#(for the curious it basically said it was only a draft and to tell me if you saw it before vday)

[monarch-boo]

Hey @jesse-png ! I was your art buddy for this @gtavfest ! I hope you like this and you have a great day this Valentine's Day!

The prompt wasssss "Both visibly tattered, Niko and Packie sharing some secret kisses in the middle of a heist/mission from the sidelines.”

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (01/10)

The Proposal

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: with his last relationship ending in disaster and giving the college a lot to talk about, the most popular guy comes to you for help to save his reputation. but you never expected him to need to fake a relationship... with you.

word count: 4.8k

series masterlist • next part

AHHH GUYS I am so excited!

okey this is an unexpected idea, obviously I have been inspired by all the boys i loved before because recently i watch the three movies and i love the result of this and I have so much prepared for it that I'm so excited for you guys to read it already:)

I still have a bit more to work on but so far I'm loving it so I look forward to reading your opinions on it, for now enjoy a small part of everything to come! thank you for reading and for your support❣

also leaked everything I have planned a few moments ago but in spanish. I didn't even put the draft to post it, so I don't know what happened but it was my cue to finally share this hehe

"Y/N... I need your help."

That was the first thing someone said to you one Thursday morning in the library before your Science class started, this beginning a rather... peculiar day.

But you didn't expect those words to be said by Aemond Targaryen, the most popular guy in basically the whole school, to you, the most introverted girl in the class and probably not in the whole school since there are people even more introverted than you, but something like that.

So you slowly put your book down, raising your gaze to watch Aemond in front of you slightly confused and expectantly.

And the first thing you see is his eager and needy gaze in your direction, completely attentive to you. His hand grips the strap of his backpack and his gorgeous silver hair falls elegantly like a curtain down his back.

"Y-yes?"

"I'm..." he starts to tell you a little hesitantly, "I'm interrupting you with something?"

"Hum..." you look at your books scattered around the table for a moment, "I'm just... studying for the test on Monday."

"Oh," he nods absently, "Okay, listen, I don't want to stop you but this is really important and I need you to listen to me," he pleads quietly, looking really desperate, "The faster we talk, the faster I'll leave you alone and you can get back to studying."

And this is what gets your attention completely.

However, you continue to feel a mixture of mild surprise and confusion as it is unusual for him to address you or for you to talk to him despite being in the same classes.

You almost always find yourself in the corners, away from conversations and curious glances, although that doesn't mean that you are not participative and one of the best in your class, since you are always taking notes and concentrating on your studies.

You don't really talk to many people, only to people who are just as untalkative and quiet as you are.

And on the other hand, there is Aemond Targaryen, also a student just as dedicated as you and the best in the class, with the difference that he always occupies a place at the front of the classroom, always surrounded by friends and admirers.

He is the type of person that everyone notices and not only because of his unusual appearance, which in fact drives all the girls crazy, but also because of his charisma, personality and for being the captain of the lacrosse team.

And this is why despite being in the same classes, neither of you had ever had a reason to cross words before. You didn't even know that he knew your name, while everyone around you knows his.

"Okay..." you say not entirely convinced, "What is it?"

Aemond takes a deep breath of air, taking his gaze away from yours for a moment, looking a bit nervous and hesitant, which is very rare from him, as he has always proven to be a decisive and firm person for everything.

And in an act of nerves, he quickly takes a seat in front of you, still looking just as desperate as before.

"Look, I know we don't talk much even though we share classes..." he pauses a little, "Well, we don't really talk at all," he corrects himself, "And I also know you don't have any reason to... help me, but..." he sighs frustrated, "I really need your help."

You look expectant, waiting for him to tell you more, but apparently he himself doesn't know what it is he's going to ask you for help with, or rather he can't believe it, as he looks very nervous and can't find the right words to tell you.

So before asking the big question, he speaks again first.

"Do you know my ex-girlfriend? Alys Rivers?"

You raise your eyebrows at him a little, still expectantly, not understanding what that has to do with him asking for your help and you make your confusion clear for a moment, but still nod in his direction.

Because of course, how could you not know who Alys Rivers is?

She's like a more modern version of walking Regina George, with the other difference being that Alys is black hair.

"Ah... yeah."

"And I'm sure you must know what happened between me and her recently," he tells you cautiously and also a little expectantly.

"I think the whole school knows," you make it clear to him, in a soft tone.

"Yeah, of course, I just wanted to make sure," he tells you without further elaboration, "Anyway, I need your help with that."

You frown and look at him not entirely convinced.

"You want to talk about how your ex-girlfriend cheated on you?"

"No, no, not that, of course not," he hurries to say, "I need your help with her, with Alys," he clarifies but you're still just as confused.

"Aemond, you're not being entirely clea—

"I need you to fake a relationship with me."

He tells you bluntly, in an impulsive act to tell you once and for all before it becomes more difficult, causing you to become speechless and disbelief and surprise to flash in your eyes and gaze.

Suddenly your heart starts beating too fast, completely bewildered, waiting for him to tell you it's a joke.

However, the expression on his face makes it clear to you that he is not joking and that he is being terribly serious and honest about this, despite how absurd his words have sounded, making you feel only even more confused.

"I'm serious, Y/N. I'm really asking you this," he states to you, in a low voice, completely honest and desperate.

Again, surprise washes over you and a wave of insecurity washes over your entire insides, as you can't quite believe it and understand it.

"W-what?"

You almost whisper, even with all the disbelief in your gaze. And he lets out a sigh, bringing his hands to his head.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy and ridiculous, but... I really need to do this with someone," he says softly, pleadingly and quietly, "And not have anyone suspect, of course. This just to make Alys jealous and to stop me looking like a fool in front of the whole school after what she did."

You continue to stare at him incredulously, your lips parted and your brow furrowed, saying nothing for a few moments as Aemond in front of you begins to lose patience.

But he understands and knows what you must be thinking, it's the same thing he thought when he came up with this 'great' idea. He knew you would look at him the way you are looking at him now, like a madman.

"I'm sure it won't take us long, just enough time to convince the whole school and no more," he tries to convince you, insistent.

"But..." you say incredulously, "Do you realize what you're talking about?"

"Yes, I realize it. But it's not like it's the biggest crime or the biggest scam in the world either," he tells you absurdly.

Another silence.

You definitely didn't expect him to tell you all this and why he wants to. You understand his desperation since literally the whole school found out that Alys cheated on the hottest guy in the whole school with a college guy or something. And she along with him were the perfect couple of the moment.

So you understand that he's upset and humiliated, but he's willing to go to this length?

You are not on the same page as him.

"Please, Y/N," he begs you low and watching you completely intently.

"Hum..." you say beginning to feel uncomfortable, as you look away from him, "I-I'm sorry, but I'm sure someone else could help you, Ae—

"Please," he says desperately, "At least consider it."

"Aemond, this is literally the first conversation we've both had after sharing classes for almost three years," you tell him incredulously, trying to prove your point, "We don't talk to each other, we don't really know each other and for you to suddenly ask me for help with this..." you pause, then shrug, "I don't understand."

"It's not that hard to understand," he says still insistent, "And I get what you mean, but..." he lets out a sigh, "Look, I haven't asked anyone else for help, you're the first because I want you to be the one to do this with me—

"You don't need to try to make me feel special, you know? I-I don't—

"No, that's not why," he assures you, "In fact you're the only one who could help me, there's no one better," he explains, "I've been watching you lately, you're discreet, you hardly talk to anyone, basically no one notices you and this way, no one will expect it, not even Alys."

And even though he tried to explain himself in the best way without malice in his words and without referring to you in a bad way when explaining why you, you feel a slight sharp pain in your chest with confusion, sadness and resentment invading you.

"You don't need to explain who I am or what I'm like," you say in your low voice, avoiding looking him in the eye, trying to control your tone that conveys sadness but also seriousness, "Nor do you need me to be the resolution to your problems."

Aemond's gaze transforms to one of concern and distress, watching you completely intently.

"No, no, wait," he says instantly, his tone full of regret, "Fuck, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant, rea—

"Don't worry about it anymore," you reply with a nonchalant wave of your hand, keeping your gaze serious as you begin to put your things away.

"No, please, Y/N, wait," he pleads, trying to stop you, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to put you down or anything. I just wanted to explain—

"Look, I understand what you want to accomplish, but that doesn't justify using someone else, especially someone you barely know, to solve your own problems."

"Y/N, please. I'm sorry, just let me—

He tries to stop you, looking for an opportunity to clear the air, but you're already leaving.

"I can't help you," you interrupt him again in a final tone.

And without further ado you turn away from him, not caring that you've left the books on the table without returning them to the shelves. And even though he tries to stop you between apologies, you don't let him and walk away from him.

Of course, that wouldn't be the only time Aemond would try to talk to you.

After what happened in the library, no matter where you were, even being in the last empty halls on the top floor during lunchtime, Aemond would always find you to try to talk and apologize.

But you whenever you saw him approaching, you would always slip into another hallway or blend in among all the other students, looking for and finding any alternative to avoid talking to him.

But he kept trying.

And you didn't understand how you suddenly went from having your nose stuck in books all the time, to going from avoiding the hottest and most popular guy in the whole school.

Because you knew that not only would he try to apologize, he would also try to convince you again about his idea and right now you had too many things on your mind to worry about other people's needs.

So one day, taking advantage of the fact that you have a free class after lunchtime and you won't have to worry about Aemond for a while, you head to the schoolyard, choose a table, set up your laptop, open a folder and put on your headphones.

But it seems that things are not in your favor today.

You haven't even played your Spotify playlist when you see Aemond approaching in the distance from the lacrosse field.

You almost want to cry from frustration.

So without wasting any time, you stand up and quickly start putting your things away.

"Oh, come on Y/N," you hear his disappointed complaint in the distance and he starts trotting towards you.

You can't help but feel annoyed too, but before you can take a step, he gets there first.

"Would you stop stalking me, please?" you demand as you start to walk away.

"Please, just let me talk to you for a second," he pleads, stopping you gently but firmly.

"There's nothing even to talk about," you tell him earnestly and disinterestedly at the same time, trying to fend him off and move forward.

He again blocks your path.

"Please," he repeats, "I just want to apologize for the other day."

"We both know that's not what you really came here to say."

He lets out a long sigh as he looks away from you for a moment, then returns to watching you intently and with some concern.

And you wonder what he's doing here. He's wearing his lacrosse uniform so shouldn't he be training with his team or something?

"Look, I understand that you're upset....

He starts to say and you understand at that moment that he has no intention of going anywhere until he has finished talking to you.

"... but I need you to know that I'm really sorry I said those words to you. It wasn't what I really meant, it was cruel and I didn't realize it at the time."

You let out a long breath as you look away and press your lips together.

"It's okay, I understand," you look at him, "And I forgive you, if that's what you need to hear, fine, I forgave you. Now it's all forgotten and we can call it even."

Again, you try to dodge him to get away, but he steps in your way again, blocking your path.

"Wait," he asks, "Just wait," he repeats to you in his insistent voice, full of longing and concern evident on his face. "Can we talk, please?"

You shake your head as you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your frustration mounting.

"I already told you I won't do it, Aemond."

"Have you at least considered it?" his tone becomes expectant and frustrated.

"Yes and it's an idea that makes no sense," you reply absurdly, interrupting him. "Or well, maybe to you it does, but—

"So that's it?" he interrupts you immediately, his gaze fixed on yours, "Do you want to benefit from this too if we do?"

You immediately shake your head in his direction, trying to deny any hint of that.

"No, that wasn't what—

"What do you want in return?" he interrupts again, his expression completely willing and attentive. "Tell me what it is you want to agree to pretend to be in a relationship with me."

Seven Hells.

You think as a frustrated sigh escapes your lips.

You feel trapped in an emotional interrogation, struggling to find the right words as you desperately search for a way out. His direct and persistent questions leave you blank for a moment.

"Listen, I can't and don't have time to help you with something like that."

He sighs, looking away from you for a moment.

"Okay," he says, moving to take a seat on the other side of the table you were sitting at earlier, "I'm listening," he watches you carefully.

You frown at his change in attitude.

"You hear me?" you repeat, confused.

"Yes, I hear you," he replies, looking at you expectantly, "Tell me why you can't and why you don't have the time."

"Don't you have training or something?"

"Yes, but it doesn't matter."

"You'll get into tro—

"It doesn't matter," he interrupts you, keeping his seriousness and attention, "So tell me, I'm listening."

He lets out an incredulous, absurd laugh.

"I don't have to explain myself with yo—

"The point here is that I don't believe you," he lets you know with determination, interrupting you again, "And if you don't tell me why, I'll keep insisting and bothering you until you tell me yes," he says with a slightly amused but determined look on his face.

You look at him slightly confused and surprised, not understanding what is wrong with him, also feeling a mixture of annoyance inside you and curiosity for his persistence.

"It doesn't matter, I'll still keep telling you no," you affirm as a final word to start walking away from him.

However, as soon as you advance a few steps, you feel how someone snatches the folder you are carrying with you quickly and abruptly, which stops you in your tracks. And you turn to him in surprise and confusion.

"Hey!" you protest, puzzled by his action.

"Uh, what do we have here?" he comments with a mischievous grin and a look full of amusement, getting up to turn away from you as he flips through the papers.

"That's none of your business!" you reproach him, running up to him and trying to retrieve your folder.

"Citadel University," he mentions with a tone of interest, running away from your attempts to catch up with him.

"Aemond!" you call, demanding that he give you back what is yours. But he continues to back away and read the sheets at the same time.

"Uh," he comments in concentration as he reads something specific, "This really is bad news."

"That's enough!" you yell at him, completely annoyed and frustrated, finally managing to snatch the folder from his hands and slam it shut.

The tension between the two of you increases as you hold the folder tightly and definitely start to pull away from him.

"No, no, okay, I'm sorry," he stops you instantly, grabbing your arm and stepping in front of you, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—

"Sure, you never meant to," you tell him half-heartedly, trying to dodge him but he won't let you.

"Okay, fine, I was an idiot, I know. But—hey, listen please."

"Are you going to leave me alone or not?" you inquire annoyed, releasing yourself from his grip, watching him expectantly.

He lets out a sigh.

"Y/N—

"I don't have time for this. I have to go."

"But—wait!" he urges you, also on the verge of tears from frustration as you dodge him but he again steps back in front of you, stopping you, "Could you just—listen to me, please."

"No."

"Please!" he insists, "Y/N, I-I... fuck," he lets out a sigh, looking away from yours for a moment, "I'm really sorry," he tells you sincerely, "But let me talk to you. You won't have to do anything but listen to me," he implores, "And after this, if you still want me to stop bothering you and leave you alone, I will."

You watch him completely intently, assessing his words and noting the desperation reflected in his gaze. And even though your mind tells you to forget him and get away from him and this whole situation, something inside you makes you hesitate.

You let out a long, deep breath, telling yourself that you just have to give him a chance to talk and you can finally walk away without feeling remorse.

"Okay, but make it quick," you agree reservedly, keeping your distance.

And even though you're still firm about continuing to tell him no and feel annoyed about earlier, you're curious what he has to say.

"Hum... do you want to sit?"

