#plum (gabrielle)

[noctilin]

a few things i drew a while back for one of my dnd groups, the last one is from last year

[ekho-ekho-ekho]

Gabriel and Beelz' dynamic is like if Yzma and Kronk were fucking

[bloodyodyssey]

i forgot to post the chibi gabe by itself! hold her very gently okay?

[odysseys-blood]

alright its blacktober who should i draw this month

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Link 1, Link 2 :)

Digital Good Omens 2 Sountrack is coming out in 4 days! 🥳 CD version in October! :) ❤ Coming soon on vinyl…

Out to Stream/Download from 25th August. Out on CD 13th October. Coming soon on vinyl…

David Arnold’s ‘end of the world’ complex and multi-genre soundtrack.

From the Award-winning composer of Sherlock and Casino Royale comes a follow up to the hugely successful, Emmy nominated Good Omens soundtrack.

Good Omens series 2 premiered on Prime Video on 28th July. The series follows the odd couple, angel Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) and demon Crowley (David Tennant) in their quest to sabotage the end of the World. The six-episode sequel to the popular adaptation of the novel by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, concerns the Archangel Gabriel (Jon Hamm) arriving without his memories to Aziraphale’s bookshop. Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to find out what happened to Gabriel, whilst hiding him from Heaven and Hell, both eager to find him.

The Soundtrack

David Arnold’s soundtrack to Good Omens was first released in 2019 to favourable reviews, with BBC Music Magazine calling it “a rollicking trip to hell and back”. Blueprint Magazine described it as “a great listen” and Sci Fi Bulletin commented on “plenty of memorable themes” to conclude that “This is another work of art from Arnold”. At times nostalgic and eerie but always varied, beautiful and full of excitement, the Good Omens 2 soundtrack showcases Arnold’s every skill from his composer arsenal. Featured here are orchestral arrangements with sprinkling of Sugar Plum Fairy pizzicato and percussion, jaunty strings and mighty choral sweeps from Crouch End Festival Chorus. Added to the mix are rock guitar riffs, and psychedelic 70s sounds and all together they create a haunting otherworldly feel, complementing the fantasy and the quirky humour of the show. The spirited Waltz of the opening theme is also present in the second series and it wonderfully sets the scene for fantastical mayhem. In series 2, this robust, evocative, and funny music entity, becomes yet again another character in the story. Award-winning composer David Arnold is well known for his blockbuster scores, including Stargate, The Chronicles of Narnia: the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Hot Fuzz, Paul, Independence Day, 2 Fast 2 Furious and Casino Royale as well as for his TV work such as Sherlock and Dracula. Also available: The original soundtrack to the first series of Good Omens >

Tracklist

– Disc 1 – Chapter 1: The Arrival 1. Before the Beginning 2. Good Omens 2 Opening Title 3. Into Soho 4. Something Terrible 5. To The Bookshop 6. Maggie and Nina 7. He’s Smoking 8. Tiny Miracle 9. Heavenly Alarm Bells Chapter 2: The Clue 10. Avaunt! 11. The Song is the Clue 12. It’s What God Wants 13. A Mighty Wind 14. Whales 15. Gabriel Returns 16. His New Children 17. Am I Awful Now? 18. Fallen Angel Chapter 3: I Know Where I’m Going 19. Police Arrive 20. Scotland 21. We’re Going to Hell 22. People Get a Choice 23. My Car is Not Yellow 24. Beelzebub in Hell 25. The Book 26. The Fly 27. Mr. Dalrymple 28. We Need to Cut 29. I’m Going to Save Her 30. Crowley Goes Large 31. Not Kind 32. Beelzebub Isn’t Happy – Disc 2 – Chapter 4: The Hitchhiker 33. Hell-O 34. Nazi Zombies 35. March of the Nazi Zombies 36. Crowley Pep Talk 37. The Magic Shop 38. Catch The Bullet 39. Zombies in the Dressing Room Chapter 5: The Ball 40. I’ll Let You Have It 41. We’re Storming a Book Shop 42. Monsieur Azirophale 43. The Candelabra 44. Here Comes Hell 45. Gabriel Gives Himself Up 46. Shax 47. The Circle Chapter 6: Every Day 48. Bin Through the Window 49. Gabriel Leaving Heaven 50. The Halo 51. Gabriel Revealed 52. Gabriel’s Love Story 53. Leaving The Bookshop 54. Gabriel and Beelzebub 55. Crowley and Muriel 56. I Forgive You 57. Don’t Bother 58. The Biggest Decision 59. The End?

[frostedpuffs]

I have a really specific request but can you draw Adrien and Marinette as MLP Ponies please :)

listen i dont normally take requests but anon...you have no idea how much i absolutely live and breathe cringe. i got so excited when i saw this in my inbox. OF COURSE i made a whole au

(i have to thank my friends for helping me flesh this au out with their amazing ideas. i was stuck on what to do with adrien's cutie mark for the longest time!)

marinette is a pegasus and adrien is a unicorn! marinette has a lot of energy and would be buzzing around all over the place all the time. she is almost always flying! her wings are small, so she has to flap them really fast to stay afloat (like a bug's wings!) her special talent is designing, so i based her cutie mark off of the plum blossoms on her shirt and added a ladybug and sewing needle. though she doesn't have the aid of telekinesis like a unicorn would, she doesn't let that stop her from creating amazing art and clothing!

adrien comes from a long line of regal unicorns and is tall and lanky. he is unfortunately a blank flank even as a teenager due to the fact that he has not had the chance to explore many interests yet from his strict upbringing. he is a little insecure about it but he tries not to let it get to him, especially since his makeup team does a pretty good job of applying a fake one because it would be "unfortunate for the brand" if gabriel agreste's son still had not received his cutie mark as such a late age! not even his friends know he is a blank flank...not yet, at least. he does not like the fake cutie mark.

his father does put him into a lot of studies, including magic studies. adrien is a pretty skilled magic user but it's not his passion. he doesn't discover his true passion until after he meets marinette and his other friends.

the miraculous are still a thing in this au. adrien/chat noir wears his ring on his horn! when they're transformed, they become temporary alicorns, gaining a magic-based horn for ladybug and wings for chat noir.

one of my favorite headcanons for adrien's future career is that he finds a love for baking, so i used that here!!! when baking with marinette one day he discovers that baking is his special talent and he really, really loves it, earning his cutie mark (a cupcake in chat noir colors) a moment later :') they are both VERY excited! adrien would come clean about the fake cutie mark to the public and would become an advocate for blank flanks everywhere, reminding ponies that it's okay to take their time to figure themselves out and to not try and pressure themselves into finding their special talent when it's not the right time, because it will come eventually.

[chocostrwberry]

Nathalie Sancoeur!! The one on the right is just an alt design I was playing with. Ft. Faceless Gabriel!

More info below!!

