

“Do you know who this witch is?” Emma asked, wondering if it’s the same witch who gave her maker and ex the illegal potions that would have enslaved her and harmed her beloved Killian.

“Zelena. As wicked as they come, that one. Prone to petty jealousy. Way I hear it, she got into magic because she liked the attention it gave her. Turned to the forbidden stuff when she didn’t like other people getting praised for being just as gifted as her. She’s been cast out by most of the magic folk, for casting spells on her fellow witches. She has to move around a lot. And keep herself hidden. So don’t ask me where you’ll find her.”

“How did Blackbeard find her?” Killian asked.

“She found him. She seems to know when a desperate and greedy soul is in need of her services.”

“If we want to find her, we’re going to have to contact the magic wielding community. Emma said. “Luckily for us, there’s a ball tomorrow night. Any respectable member of the supernatural community may attend.”

Killian smiled. “Does that mean you will be wearing one of your best vampire gowns?”

“Yes it does.” Emma said with a roll of her eyes, knowing exactly what had her lover so interested in her wardrobe.

A ball gown often meant Emma would be wearing a corset. Which would accentuate her figure and prop up her breasts.

Killian could barely keep his eyes (or hands) off of her when she was wearing a corset.

“We have a job to do.” She reminded him as they left the tavern and entered the carriage to make their way back to their home. “You need to keep that wolf of yours in check. At least until we’ve completed our task.”

“I’ll try, love. But you know how territorial he gets. Especially when you look like temptation itself.”

Emma let out a fake put upon sigh and said, “Well, then I suppose we need to spend the rest of our night ensuring your wolf that he has fully and completely claimed me.”