He points to the table you were sitting at earlier with an awkward and strange gesture. You're about to tell him no but not wanting to argue again, so this will end quickly, you resignedly take a seat and he instantly follows you.

He takes a seat in front of you and you continue with all your belongings in your lap, not trusting to leave them on the table within his reach because of earlier, feeling a knot in your stomach and a slight ache in your chest as you briefly glance at the folder he was snooping through earlier.

"I won't take up too much of your time, I just want to get back to what we were talking about earlier," he tells you softly and with some caution, taking a moment before speaking again, "You want something in return for agreeing to fake the relationship with me?"

You let out a long sigh.

"No, I don't want anything, Aemond. There is nothing I want that you can give me in return," you clarify in a firm tone, "I don't even have the time to do that. I have other important things to take care of instead of.... that."

He exhales, starting to look just as frustrated as you do.

"Like what?" he dares to ask.

"None of your business," you reply immediately.

He looks away from your gaze for a moment, feeling more frustration, swallowing hard and looking hesitant for a moment, but still determined, not wanting this conversation to end before he can try.

"It has to do with the Citadel thing?"

The mention of the college you fought so hard to gain access to makes you feel that sharp pain in your chest again, making your heart flip.

Sadness, disappointment, all those emotions come flooding back just like the first time you read that rejection letter from the college. All your effort, all your performance, was simply not enough for the university to recognize.

The college of your dreams.

"I told you that's none of your business," you act instantly serious and defensive.

"I don't mean to intrude, Y/N—

"That's exactly what you're doing," you point out incredulously.

"You applied for a scholarship and didn't get it, didn't you?" yet you still dare to say, taking a risk, "That's what I read."

"And you shouldn't have," you say firmly, trying to hide the sadness and disappointment his words have triggered in you, "You have no right to go through my personal business."

"I know and I'm sorry, but—

He begins to try to say, but you interrupt him, determined to end the conversation.

"That's what you were going to say?" you tell him, starting to get up with all your things to leave, "If that's all, I'll just go—

"You haven't really let me talk," he interrupts you, insistent, "I can offer you something in return and worth considering to get you to accept the fake relationship with me. But only if you stay and listen to me—

"Oh please, Aemond," you interrupt him in disbelief, sensing the absurdity of the situation, "You know what? Okay, let me hear it," you say with sarcasm in your tone and an expectant look, "Tell me what you could offer me in return that would be worth considering," you add wryly.

"I can help you with your college application," Aemond hastens to say.

Surprise invades everything inside you, listening attentively to his unexpected proposal, definitely not expecting to hear that.

You remain completely silent, just watching him intently, while he gives you a firm and sincere look back. You have no idea what to say, feeling how suddenly your heart starts beating too hard.

"I have connections there, my grandfather and my sister," he lets you know, "I can send them all your information, personal recommendations, all your academic history and have them give you a place with the scholarship you wanted," he tells you and the surprise grows more inside you, "Graduation is near, I can facilitate the whole process for you and I am willing to do it if you help me."

Again, you say nothing.

But the surprise is more than evident on your face.

Their offer, this, really is too much, to the point that your mind starts to be a whirlwind of emotions and you begin to feel distrust, uncertainty and inner conflict.

But on the one hand, his offer is tempting. The idea of getting help from him to get a place in the college you so long for definitely catches your attention, but it also makes you feel a little uncomfortable.

Honestly his words stir something in you, but caution prevails.

The desire to get a place in that university is basically a dream come true, but it clashes with your principles and at the same time you think ahead with lingering doubt whether not accepting was a grave mistake.

Although... are you really able to say no to this? Your dream? To the university that will give you the opportunity to offer a better quality of life for you and your father?

Certainly, Aemond's words are not something you would have believed from anyone else. You would have laughed too hard at the big lie since it is basically impossible to get a place at a high-demand university like Citadel.

But you admit that Aemond Targaryen is not just any person.

Everyone knows that his father owns the most important company in the whole country. And his mother's surname is linked to and owns the influential Hightower banks. The combination of both surnames carries with it a network of influential contacts and connections, so you believe him.

The reality is undeniable; Aemond is exaggeratedly rich, his whole family is, so knowing all this basically gives you to understand that he can undoubtedly secure a place at Citadel University for himself and, apparently, for you as well.

But the hesitation you still feel stops you, still thinking carefully about his proposal.

"So what you want in return is just that?" you ask him wanting to be all clear, "To agree to pretend a relationship with you?"

Your voice reveals a hint of disbelief as you stare at Aemond, waiting for a more detailed explanation. The idea that this all revolves around a farce of a relationship never ceases to generate confusion in you.

The simplicity of his request sounds almost surreal, and makes you question his true intentions.

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but yes, that's all I'm asking, Y/N," he replies without hesitation, his tone serious and direct.

His intense blue eye remains fixed on yours, as you give yourself a small second simply out of curiosity to appreciate his prosthetic left eye up close, an accident as a child or something you heard.

But your mind returns to his request immediately, still feeling the mixture of uncertainty and curiosity. An awkward pause settles between the two of you as you finally break the silence with a doubt-laden sigh.

"But, why me?" you can't help but ask, "I mean, why offer this to me, something really important and big to agree to help you," you explain your point, "I know you said that with me it will be easier but.... there are other girls who could help you with this, or not?"

Aemond adjusts slightly in his seat, sighing as he searches for the right words.

"I misspoke about you at first. It wasn't what I really meant about no one noticing you, you're invisible and all that shit, because it's not true," he tells you softly, "You are different and definitely calmer than other girls who I know will tell me yes without hesitation, but I'm not looking for that, I need someone genuine, someone I can trust to make this work and someone who won't get too excited."

His answer seems sincere, you know he really is sincere, but you still feel the knot in your stomach.

Accepting to help him would mean immersing yourself in a world that you never had any interest in fitting into and that most of the time you've been trying to keep your distance from.

You don't care about having a lot of friends, having followers on social media, being popular, being the prettiest and getting attention from guys. You also wouldn't want to be looked at and given too much attention just for dating Aemond Targaryen, if you accept.

But would you really be proud enough not to accept so you wouldn't have to do all that, letting go of the chance to get into Citadel University?

A shiver runs down your spine as you consider the implications of accepting his proposal and after a brief pause, you let out a sigh and finally nod your head as you swallow hard to speak nervously and with determination.

"All right. Let's do it."

The surprise and disbelief is completely reflected in Aemond's gaze to then quickly rise from his seat and take a couple of steps towards you, completely delusional.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes but don't make me regret it."

And then his whole face transforms, with relief reflecting in his gaze and... strangely, letting go of that worry that has invaded him for days now, also stress along with frustration and a weight on his shoulders.

"Thank you. You don't know how much I appreciated it. And this will be over sooner than you think, I promise."

A wave of uncertainty washes over you as you wonder if you have made the right decision. He seems satisfied with your answer, but deep down a trace of doubt clings in your mind along with the echo of consequences that resonates eerily.

You wonder how others are going to view you seeing you very soon at Aemond's side and whether it will drastically change your school life, which is irrelevant, but in their world, absolutely everything matters.

"So, what's next?" you ask, really unable to believe you've agreed.

Aemond straightens up completely, watching you attentively and with that readiness in his gaze, there is also a certainty that you do not possess, as you actually feel very small before the whole show you will put on together with him and it hasn't even started.

"First of all, a contract."

[friedchickenluver]

Oml, okay I’m sorry this kinda late but I’ve been working on it since i first got it trust me. I originally had another draft for it but then that and the request got deleted somehow .😭

But the request basically asked for an innocent, naive, virgin reader x miguel so this goes out to my anon whos been waiting so patiently :3

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

𝙏𝙞𝙩𝙡𝙚: 𝙖 𝙨𝙡𝙪𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙈𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙊’𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙖 𝙭 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠!𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙣𝙖𝙞𝙫𝙚!𝙫𝙞𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙣!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧 𝙙𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠, 𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙨𝙚𝙭 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: 𝙎𝙢𝙪𝙩, 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.7k+

───※ ·❆· ※───

Miguel obviously notices you from the first day you walked in for your interview, you were so apparent with the way your coyness carried the majority of your outer persona; and it was oddly appealing to him. He couldn’t tell you why of course, he couldn’t tell his damn self either, but something so magnetic about how you were just all bright-eyed and everything destructive seemed to fly over your prudish head. All you focused on were projects, work, test runs, everything a good employee worries about. All you would talk about is how you could possibly help with group projects, all that needed to be done or worked on.

Nothing more, just work. He tells himself everyday, mentally that it shouldn’t have to be a problem that you’re exclusively interested in only your studies, In fact, it’s what his life is in dear need of in the midst of all this chaos that comes with the great responsibility of being a CEO.

Yet, he couldn’t help but to be so woefully curious about you, it’s in his blood to want to learn more, expand his knowledge even to places some may consider a bit extreme. Like an obsession, but he’d never admit that to not even himself. Nothing wrong with harmlessly getting to know you. Right?

In everything that you do, he can’t resist to admire.

Your work ethic was insatiable, it looked like you could do this whole thing all day and night. Problem solving, critical, yet abstract thinking. He could easily do those things without much struggle, as he’s been doing it for nearly his whole life. However when you do it, he suddenly feels outdone, and he hasn’t felt that way since his close friend Allen had gotten 2 points higher on his GPA calculation back in high school. Enough said, this man was left fascinated with your character, so he would try everything in his willpower to work with you, getting information out of you as subtly as possible.

And you, dear god have mercy on his heart, were so charming, so bubbly, as ready for life and all that it throws randomly in your direction. That could never be Miguel, he’s all too drowned within the harsh depths of cynicism, that all views on the greater side seemed impossible for him to even grasp. You, however, made him want to live just a little longer. Your energy gave him a better taste of life, and sure you weren’t perfect literally, but obsession overcame his all making you look flawless in his eyes. Oh, he didn’t care, he didn’t care at all,

He craved more from you, a whole lot more of that sugary innocence. To find out what was underneath that said exterior.

Little quips about how good you looked when you came in everyday, or how great you were at your work, only flew over your head. Nothing. Absolutely nothing came of it. Frustrating, yes, but the chase was so fun, he’d get lost in it. Was it wrong for the man to want to break that pure, untainted demeanor, have her all for himself? Make sure that if anyone was going to break that sweet top layer, that it was going to be him. Because, oh god, were you gorgeous. Men from all over the workplace tried their wits on you and it never worked no matter how outright dirty it was. You could only grow heat in your cheeks, and an awkward giggle would breathe itself out from past your lips, “Sorry, I, uh…need to get back to my test run for my group project. Have a good day sir!”

Miguel was going to finesse his way into your panties one way or another, but respectfully of course. He’s a gentleman at heart, and if other guys weren’t going to capture your interests, he definitely was.

You find yourself laughing aloud at remarks he would make in those moments when you two were alone and in the comfort of a shared lab room. Those relaxed eyes followed your every mannerism, studying your identity with great attention. And on the rare moments, you’d squeeze a genuine grin from the taller man, flashy the sexiest smile you’ve ever laid eyes on. Damn him, the effect he held over you was embarrassingly obvious, but you couldn’t help but to be so allured by his own character.

Like the other day, you could’ve sworn your sweet pussy throbbed at the way his voice dropped whilst having a one-on-one conversation in a more compact testing room.

Sex was a topic you without a doubt knew was there, that’s not what you were here for though. Work and a paycheck was all that was to come out of this job. At least before meeting Miguel…Goodness. Yes, you hadn’t had a sexual encounter prior to this, because losing something so closely intimate to you was a bit of a struggle to want to give up. You needed the right person, but you also hated rejection with a passion. And guess where that has you. Still a virgin unfortunately.

Miguel tries to get under your skin for days, even weeks. He uses all his best flirtations and remarks that seemed to get all the other women he was with riled up somehow. But, you were like catching a chicken. It took alot for him to somehow convince you into his bed. That was until he outright told you what he wanted one night while you were over at his place.

“Let me sleep with you…in the name of science.”

ఌఌఌఌఌ

A rather large hand possessing a quite wide palm, rough on its innermost side, grabbed a firm hold onto your neck. Yet, a contrasting feeling of soft lips crashed onto yours in a fitful passion of a kiss that had begun between the two. Miguel’s knee massaged methodically around her soaked heat, and you bucked into the delicious friction so eagerly. Another hand accompanied around the other side of your neck, having both of his hands choking you up by resting his thumbs comfortably onto the front of your throat.

You couldn’t help but to crumble, and melt, and even submit, to his whims as he promptly takes the lead in your first time. His tongue that shoved itself against yours, then going off to explore each and every inch of your heated mouth, slicking his own wet saliva onto yours. Your body practically burned on the inside of your gut, rutting and grinding roughly down on his thigh, adjusting forward so that his pretty girl could please herself all ways possible.

Want, isn’t a good enough word to describe the overwhelming feeling of her boss’s body flush against her own fleshy body. He pressed on her throat to elicit a choked groan from you, pushing your head completely back up on the wall. Taking easy advantage of your mouth being left agape, he conjured up a wad of spit just to shoot it down into your mouth. Your eyes rolled once he caught your lips again, making quick work to your clothes, nearly tearing them apart. Your top was easily discarded off of your body, falling into a but a clump of cloth on the floor.

The two of you pulled back, lips still in some form of contact, a slim strand of saliva connecting your faces. It’s so damn hot, being this close to someone felt so surreal for you, your pussy couldn’t help but feel the same way. You were so fucking wet, you’d think you probably peed on yourself, but no. It’s just him.

“Miguel, I-“

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, leaving any kind of marks he could leave. Suckling, teasing, and leaving fleeting kisses fluttering across your porcelain skin. You went for his belt, he went for your bra. Oddly enough it was like second nature for him to know how to undo a bra, you on the other hand were struggling a bit to seem experienced trying to unbuckle his belt with just one hand.

Miguel only picked you up, your legs wrapping around him tightly, the sudden action threw you completely off guard whilst trying to take off his belt. Noticing his bulge was poking at your cunt you noticed something.

Oh. Goodness, he was huge. And he was so achingly hard too.

Heat formulated in your face, thinking about how it looked, how it would be inside of you.

You ended up falling into some soft duvets on the surface of his bed, he rested his forearms beside either side of your head before coming down to steal another kiss from you. Your hand began to leisurely slide along your body, on and on until you reached for your folds. A finger found itself on your clit, starting to slowly massage it in minor circular motions. You tried rubbing up and down, flicking your clit delicately to earn more slickness between your legs. The man above you was kind enough to slide your bottoms and panties down for you, and god were they damp. He tossed them back onto the floor, as you would open your legs wider to stroke the bundle of candy sweet nerves slightly faster than before.

Some mewls fell loosely from your mouth as you toyed with yourself, enjoying every, single, sensation. Miguel continued to press his lips, mapping his way around your body, taking note of all of your body language. Suddenly, his tongue peaked out from out of his mouth, licking down your body towards your sex. You only continued to play with yourself teasing your incoming orgasm, and he brought his mouth at the bottom of your pussy, starting from the beginning of your folds, licking upwards making it to your orifice. Before you know it he’s burying his skilled tongue inside of you, deeply.

The way you would arch into his tongue, leaning onto its soft, pink flesh, you felt like you were losing touch with your mind.