I made her more monochrome because the Agreste family is very black-and-white, so I made her basically fit their house and their sense of style. It would also be interesting to see how Marinette collides with Adrien’s world; she also wants to be a fashion designer, but her projects are very fun and odd and non-traditional. She also puts lots of care and love into hand-making all of it, contrasting to his father who just approves and doesn’t approve designs. So she unconsciously represents him leaving his prison/comfort zone and experiencing something new and unfamiliar!!

Side fact: The mint green undershirt he’s wearing in his redesign wasn’t part of the originally planned outfit; it was supposed to be just the grey pants and the black polo. But he wanted to wear his favorite color (green) for the first day of school so he snuck it in, and Nathalie allowed it.

Bonus: Nathalie with black eyes and a more “plum” color palette

[aurora-daily]

AURORA hosting Tearjerker on BBC Sounds!

On the first episode called "The First Tear" she "shares a playlist of nostalgic songs from her younger years that have provided solace and comfort, from the first songs she cried to, to the music she still uses for support today. Featuring pieces from Chopin, The Chemical Brothers and Nick Drake." [link 1]

Tracklist of the episode 1:

Prélude in D Flat Major (Raindrop), Op. 28, No. 15 by Frédéric Chopin

The Brothel by Susanne Sundfør

Sofia (feat. AURORA & iris) by Askjell

Hanna's Theme by The Chemical Brothers

The World Spins by Julee Cruise

Adoration by Florence Price

Anthem for No State, Pt. I by Godspeed You! Black Emperor

This Woman's Work by Kate Bush

Lump Sum by Bon Iver

That Home by The Cinematic Orchestra

Après un rêve, Op. 7, No. 1 (Arr. for Cello and Piano) by Gabriel Fauré

Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker, Op. 71, Act II: No. 14c, Pas de deux. Variation II Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy

Landslide by Fleetwood Mac

Three Hours by Nick Drake

Suzanne by Leonard Cohen

The second episode called "Songs for the lonely" AURORA curates "a playlist to make you feel less alone. Featuring music from Erik Satie, Radiohead and Anna Clyne. Plus Aurora has a listener submission for the "Song That Saves Me"", as "It’s hard to be a human today. Somehow we can all feel lonely with the weight of the whole world on our shoulders, but music has the power to make us feel less alone." [link 2]

Tracklist of the episode 2:

Where Life and Death May Dwell (Icelandic Folk Song) - Upright Piano by Snorri Sigfús Birgisson

Gnossienne No.1: Lent by Erik Satie

Lover, Where Do You Live? by Highasakite

To Speak Of Solitude by Brambles

Hymn for Khadija by Anna Yarbrough

Exit Music (For A Film) by Radiohead

The Armed Man - A Mass For Peace: XII. Benedictus by Karl Jenkins

Fólk fær andlit by Hildur Guðnadóttir

Spiegel im spiegel by Arvo Pärt

It's Hard to Be Human (feat. Marissa Nadler) by Lawrence Rothman

Streymir (Voiceless) by Gabríel Ólafs

Tell Me About It by Thea Wang

Hoppípolla by Sigur Rós

The third episode "Beautiful sounds for human connection" celebrates the power of music that connects and brings us together: "Humans have always sung. Music is a natural part of us, and it has always been. Since the first sorrows, we sang to release the pain. And from the first births, we sang to celebrate. Music connects us. And when we sing together, and experience music together, we truly reconnect to a part of ourselves we were dangerously close to forgetting. In this week's episode of Tearjerker, Aurora celebrates the music that brings us together with pieces from The Staves, Clara Schumann and Astrid Sonne. Plus, Aurora has a listener submission for the 'Song That Saves Me'." [link 3]

Tracklist of the episode 3:

Journey to the End of the Night by Lisa Morgenstern

Down To The River To Pray by Alison Krauss

Love Is Colder Than Death by Questo Mostrarsi

momentary - choir version by Ólafur Arnalds & VOCES8

Whitacre: Lux Aurumque by Eric Whitacre

No Me, No You, No More by The Staves

happiness by Taylor Swift

cellophane by FKA twigs

Boadicea by Enya

Kiuá by Andréa Daltro

Io by Miyako Koda

Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap

Soirées musicales, Op. 6: II. Notturno. Andante con moto (Version for Harp) by Clara Schumann

Strong, Calm, Slow by Astrid Sonne

[hell-drabbles]

Gabriel 1

Summary: It was a cruel idea that you put on the table, you know this well, but you’ve never known yourself to be soft and merciful. If one manages to break Gabriel in, then it should be a simpler task to break the rest of his brethren.

(This one is a… a little extreme. Gabriel torture and the beginnings of Stockholm Syndrome. Also probably gonna make an angel OC. Just need to settle on an appearance that appeals to me. His loyalty will be towards the Reader. The man will worship them with every fiber of his being. Probably will be big, like Mammon. Jokingly want to name him Baraqiel. Because, you know… bara.)

This was torture entirely built on the base of selfishness. Your selfishness. You won’t even begin to pretend that this was for the greater good of the devils in Hell. Well, not as though torture was ever anything but self serving, it just feels more… significant that you proposed this idea with the full intention of taking advantage of it.

Gabriel, the angel that phased through your screen, who sliced open your friend and declared you a target of all angel kind, was chained to the floor of a humid dungeon. He was forced on his side, mouth gagged with hands and eyes bound tight with the cloth of his own clothes. Practically clad in blood-soaked threads rather than a uniform.

He growled as all dogs of heaven do when they hear anyone near their cell. He bit down on his gag when the devil keeping watch clinked open the cell door. And he shuffled his back–six jagged lines, uneven skin caked in disgusting black blood–away from you. You didn’t even grant him the mercy of giving him stitches. He’d scar, but he’d heal.

He didn’t have his halo anymore. You had that thing ripped off when it nearly blinded you just a week ago. He didn’t deserve to shine, to cling to this grace gifted to him by this being he worshiped so much.

You stopped before him and watched him squirm and attempt to curl into a defeated ball. You knelt and grabbed his chin before forcing his head up at an almost agonizing angle. The devils that came before you had left marks on them. Claw marks and plum colored bruised all over his neck.

Of course, they couldn’t kill him. Not when that was your right.

You heard a rasp deep from his throat, pushed out of his mouth with a purpose. He’s trying to say words, probably trying to curse you with an anger deep from his bones, but there was nothing.

“Tch,” you clenched your jaw and ripped off the gag. You forced his mouth open with a thumb and peered inside. No tongue, no uvula, and beyond that was fresh and fleshy scarring trailing down his throat. “Someone took your voice, huh?”

And without your permission. You said to those devils that they can hurt, but they cannot take pieces of your toys. Of course someone would get high on their own power and disobey you.

Gabriel didn’t dig his teeth into your thumb, he closed around it instead. He didn’t stuck, and couldn’t lick, but he let his lips fall around your thumb nonetheless. Seems he recognized your voice. You do make it a habit to do some care. Can’t very well have him die on you suddenly.

You scratched through his greasy hair, like you would any pet, and Gabriel bowed his head into your hands.

Isolation certainly has done a number on him. It won’t be long before he’s bouncing right towards your feet.

[doppiofilo]

Victoria Plum & Gabrielle Caunesil

[roosterbruiser]

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲) ✯ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A game of critter-critter has unexpected prizes. ✯ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.6k ✯ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✯ 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐓𝐗 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟖

Gooseflesh is starting to break out over your skin as you lay out in the sun. Droplets of springwater still sit thickly over your flesh, your hair sopping but still erratic as it fans out all around you. Your eyes have slipped shut, the sun spotting your vision in a kaleidoscope of seafoam and blush and dandelion. 

The boys are still horsing around in the spring, laughing brashly about something or the other, as you and Ruth recline against the mud and let the sun freckle your skin. 

Ruth is humming, in a peculiarly good mood today, as she lies on her belly. 

“If you’re gonna hum, can I at least change the station?” You ask softly, peeking at her through half-lidded eyes. She’s smiling, her plush cheek pressed against her arm as a laugh bubbles from her throat and out of her mouth. “Jesus, you’re scarin’ me! Hummin’, laughin’, smilin’. What’s next? Gonna break out in a dance number or somethin’?” 

Ruth is used to being teased--she is a perpetual grump and takes great care of maintaining that image--when she’s in a good mood. It doesn’t happen often; what is there in Silverkeep that would frequently put her in a good mood? Not much--not much at all. 

“You can request somethin’,” Ruth says softly. “But no Willie Nelson.” 

“Hmm,” you whisper, tapping your chin. You let your eyes flutter shut again, adjusting your sad cotton bra that is clinging to the swell of your breasts. “Got any Cowboy Junkies in there?” 

Without another word, Ruth begins humming Angel Mine. You settle back against the mud, pleased as a plum that she’s in such a good mood--even if she hasn’t told you why.

“Ruth Gabriel, you’re full of surprises,” you sigh in content, rolling onto your belly, too. Your chest is warm from the inside out, something about the summer sun and the company of friends pulsing through the musky air pleasantly. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to tell me what untwisted your panties.” 

Ruth just laughs, pink kissing her cheeks. 

She isn’t going to say anything to you. She isn’t even really sure how to, even if she wanted to--which she doesn’t. How in the world Ruth Gabriel is ever supposed to tell you or her daddy or Hyde or her mama that she kissed a girl is beyond her, so she’s allowing it to just sit privately between her and Alma Bailey. Before leaving their little spot tucked underneath the empty bleachers at the desolate high school, they locked their pinkies together and made a silent and thorough promise to keep it hush-hush. Girls kissing girls in Silverkeep isn’t something they want to broadcast.

“Noted,” is all Ruth says.  

The water is kissing the underside of Jake’s jaw, chilled from the ample shade above as he makes long and complete strokes. His chest is warm from panting and laughing, his toes cold from grazing the muddy bottom. 

“C’mon, just tell me!” Hyde is whining through a mouthful of springwater. He spits it in a steady stream, shaking his head and letting water droplets fling out across the surface of the spring. “Help a brother out!” 

Jake rolls his eyes, pausing to just wade, puffing out a few breaths as he rolls his eyes at Hyde. 

“No,” Jake repeats. He splashes Hyde, who doesn’t even flinch. “I can’t! That’s gross!” 

Hyde has been unrelenting today, hardly even waiting until you and Ruth were out of earshot before peppering Jake with questions about Emmaline--not polite ones, either. 

“Fine. If you won’t tell me if the carpets match the drapes, then at least tell me what it was like? What did it look like? Smell like?” When Jake grimaces, shaking his head at Hyde, Hyde throws his arms up in exasperation. “You’re just bein’ selfish, man!” 

Jake barks out a laugh, crossing his arms. 

“You’re bein’ a creep,” Jake points out. 

It isn’t just because Jake truly doesn’t know how to describe Emmaline Odette’s body, which he has not thought about even once since graduation night, but it’s that it makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. When he thinks about some guy talking about any of his sisters like that, even Harper, it makes his belly turn. Even the thought of some guy talking about you like that makes his blood feel hot--hotter than he cares to admit. 

So, he won’t say anything to Hyde about Emmaline. Not the color of her pubic hair or the color of her nipples or the smell of her cunt or the cut of her underwear. Even as Hyde grumbles and rolls his eyes, splashing Jake, he won’t say a word. 

“Hyde, just fuck someone,” Jake says, eyes wide. “It ain’t that hard!” 

Hyde scoffs. 

“Easy for you to say!” Hyde complains, flinging his fiery locks back. His skin, which is as pristine as snow, is beginning to pinken on his shoulders and nose. “You’re a fuckin’ human Ken doll. I’m Ronald McDonald!” 

Jake laughs softly. 

“I pegged you more of a Carrot Top,” Jake chides. 

Scrawny chest puffed, Hyde flips Jake off. Then he turns towards where you and Ruth are reclining on the bank, squinting in the sun. 

“Ladies!”

You and Ruth grumble in unison, not lifting your heads. 

Jake is watching fondly, content in letting his eyes wander across all your skin on display, goosing in the sun as it dries. He can see right through your light blue panties, can see the swell of your rear and the little star-shaped birthmark on your left cheek. He’s always known that it’s there, having run around naked with you all the time when you were little--but now he’s more acquainted with it. He’s run his fingers over it, memorizing its placement, tracing it. 

“Who’re you calling ladies? Us?” You call back. 

“Oh, shut up!” Hyde calls back. “Do I look like Carrot Top?” 

Ruth doesn’t dignify Hyde with a response. But you sit up, craning your neck and squinting at Hyde, who’s shielding his eyes as he looks at you. You see Jake watching you, too, further behind Hyde. His body is glowing, his skin already tanned from the sun, and he is smiling at you like he’s seen you naked; which he has. 

“Mmm, no,” you call. Hyde smiles. “I think you look like Chucky!” 

Ruth snaps up, grinning. 

“That’s so true!”

“Y’all’re walkin’ home,” Hyde grumbles, not really meaning it. “I mean it!”

Later on, after the sun has come and gone and the fireflies begin to float from wildflower to tree branch, the lot of you pass around a joint before loading into Rusty. You’re all giggly, your limbs heavy and your eyes half-shut. All of you have to work tomorrow but are unwilling to let the day end. Even as the heat fades the crickets start to chirp, the four of you amble around Silverkeep, serenely watching the night close in on you as Rusty sputters and moseys down the road.

Jake’s holding onto your bare thigh, fingering the hem of your oversized shorts, resting his head against yours. Faintly, he can hear you humming along to the radio, which is playing Goodnight California by Kathleen Edwards. 

You’re the kind of high that makes everything feel good: the wind blowing through your curls, Jake’s warm palm on your thigh, the heaviness of his head on yours, the rumble of the engine on your bottom, the music tickling your ears, the hum in your throat. 

Jake is finishing up a cigarette, the gross American Spirits he doesn’t really like, taking shallow drags and ashing the cigarette on the side of the truck. You’ve already smoked two since leaving the spring, bumming a light off Jake. 