“Faster. Come for me, come for this tongue.” He groaned softly against your lips, continuing on to plunging his tongue right back into you. You cried out, bringing your legs to lock his face hot against your pussy jerking around a bit feeling an impending orgasm to spurt itself from inside of you. He split open your clit, rolling and tasting out your inner flesh. Pulling it gently between his lips by suctioning it back into his mouth, not letting up the work that he put his tongue through.

Miguel swallowed, sucking her pussy up to and from his mouth, combining his actions to earn proper moans from the woman below him.

He practically couldn’t get enough of you. You tasted as good as you sounded when you talked numbers and calculations, and he was one suction away from just locking his jaw on your clit and abusing it with his tongue.

But, he did, however, have to control himself at least somewhat. Even if you did want exactly just that.

Bringing his forearms to interlock your legs in place, and taking his thumbs to spread you open to have your pussy all on display to his dark gaze. Oh, you felt like you were going to tap out already, too early in the game that you two were playing. But deep down, you craved for oh, so much more and you didn’t want things to end just yet.

Him groaning and cursing against you, sent shivers caressing up and down your spine. Those grunts about how good you tasted reverberated throughout not only your body and core, but your mind. It got so real at this point now and you never wanted to stop. All those fantasies about this man shoving his fat dick, cervical deep in you until his balls would spank harshly against your ass due to his unforgiving treatment. You two could finally act on it, after weeks of teasing and prodding at one another.

Your throat was already running dry, as you finally came undone, creaming rather intensely from him being so good at eating you out. You would come all over his tongue, also happening to get a bit on the tip of his nose, but he didn’t care. Long as he got to shove his face in between those drooling lips, he was a-ok. Taking the cum in his mouth, he met back up with you at eye-level, grabbing your throat once again before prompting you to open up your mouth again. You obliged, letting him feed you back your taste from when you came on his tongue so you could know how amazing you tasted to him, the liquid sliding so steadily out from the back of his mouth into yours.

Immediately after the long string of saliva soon dissipated, his lips were back on yours as passionate as ever.

Miguel wanted you badly at this point, any more foreplay could knock his mental unstable. With the way your body begged for attention, reducing you down to a needy little slut who just wanted to feel it again.

“Please. Do it to me Miguel.”

Miguel pressed your legs backwards onto the mattress not caring if you’re that flexible enough, shifting all of most of his body weight to hold your legs back and in place.

“I can’t give you what you want unless you actually tell me, mami.”

You watched intently, Miguel now ridding himself free of his own clothes. As soon as he pulled off his shirt, it revealed the beautiful array of pure toned muscle, displaying his flawless, olive skin.

All for me, you thought, for tonight at least.

He made quick work of his pants and boxer briefs, and there it was. He was without a doubt big, like, pornstar big. Its tip was a brownish-red, and along its girthy base, two visible pulsing veins ran their way down to his pelvis.

You nearly passed just looking at the damn size, head falling back onto the mattress in speechlessness.

“Miguellll, I want your dick baby, show mami how bad it gets. Please.”

Miguel laid down back on top of her heated form, pushing her legs all the way back until her thighs were touching the mattress, and threw her shins over his shoulders. He aligned himself perfectly over her entrance, the tip of his dick pressing directly over your pussy. Now, since you were indeed a virgin it took a good minute of struggle to actually slide it in. He had to readjust a couple of times, and slick his length up somehow in order for him to fit. It wasn’t long however before he at last pushed inside, but very slowly of course, taking in mind that you were tight as shit and never been penetrated any time prior.

���Mhmmm, there it is baby..breathe for me.”

You began to cry, genuine tears. Not out of sadness or anger obviously, but out of never being stretched so much in your life. She could only choke and trip over any sense of wording attempting to come out of her mouth when he finally pulled back out, leaving only his tip inside. He pushed back in again steadily to gain a sluggish, yet deep rhythm.

“Yeah I totally should’ve gone in with a condom. Made this a whole lot easier, fuck.”

“A-ahhh- fucking, MIGUELLLL.”

“I know, I know princess, you gotta adjust first. I promise, you’re doing excellent so far.”

Almost instantly you came all over his base once more mid stroke, making wet squelching noises sound out around the dark room. He laughed against your chest as he watched you come undone, and he barely even moved around in you. A solid white ring of your cum materialized around the bottom of his length.

“Díos mio muñeca, I barely got started.”

Now you are embarrassed at how fast you came for him. He hit this certain spot inside you that made your stomach burn and created this euphoric sensation ricocheting all over and giving you goosebumps. You look away flustered as ever, right before a hand firmly corrects your vision back to his own. That gorgeous face of his is now serious and demanding.

“Eyes on me querida.”

He would bring his hand to hold under the women’s knees where they were originally, and resumed his drawn out movements until you adjusted accordingly.

“Ohhhh~ yes!”

You felt your stomach spasm, your body jerking in response to the friction of Miguel’s fucking huge dick dragging and pushing against your virgin walls. It hurt in a way, but it felt amazing due to his movements angling perfectly on your g-spot.

He didn’t go faster, but rather harder. Lifting his lower half up and back down in you repeatedly. He hummed in mock response to all the little nothings that spilled from your pretty lips. With every plunge inside he would hum, letting you know how good you are for allowing him to work his magic. You squirted so much with each and every thrust, that you’ve soaked a good part of his sheets, but also his lower half. Your juices dripping and falling down his dick to his thighs, you couldn’t help but to sob at how he had you underneath him. Your quads, your abdominals, and hips all burned and were already pretty fucked out, him stretching you all kind of ways could put you to knock you out at any moment.

“Miguel! Make me take that fucking dick, please!”

Oh he loved that. Too much. But she begged appropriately, and he was willing to please her with everything he could possibly give.

Miguel lifted her up off of the bed abruptly, only to interlock his arms underneath her knees and told her to hold onto his neck tightly. Using his strength, he pulled all the way out and slammed back into her sore pussy.

“Said you wanted me to make you take this shit huh? Well here you go mami.”

His pace was extreme, using only his arms to aid him in pushing in and pulling out. And every single time, he hits that perfect spot that’ll finish you in not too long from now. The loud slapping of bodies slamming into each, slight sticky noises you could hear from the layer of sweat that would build up and try to keep you two together. Those wanton sounds of deep coital sex were music to Miguel’s sensitive ears. He stood tall in that pussy trying to fuck out another beautiful orgasm from you, make you scream his name for real this time so that anyone living close by could know who she belongs to.

Stray strands of hair started to stick to his forehead, focusing on fucking her so intensely gaining a bit more speed in his thrusts. Realistically, all you can do in that situation is take it ‘till it reaches deep inside your guts. Digging your nails into his back so fiercely that you broke real skin, causing his blood to trickle at the fresh wounds. He groaned out loud, letting a good string of spit hang from his reddened lips, “Fuck! Cum for me mi vida!”

“Mhmmmm, yes, ‘m gonna-“

Throwing your head back so far you caused yourself whiplash, but you came so hard you cried even more. Tightening your gummy walls around his pulsating, hot, dick he moaned into the sex-filled atmosphere of his master bedroom. He had to carry you back to bed, placing your upper half on the dark blankets face down, and wrapping his strong arms around you tightly. His thrusts never faltered, even with you bent in half off of his bed, crying and screaming. Your voice had long since reduced itself down to a shrill, dry wail, eyes seemed like they were permanently lolled to the back of your head.

Your overstimulated clit gained a friction against the edge of the bed, you hated it now since it hurts instead of any pleasure coming out of it. Miguel returned a hand around the length of your neck, changing positions slightly by now standing all the way up, hitting it from the back. His pelvis continuously rammed back into your ass causing it to become sensitive and sting to the touch, now at this point he was close himself compressing his hand around her throat even more than earlier. She pulled her plush, bottom lips between her two rows of teeth and bit down hard enough to make it bleed. Watching his dazed, yet victorious expression as she continued to get her pussy jackhammered against the firm mattress.

You hiccuped violently, allowing another stream of tears to leak out your tear ducts in pure sexual gratification. His name spilled loosely and incoherently from your now gravelly voice, you brought your hand up to the mattress and repeatedly tried to get that you’re overwhelmed by tapping it vigorously.

“No can do, baby, I’m too close to let you tap out now.”

Fuck.

Miguel let go of her neck before replacing it with his face, kissing and licking over all of his marks from his doing.

“Cariño, you on the pill?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Taking that as a no.”

Miguel’s hips started to waver, losing his rhythm and the both of their moans synchronized, as both were drawing to their finishes. You came first after a couple of his solid thrusts, letting an indistinguishable noise between a croak and a voice crack.

“Ahhh~ daddy, cum in me! Give it to me!”

Even if she did offer for him not to pull out, he still wanted to be responsible as it’s her first time ever doing this. He didn’t want to add on to any problems she already had going on in her life with an unplanned child. Officially in about five more sloppy thrusts, his seed began to conjure up the inside of his cock before he came.

“Hey, c’mere and open your mouth.” Miguel simply stated, and as she did as she was told, she kind of hissed trying to move over to open up her mouth to his dick. He pumped quickly at its shaft, running his thumb over the slick, round tip to trigger white strings of hot, solid white cum to land in both her mouth and face. Her tongue now covered in his nut, eyelashes that fluttered innocently, now has cum falling off of them in such a vulgar manner.

Damn, it felt like such a privilege to be able to rid away with your innocence.

[vidavalor]

Hey Vida, I have some milk chocolate sea salt caramels to share. *Passes the canister*

Have you written about this moment yet? I'm guessing it has come up but I can't recall specifics.

The time loop hypothesis that includes the idea that Crowley figures out what is happening and starts actively trying to influence things helps me understand why Crowley would say this - that he would despair after having been unsuccessful in every attempt he'd made to change the final outcome, to save Aziraphale's life. I know Crowley has some timey-wimey stuff going on generally, like his knowing the future and making all sorts of references to things that don't exist yet... I am very curious to know what you think Crowley's deal is and what is happening for him here.

...

Also, do you think Aziraphale knows from the beginning of S2 that he has fallen? I mean, the other angels refer to Aziraphale as a former angel and principality right to his face, don't they? I remember wondering about this the first time I watched the second series. I kept waiting for the show to clarify just what exactly Aziraphale's status was...

Well, this is a more oddly worded question than I remembered. One cannot simply be "a bit of" a fallen angel wtf game are you guys (gn) playing at? Leave that perfectly frosted cinnamon roll alone!

...

Also, I am still full of so much anticipation wondering what I asked you last time! I am positive it had to do with innuendo lol

Hello to you, my fave @iammyownproblematicfave! 💕I am SO sorry about the other Ask-- I determined you asked about the innuendo in the "very nice" scene & I'm going to whip you up a batch of etymology around the insanely complicated history of the word "nice." It got lost in my Drafts folder for a little while there and I overlooked it-- will remedy that shortly! Here's thoughts on these questions and thanks for asking.

On Crowley, time & "too late" and Aziraphale, fallen angels & heavenly rank under the cut.

First, time loop idea and Crowley's "too late" comments... So, anything is possible, right? That said, I don't think it's a time loop because I think there are scenes that explain why Crowley says "too late" at the end of that episode. I wrote about how it ties to unicorns & Wee Morag a bit in another post and I'll link it at the bottom of this one.

Basically, Crowley's anxious in that scene where he threatens Gabriel and then says that "it's always too late." Crowley's memory is iffy-- he admits as much to Gabriel later in S2-- and even if he was lying to Saraqael and/or Furfur about not remembering them, we know he struggles to recall all of his memories from when he was an angel. One memory that he felt confident about was the one he told Beez earlier in the season-- that The Book of Life is bunk that he and Beez made up to tease some of the more innocent angels. It is likely that this memory of Crowley's is correct. I say that because Beez seemed to think it possible when they heard it-- but then Beez felt like a fool at the thought that they'd been threatened by Heaven with something that didn't exist and that they themselves and Crowley made up. They doubled-down and insisted to Crowley that The Book of Life was real.

Crowley suddenly thought that Beez might be right because, hey, they'd run Hell for so long, they'd know more than he would, right? He starts to doubt his own recollection and he rushes back to the bookshop to help protect Gabriel as a way of protecting Aziraphale because he now is terrified that Aziraphale could be erased from existence if he is caught helping Gabriel. He doesn't want to tell Aziraphale that Beez reached out to him because he knows Aziraphale is sensitive about the fact that none of the angels have talked to Aziraphale in years and that their only source of intel is a demon with a thing for Crowley (Shax) so Crowley doesn't ever tell Aziraphale how scared he is about The Book of Life. Meanwhile, even though Gabriel is basically on their side now, Crowley can't exactly ask him if it's real or not because dude only knows Buddy Holly songs for basically the whole season lol.

So, in addition to worrying that Aziraphale is spiraling (because he is) and that helping Gabriel could mean that Aziraphale is risking his mental health and a fall, Crowley is also now terrified that Aziraphale could be made to have never existed. It's on his mind so much that he growls at Gabriel in that episode-ending scene that Aziraphale could be "risking his existence" for Gabriel and then muses about how it might be "too late-- it's always too late..." I don't think this is a time loop indication. I think it's a reference to other times Crowley has said "too late" in the past, like the unicorns and when Wee Morag died. It's about how it might be too late for him and Aziraphale and they might be running out of time and be on a collision course with death while not knowing it-- like how Elspeth never saw the fact that it was her last night with Wee Morag coming. It's Crowley's anxiety talking. Crowley thinks it's too late to turn back now because they're already helping Gabriel and Shax is sniffing around and they might be nearly out of time.

Crowley does have some time-related stuff happening in his story and the ability to control it but it seems to me more likely that Crowley's ability to remember that he has control of it has been taken from him in the present in S2 than it is that he's in a time loop. In the disaster kiss scene with Aziraphale, Aziraphale is really obviously signaling to Crowley a request that he freeze time. (It's obvious to us, I mean-- Aziraphale hid it from The Metatron by curving his hand.) He was trying to get Crowley to do what he did on the tarmac in S1 when he stopped everything and took them and Adam to a little time out cloud to help Adam figure out how to deal with Satan.

Crowley, though, just kind of stares at Aziraphale, even though this is literally one of the most recognizable hand signals on the planet. He also didn't just do it himself at the start of the conversation. If I were the villains, I'd be damn sure that Crowley didn't remember that he could freeze time after S1 and Crowley was gone all night before this scene (which he also doesn't seem to totally realize, no matter how many people around him keep commenting on how it's now morning.) The story, to me, seems to be suggesting that the Crowley & time stuff in S2 is that he doesn't recall that he can control it.

re: Aziraphale and what his angelic status/rank is in S1-- the cherub/principality/"you've been a bit of a fallen angel" bit...

When Michael and the other angels corner Aziraphale in S1 and Michael says that they've been learning some "disturbing things" about Aziraphale and that he's "been a bit of a fallen angel", the disturbing things are, imo, the photos of Aziraphale and Crowley that Michael has dug up. (Hypocritical much on Michael's part? Their phone chats with Ligur? That Gabriel knows about and lets them get away with but Michael wants to go after Aziraphale for having a relationship with Crowley? Yeah. Gross.) Michael and Uriel are threatening Aziraphale with a fall in the scene when they corner him. Uriel says "and don't think your boyfriend in the dark sunglasses will get you special treatment in Hell." They're using their power to threaten to cast him out as a way of trying to intimidate Aziraphale, which is another way of showing how political falling is and how it's all kind of b.s..