“So, when you imagine it--how do you, like, see it?” 

You’re talking about having sex for the first time. 

Shrugging, you sigh. 

“M’not sure,” you say honestly, chewing your bottom lip. “Honestly haven’t put much thought into it.” 

“Well,” Jake says, “think about it now.” 

Smiling, you close your eyes. When you imagine it, all you can imagine is Jake. Just him and you, alone together, pressing into each other. You don’t care where and you don’t care when--so long as he’s there and you’re there, that’s all that matters. And ever since the night you were pelted with a baseball, when you two almost had sex, you’ve thought about having sex incessantly. Opening your legs, holding him between your thighs, feeling him fill you, letting his lips attach to your throat. 

Even now, it makes your thighs clench.  

Jake watches your brows pull together as he stubs his cigarette out and flicks it out the side of the truck. Before he can stop himself, he cups your cheek, letting his thumb press against your lower lip. He feels the stretch of your smile against his palm and something inside of him softens immensely.  

“S’just us, mustang,” you answer with a sigh, peering at him. His eyes are calm, swimming with affection. “That’s all I can see.” 

He nods.

“You’re easy to please,” he says. “That’s new.” 

You laugh, eyes bleary, but suddenly stop when Ruth knocks on the window a few times. She’s annoyed, you can tell, her lips flat and her eyes drooping. 

“Hyde wants to play critter-critter,” she yells through the glass. “I said we can take a vote.” 

“I’ll play,” Jake calls to Ruth. 

She looks at you, pleading. But you’re grinning at her. 

“Sorry, Ruth!”

Ruth flips the two of you off, huffing and sinking into her seat. She glances at Hyde, who is laughing dryly at her reaction. 

“You ain’t gettin’ me naked, Hyde Darren,” Ruth says sternly. “I don’t care how much roadkill we pass.” 

You’ve all played this before--everyone in Silverkeep has--but this is the first time you and Jake have played since becoming involved with each other intimately. It makes excitement bubble up in both of you, your bellies warm. Jake squeezes your thigh and you move into him. 

“Y’all remember the rules?” Hyde calls. 

“See a dead animal, take an article of clothin’ off,” you say flatly. “Ain’t that hard to recollect.” 

Hyde flips you the bird, quickly turning down Slaughter Road--which is ironically the most popular place to play critter-critter given its high volume of roadkill.

Under the vast open sky and the bright moon, you’re all stripped down to your underwear again four miles down the road. The air is still warm enough that you’re not chilled, but even if it were the dead of winter--you’d be warm just from the heat of Jake’s body pressed against yours. All that endless skin that you two have become acquainted with more intimately in the last month is on display in the bed of the truck, tempting and unrelentingly beautiful. 

You and Jake aren’t even looking for the roadkill, only knowing to take another article off whenever Hyde calls out raccoon! or squirrel! Ruth has her arms crossed over her chest, a perpetual frown staining her lips. She hates this game, especially playing with Hyde since he seems to constantly chide her for the blush that stains her breasts. Her only solace is imagining that Alma is here. 

“And when you think about it…” you start softly, resting your cheek against the window of the cab as Jake gazes at you. “You imagine what?” 

Jake hums. 

He thinks about making it special for you, thinks about money never being an issue. The champagne, the motel room, the rose petals, the low lights, the music. He would do it for you if he could; maybe he wouldn’t have to say he loved you out loud, then. Maybe you would just know. Things would be easier if you just knew--he wouldn’t feel so scared all the time.

When your palm starts to slide up his thigh, very slowly, he doesn’t move out of your touch. He just lets it happen, lets his throat grow tight and his lungs fill up. He’s painfully attracted to you, even just sitting here in the rusted truck, even just seeing you sit there in that underwear that he’s seen you wear dozens of times. 

“Same as you, I guess,” he answers, clearing his throat when he hears how thin his voice sounds. “Me and you. A condom. Preferably a bed.” 

You laugh. 

“Whose bed?” You ask. “Mine or yours?” 

Jake shrugs, swallowing hard when your palm grazes the hem of his boxers. 

“Don’t care,” he answers. He means it. His brain is growing foggy as you move your hand higher and higher, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. “What’re you doin’, girl?”

Instead of answering, you just rest your cheek on his shoulder, looking down his sinewy chest and watching your hand climb his thigh until it’s resting just near his cock. You can tell that he’s turned on--the faintest imprint of his hardening cock visible in the moonlight. And he’s swallowing roughly, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his palm on your belly to hold you close. 

“Should I stop?” You whisper to him, grazing the head of his cock with your pinkie. Your touch is criminally light; it leaves Jake reeling for a moment, eyes narrowed and breathing shallow. “Cause I will if you want me to.” 

“No,” he answers thinly. His fingers dig into your ribs and you smile--you like to be held tight like this. “Keep goin’.” 

So, you do. 

You let your whole hand slide over his cock and by the time you do, Jake is fully hard. You’ve learned that it doesn’t take much to get him going, not at all. He’s good at staying still, anchoring himself to you and breathing harshly through his nose as you slowly palm him. 

Touching him is something you’ve grown to thoroughly enjoy. You like it, really. You like everything about it. The way his thighs tense, the way his grip intensifies, the way he pants, the little sounds that sometimes fall from his lips, the warmth of his cock. 

“Fuck,” Jake whispers, his voice almost lost to the wind that’s rushing past you. “Fuck, you’re gettin’ good at this, Filly.” 

“I thought I was a natural?” You ask, not pausing in your movements. 

He hisses when you suddenly move your hand inside his underwear and hold him, your hand soft and your grip meaningful. 

“You are,” he says, voice strained. “Jesus, you are.” 

“Takin’ the Lord’s name in vain,” you tut. Swiftly, you bring your hand to your mouth and spit in it before returning to your previous movements. Jake is groaning softly, making sure to keep his body still to not rouse any suspicion. “And he ain’t even the one givin’ you a handjob.” 

Ruth and Hyde are completely in the dark--literally and figuratively. Hyde is too busy making the turns and scouring the side of the road for more carcasses. Ruth is too busy grumbling and sinking herself lower in the seat. And, anyway, if they were checking in on you two, they would only see your silhouettes in the night. Even then, only your shoulders and heads. 

“Fuck,” Jake whispers quietly. “Please, go faster.” 

Just then, a Hyde thumps on the back window. You jump, but don’t move your hand away from Jake. 

“Squirrel!” He calls. 

Jake’s eyes are hooded as he looks at you, his cheeks practically glowing in the dark. 

And instead of you taking your bra off, of taking your hand away from Jake’s cock that is weeping for you, he takes hold of your straps and pushes them off your shoulders. Now you’re the one blushing, your breathing hitched. He pushes the cotton bra all the way down until it’s resting in the middle of your belly--your breasts goose when the night air brushes you, your nipples hardening. 

You’re languidly stroking Jake now, not breaking your gaze from his. 

“If we were alone, I’d kiss you right now,” he says, voice thin. 

You shudder at the mere mention of his lips on yours. 

“Would you?” You quietly ask. 

He’s looking at your mouth now, parted and quivering. 

“I’d kiss you so hard you’d forget your name,” he says. 

When he’s sure that Hyde and Ruth can’t see what the two of you are doing, he lets his palm slide up, up, up your belly and then come down over your breast. It takes everything in your body not to tip your head back and moan, takes everything in your body to maintain your gaze on his when he starts to pinch your nipple lightly. 

“What else would you do?” You ask. Your voice is quivering, your thighs beginning to quake. You’re wet--the kind of wet only Jake has been able to make you. “Tell me.” 

“I’d do this,” Jake whispers, his own breathing faltering as you quicken your pace, pushing his underwear down to his mid-thighs. 

His hand sinks down your body until he’s between your legs, basking in the warm wetness that has grown there. He presses down against you, only a thin layer of jersey between your cunt and his fingers.

You have to swallow a moan--a big and loud one, one that would echo along the desolate farm houses and all the black cherry trees that line the lonesome road. He lets his fingers wriggle under your panties and he’s against your cunt now, pressing his fingers against your wetness, gathering it on his fingers. 

You slump against him, breathing shakily, and keep pumping his cock. 

He buries his nose in your hair, drunk on oranges. 

“If we were alone, I’d bury my face between your legs,” Jake promises in a tense, hushed tone. He is meeting your strokes with his own hips, chasing a high that is steadily approaching. “I’d lick every inch of you, Filly.” 

Swallowing hard, you turn so your open mouth is against his shoulder. He still tastes like springwater when you let your tongue dance along the surface of his skin, biting down gently. 

He presses a finger into you--not too much, not too hard, not too deep. Just up to his first knuckle, just to warm you up to the idea of penetration. He cups you so the heel of his palm grazes your clit each time he pumps his finger inside of you, slowly letting your arousal coat his finger before he presses you any further. 

Pleasure is bursting through both your bodies, blushing your chests and widening your eyes. You want nothing more than to kiss him, than to be kissed by him, but you’re going fifty miles per hour down a dark dirt road in the back of a pickup truck--you can’t kiss him now. 

“Is this alright?” He asks, pressing his middle finger into you. 

The stretch burns for a moment, makes you hiss and moan, but then you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. It’s the kind that tickles your scalp, curls your toes. You can do nothing but nod, not trusting your own voice. 

“Fuck,” he whispers to you, nose still buried in your hair. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” 

“If we were alone, I’d suck you dry,” you whisper to him, your voice almost carried away by the wind. 

But he hears it. And like it’s some sort of magic phrase, he cums instantly. Without warning, without so much as a moment’s notice, his hips flex up into your grip. Streams of cum spurt over your hand and his thigh. He curses, hissing into your locks. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he whispers, panting. His eyes are squeezed shut and his hand has stilled, his finger still inside you. “I didn’t even know, it just happened--!” 

“S’fine,” you tell him, really meaning it. You’re smiling. “I don’t mind one bit. Honest.”

And since there are no articles of clothing either of you are willing to stain with cum, Jake watches as you bend down and hastily lick his thighs and your hand clean. It’s bitter on your tongue, still warm, but not unpleasant. You’ve had worse in your mouth--much worse.

He feels like he could cum again watching you lick your palm. 

“Do you even know how fuckin’ hot you are?” It falls from his lips before he can stop it--not that you mind. 

You swallow thickly as Jake pulls his hands away from your cunt. 

“No,” you answer honestly. You’re not fishing for a compliment, for anything. You just really don’t know how hot you are. “But you make me feel good about myself.” 

A certain truthfulness has fallen between the two of you, filling up the little space that resides between your warm bodies.

He kisses your scalp a few times, letting his lips linger there. He wishes that he could hold you. He wishes that he could pull you onto his lap and gather you up and stroke your hair and let you close your eyes. But he knows that now isn’t the time. 

“You should always feel good about yourself,” he mutters. “You’re fuckin’ perfect, Filly.”

You both startle when Hyde suddenly slams his fist on the window. 

“Deer! That means we’ve all gotta fuck!” 

Your cheeks are bright red, but you laugh when you hear the smack that Ruth delivers to the back of Hyde’s neck.

A couple days later, on an unreasonably hot afternoon, you come home with a chiffon dress tucked inside a Goodwill bag. You’re sweating, your hair thrown up into something resembling a knot on the back of your head, as you tear through the front door and into the hot house. 

“You’re lettin’ all the cold air out!” Your mama hisses from her spot on the couch beside your father. “Close the door!” 

Even your mama is pissy in this heat, clipping her pretty hair up and breaking out her church fan. She’s even resorted to wearing one of her shorter dresses, which she usually reserves for special outings. 

Your daddy is sitting beside her, smiling at your excited form as you slam the front door and bound into the house, the trailer practically shaking underneath your feet. 

“Got my dress for Harper’s weddin’,” you sing-song, planting yourself between the television set and the coffee table. “And it was blue tag!” 

Your daddy whistles, feigning impression. 

“40% off?” He asks, combing his fingers through his locks. “Aren’t you a bargain buster!” 

You keen at the praise, mockingly curtseying with all the grace of a newborn fawn. Sweat is covering every inch of your body and even the breeze was too warm on the way home to cool you off. On the handlebars of Jake’s bike, you’d moaned on and on about how hot you were, your collar dampening. And it is not any better in here. 

“Well, get to it!” Your mama says. “Show us!” 

Dumping the back upside down, you pull the dress from the bag and proudly hold it up. It’s teal, ruffles over the breasts that lead into a smooth and straight line all the way to the bottom of the skirt where more ruffles are sewn. It’s long, just brushing your ankles, and the straps are thin. 

Pulling her brows together, your mama nods, chewing a smile. She’s almost certain she wore a dress just like that to her prom--which feels like a very long time ago. 

“Well, that’s real pretty, Filly-billy,” your daddy grins, nodding. “You’re gonna look like such a lady!”

“Is it…” your mother searches for the right word, selecting her vocabulary carefully, “vintage?” 

You nod.  

It’s definitely old. It smells like it--like moth balls and dust.

“Yeah,” you answer. You hold it against your body and smooth your palms over the fabric carefully. “Jake found it lyin’ in a bin in the corner.” 

“That’s sure lucky,” your daddy grins. “Why don’t you go and try it on for us?” 

You hurry off, a grin pinching your cheeks. 

Your mama sighs, glancing at your daddy. 

“Don’t say it,” your daddy says, crossing his arms and sighing. He won’t look at your mama, who is most certainly staring at him with an exasperated expression. “Hush now, woman.” 

Your mama leans into his field of vision, a frown firmly planted on her lips. 

“That is the ugliest damn dress I’ve ever seen in my life,” your mama hisses. She keeps fanning herself as she widens her eyes and gestures wildly.

“It ain’t that bad,” your daddy says. 

“We can’t let her go to the weddin’ like that,” your mama insists, voice flat and serious. 

Your daddy scoffs. 