A demon is a fallen angel, by definition. That's the definition of a demon. Heaven has socialized angels to believe that the demons are all evil-- that they're devout followers of Satan and horrible people and to associate with them is to sully yourself with their satanicness and all that lol. In reality, there are some evil demons-- Satan is evil, Ligur was pretty bad-- but there are also some evil as fuck angels... The Metatron at the top of that list. In reality, the demons are the angels who put notes in the metaphorical suggestion box. They stood up and spoke out and questioned things. They're the curious, free-thinking "troublemakers" whose questioning of authority threatened to crumble The Metatron's power so he reacted by ostracizing them. He made a sense of the demons being "other" and evil. He invented Hell and banished them all to it-- lumping curious rebels like Crowley in with evil like Lucifer/Satan and using them as examples of what happens to those who dare to question. There really is no such thing as "a demon"-- there are just angels who have been told they're no good and that they've been cast out and are part of the collective owned by and working for Satan.

In S2, we get another bit of info about a fall when Gabriel falls. The Metatron can't send Gabriel to Hell like he would other angels because he did that once with Lucifer/Satan-- the last one to have Gabriel's job before Gabriel-- and once is "a good story" (meaning, once is a cautionary tale that keeps angels in line) but twice would suggest "an institutional problem"... twice would cause a rebellion. Twice would show that the problem is really Heaven. But, The Metatron has to do something with Gabriel, so he's going to erase Gabriel's memories (he tries to before Gabriel enacts Operation Fly and saves his memories thanks to Beez) and cast him down to a new rank of angel that they've just added to the bottom of the pile-- just for Gabriel lol. It's all political, which is how Crowley and Beez fell back in the day as well. They were caught up with Lucifer and held up as examples of evil when it seems that they really were just looking for others who were questioning things, too.

Does Aziraphale realize he's falling in S2? I think there's some language in the kiss disaster scene that indicates he suspects he might be and that he doesn't fully trust in what The Metatron is offering him-- or that that's really The Metatron. I don't think he realized he was falling until that point. It's a question, though, of what a fall really is. There are many ways to fall. You can literally fall from a great height. You can fall in rank. Both of these things happen during a fall from Heaven, in Good Omens, from what we've been told, but there are other types of fall. You can also fall in love. You can fall into despair. These ones? Aziraphale knew about. He fell in love with Crowley a long time ago and despair is always something he's working at keeping at bay, sometimes more successfully than others. In the end, his fall from Heaven is tied to both of those other kinds of falls.

But is Aziraphale already something of a fallen angel, like you asked? What of the fact that he was a cherub at one point and is a principality? Which is higher rank? We are told in the book that people "make jokes" about the fact that Aziraphale has both of those ranks. The word 'joke' comes from the Latin jocus, which literally means 'wordplay' and I think maybe looking at the different kinds of rank in Heaven through that angle might be worth a look. (Me? Taking a wordplay angle? Who would've ever thought? lol)

Who outranks who can be shown to us by how the characters behave in the scenes but the ranks of angels are more about what the words mean than about exactly which level that rank is, I think. For instance, there is some evidence that a throne and a dominion are the same level of rank-- that an angel can be both at once... which makes more sense when you consider the power aspects of those words and that here's our throne/dominion leaving his chair to dominate his plants in S1:

People are complex and need more words than one title might allow.

Aziraphale can be a cherub and a principality because once you start to get into the meanings of all of these words, you can see that which ones are given to Crowley and Aziraphale are done because of how they support who the characters are-- and how they overlap. I have a meta that I've been playing with from time to time about the different meanings of principality/dominion/throne and how Crowley and Aziraphale are both really all of them. I'll try to finish that one up soon. If you look at wordplay around the word "rank" itself, though...

...a rank is a placement or a position in military order, yeah, but it's also a bad smell. Something that is rank is something that is foul and offensive. One of the themes of the show to me seems to be that, whether you're an angel or a demon or a human, you possess your own power and no one can take that away from you unless you let them. Empowerment and freedom is the realization of that. We're all equal beings. The characters who are the least interested with power systems-- the ones who have freed themselves from concern about it and live as independently as they are able-- are the ones who view others as autonomous beings and do not support oppression of others. They are the least rank because they are dismissive of the idea of rank itself.

So, while we're having fun with words here... those who are the least rank are also probably not rank in the scent sense of the word, too lol. This would be why we have a multiple scenes devoted to how everyone is in a faint over how great Crowley smells. He's the least rank of them all-- in every way possible. 😉

The other "too late"-related meta:

[dweetwise]

[Vittorio X Ace] Language barrier

I've had this fic sitting in my drafts for one and a half years and finally got around to finishing it. I hope you like it 💕 Rated T | 6k words | ao3 link

Ace was whistling as he walked back from another successful trial.

The fully-stocked ranger medkit felt heavy in his hand and he couldn't wait to show off his latest haul. And people said looting chests was a waste of time!

When he approached the familiar glow of the survivors' campfire, however, there was no welcome committee to greet Ace after his spectacular escape from the Spirit's clutches. Instead, everyone was gathered around one of the logs, their postures tense and voices raised.

Ace frowned. Another fight? Damn, he really couldn't leave these people alone for five minutes.

Ace took a breath and steeled himself for facing the ire of whoever was responsible for the commotion this time.

"Children, children!" Ace exclaimed. "There's no need to fight: I love you all equally!"

Predictably, that got most people to shut up and two dozen heads whipped around to look at Ace.

But instead of the eye rolls or disgusted scoffs Ace expected, the survivors looked…relieved?

"Oh, thank god," Élodie sighed. "You're finally here."

Ace arched an eyebrow. The crowd started dispersing, like they had actually been waiting for Ace's arrival instead of being perpetually annoyed by his existence like usual, and Ace felt another tacky joke bubbling up—

And then he saw him.

The man was tall. He was muscular and tattooed, with silver hair and a calcularing stare, standing in the middle of the survivor campsite with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His leather jacket creaked from the movement, bulging biceps straining the material.

"Ace," Élodie said, grabbing his arm firmly. "We need your help."

Ace felt a smirk forming. "He's for me? Oh, Élodie, you shouldn't have."

Strangely enough, the new guy neither laughed nor sneered at Ace's remark. In fact, he didn't react in any way whatsoever, which was a little unnerving.

"Not the time," Élodie hissed. "He just got here, and he only speaks Italian. Please tell me you weren't lying when you bragged about being fluent in seven languages?"

Oh; that would explain the mild panic of his friends and utter indifference to Ace's charms from the stranger.

"Italian?" Ace grinned and shook off the woman's hold. "Say no more!"

He sauntered up to the new guy—shoving the medkit in a clueless Dwight's arms as he passed—and put on his friendliest smile.

"Ciao, stranger," Ace said, effortlessly switching to one of the four—not seven—languages he spoke. "I heard you could use some assistance?"

The scowl finally disappeared from that handsome face as the man perked up in recognition.

"I would be much obliged," Mr. sex-on-legs said.

And that was how Ace was roped in to play translator between the rest of the group and their newest arrival.

The man introduced himself as Vittorio Toscano: because of course, even his name was attractive.

Vittorio had apparently been wandering the fog a long time before finding his way here. This was only validated by the fact that he didn't seem at all phased when Ace—at the others' insistence—went over the basic “sorry you were kidnapped by some Lovecraftian god and are now gonna be hunted for sport for its amusement.”

"That doesn't exactly surprise me," Vittorio said. "After the things the fog has shown me…well, I concluded as much."

Ace should probably have been more curious about the…fog visions, or connections to the Entity, or whatever else Zarina and the others were screaming in his ear about once he translated that piece of information for them.

But he had a hunch. And after a lifetime of relying on it to survive, Ace's intuition was usually pretty good.

"So where exactly are you from? Before you got taken?" Ace asked.

"Gordega, Italy," Vittorio said. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry. I used to be a well-read man and be better at languages, but after so long, most of the knowledge has faded."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Any of these people would tell you there's little I enjoy as much as running my mouth—and now there's actually someone who listens!"

"Nevertheless, I appreciate the help." Vittorio glanced around at the group still gathered around them, patiently waiting for new information. "So ask away. I know you all have questions."

"Yeah, speaking of…" Ace said. "When are you from?"

Vittorio smiled ruefully. "1391."

Though Ace had suspected it was coming, the admission still took him by surprise. Here this man was, looking like he’d jumped right out of some modern alternative fashion spread, casually telling Ace that he was actually over six hundred years old.

And the weirdest part was that Ace believed him.

"What? What did he say?" Meg bounced restlessly in her seat. 

Because Ace being stunned speechless was actually a little worrying, all things considered. He didn't even know how to begin to convince the others of Vittorio's past.

"Thirteen…" Jonah spoke up. "The 14th century!?"

But fortunately, Ace didn't need to. Because while Italian and Spanish were different languages, there were enough similarities for certain math nerds to understand numbers.

"What!?" Élodie exclaimed, then looked at Ace for confirmation.

"Yeah, uh," Ace said. "Our new friend seems to be of the vintage variety."

That was when the arguing started again.

And after the shouting matches were done, when Yui was glaring at Vittorio and ordering Ace to “tell him we don't trust him”…

Ace only smiled at the new survivor and said, "She says she's jealous of your stylish outfit."

Vittorio huffed a dry chuckle. "Is that so?"

Ace was happy to learn that sarcasm apparently existed in the 1300's.

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

Unsurprisingly, Ace ended up talking to Vittorio a lot over the next few days.

Yes, there was the shared language. Yes, Vittorio was ridiculously attractive. Yes, everyone was still harassing Ace about using their new time capsule friend to find out more about the Entity and the fog.

But more than that, this was the most interesting thing to happen in the entire six years Ace had been stuck here.

The others weren't thrilled that Ace used most of his time simply getting to know the guy, whether that was blabbering on about his family's Italian roots or bugging Vittorio for fashion advice.

"So you picked up all the accessories in the fog too?" Ace asked. "Pierced your own ears, cut your hair, the whole thing? Damn, and here I've had the same haircut for six years."

"I suppose I could try a different style," Vittorio said, fiddling with one of his necklaces. "Maybe the jewelry and neckline is too much for someone of your time?"

"Don't you dare change anything," Ace said. "Have you seen some of the atrocities the others wear? You'll be dressing like an elf or rocking fedoras if you try to copy us."

Vittorio huffed out an almost-laugh at that. Tactfully, he didn't comment on Ace's flamingo sweater.

"What about you?" Vittorio asked.

"What about me?" Ace grinned. "I mean, my uncontested status as a fashion icon notwithstanding…"

"You seem content to talk about the past," Vittorio said. "But I'm curious about the future. What was your life like before the Entity?"

Ace's smile only widened. "Tell me, my friend, did you have poker in 1300?"

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

It was easy to befriend Vittorio. 

Ace never would have guessed someone from that era to be so open-minded when even people in the 21st century had plenty of prejudices.

But Vittorio was happy to prove him wrong. It was amazing how easily he kept up with Ace's banter and picked up on concepts previously foreign him. Ace chalked some of it up to the man's calm disposition and interesting life both before and after falling into the Entity's clutches, but more than anything, Vittorio was just that goddamn smart.

Still, six centuries in the fog didn't come without baggage.

"I've seen them," Vittorio said one day, his voice quiet and eyes distant. 

He was staring at a group of girls sorting bandages: Claudette was giggling and Yui was rolling her eyes while Nea talked animatedly with her hands and messed up the bandages.

"Yeah?" Ace asked. "In trials? You've met them before?"

"In the visions," Vittorio clarified.

Because apparently, that was a thing. This group of survivors wasn't the first one Vittorio had come across, though the timeline and his memories were hazy.

But in between centuries of sporadic trials, Vittorio had spent most of his time wandering the fog, not confined to a campfire like the rest of them. He'd told Ace that he used to be obsessed with people called the watchers—or observers, or something—so Ace supposed it made sense that he'd been on his way to becoming one.

"I saw one of the girls get chased by sirens and flashing lights," Vittorio said, still looking at the trio. "And one crying on her birthday, before her father made her smile again. And the Japanese one I saw in the future, far away, and she was killing…she killed them all."

Vittorio's eyes were starting to look vacant. But it was only when the tattoo on his neck started glowing that Ace decided to intervene.

"Hey," Ace said, putting a hand on Vittorio's shoulder. "It's okay. Parallel universe, right? No biggie."

"You're right,'' Vittorio said. When he looked back at Yui, he seemed a little more relaxed. "I've seen how she is. She values loyalty above all else; she's not a murderer."

Suddenly, Ace almost wanted to ask if Vittorio had seen him in any visions.

"I never wanted this," Vittorio continued, so quietly Ace didn't know if it was meant for him to hear. "All I ever wanted was peace. To help the world."

"I don't think world peace is a one man job," Ace joked. "But it's a nice sentiment."

Vittorio's smile was melancholy. "At least I can try to make things better here and help as much as I can."

Coming from anyone else, Ace would have rolled his eyes and asked Dwight to calm down with the team-building speeches. But this was a man who had been doing this for hundreds of years and, somehow, still kept on hoping and earnestly helping others.

"Well," Ace said. "You're at least helping by keeping me entertained. And trust me, that's more important than you'd think. There've been flashlight duels and misuse of murky reagents—and a few explosions—when I got bored."

It probably wasn't the kind of world-saving heroics Vittorio was aiming for, but this time, his smile was genuine enough to reach his eyes.

"Somehow, I'm not surprised."

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

Trials came and went and Vittorio settled more firmly into their group dynamic.

It was strange, having a new teammate who wasn't exactly new. Vittorio had more experience in trials than most of them combined, and after the initial hiccups—mostly consisting of Chinese cursing and “Stop wasting gen efficiency, you fucking fossil!”—Vittorio proved to be a valuable asset against any killer.

"Watch out!" Vittorio hissed, suddenly pulling Ace away from the generator they were working on.

Ace stumbled after him, shooting a confused glance over his shoulder to where the green orb of the Knight's phantom passed their generator by probably forty feet.

"It's okay," Ace said. "He missed the gen. We can keep working."

"No," Vittorio insisted. "That's the jailer. He's an expert at tracking."

Ace dubiously watched as the phantom phased into existence far from the generator. He immediately started down the path his master had determined for him, not even looking at the generator…

Until he came across Ace's muddy footprints from before.

Ace watched the guard change course and follow the trail to the generator. He peered behind the machine and looked around, and Ace was suddenly very glad for Vittorio's foresight to quietly sneak them away. Because the guard found nothing and returned to his path, and Ace avoided what would otherwise have been a nasty burn from that branding iron.

"Huh," Ace said. "That was pretty impressive foresight, not gonna lie."

Vittorio huffed. "One of the few good things to come from being acquainted with Tarhos and his followers, I suppose." 

"Oh, right," Ace said. "I forgot you used to know these guys."

It was bizarre to think that Vittorio was from the same time as the killer with platemail armor. While Vittorio had been seeking knowledge all these centuries, the Knight had apparently been content with slicing people up with his little posse.

"Come, now," Vittorio said. "It should be safe."