“And what’s the alternative?” He asks. “Wanna take my credit card and run her down to Goldman Sachs? ‘Cause that ain’t happenin’.” 

Your mama’s lips quiver as she purses them. 

“That ain’t fair,” she says softly. 

Your daddy sighs, pain spreading across his chest.

“I know it ain’t,” your daddy says quietly. He settles into the sofa, ignoring the sweat dripping down his forehead, and crosses his arms. “And it ain’t fair that we don’t got air conditionin’ and it ain’t fair we can’t send Filly to college and it ain’t fair that you gotta work so hard. But we do. That’s just the way it is.” 

Your mama wrinkles her nose. 

“Don’t talk to me like I’m not the one signin’ the checks,” she hisses. “There’s gotta be someway we can get her a new dress--a cheap one, not even twenty dollars.” 

Your daddy shakes his head. Money’s tight--money is always tight. 

“She bought a perfectly fine dress that she likes,” he says softly. “If I could give that kid a million dollars, I would. But I can’t. So I’ll let her wear the damn dress she bought and tell her she looks real pretty in it.” 

When you come out of the bathroom, the dress on your form, you’re grinning. It’s a bit too big over your chest and a bit too loose around your waist, but you like it. You like that it feels like it’s been worn already, like that you can still smell someone’s closet on the fabric. 

“Oh, you’re just darlin’,” your daddy grins. His eyes are shining with delight as you mockingly twirl around the cramped living room, the dress swiftly following you. “Look how damn pretty she is, honey.” 

Your mama is nodding, her lips tight as she smiles. 

“We’ll belt it,” your mama says. “Pin the straps. It’ll fit just fine, then.” 

You don’t hardly care, still dancing around in the dress before them as a Nascar race drones on in the background. 

“I like it how it is,” you say indignantly, balling all the material in your hands and swaying.

Your mama just bites her tongue. 

“So, Jake went with you?” Your daddy asks. 

You nod. 

“He had to get new shoes for school,” you answer. 

But then you’re swallowing hard, your movements faltering. Your parents watch you deflate before their very eyes, your shoulders slumping and your lips frowning. You try to shake it off, try to grin your way out of the thought of Jake leaving, but it’s suddenly sitting in the room bigger than the three of you combined. 

Your mama cuts the silence, setting her church fan on the coffee table. 

“When’s he go?” She asks. 

You hum, chewing the inside of your lip. 

“August,” you answer. 

“Soon,” your mama says. “Have you thought about what you’re gonna do when he’s gone?” 

She’s asking because she knows that you haven’t. You’re her daughter, which means she knows that you will avoid facing certain realities for as long as you can take it. If you don’t want to face the music, you won’t until it is statistically impossible. 

“Yeah,” you lie, rolling your eyes. 

Your daddy can feel where this is heading. He sighs deeply, eyes heavy. 

“Don’t lie to your mama,” she says, eyebrow perched. “That’ll send you straight to Hell.”

You scoff. 

“Can’t we have one conversation where you don’t tell me I’m goin’ to Hell?” You ask. You and your mama have had plenty of conversation where she didn’t tell you that you were going to Hell. 

But you’re pissed now.  

“Christ alive,” your father mutters, sending a pointed look to your mother. 

But she isn’t looking at him, her eyes trained on your still form.

“Well, can’t we have one conversation where you don’t lie?” 

“You don’t know if I’m lyin’,” is your only retort, your brows furrowed. “And anyway, what would I think about?”

Your heart is racing, blood coursing through your veins suddenly ice cold. You don’t want to talk about this. It’s only June. It’s only June. It’s only June. 

“Livin’ without him,” your mama answers, her voice flat. “Cause you’re gonna have to learn, girl. You won’t have the time or money to be goin’ up to Austin every weekend.”

Red paints your cheeks and neck. 

“I never said I was goin’ to Austin every weekend,” you say, fists clenched.

Your mother nods once sharply. 

“Right, but that’s what you wanna do, right?” 

You say nothing. 

“You’ve known him your whole life, Filly,” your mother says, laughing dryly. “And this is gonna be the first time he’s not a mile and a half away from you. You’re gonna have to face up to that eventually.” 

Frustration sits thickly on your tongue. 

“I will!” You insist, throwing your hands up in the air. “I have!” 

“What’d I say about lyin’?” Your mama hisses. 

“You’re just tryin’ to upset me,” you accuse your mama, suddenly feeling very silly to be standing in your long dress on such a hot day and such a little trailer.

“Why would I want to upset you?” Your mother asks tiredly. 

Narrowing your eyes at her, you cross your arms over your chest. 

Your daddy knows better than to pipe up right now, knows better than to take sides. But dammit if you and your mama aren’t spitting images of each other right now, down to the shade of pink on your cheeks and the crinkle between your brows. 

“You’re always upsettin’ me,” you answer.

Your mama rolls her eyes. 

“Oh, I don’t have that patience for the melodrama today, Filly,” she insists, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just knock it off.” 

“You’re always tellin’ me what to do!” You accuse. You’re pissed now, triggered at the sheer mention of Jake leaving. “And you’re always needlin’ me!” 

Your mama scoffs, planting her feet on the dingy carpet. 

“I am not needlin’ you,” she says. She points her index finger at you, eyes narrowed. “And you’re livin’ under my roof, and you came out of my body, which gives me all the right in the world to tell you what to do!” 

  This happens often with you and your mother: the relationship is a difficult one. You’re very similar to your mother, in terms of likeness and temper. But in all the ways that you’re unlike her, which is mostly your spitfire, her authority rears and so does your attitude. 

“I didn’t choose to come out of your body!” You shout. 

“Don’t shout in the house,” your daddy says calmly, giving you a curt nod. 

You listen, immediately stiffening your spine. 

“So, your daddy tells you what to do and you just do it, no questions asked?” Your mama asks, her eyes suddenly glassy. “But I tell you to do somethin’ and you stand here arguin’ with me?” 

You blink at her. 

This is a sore spot for her. You’ve always been a daddy’s girl--from the moment you were born, all you wanted was him. You would breastfeed then wail until she placed you in your daddy’s arms. You only wanted him to read your bedtime stories, only wanted him to walk you to school, only wanted him to pack your lunches. 

“Now, wait a second here,” your daddy tries, resting his hand on your mama’s forearm. “Let’s just calm down--!” 

Your mama pulls herself out of his grip and swiftly stomps to the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Your daddy sighs, glancing at you with a frown before shrugging. 

You shrug back. 

He nods to the empty spot on the couch beside him and you amble over, sinking down in the cushions. The springs cry and the volume of the television suddenly seems too loud without all the shouting to mask it. Zooming cars, exciting commentators. 

You watch in silence with your dad for a while, both of you ignoring the state your mama left the room in. There’s an unspoken, unbreakable bond between you and your father. One that your mama is always gonna be on the outside of. 

“You’re gonna let your mama pin that dress and get you a belt,” he says, his tone even and calm. “And she don’t mean it in a bad way when she pokes you. It’s just her way, Filly-billy. It’s what she does.” 

You sigh, fidgeting with the skin around your thumbnails. 

“Okay,” you whisper. 

Your daddy nods, not dragging his eyes away from the racetrack. 

“She loves you,” he says softly. 

“I know.” 

He sighs. 

“And you’re gonna be just fine when Jake leaves,” your daddy promises. He doesn't know if it’s the truth, but he feels better telling you that. “We’ll get you down to Austin whenever we can, alright? And ain’t no way he won’t come home to visit Franny on the weekends. S’all gonna work out.” 

You don’t say anything at all, staring down at the ruffles at your ankles. 

Silently, he puts his arm around you and pulls you into his side. You relax against him, his t-shirt soft beneath your cheek. The scent of hair pomade and leather is thick on his skin--it’s a smell that makes you feel like going to sleep, a smell that makes you feel like your belly is full. 

“It’s a beautiful dress,” he tells you. He kisses the top of your head. “Your mama likes it, too.” 

“Really?” You ask, voice muffled. 

He nods, biting his lip hard. 

“I ain’t shittin’ you,” he says. 

He hates lying to you. But then he feels that smile pinch your cheeks, feels you settle into him further, and he knows that sometimes he's gotta lie to you. Just to smooth the wrinkles between you and your mama. Just to keep the peace.

Because as much as you butt heads with your mama, you are keen to please her as often as possible in whatever ways you can.

✯ 𝐚/𝐧: yes, critter-critter is a real game!! no, I've never played it!

✯ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

✯ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝

✯ 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

✯ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

@violetta-ximena

@hazyretina

@illicithallways

@callsign-cacti

@chicomonks

@royalpurplehuskies

@widemiffyhappy

@djs8891

@shari_berri

@dempy

@ofxinnocence

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@myfaveficrecs

@princess76179

@roosters-girl

@thedroneranger

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@aemondssiut

@twsssmlmaa

@shawnsblue

@wolfiealina

@hangmanscoming

@whoeverineedtobe

@fragile-heartt

@averyhotchner

@jjlevin

@bradshawseresinbabe

@unhinged-btch

@bradshawbabe

@lt-spork

@maddievevo

@linkpk88

@eli2447

@cosmic-psychickitty

@shanimallina87

@flrboyd

@greatszu

✯ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝/𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬, 𝐃𝐌 𝐦𝐞!

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Once Upon A Time OC Masterlist

[ K - Z ]

Name: Alissa Thorn

Story: Dear Reader

Enchanted Forest: Priscilla Page ( Fables )

Face claim: Kathryn Newton

Name: Angel Dearly

Story: Long Live

Enchanted Forest: Anita Dumas / Anita Radcliffe

Face claim: Ellie Bamber

Love Interest: Roman Taylor | Roger Radclfife ( @the-witching-ash )

Summary:

Angel Dearly wouldn’t say that she was unhappy with her life, but she was bored.  Instead of being a famous fashion designer in New York or Paris, she was a waitress in Storybooke, still living with her grandmother.  There were some good moments, of course: walking Perdita, baking pies, talking to the sweet music teacher who visited Granny’s every day when he finished work, but every day felt the same, and Angel spent her life feeling like something was missing, yearning for something more.  And then Emma Swan comes to town one day, and the life that Angel Dearly was so used to would never be the same again.

Name: Angel Dearly

Story: Folklore

Enchanted Forest: Anita Radcliffe

Face claim: Ellie Bamber

Love Interest: Graham Humbert

Angel Dearly wouldn’t say that she was unhappy with her life, but she was bored.  Instead of being a famous fashion designer in New York or Paris, she was a waitress in Storybooke, still living with her grandmother.  There were some good moments, of course: walking Perdita, baking pies, talking to the Sheriff when he came for his morning coffee, but every day felt the same, and Angel spent her life feeling like something was missing, yearning for something more.  And then Emma Swan comes to town one day, and the life that Angel Dearly was so used to would never be the same again.

Name: Antonietta Caccialanza

Story: Overture

Enchanted Forest: Sugar Plum Fairy

Face claim: Anne Hathaway

Love Interest: Graham Humbert

Name: Ariana Galanis

Story: The Girl Who Died

Enchanted Forest: Ariadne Bayern ( Bluebeard's Wife )

Face claim: Nicola Coulghan

Name: Bradley Cushing

Story: The Game Afoot

Enchanted Forest: Sherlock Holmes

Face claim: Freddy Carter

Name: Calleigh Sheridan

Story: Overture

Enchanted Forest: Clara Stahlbaum ( The Nutcracker )

Face claim: Elle Fanning

Love Interest: Marius Hoffman

Name: Carmilla Rossmore

Story: Love Eternal

Enchanted Forest: Lucy Westenra

Face claim: Meg Donnelly

Love Interest: Libby Kocsis & Will Hopkins

Name: Corrina Mills

Story: Rite Of Spring

Enchanted Forest: Persephone

Face claim: Ana De Armas

Love Interest: probable Graham Humbert

Name: Declan Jones

Story: Bury Your Bones

Enchanted Forest: N/A

Face claim: Thomas Doherty

Name: Dove Thorn

Story: Dear Reader

Enchanted Forest: Robin Page ( Fables )

Face claim: Natalie Alyn Lind

Name: Eilwony

Story: Rabbit Heart

Enchanted Forest: Eilwony

Face claim: Kiernan Shipka

Name: Emmanuel Roberts

Story: I’m Still Here

Enchanted Forest: Jim Hawkins

Face claim: Brenton Thwaites

Name: Eve Dearly

Story: Folklore

Enchanted Forest: N/A

Face claim: Mackenzie Foy

Name: Evelyn Thorn

Story: Dear Reader

Enchanted Forest: Hillary Page ( Fables )

Face claim: Florence Pugh

Name: Findlay Maguire

Story: Folklore

Enchanted Forest: Fiyero Tigelaar

Face claim: Jonathan Bailey

Love Interest: Angel Dearly

Name: Gabriel Whittaker

Story: Folklore

Enchanted Forest: Klaus White

Face claim: Nicholas Galitzine

Love Interest: Lavender Dunbar

Name: Goldie Thistle

Story: Follow Your Heart

Enchanted Forest: Thumbelina

Face claim: Sabrina Carpenter

[a-zira-fell]

This post is a Work in Progress and will be edited.

The Second Coming

Jesus comes back in a Judgement Day kinda situation - some Good Omens thoughts

(Footnotes under readmore) (1)

1. Who is Jesus?

At the time of the setting of Season 3 (2026?), he should be in his mid thirties (2)

A carpenter? It seems in keeping with the humour and charme of GO that he may well be a carpenter

I don't care about Jesus's gender at all. Might be a guy, might be a girl, might be neither or both, but what i know for sure is that Jesus has to be queer (3)

2. His Parents

Son of a Carpenter and the 'Virgin Mary'

maybe their names are Joseph and Mary maybe not

Young couple just got pregnant (Jane the Virgin type situation?), decide to keep it, one time there was a weird posh guy who told her she would bear the Second Coming of the Son of God and she replied "I don't even want an abortion, man" and forgot about it (4)

Punk adjacent working class parents in the 90s

Atheist-raised Christ?