Vittorio nudged him back towards the generator and only then did Ace realize that he'd been holding onto Ace's arm this entire time.

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

"Must've been lonely, all those centuries on your own," Ace said over a game of cards. "And here I thought a few years of celibacy was bad."

"It never felt like hundreds of years for me," Vittorio said. "But time does pass differently here."

"Still, there's gotta be more interesting stuff for you to do than hang around an old geezer like me."

Vittorio snorted. "If you're old, that would make me ancient."

"Doesn't stop Kate and Jane from checking you out," Ace said. "And unless your monk training required a chastity vow or something, I'm pretty sure body language is universal."

Ace waggled his eyebrows and threw in a wink for good measure. If Vittorio was offended by his matchmaking attempt, he at least didn't show it.

"I'm a philosopher, not a monk," Vittorio explained patiently. "Regardless, I always valued intellectual compatibility above all else. Which is difficult to achieve if there's no way to even communicate."

Ace shoved down the disappointment. If he'd been entertaining any sort of romantic-slash-sexual angle with Vittorio, those thoughts were definitely dwindling with the requirement of intellectual compatibility.

"Damn, it's a shame Claud doesn't speak Italian," Ace said. "She's wicked smart. You'd probably get on great."

Vittorio hummed and adjusted the cards in his hands. "I mostly gave up on romance after my first and last bed partner turned on me and now kills me on a daily basis."

Ace's brain did the equivalent of a record screech. "What!?"

"Tarhos," Vittorio said, his face neutral like he was discussing the weather. "I told you, he used to be my bodyguard—among other things."

Ace could only stare at his friend and try not to gape like a fish as he pieced together this new information.

Logically, Ace knew that same-sex attraction had existed since the dawn of time—hello, ancient Greece—but he never actually expected Vittorio would be interested in men; or at the very least, not admit it so casually.

"You're shitting me, right?" Ace said.

Vittorio gave a one-shoulder shrug. "There's nothing for me to gain by lying."

As he said it, Vittorio met Ace's eyes with something akin to a smirk.

"Speaking of, were you planning on putting back those two extra cards you took last round?" Vittorio asked. "Because I may not know much about this game, but I'm almost certain that's against the rules."

And Ace could only laugh somewhat hysterically before attempting to explain his little card maneuver as a legitimate strategy, all the while recovering from the absolute whiplash of the last few minutes.

Because, yes, Ace still found Vittorio hot: that little fact hadn't changed just because they were friends now. Vittorio still looked like someone had taken David's muscles, Felix's face and Jeff's rugged charm and mashed them into Ace's ultimate wet dream.

But he never thought anything would come of it. The guy was from a completely different time, was only talking to Ace because that was his only option for company, and had probably seen enough shit for a hundred lifetimes.

And now, he was learning that there might be a chance after all?

No matter how small that chance was, Ace had to take it.

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Ace said a few days later.

Vittorio paused in stocking a toolbox, immediately giving Ace his full attention. "Yes?"

And looking at that handsome face and those deep green eyes staring so earnestly into Ace's own…

Ace chickened out. 

"What's that tattoo on your neck?" Ace asked. "The one that lights up like a glowstick when you go all…observer-y."

"Oh." Was Ace imagining it, or did Vittorio sound disappointed? "It's… well, it's probably easiest if I show you."

With that, Vittorio shrugged out of his jacket and reached for the hem of his shirt, and Ace only had enough mental capacity to swallow an embarrassing noise. He glanced around in alarm: they were right by the campfire, with a dozen or so people milling about and Christ, anyone could see the impromptu strip show!

Someone gasped across the campsite and when Ace finally turned to look, he almost wanted to do the same.

Vittorio was covered in tattoos. From his neckline all the way down to his waist, tattoos in various shapes and colors took up the majority of his muscular torso. Most of them were symbols or writing Ace couldn't understand—but then again, he didn't know what he expected from a medieval philosopher.

"How…?" Ace managed to get out.

"I did most of these by myself," Vittorio said. He brushed over a row of what looked like runes on his forearm. "When I was locked in the dungeon, I marked myself with every ancient symbol and passage I could remember. It's how I got the Entity's attention, and what lets me channel energy in trials."

For the second time in just a few days, Ace was rendered speechless. He had seen Vittorio use some sort of portals on generators, but other than Feng's complaints, none of the survivors had been keen to learn more about it.

The longer they were silent, the more Ace could feel people staring. Some of the others were already whispering, but in the end, only one person dared to approach.

"Hi," Mikaela said, finally snapping Ace out of it.

"Hello, beautiful!" Ace's poor, frazzled brain automatically resorted to flirting.

"Those symbols…" Mikaela reached her hand out, hovering above Vittorio's chest. "Can I…?"

Ace had half a mind to tell her to get her own half-naked, medieval hunk. But before he could, the woman's hand started glowing.

"Whoa," Ace said. "Easy there, Red."

"Ask him to channel the power," Mikaela said. "There's—I can feel the potential of the magic, but I can't reach it."

"Reach what?" Ace said. He trusted Mikaela, he really did, but if there was a chance of her witchiness hurting Vittorio… "What are you doing?"

It was an unnerving sight, seeing Vittorio's tattoos and Mikaela's hand both glow the same unnatural blue. The lights were pulsing in tandem, almost like a heartbeat, but Vittorio only watched the sight curiously.

"There's so much knowledge in his magic," Mikaela said. "We just need to unlock it."

"Ace?" Vittorio asked. He still looked as calm as ever. "What is she saying?"

Ace swallowed and stamped down on his own worry-slash-jealousy.

"She said to channel your magic—uh, like when you're doing the observer thing, I guess." Ace frowned. "But you don't have to."

Vittorio looked back at Mikaela, and then he nodded.

"Good," Mikaela said. "I'll try to amplify the magic. Ready?"

"Now, hold on just a minute—" Ace tried.

"It's alright," Vittorio said. "I want to try this."

Ace sighed and stepped back, giving the duo some space.

"I swear, if you break him…" he told Mikaela.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Please just stay out of the way."

And that was apparently all the warning Ace got, because as Vittorio closed his eyes, the glow that resulted from his and Mikaela's shared magicking was bright enough to nearly blind him.

Ace shielded his eyes from the flash of light and heard many curses and yelps as others did the same.

"What the fuck!?" Nea exclaimed.

"Ugh, my eyes!" Steve complained.

"Is everyone okay?" Jane asked. "Mikaela? Vittorio?"

"We're fine," said a familiar deep voice.

A very familiar voice that was no longer speaking in Italian.

Ace blinked the light from his eyes, only to see his friends seemingly unharmed—save for the fact that Vittorio's eyes were glowing blue.

"I assume it worked?" Mikaela asked.

Vittorio smiled. "I'd say so, yes."

Ace could only gape stupidly. From everything he had expected Mikaela's little spiritual session to include, making Vittorio a fluent English-speaker wasn't part of it.

The others cheered and swarmed the man, now free to talk to him without Ace's interference, and Ace's heart sank to his stomach.

He should have been happy for his friend. This would make things much easier in trials and do wonders for the survivors as a team, not to mention vastly improve Vittorio's quality of life since he was no longer restricted to one person as his entire social circle.

So why was Ace so disappointed?

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

A few hours later, footsteps approached Ace at the edge of camp—where he was absolutely not sulking away from the group, thankyouverymuch—and it was a small surprise to see Vittorio flop down next to him. 

Ace glanced over. Vittorio was usually more graceful, but this time he just sort of…crumpled to the ground, heaving a sigh as he dragged a hand down his face.

Clearly, he wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but they both knew it had to be done.

Instead of friend-dumping Ace, however, Vittorio merely propped one of his arms up on a nearby log and looked at Ace with a smile: a small, tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

“Ciao,” Vittorio said.

Ace just stared at him. The way Vittorio was leaning against the log, arm casually draped over it with the rest of his body on display and an easy smile on his face made him look like something out of the magazines Ace used to steal and hide under his pillow when he was a teenager, until his father found them and…

Yeah, okay, not going there.

“How's it going?” Ace asked.

Vittorio frowned. “Why are you speaking English?”

Ace shrugged. “No use trying to talk in code when everyone’s gonna understand every word you say regardless.” He averted his eyes and kicked at a pebble on the ground. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you get back to them? I’m sure they’re all dying to talk to you.”

It wasn’t a lie: he could feel several pairs of eyes lingering on them and probably anxiously awaiting their turn to talk to Vittorio.

Vittorio huffed. “Have you considered the possibility that maybe I don’t want to speak to thirty people at once?”

When Ace’s response was only a skeptical look, he continued, “The magic requires conscious effort to keep active and getting to know this many new people at once is exhausting. I’d much rather keep it to short intervals and spend the rest of my time with you.”

Ace couldn’t stop the smile from creeping up on his face. Switching back to their shared language, he said, "Well, in that case, I guess I'm all yours.”

It was seemingly just another cheesy line and, hopefully, Vittorio wouldn’t realize how much Ace truly meant it.

Vittorio just frowned, then said softly, “I saw you, you know.”

“I wasn’t moping,” Ace reflexively lied.

Vittorio huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head in what seemed like fond exasperation—his default mood when it came to being around Ace, really.

“In a vision,” Vittorio clarified.

“What, just now?” Ace asked.

“No,” Vittorio said. “A very long time ago. It was from one of your stories: the one where you challenged the female fighter for a bet. It’s one of the first visions I remember having in the fog.”

“Oh,” Ace said, then promptly cleared his throat as realization set in. “Damn, that's the memory you saw? I've had more glamorous moments in my life, you know.”

At least it wasn't Ace’s secret gay porn stash or any of the numerous loan sharks threatening him.

“I wasn’t sure it was you at first,” Vittorio kept going. “It was such a long time ago and I didn’t remember all the details; I didn’t know much about the future back then. And even when I thought I recognized you, you didn’t seem at all like a violent person. I assumed it could have been…” he trailed off.

“A dark universe?” Ace suggested.

“Yes. But after getting to know you and learning how reckless you are, not to mention your stupidly proud smile whenever you tell the story—”

“Hey! It's a good story!”

Vittorio smiled. “I can see that it was definitely you.”

“Well, yeah.” Ace cleared his throat and averted his eyes from the sincere smile. “I’m glad you remembered. I think?”

“It’s strange,” Vittorio continued, “how much calmer I felt as soon as I recognized you when I first came to this campfire. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner—that was dishonest of me.”

“Uh, no, it’s all good,” Ace said. “It was probably a confusing situation. It’s not like you could have known you’d stay with our gang for this long.”

“That’s not true,” Vittorio protested gently. “Arriving here was different from all the other places I’ve come across in the fog. It feels like I know these people.” 

He cast a glance over the survivor campsite where everyone had mostly returned to their usual tasks of sorting items and talking shit about killers. 

Vittorio looked back up to meet Ace’s eyes and said, “Like after centuries of wandering, I’ve finally found the place where I belong.”

Ace kept telling himself it didn’t mean anything.

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

Ace sighed and clutched the apology medkit in his hand.

He and Vittorio had had their first fight. The Deathslinger had been a little too happy to focus his attention on the new survivor and Ace had the brilliant idea to take a couple harpoons to the chest to buy Vittorio at least a few seconds to make distance from the killer.

Unfortunately, it had ended in all of them dead. And after Jane lectured Ace's ear off about ignoring generators, Vittorio had actually raised his voice for the first time and yelled at Ace for intervening in his trial.

And maybe Ace had snapped something vaguely sarcastic back, and that hadn't gone over well, and eventually Vittorio's kind eyes had hardened into a glare and he'd stormed off.

Thus, the apology medkit.

Ace eventually found Vittorio in the woods surrounding the campfire, standing by a small lake and looking out over the still water.

"Hey," Ace said, then hurried to add, "Don't worry, I come bearing gifts."

He held out the medkit. Vittorio simply stared down at it.

Then, Vittorio sighed and dragged a hand down his own face. "I'm sorry."

Ace blinked stupidly. "Uh, I'm pretty sure that's my line."

"I haven't lost my temper like that since…I don't even remember."

Since Vittorio didn’t seem interested in his bribe—ahem, peace offering—Ace made the executive decision to toss the medkit on the ground.

"Well," Ace said. "I am pretty good at getting on people's nerves."

Vittorio smiled at him. "You're also very good at calming people down."

Ace shrugged. "Eh, jury’s still out on that one. Still, I’m sorry too."

"Don't be. You…your actions made me realize something."

Ace swallowed the automatic quip of “That I'm a dumbass?” and forced himself to be serious for once in his life.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Vittorio hesitated, then took a pointed step closer, making Ace realize just how much distance there had been between them. Assuming Vittorio was pissed at him, Ace had unconsciously kept him at arm’s length—but that didn’t seem to sit well with either of them.

Because now that Ace thought about it, Vittorio always seemed to hover in Ace’s space. He’d brush a hand over Ace’s back when passing him, sit close enough that their knees bumped when they relaxed by the campfire, and lean on Ace’s shoulder for support while he wheezed at Ace’s jokes that he swore he didn’t find funny. 

Ace had simply assumed it was a cultural thing: Mediterranean people and Latin Americans were both a little touchy-feely. But now he was starting to question the seemingly platonic gestures.

Vittorio’s brow furrowed while he studied Ace—probably concerned about the fact that Ace had gone a good two minutes without so much as a joke or sarcastic eyebrow raise—before he finally spoke.

“I’m not very good at this sort of thing,” Vittorio admitted. “I’m not sure how to be any clearer, and you are impossible to read…” he trailed off and fidgeted, actually appearing uncertain.

That was on opening if Ace ever saw one.

“Like I said the other day.” Ace grinned and took a step closer. “Body language.”

He tilted his head up and gently grabbed a handful of Vittorio’s shirt to pull him closer, giving the man his best seductive smile.

…Except instead of sweeping Ace off his feet and kissing him silly, Vittorio’s eyes went wide and he froze completely under Ace’s touch.

Ace immediately pushed himself off. “Shit. My bad!” He ran a hand through his hair in a gesture he desperately hoped looked casual. “I read that completely wrong. Sorry about that.”

Ace could almost physically feel the hit his confidence was taking from the rejection. He really had to stop thinking with his dick before he ruined what had become one of the best friendships he’d ever had.

A warm hand grabbed Ace’s wrist and stopped him from fretting with his hair.

Vittorio was smiling, his eyes now fond. “You just took me by surprise.” He huffed. “Apparently, things have changed somewhat in the last six centuries.”

Ace’s smile returned. “Oh yeah? Was kissing about a date twenty type of thing?” he bantered along. “You never thought to peep on those kinds of things in the future?”

“I can't exactly choose what visions I see,” Vittorio protested, though his face pinked as he blushed.

It was a pretty blush and Ace wanted about fifty more of it, please and thank you.

“Then maybe you should show me how you did it in the olden days,” Ace challenged with a wicked smirk.

In response, Vittorio raised their joined hands to his mouth—all the while keeping eye contact—and gently kissed the inside of Ace’s wrist.

“Oh.” Ace’s voice cracked on the word but dammit, that was really nice.

“Would you believe me,” Vittorio said, lowering their hands to properly intertwine their fingers, “if I said that things were much more crude back then than they are now?”

Ace perked up. “Really now?”

Vittorio chuckled at his obvious eagerness. “But this isn't the 1300st century,” he continued, cupping Ace’s jaw with his other hand. “And I can adapt.”

“In my humble opinion, it sounds like a compromise would be in order—”

Vittorio decided to shut him up with a kiss and Ace’s witty response—along with most of his coherent thoughts—promptly fizzled out into nothing.

Vittorio’s beard rasped pleasantly against Ace’s own and, wow, Ace was really kissing someone who hadn’t been kissed in several hundred years. No matter how much Vittorio had tried to play off his need for intimacy, he was clearly desperate for this and very much into it, his lips a little sloppy and his hand tightly clutching Ace’s.

It was flattering, really.

Ace was completely on board and gave as good as he got, clinging to Vittorio’s jacket and standing up on the balls of his feet to press even closer, kiss even harder. He experimentally flicked his tongue over Vittorio’s bottom lip and his effort earned him a quiet moan that shot straight to his groin.

When Vittorio finally pulled away, his breathing was heavier and he was blushing in earnest, pink coloring his cheeks all the way to his ears.

It made him look somehow even more handsome than usual.

Vittorio smiled down at Ace. “That was nice,” he murmured softly.

“Worth waiting six centuries for?” Ace quipped.

Vittorio laughed and warm pride spread through Ace’s body. Vittorio looked so utterly happy here, in this moment of quiet closeness and shared jokes, and Ace wanted to keep making him smile and laugh and blush for many years to come.

Vittorio leaned back down, then murmured against Ace’s lips. “Worth every single year.”

═════════════ ♧ ═════════════

It was easy after that.

Ace strolled back into camp after a trial and found Vittorio propped up against one of the logs, his legs sprawled out on the ground in that effortlessly attractive way he always carried himself. He held a book with some weird symbols carved on the cover—one of Mikaela's spell tomes, if Ace had to guess—and his eyes were glowing blue as he translated the text in his mind's eye or whatever.

Ace immediately flopped down next to him with a dramatic sigh, leaning into Vittorio’s side and letting his head rest on a muscular shoulder.

“Damn, your friend really had it out for me,” Ace complained. “That assassin phantom, the one who can outrun us? Somehow always managed to find me when I was injured. I want to file a harassment complaint.”

Vittorio hummed in acknowledgement and the corner of his mouth quirked up. He kept reading but snaked his hand around Ace’s shoulders and gently massaged the spot where Ace had been repeatedly pierced through with a meat hook.

Ace sighed happily and leaned into the touch, his eyes sliding shut as he relaxed from the soft affection.

He could hear murmurs around the campfire: some people had been quite surprised about this turn of events when they shared the news, others had said "told you so", and a few thousand bloodpoints had even exchanged hands.

Ace tuned them all out but he knew people were staring. Here Ace was, casually leaning against his gorgeous, 600-something-old boyfriend, one who was currently glowing blue and magically translating a foreign language, and who would periodically get visions of the future or alternate dimensions.

Yeah, it was a little weird.

There was a laugh from behind them and Ace perked up in anticipation of the newest gossip, but slumped back down in defeat once he heard Élodie go on in French.

“Did you know that Élodie and the architect are dating?” Vittorio asked.

Ace gawked at him. “What?!”

“For quite some time now, apparently,” Vittorio said, still seemingly engrossed in his book but apparently eavesdropping at the same time. “Hm. It's a wonder nobody has noticed.”

“You can…you've learned to…” Ace stammered.

“Translate any language, yes.” Vittorio turned to him and smirked. “Do you think I should tell the others?”

So, maybe his boyfriend had a few voyeuristic tendencies Ace probably should be concerned about.

But then again, Ace was a huge gossip, so maybe it was meant to be.

“Oh hell no.” Ace grinned and leaned closer, draping himself against Vittorio’s side. “This is our little secret and we'll reveal it when they least expect it. Like one of those times when Feng is cursing me out in Mandarin, you can interrupt her with ‘Actually, Ace's mother is a lovely woman, and secondly I'm not about to let him shove a whole flashlight up his—’”

“Alright, alright.” Vittorio chuckled, nudging Ace to shut him up. He lowered his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Our secret.”

Ace’s heart soared and he didn’t even hesitate before pulling Vittorio into a kiss in full view of the others.

He hadn’t been this happy in years and nobody—not even their so-called friends making gagging noises in the background or Vittorio’s murderous ex stabbing him repeatedly—could take this away from him.

[new-tella-us]

Oh yeah. I keep forgetting to post this draft. So I made sketches of Mika’s parents. I kept David mainly the same but Laura got a lot of changes including becoming a lot more relevant and intimidating to specifically the boys. I should probably finally go over David and Laura’s story but I’ll be brief…ish. It’s mainly about Laura btw as David lives a generally average life.

David is the son of CEO and Warlock Harold Anderson. He too, once, was a warlock practicing demonic magic as his father did. It was basically a family tradition. He would stop the practice all together when Laura was pregnant with Mika for reasons more relevant to Laura’s entire overhaul. He is aware of demons, angels, devils and the like but his distance from his father’s magic makes him susceptible to magical influence.

Now…Laura. For the longest time I’ve been saying that Laura isn’t completely human. But I never specified what she was. She is a nephalim. Same as Saero. Only she’s half angel-half human. Her father is long gone but she does have two living family members, her mother and half brother. These two are only relevant in James’ route where if you were to get the bad end, it would be revealed that the brother managed to convince the angel of destiny to return Mika to her mother.

But what happened to her? How did she end up marrying a human? Long story short, she got curious about the human world and the origins of her father. She attempted to go to the human world only to accidentally end up in the Abyssal Plains. This takes place six years before Mika’s birth. Demons don’t take kindly to angels and especially not the Demon Lord. Next thing she knew, she was in a cell for a year. Over that year, she did attempt a few escapes that didn’t work. She would lose a wing and an eye (hence the hair covering said eye) as “consequence”. It was only when she started talking to one of the prisoners, a woman draped in a red cloak, that she found her way out. The prisoner offered her a means to escape that she was going to take herself, Laura graciously took it and ran off.

One of those “means” was a spell to summon a portal to the human world for real and so, she ended up on earth. She was battered, bruised and injured but escaped. And then she met David. And the rest is history. She didn’t tell David the full story until she felt like she had to so her unborn child wouldn’t be exposed to demonic magic or magic at all and make the same mistakes she made. David, out of both respect for his wife and a new hatred for the cruel demons that would hurt her, stopped using magic and demanded his father do the same or never speak to his child. It was one of the many wedges in their relationship.

So Mika is 25% angel and I’m not just using that as a “fun fact”. I added a piece of lore that says that angels can’t be enthralled. Laura is completely immune to enthrallment and Mika is resistant. This closes the plot hole I notice where those who were enthralled would not be aware that they were being enthralled but Mika was aware even if she couldn’t resist. This is the reason behind that. As for how this would change the housewarming party, from Mika’s perspective (aka Seduce Me 1) it wouldn’t change. In front of her daughter, Laura would pretend to be enthralled and not question the boys.

However, there could be a cutscene or episode that reveals a moment where Laura walks away from her family and towards one of the boys, the one she suspects is trying to control her. And who would that be other than Sam and Erik, the two that opened the door in the first place.

Oh yeah! Another lore thing. Angels and sense demon magic and link it to said demon. Demon magic has a sort of aura that can linger on people that demons have used their magic against. Aka, Laura can see that Sam and Erik did…something to her daughter and she’s not happy.

[thelaurenshippen]

this month’s mixtape is for Sawyer Watson, one of the protagonists of my queer outlaw western (currently drafting). if you subscribe to my newsletter (linked in the previous sentence), then you’ll have already read these, but for everyone else, my notes:

Similarly to last month's Tex Bullock playlist, I'd never actually written annotations for this playlist, despite the fact that I made it all the way back in 2019. And as I did last month to catch you up if you're new: Desperate Hollow is my currently unpublished queer outlaw romance. Tex Bullock and Sawyer Watson grow up in a gang together before Sawyer shoots Tex and leaves him for dead. Seven years later, they end up in the same dead-end town and have to deal with everything they've never said. 

But. Yeah. 2019. That's when I made the original three playlists for this story (this being the third I've shared, though it was made simultaneously with Tex's). It's odd listening to them now, because the characters they were made for feel like sketched versions of them, rather than the completely filled out people they are now. But they didn't change too much from their original conception, so everything still holds. 

Sawyer does not belong in the life of an outlaw. That's not to say he's bad at it--as Tex swoons over observes when they're in their late teens, Sawyer is exquisitely good at violence, he just hates it. He'd much rather think or talk his way out of a problem, so it's a good thing he's incredibly smart and persuasive. He isn't charismatic in the traditional sense - not flirtatious, but commanding. He knows how to tell a story or express an idea and make people listen. And he's curious about everything - always reading any nonfiction tomes he can get his hands on or learning a new skill. He plays piano beautifully and when he lets himself feel joy it is all encompassing. Sawyer has the reputation for being the one person who can truly rein Tex in, but he doesn't like being viewed as Tex's handler - he doesn't think Tex needs to be handled. Tex, the unholy terror of the West, needs to be protected. Which makes it hurt all the more when Sawyer is the one to shoot him and leave him for dead.

1. "Sad, Sad Song" - M. Ward

This is where Sawyer starts the story--he's been living on his own for seven years, with the assumption that Tex is dead in the ground and that Sawyer is the one who put him there. And there's something so beautifully tragic to me about someone going around and asking the entire universe why their true love is gone. I especially love that idea in the context of Sawyer fully knowing that he's the reason. 

And so I went to my mom/I said "Mama, please, what do you do when your true love leaves?"/She said "the hardest thing in the world to do/Is to find somebody believes in you" - Sawyer, made an orphan in his adolescence, would love nothing more to talk to his mother and father about what's happened. But they, like Tex, are gone, so there's no one left in the world who believes in him.

God, I promise, the whole playlist isn't going to be dour sad songs, I'm realizing now this is sort of a downer opener. Tex's is a lot more energetic throughout and that's because he's the one who basically had to crawl out of his grave. Sawyer's the one who has been living like a ghost himself, weighed down by grief. 

2. "Me and Mine" - The Brothers Bright

This scene isn't really in the book the way it used to be, but the idea of Sawyer - someone who hates violence and has never killed anyone in his life - going completely bonkers scorched earth because someone hurt Tex is one of my favorites to think obsessively about. If anyone else had shot Tex, that person would have absolutely been the first and last victim of Sawyer Watson. But instead, he has only himself to blame and I'm sure he won't punish himself in any kind of really sad and mournful way or anything. 

I'm a man of my word/I will burn your kingdom down/If you try to conquer me and mine - Sawyer is absolutely a man of his word, and he is also definitely deeply possessive. A thing that Tex would be totally normal about of course if he knew. 

3. "House of the Rising Sun" - Lauren O'Connell

What would a moody Americana playlist be without an even moodier cover of this song?

Sawyer is not a gambling man, nor one who drinks to excess, nor does he ever partake in the saloon girls all over the Wild West (he is very, very gay and demisexual - also, I know this song isn't explicitly about sex work as much as it is the other two things, but idk, the first time I heard the phrase "House of the Rising Sun", I just sort of thought of a brothel), but he is the sun to Tex's moon, so I do like that imagery. 

But that's not all - I like that the lyrics have so much about parents - a bit of a running theme for Sawyer, who had parents who were wonderful and actually had an impact (positive) on him. I think Sawyer would see the life he leads after they die as some kind of let down for them - that he's been led into ruin and vice, when they were such upstanding moral people. But, then again, Sawyer wouldn't trade it for anything because his "house of the rising sun" isn't a place or a vice at all, but Tex Bullock, an addiction he'll never give up. 

4. "Jolene" - Mindy Smith

See first bullet on previous song. 

Gay demisexual Sawyer jumps out here in full - Tex is the only one for him and always will be. So he watches Tex - bisexual and promiscuous (I know it's a bad bi stereotype - one that, as a bi person myself, I find deeply annoying but...Tex just enjoys sex. Idk what else to do about it) - go to bed with person after person and just...silently sulks about it for years. One of those "both of these people are so jealous that they're blind to the other's jealousy" situations. 

(It should be noted, if its of interest, that these are the sexualities I see them as having from a writing standpoint but from a story standpoint, it's 1898 so of course they weren't using any of these words. Mostly their sexuality is something demonstrated rather than talked about, which is partly why Tex thinks Sawyer is probably interested in nothing at all).

5. "Take Me to Church" - MILCK

Okay, jeez, this playlist is, like, mostly covers. I love a cover, but this is excessive even for me. 

But there is something inherently queer about this song (originally by Hozier, patron saint of lesbians; also, watch the music video), and I love this female cover that maintains the pronouns, to make it explicitly gay. There was also a half intentional/half subconscious thing of filling Sawyer's playlist with female artists. There's a lot of subtextual gender fuckery in the story (necessary for any good Western in my opinion; see also, last week's newsletter) and whereas Tex is a construct of American masculinity covering up a classic "pretty boy" exterior, Sawyer is classically handsome and strong, but much more comfortable in both his masculinity and femininity. 

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies - I am rotating like a rotisserie chicken about this line when I think of these two. I was going to explain more, but I'm basically already writing out the whole story here, so I'm gonna hold back for now. 

Sawyer grew up going to church and is mostly ambivalent about God now,  but his and Tex's devotion to each other is something holy to him, even when they're just friends.

6. "Lemons" - Brye

A bit of a hard tonal turn, but there needed to be some lightness in the midst of all this angst. This song and the next are representative of those moments when Sawyer tries to remember Tex's frustrating qualities or, eventually, when Tex is back in his life and just as infuriating as ever.

You're a sour little boy, with a fragile masculinity

I've tried to remain patient with your stupid shenanigans/But you've given me no other choice/You've tried to knock me over by acting like you're above me/And pretending that I don't have a voice - this is exactly what Sawyer felt about Tex when they first met and how he feels about a lot of people through the years. Sawyer has very little patience for bullshit. 

7. "High Horse" - Kacey Musgraves

See the last bullet on the previous song. 

Oh, I bet you think you're John Wayne/Showing up and shooting down everybody/You're classic in the wrong way/And we all know that you know the story - see: Tex's playlist featuring "John Wayne" by Lady Gaga

And also, I think Sawyer sometimes feels a little this way - that he kills the buzz by opening his mouth and being practical, that he's too stuck on his high horse to be fun. 

8. "I Walk the Line" - Halsey

Female cover strikes again! 

So. I have a terrible confession to make. I'm not a huge fan of Johnny Cash. Don't get me wrong, I think his songs absolutely rule, I'm just not a huge fan of his vocal style, which is why I end up with a lot of covers of his stuff. 

Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you/because you're mine/I walk the line - now, Sawyer, deeply uninterested in anyone who isn't Tex, doesn't have problems with fidelity (to be fair to Tex, neither would he if he actually had what he wanted with Sawyer - that is a bi stereotype that I just fully hate and, in general, I'm just not interested in cheating storylines), but he's still walking a line. He's walking Barlowe's line. He sees how dedicated Tex is to the gang and even though Sawyer could break out on his own, he stays and follows Barlowe so that he can be by Tex's side. 