3. Jesus had a hell of a weird childhood

Sparks of divine energy at random times, often emotionally triggered

Brought objects to life and revived dead pets for friends

4. Good Omens tie-in

The events of GO 1 may have triggered something in him (5) and since then miracles happen more and more frequently and he's learning to control them

He finds himself speaking truths he can't quite wrap his own head around

There are still bursts that are linked to emotions, so sometimes it's not as easy to hide. With social media and all

It has attracted people to him, some of whon may see in him the Second Coming of Christ. It's true, he knows, but it feels like a dark secret because there is so much he doesn't understand

It's like a cult that he's barely a part of, yet he is the leader

5. His Environment

He's got this close circle of friends but twelve is a lot by those standards and it's mostly just hanging out with some of them at one time

There are few occasions with all of them present but it's always a good time.

Jesus doesn't have a favourite. He has some friends that are closer but everyone contributes to the group.

He still feels set apart from them all except:

6. Judas

is the boyfriend

Absolutely devoted to Jesus but also a natural born helper who puts the cause first and manages the budget of the group as organisers of protests or booths at pride

Crowley finds he is easy to tempt to do many things, but his resolve to protect Jesus is unwavering, temptations that involve Jesus in any way don't catch on Judas (6)

Jesus relies on Judas a lot. He's torn between his fate, this whole unknown side to the world, and Judas, his foot in the real world. His rock in the stormy sea.

7. Miscellaneous

Jesus has for sure taken apart a queerphobic booth next to a church once, at the far side of a Pride Event

He was drunk one summer night and came by a plum tree in someone's yard, plums not ripe just yet. He cussed it out half jokingly, forgetting about magic bursts. Then next day the tree is completely shrivelled up

Got thoughts about Jesus? 💌 (69)

(1) yeah, it's that kind of post

(4) is there one christ per generation? That never goes off bc it's never the time. Like a switch needs to be switched to activate the sleeper agent Christ within. (All humans are made the same. Anyone could be christ.

(2) to my knowledge (adequate) Christ's birth is placed ca 4-7 BC, making him 34-37 in 30 or even 37-40 in 33 ad where his main work that we usually know him from (not the carpentry) took place.

(3) I'll refer to Jesus as he in this post bc that's easier

- is there one woodworker's kid per generation, across the globe that is just Soooooooooo fucking weird?

- does Gabriel visit one mother per generation and activate a Jesus Gene or ...

(5) or was the book of life used to activate that?

(6) I am a firm believer in 'Judas tried to deescalate the situation in Jerusalem before Jesus could come to any harm by choosing the lesser of all evils, which to him seemed to be having Jesus arrested and locked up for the duration of Pesach.' This plan however, spectacularly backfired. He unknowingly sent humanity's God-approved sacrificial lamb exactly where it could be most effectively used. Poor sod. He was just in love and unaware of the power of a mimetic crisis.

---

(69) This is the last footnote. Please step into my inbox 💌 with opinions and ideas. As I update this post, I will tag to credit ideas that weren't mine.

[eastwestimage]

Nonomura Ninsei (about 1574–1660/66), Tea storage jar, Edo period (17th century). Japan.

"While most ceramic wares were produced by unknown craftsman, this storage jar is identified as the work of Nonomura Ninsei, who specialized in making enameled ceramic wares during the 17th century. This piece has been sumptuously decorated with a design of the moon and plum tree in richly colored glassy enamels and gold-leaf."

From “The Art of East Asia” by Gabriele Fahr-Becker, published in 2006.

[choices-february2023]

Prompts

Similar to the November 2022 challenge, many of the prompts in the first two columns are from the National Day Calendar. The third column are songs to inspire.

The fanworks must be posted in February (with late entries accepted through March 7). The works do not have to be posted on the specific day. You want to use the prompt almonds (from the 16th) and post it on February 5, go ahead. Just make sure in the notes or tags to specify the day or the prompt.

As always, if you have any questions, please ask either here or send a message to my main at @lucy-268.

Have fun!

1. Umbrella | Baked Alaska | I'm Still Standing (Elton John)

2. Snow Sculpture | Bubble Gum | Welcome to My Life (Simple Plan)

3. Wear Red | Carrot Cake | Stronger (Kelly Clarkson)

4. Harmony | Homemade Soup | So What (P!nk)

5. Intimate Apparel | Nutella | Believer (Imagine Dragons)

6. Chopsticks | Margarita | About Damn Time (Lizzo)

7. Cards | Fettuccine Alfredo | Miss Me More (Kelsea Ballerini)

8. Counseling | Peanut Butter | House of Memories (Panic! At the Disco)

9. Dream | Bagels | Maybe I'm Amazed (Paul McCartney)

10. Toothache | Brownies | Born This Way (Lady Gaga)

11. Spilled Milk | Peppermint Patty | The Winner Takes it All (Abba)

12. Marriage | Plum Pudding | All of Me (John Legend)

13. Galentine's Day | Cheese | I Will Survive (Gloria Gaynor)

14. Valentine's Day | Chocolates | I Honestly Love You (Olivia Newton John)

15. Canada | Gumdrops | Anti-Hero (Taylor Swift)

16. Grouchy | Almonds | Because You Loved Me (Celine Dion)

17. Anthropology | Cabbage | Stand By Me (Ben E. King)

18. Romance | Seafood | Hanging by a Moment (Lifehouse)

19. Condom | Mints | Lights (Ellie Goulding)

20. Red Sock | Cherry Pie | Happier (Marshmello)

21. Mardi Gras | Sticky Bun | The Middle (Jimmy Eat World)

22. Logic | Sweet Potato | Shape of You (Ed Sheeran)

23. Birthday | Banana Bread | I Will Always Love You (Dolly Parton)

24. Bartender | Tortilla Chip | Hello (Adele)

25. Language | Clam Chowder | In My Life (The Beatles)

26. Fairy Tales | Pistachio | In Your Eyes (Peter Gabriel)

27. Polar Bear | Strawberry | We All Sleep Alone (Cher)

28. Toothfairy | Chocolate Souffle | And So it Goes (Billy Joel)

Guidelines

[nicosraf]

whats the abm gang's favorite flowers? 🌸

Lucifer definitely loves white lilies but I think he's a fan of most flowers! He literally sleeps surrounded by lilacs. I think if you'd ask him to pick a favorite he wouldn't be able to choose.

Michael's favorite flowers are daisies!

Rosier loves plum tree flowers.

Asmodeus likes dahlias and marigolds.

Baal likes hibiscus!

Phanuel likes tulips.

Azazel likes hmmm calibrachoas !

Raphael definitely loves rosemary, lavender, sage.

Gabriel likes white lilies!

Uriel is probably more of a cactus fan, but I imagine his cold heart warms a little whenever he catches a little flower blooming from the spikes.