9. "Missing Me" - Angie McMahon*

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the line loving you is lonely is just sooooooooooo. Well, that's the whole thing, really. 

This song is about someone who is being ignored by their paramour, so not a perfect 1:1, but the object of affection being someone who swaggers, chatters, talks them to nothing...well! That's Tex! 

And, to get back to the point: loving you is lonely. That's how Sawyer feels. He knows that Tex is devoted to him as a friend and brother-in-arms, but he doesn't think that Tex loves him the way Sawyer loves Tex and that is so lonely. And then, once he's gone, all that Sawyer has is that loneliness and missing Tex and still wishing that, somehow, wherever he is, Tex misses Sawyer too. 

Loving you has thrown me/You have been my only rock on the ground

[ladytauria]

1, 7, 19, and 32 for the ask game please! ❤️❤️

aaah i forgot i hadn't answered this! i thought i had, whoops ^^;

i'm pretty sure these are from the weird asks for writers 🤔 so hopefully im right, lmao

1: What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

I use Crimson Pro; it's a free font I found on Google Fonts, lmao. However, I tend to cycle through fonts. One will capture my attention for a while and then I'll change it again. I do tend to prefer serif fonts at the moment, but I also had a phase where I wrote in nothing but Calibri!

That said, if I can't use my preferred font for whatever reason, I don't mind using either the default font or the closest one I can find in their offerings. The most important thing to me is generally paragraph spacing; I don't like trying to write with a wall of text, and I also don't like having to hit enter twice because I don't enjoy cleaning that up when I go to paste anywhere dfghjkl

7: What is your deepest joy about writing?

I looove when I come up with a satisfying turn of phrase or metaphor! Or just... playing with words in general; puzzling out how to describe things or how someone would phrase what I want them to say. This is also what I sometimes find the most difficult & exasperating too, though xD

19: Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I've been writing since I was small. I remember using construction paper to make a picture book about a dog who---if I remember right?---became a superhero, lol. I also remember using a previous year's calendar to create a picture book as well; trying to find a narrative to string through the pictures they used for each month. (It was a horse calendar, if you're curious.)

I don't have either of those anymore, but.

However, I would say that my writing journey actually started when I was 10-11. My parents had set-up a family/kids computer in the living room, and I basically lived on it dfghjkl I started writing my first book. It wasn't great and the concept was ripped off from the Inheritance Cycle since I was obsessed with it at the time. The second was a little more original xD

Mm... And then a couple years later I was working on something different and decided to look for a place to post it. I found FanFiction.Net, which wasn't really the right place, but it DID get me started writing fic. And THEN after a few years of that I decided to seriously focus on original fiction again, because it's always been my dream to publish, lol.

Where am I now... I'm very happy with my writing voice. I can read over my stuff and only cringe at the occasional typo or wonky phrase, which is really nice. I'm still working toward getting published... in theory. I've been putting off revising/refining/rewriting my first draft, lmao.

32: What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

This is a hard one to answer 🤔 While I do tend to find phrases and such that I like, I don't know that I return to them specifically a lot. It's more a whole body of work dfghjk

Hmm...

Oh! Okay. So, I used to read a lot of fanfic for the anime Ghost Hunt. And there's this one fic, Beneath the Lilac Tree, which has a scene in it that I just ADORE. Two brothers, twins, are eating dinner together at a hotel and as they're conversing, they---switch plates? Offer the other food off their plate? It's been a while and I don't remember the specific action BUT it stuck with me? And I think about it all the time. It struck me as just this lovely moment of familiarity and intimacy, and I remember coming back to that fic and rereading it a lot, in part for that scene xD

Thank you so much for asking!!

[momentomori24]

Ok, ZERO ESCAPE 999. This game was a weird one for me. Definitely great, do not get me wrong--- I LOVE this game to pieces and after finishing this post I will finally start VLR during the weekend (hopefully), and mull over the characterization because what the hell, everyone is absolutely hilarious (Junpei, Snake, Seven and Santa specifically I'm looking at you)--- but it certainly left me with a bunch of questions to which I have no answers. Which makes sense considering the next game will most probably pick up where 999 left off so I won't touch on that too much, but everything really felt like a crazy, confusing, convoluted fever dream. In a good way. But still, very cryptic.

Speaking about fever dreams, June's situation is the most unique circumstance for a character I think I've ever seen. If I have everything correct (and correct me if I'm wrong), she originally died in the present timeline in the incinerator room long ago and somehow the Akane we meet in the Nonary Game exists simultaneously dead and alive at the same time in the aftermath of that event--- so basically Schrödinger's cat. The Nonary Game was set up to make Junpei save the Akane through telekinesis to create either a separate timeline or more likely influence the present one so that she can exist normally. That's why she's doomed to disappear in every ending; Junpei doesn't get to recreate that exact scenario in the incinerator room, so past Akane never reaches him and dies the way she was supposed to, meaning June ceases to exist as a consequence. And the burning fevers she would randomly get are her body reliving the memories being burned in the incinerator room 9 years ago. Did I get that all right? If so, then wow, that's not a twist I saw coming at all. Props to the creator of the game, but also how dare you doom my girl like this.

My biggest question how tho. I know that's not the best question to ask in a game where we are literally on the replica of the titanic, the exact same place where half of the cast along with other kids where brought to almost a decade ago because they were targeted by a supposed medical company and leader of said company is also part of our gang, forced into solving locked rooms while death hangs over their heads until 9 hours are over but our protagonist can turn back time without even knowing it every time things go bad, but still. If it's revealed later on then please don't tell me. If not, go ahead.

This is my second attempt to type this because my first drafts somehow didn't save and I'm too lazy to re-do everything so I'll bullet point:

•What happened to Santa in the true ending? Correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think he was present during our car ride. Ace was there, though, despite being taken hostage by him and led away.

•So June is alive, right? Since we rewrote the timeline and helped Akane survive, what happened to her? She vanished on us during our confrontation with Santa, so where did she end up when everything was over?

•Who the hell killed everyone in the other endings? We know Clover goes crazy in one and Ace kills her in another, but what about the rest? We know it's not one of us because every single person we have gets slaughtered in the Sub endings with Junpei last. I did make post about it and I'll stick to what I said, but I guess I'll wait and see if the next game will answer.

•Who is Zero. That's it. I was thinking it was not Santa, to gradually being persuaded into thinking it could be him due to the evidence pointing into direction only for it to have really not him. He is actually more involved than most, but he's not the guy we're looking for (good). Give me answers, game.

Well, rant over for now. I'll probably slightly touch on VLR because I have an assessment to revise for, but I'm excited! I've heard a little about the gameplay and I'm really curious to see how it will pay out.

[lgnite-me]

Found this in my drafts. Basically just fluff, and domestic Nessian. Cassian being a proud father. Anyways, enjoy. Again, this is like one of the first times I’ve ever written so please be kind. Might make a second part not sure yet. Also the child has no name so if anybody has any suggestions, please let me know!

*update- just realized there was an entire paragraph missing 😭 its fixed now

——————-——————————————————

Cassian knew his daughter was smart.

Had seen it from the first moment she’d opened those gray-blue eyes, and looked at him in wonder and curiosity. Besides those eyes, she looked like him, everything from the black hair to the tiny wings that had protruded from her back, so soft and fragile he was afraid of touching them. But everything else was Nesta’s. The curious mind, the wits and cleverness that emerged much earlier than they should have.

She’d started walking much earlier than most babies, even by fae standards. She’d stood up and walked by herself at 6 months, and Cassian had been so damn proud he’d nearly burst with the excitement of telling his family all about it. She’d begun talking at 9 months and was able to speak pretty clearly by 12 months. It was a wonder to Cassian, where she could have gotten these advanced abilities from. He knew damn well it wasn’t from him. It was most likely Nesta.

The first indication that she was truly above average was one night when they were all gathered together as a family. Nyx, at 4 years, was drawing something that seemed to resemble constellations, and his own daughter was sitting on the ground in front of the fire, watching them all with those inquisitive eyes of hers. Nesta sat right behind her, fixing her hair every once in a while or just holding her hand for a moment. Mor was lounging on a chaise to the side of the fire with Emerie sleeping on her lap, and Feyre was similarly curled up in Rhy’s lap, who was deep in conversation with Az about some random topic that Cassian had no desire to listen to.

The only thing Cassian could focus on was Nesta and his daughter. He couldn’t help but be enraptured by the sight, so absorbed in his own thoughts that he almost missed when his daughter said “I think there’s many!”

She’d said it with such a big smile on her face and tiny fists thrown in the air that at first, he thought she was talking to Nesta, but then realized it had been directed towards the couch where Rhys and Azriel had been talking. They both startled at the realization that she had been addressing them, but their expressions changed quickly when they took a moment to digest her comment.

“And why do you think that?” Az asked smoothly, interest and amusement shining through his words.

His daughter looked like she was thinking for a moment, then quickly said,

“Because there has to be!”

Cassian really had no idea what was going on. He’d tuned out the conversation an hour ago when they’d veered into some topic he cared nothing for. Now though, his interest was piqued.

“What are we talking about?” He demanded, as he turned to face his brothers.

Rhy’s face was drawn up in amusement as well, looking at his daughter, and completely ignoring Cassian’s question.

Well, Cassian thought, now that I actually want to know what’s going on, he won’t even tell me.

He watched in amazement as his daughter began talking to Azriel in an almost completely clear voice using some words that he didn’t even know. She was rambling on and on and Cassian managed to catch on that they were discussing something about the theories of the Universes and that model that Rhys and Az loved to stare at. Apparently, it had caught the attention of his daughter, and she had begun intently listening to Rhys and Az’s conversations and formulating her own thoughts.

Cassian still wasn’t entirely sure exactly what this theory entailed, but he was so proud of his daughter, he couldn’t help the grin that had broken out onto his face the minute she’d started directly addressing his brothers. He was so proud of her he could cry

***

[cloudy-with-a-chance-of-chaos]

"This is real, this is me" - Demi Lovato, at some point back in the 2000s

TL;DR: Hi, my name is Laura and this is my personal blog. I'm Christian and vocal about it, we can talk about it if you want. I'm Brazilian and bilingual and so is this blog. I talk a lot so my posts will be often lengthy; I'm a librarian and a writer so I'll be posting about things around these themes - info science, organization, book-related, writing, short stories, OCs… I have a lot of interests ranging from Ts4, BG3 to kpop and poetry so expect those too. I'm an insecure artist, looking for a place to call mine, basically. More info bellow the cut.

It's probably the millionth time I try to kick start this blog, but anyway

Hi everyone! My name is Laura and this is my personal blog. Before anything, lemme present myself.

First of all, I'm Christian. I think it's important to clarify this right off the top so we're clear on how this blog goes and how I go. I'm Christian and really value my faith, I'm rather vocal about it, so that's within basically everything I do. I'm also always avaiable to talk about it to curious people or fellow Christians wanting to talk. Hit me up if you feel like it ✨

I do not enjoy this bit but, if things get rather hostile or aggressive, I'm unfollowing/blocking and ask you do the same bc there's no need to keep annoying ourselves. Jesus said to turn the other cheek, not to become a doormat so we'll keep things respectful and friendly as to not get into heated arguments ok? Ok.

With that on the clear, here's other things for you to know me: I'm Brazilian! And living in Brazil (for now). I speak Portuguese as a first language, and English as a second - and do risk myself at Spanish sometimes, and I'm learning Korean, so: this is a bilingual and at times multilingual blog. THOUGH I will be speaking English most of the time. That's what most people speak around here, right, so let's go, bora pra cima Brasil 🥳

⚠️This is a warning⚠️ please be noted that I talk a lot. I know I do. I talk way too much in person and type even more, so please be WARNED that my texts (this bio included!) will more often than not be lengthy. I apologize but also don't. That's it.

Hmmm, what else? Oh Yeah Well

I'm a Librarian! And a writer! I have an insane amount of projects going on now (you can call me a workaholic lol). I'm an enthusiast for Library Sciences and topics related to information, organization, books! Everything Info Science is on my radar, so I'll be probably talking about that or linking my other blog with texts about that. Feel free (and please do) to ask me about those things!

As for the Writer part, I'm a fantasy writer, with about 3 to 4 different sagas going on inside my head and very little written about them 🤡 I'm trying to get better at that as to be able to actually have something to show people rather than loose drafts. I'm also an enthusiast for short stories so I'll be eventually posting drabbles about random themes!

That's actually the whole point of this blog, writing.

Other interests and possible themes to be happening here are related to:

The Sims 4 (hi Simblr ^^); I do play this too often and will be rambling about my Sims OCs;

Baldur's Gate 3 [screams]; I am OBSESSED with this game but only get to play it when I go to my bestie's place, so not that many posts about it BUT I WILL DEFINITELY BE TALKING ABOUT ASTARION. No, I'm not a weirdo Astarion Girlfriend, I'm a normal person;

Cats. I love cats, I have cats, I'm obsessed with cats;

Poetry; I take my chance at those very rarely but I do;

Super Junior and other kpop subjects; 🤩 I'm ELF, yeah, I did write a handful of fanfics about SJ so I'll link them at my catalog, though I don't write those anymore. I do talk about them tho;

Hm, idk, the color blue, art, sea and storms (huge fan of those), random reblogs about aesthetic stuff, photography, museums, wtv. If you can't tell I have major hyperfixes in random things.

I do think of myself as an artist and I've been considering and not doing things like this blog for way too long. This is my try at making it work. I do write and post on other platforms (you can navigate through them on the buttons on the top of my blog - on desktop view - or on the links on my soon to be pinned post) but they don't usually take lengthy (I really like this word) posts like Tumblr can so HERE AM I.

I hope to find my people around here.

This is a very quick shortened bio of mine (believe me), ask me questions if you want to, my askbox 📫 is always open. And please remember: internet is just a slice of someone's life so don't go around making assumptions.

ー L

[a-wolf-at-the-door]

Hey, it just occurred to me that in a recent authors note you said you're writing an original novel. (Sorry if you completely forgot about that, My brain is a sieve) Any Basic summary on the plot so far, or subject if it's non-fiction? Or is it more of a wait and see situation? I would love to hear more about it!

Hi hello yes I am working on an original novel! 💜 I can’t talk about it too much bc if I tell the story I lose motivation to Tell The Story, but I can tease a little!

First off, writing update: I just hit that classic point about 40k words in where you realize you started in the wrong spot and made a few sideways turns and you have to start from scratch again so that’s fun.

Genrewise it’s a bit of a hodgepodge of speculative fiction, psychological thriller, murder mystery, and coming-of-age novel.

And a brief excerpt from the 40k discard pile that I vibed with and might try to preserve in some way:

The exit was miles away, leagues, lightyears. The exit was a memory more than a reality. People pressed in on all sides, eager to get a look at her, to touch her, to confirm her identity.

She couldn’t hear much of anything in the din of crosstalk, scraping chairs and stomping feet. The air was warm and redolent of maple syrup and cinnamon, book glue and aftershave, coffee and general human musk. She didn’t recognize the people peering at her, the hands extending towards her. Faces became carnival masks, fingertips grew talons. REDACTED was the best prize in a backwards sort of claw machine, one with only a single plush target sought by dozens and dozens of swooping pincers.

The buzz of the noise started to shift in tone. Where initially it was curious, disbelieving, possibly even a little joyous, it turned sharply like the whine of cicadas in summertime. The questions around her took on an increasingly severe tone, veering from open vowels and soft consonants to nasal diphthongs. She couldn’t pick apart and process each separate sentence in time, not as they wove in and out of one another, but the sounds started to coalesce on two words, soft as a sigh and sharp as a knife: REDACTED and why?

Note my MC’s name isn’t actually REDACTED nor is it particularly rare or unique or special, I just don’t feel quite ready enough to share her with people beyond that excerpt.

Anyway hope this sufficiently answers your questions! I’m feeling optimistic despite the setback, drafting is discovering!

[fat-femshep]

The place was unique in the fact it was a buffet that catered to any and all tastes. It seemed, at some points, to be able to make food beyond this current universe too but who could say for sure. The vast dining hall was filled with the scents of food and the sounds of gluttonous eating and chatter. It was a welcoming place where someone like Hannah could easily be herself too. No-one looked or stared, no-one made a comment about her size. Here she was the average. Not everywhere was so accepting of such a grand size.

"Only recently learned about feedism, huh?" The short yet thick girl said, looking at Hannah as she settled at the table too, getting comfy in her seat with a little wiggle. "I am almost curious to ask what started getting you fat!"

She chuckled and waved her hand, suggesting she wasn't going to ask that right now. Instead, Hannah had asked about her. While true that Lizzie was not someone who thought herself to be much of anything, an earnest question got earnest answers.

"Me, huh? Well, I'm Lizzie. I'm an Engineer-slash-inventor by trade. I did some military service when I was younger as well as apprenticed under some Engineers. Though, these days I work on my own projects. Mainly the mobility aides, such as the one you are using. I make them from scratch, drafting and blueprinting before making. I have a small team that helps me out too though!"

Basically, former military, runs her own business, is pretty smart and a bit of a savant when it comes to her field of tech.

"Umm... Oh, I'm not great at cooking and I have a bit of a bad habit getting too engrossed in my work at times. Pretty good at social... things though I would say I am more... introvert than extrovert. More likely to spend a night in watching TV than go out somewhere if I have time free. Oh yeah... I am new to dating too! I think I might of mentioned that in our online chats? And yeah... I guess that's sorta... me? If that helps you get to know a bit about who this short girl who took you to a buffet is!"

Hannah took all of that in as she listened closely to what Lizzie was explaining, nodding along as she took it in. She liked that she was former military, it gave them another thing in common, someone who would understand the experiences and all the work that went into all the various branches of it.

"Thank you, that does tell me a lot. I'm glad you're a fellow career military one like me, though different branches. Civilians can't always get their heads around some aspects of our jobs. But I'm glad you were able to put those skills to use in your own business. I doubt I'll do anything else after I eventually retire, but I'm trying to put that off for as long as I can." She said, smiling back at Lizzie.

"Though, you asked what started me off with...all this." She gestured to her enormous form, patting her belly gently. "Well, it was a combination of things. Firstly, the Alliance started to wind down my active service role after the Reaper War, which meant I could spend more time with my little girl. If you've heard of Commander Shepard, that's her. I spent as much time as I could with her to help her recover. When I had to go back, I kept in touch whenever I could. She admitted that she was letting herself go a little, enjoying civilian life and not worrying about stuff, which I was fully behind her doing." She began to explain.

"I had been put on light duties, it got me thinking about things like that. If I was essentially just doing basic escorts and patrol's on my ship, despite it being a Dreadnought, I could probably get away with letting myself slip a little. Well, come my next visit to see Jennifer, she had really, really grown. Only reasons she wasn't needing a chair like this was because of her synthetic muscles and spine, and a little bit of anti-gravity tech from her friend Tali. But she was still able to do so much, enjoy her life at that size. That sort of clicked something in me. Then her sweet AI friend, EDI, approached me. She was... certainly quite the sight to behold, makes a lady feel a little inadequate in some ways." She giggled softly, blushing to herself.

"She offered me a copy of herself to help me experience what Jennifer did. This...Mommy Bot, she called it, started to cook all my meals personally, taking care of boring admin work in the blink of an eye, leaving me able to relax and enjoy all the food she made for me. A very doting servant. Soon, more of them appeared on the ship, taking the load off of my crew too to help relieve any stress on them. My ship became more like a cruise liner for Alliance personnel...and that's what led to me getting this big. But now, thanks to you, I can experience so much. I have this, I can go places now. And... hopefully I have you..." She said, smiling brightly, now she'd laid her fattening backstory bare.

[andromedaexists]

Writer Tag Game

I mean i guess this doesn't require finished writing, [redacted]. glad to see me "{REDACTED] STOP TAGGING ME IN FIND THE WORD CHALLENGE 2K23" message actually worked lol

Do you write in order?

Yes and no. So yeah, I do write in order. This helps me avoid plot holes and keep characterization consistent.

But also? Fuck no. I am writing Books 1 and 2 of Call Me Icarus at the same time. I write side stories that are both canon and not canon to the CMI Universe. I write what my heart desires at that moment lol

Do you start with something particular?

I have found that even though I do not plan my stories, I like to have the title and a basic idea of what I am writing before starting. So far, that has been a vague idea and a feeling.

EX: For Call Me Icarus, I started with the idea of Greek Mythology in modern times. The Emotion I wanted was the Sublime. the character I wanted was Icarus. From there I kept toying with names, but I said Call Me Icarus out loud and it just felt right. Only then was I able to start writing.

How fully formed does your writing come out the first try?

Oh it is damn near perfect. I have never been a humanities type person, having been a Chemistry and Psychology double major with a Forensic Science minor up until the pandemic hit. Because of this, the writing that I am highly trained in is methodical and rarely needs revision.

This has extended into my creative writing. I have found through the part of the draft and the snippets that I have posted here that I have very little to revise. It quite literally leaves a bad taste in my mouth to write something that I am not proud of at any given moment.

How many drafts do you go through?

I am currently writing my very first book ever with CMI, so I do not know yet. I am planning on this draft, a second editing draft, then a Final Revision. But we'll see.

Tell me about your process ?

Open Scrivener

Stare at Scrivener

Get Distracted (usually by a pretty character template @lockejhaven sends me or by Picrew)

Realize I wrote nothing

Close Scrivener

Rinse and Repeat

Lol on the real tho, I am almost always on my laptop. I work full time and use my work laptop for everything. So I keep Scrivener open at all times too. During work, during school, during my very limited free time. It is always open. That way, I can write whatever comes to mind as it comes to mind. That is my process so far

Tagging @/crypticcodexcreations @/ghost-town-story @/authoralexharvey @/smol-feralgremlin and leaving an open tag! Jane was absolutely right that this one does not require finished writing and I am genuinely curious to see everyone's answers!

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Hi! Just curious about your relationship to catcf. Which version did you see first, and stuff?

My first introduction to catcf was the 2005 movie, which I saw for the first time when I was around 4 years old (not in cinema, but later on a DVD we had borrowed from the library). It was an experience to say the least. A 4 year old is way too young to see that movie and I still, TO THIS DAY, have to flinch every time there is a closeup shot of Augustus in the pipe. Because that small 2 second clip startle me every time and I had to MEMORIZE when in the song it comes.

But, it impacted me a lot, cause I wanted to watch it again, and again, and again, and again... to the point that I couldn't forget it. As a 9 year old I had a phase where I wanted to learn everything there was about catcf. I read the book (and fun fact, there's two book translations in swedish, one older and one newer. I read the old version and all the names were completely different. Here's a post I made about it) and I learned about all of the lore, including the scrapped kids, original drafts, etc.

There is also a swedish tv adaptation of catcf (no joke) that's from the 80s, that they had re-runs of when I was a kid. It's essentially an old man reading from the book, and then they've illustrated pictures that they zoom in and out from, and occasionally they move.

Here's some screenshots.

What a cool job tbh, I wanna work as an illustrator for some kids show where they just read from a book and my only job is to illustrate the scenes (that, and... illustrate books lol). Also, this is probably the only adaptation that's been made where both parents of all the kids are present in the factory. If you wanna know which adaptation is the closest to the book, is this obscure swedish one who, granted, literally read out loud from the book, but still.

Either way, I know every single line in the swedish dub of the 05 movie. And I mean every single line, tell me a scene and I'll know the exact tone the characters have when they say the line. I also love the songs so much and the movie is very nostalgic for me.

Now, the 1971 movie. On the internet, people praised it like crazy. They said it was the best version. But I never got it, because I didn't properly watch it until I was like 10-11.

Now, what i've noticed, the best adaptation is often the one you see first. And many people saw the 1971 version first, apparently, cause it was very marketable on VHS'es and DVDs - even people my age who lives/lived in the US said they saw the 71 version first. But I didn't even know it existed until I saw a clip on youtube in middle school. And I recall people basically called "everyone who grew up with the 05 version is a lost generation" or something. As if there isn't something called "not growing up with something because I happened to not live in the country where it was more popular". If you're saying that, I'm gonna say you're a lost generation because you didn't grow up with any Astrid Lindgren film or any swedish kids media. So I guess, here's my "defense" for not growing up with it:

The 1971 movie actually didn't do very well when it originally came out. It wasn't until it got released on VHS in the 80s that it got more popular. And thus, I don't even think the movie got released in theatres in Sweden, as really the only non-swedish movies that came were the most popular.

My parents had no idea about this movie's existence either. Their only exposure to catcf growing up was the book and the swedish miniseries from the 80s.

I didn't fucking understand english until I was 8-9?? And even then it took some years to be fluent. Which means that, if I would watch this movie, it would need to be dubbed or an adult had to sit with me and translate (and for example, I did see The wizard of Oz as a kid, but that movie was never dubbed, so every time we saw it, my dad had to be with us and translate - which kinda took out the experience a little)

The 1971 movie does exist dubbed... but, they dubbed it much later. In the 80s and 90s, Sweden started dubbing a lot more. Before, we've only really dubbed disney films and cartoons in general, but dubbing live action was something that started to become more and more normal, especially with the release of VHS - so when the VHS came, Sweden started dubbing a lot of live action kids films, old and new, and release them for cheap cash. And the live action dubs from this time... well, let's just say they were much better once the 00s came, but beforehand it took a while to really do them good. The dub of the 1971 movie is from the 90s I think, and... it's hit and miss. Half of the kids are dubbed by adults and the rest by actual kids. The songs are extremely direct-translated. They didn't really care for the project. So, the movie essentially got released as a cheap VHS and wasn't really a movie I think they mass-produced, so it existed very few copies of it. Not to mention, they did release the dub on Netflix, but then they removed the movie from there after like a month?? Anyway, it could've been possible for me to see the movie as a kid (and I think all of us had a vhs/dvd of some obscure film, or just an obscure dub of a film), but due to the movie not really being known in Sweden, I think it was harder to even get a copy of it.

Anyway. Charlie and the chocolate factory is very dear to me. My favorite version is, and controversial opinion, the 05 version, as I never could enjoy the 1971 version as much.

[ruelknudson]

Slow start

Day three.

Well, day 2 was kind of a bust, but I had already expected that. While I am writing as a full-time job, there is a bit of flexibility in it. I knew yesterday, and the next few days, will have no progress. Before I put my notice in with my employee, I had 12/19 as well as 12/21-12/22 requested off. I have personal days, just like anyone else.

As far as "the job" is concerned, Monday was very productive. Only a single page written in a 9-hour workday. Sounds horrible, doesn't it? Well, there is a business side to this as well. Reactivating social media accounts and updating my website took up the first two hours. I have about an hour a day allotted to social media. I might take it each day; I may do a couple of hours here and there.

The rest of the day was reviewing the current rewrite. The first draft of this current piece was finished about ten months ago. Since then, I have been treading water on the rewrite. I may get into the nuts and bolts of "my process" in another post. But, for now, consider it loosely defined like this:

Basic Outline.

Vomit out a first draft. Ignore being good, and just get the important parts nailed down. It'll be sloppy, and barely worth calling writing, but it is the foundation.

First rewrite: do the writing. This is the mechanical part of it. Make it good.

Second Rewrite: Self-editing of content. I.e. trim the fat.

Third - Fifth Rewrite(s): Grammar, spelling, structure, themes all get a final review. These are usually very fast. I usually need a few of these. As this blog will attest, my grammar and spelling are terrible.

Send to the editor. Thank God for editors. By the way, they're always right. Ignore them when you absolutely have to. I will limit myself to one "I'm not changing that" per story.

Revise based on editor notes.

Final editor pass. Be prepared to justify the thing you kept which your editor said to change. Smile broadly when the editor doesn't tell you to remove it the second time.

Release.

Number 3 is the longest, and most arduous step for me. However, this is where the book starts to actually resemble something worth reading. I am about 40% of the way through this rewrite, but I had to reread all of the previous work. This reflects how unfocused the process had been while I was working full-time on my previous day job.

This draft is still a mess. Luckily the core themes are properly worked out, and they evolve as I was hoping. My worst fear was repetition. I had to be sure the core ideas weren't creeping back into the piece later on. The themes need to evolve through the story, even a non-fiction story. Somehow, even as disconnected as those rewrites were, the themes are moving forward through the book at a natural progression.

If I stick with this format, I should finish two to three chapters a week. This doesn't look like it will be longer than my previous books. So. it looks like a month before the narrative is finished even with the holidays. Then I do the follow up rewrites. I also have appendices to write, but these are more academic than narrative, so they should go pretty quick and will only have one or two rewrites (if that).

During this process I will journal my thoughts and feelings here. I don't know if anyone will care. That's not the point. I think of it like those behind-the-scenes extras for films. Mostly, they are self-gratifying, but if you are interested in how the sausage is made, then its available.

I also want to use this to document how this process may change from story to story. I am curious how it might look after a few years. Will I have refined my process, or dumped it altogether? I wonder what future me will think of this. I bet future Ruel will take a look, get through the first half, delete it, and hope no one scraped a copy or thinks to look at the way back machine's archives to dredge this up.

One last note. I am rereading "On Writing" by Stephen King. I started in my final week of employment. I highly recommend it for any author, aspiring or not. While it has some advice, it is more of a peek into Stephen King as a writer. I am not a huge fan of King. I like many of his stories, but I don't go running to by a new book of his just because it was released.

However, I always find this book to be reaffirming, and inspiring. I don't agree with everything he says, but that's ok. I think the core value of the book isn't the advice. To me, it feels like he is sharing his experience and passing it along in case what works for him can help other writers. That's not to say one should ignore the advice. Its good advice. But that doesn't mean it works for everyone.

I don't expect the same fame, or any fame. I don't even know if writing will be profitable yet. But there is this sense of kinship when you read this book. I can relate to him, and much of what he says. The first time I read this I found myself nodding at a page like he could see me agreeing with him. It's like a conversation with King. "I totally get where you're coming from, Stephen. Telepathy."

Anyways, it's not a revolutionary book that will suddenly make a writer out of anyone. It's not designed for that. But, if you are a writer, it's a good read, and I recommend it. It's great for slumps. For me, I just needed another writer's voice to tell me I'm not crazy.

Welcome to your first day on the job, Ruel. Did you bring your toolbox?