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fuckyeahisawthat · 2 months ago

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Please, talk about the Gom Jobbar scene

Oh hell yes.

So this is one of those posts that really should be a short video essay of me talking over the scene but instead it is gonna be a loooooong wall of text and screenshots. Maybe it will assume its final form some day if I'm ever in possession of the free time and patience to make video essays. I also highly recommend watching Denis Villeneuve's own breakdown of this scene from 2021. I'll try not to duplicate things said there.

We have to start with the setup, which begins with this scene:

We see Jessica on her knees, in the rain, waiting for an arriving ship. These are the first shots in the movie where we see Jessica when no one else is watching her, and this woman who stood calm and composed before representatives of the Emperor of the Known Universe is terrified. Which creates an immediate sense of dread over whoever is coming in that ship.

Whomst in the fuck now?

We also get this shot where we're alone with Jessica. It's a little hard to see in a still frame but there's a moment where she, like, steels herself before she wakes Paul up.

Holy fuck tho, I just noticed the similarities between this shot and the one of the Bene Gesserit arriving, with the almost monochromatic color palette and the shafts of white light.

Once Paul wakes up we shift to his POV. He immediately knows something is off ("What's wrong?" is the first thing he says) but gets no information about what's happening.

Then we get this short scene, where Paul is told he is going to meet the Reverend Mother and but not much else about what's going on. The whole "She wants to know about your dreams." "How does she know about my dreams?" [no answer from Jessica] exchange, I think, implies that she knows because Jessica told her about Paul's dreams, which is this little tiny betrayal of confidence that gives Paul the first inclination that his mother may not be someone he can fully trust in this situation. Which is exactly what Dr. Yueh warns him about immediately after.

We also get two new languages used in this scene. Dr. Yueh speaks to Paul in Mandarin, which he understands and presumably Jessica does not. This gives us a piece of information about Paul's curiosity toward other cultures and his facility with languages. And Jessica uses the Atreides battle sign, which Paul also understands. Outside the library, Jessica pauses to give Paul one more silent warning, although she still hasn't told him what's about to happen.

This is just the setup. So before we've even entered the room, we've created this sense of unsettled foreboding dread (the Denis Signature Vibe) without a clear understanding of why things are happening--which is exactly how Paul feels.

I should also add that in the book, this scene takes place during the day, with the Reverend Mother sitting in front of a window. Shifting it to the middle of the night not only makes it way creepier but also tells us that (1) the Reverend Mother is the kind of person who can command Jessica's attention at any time of day or night and (2) this is all somewhat illicit and possibly is happening without Leto's knowledge.

Whomst in the fuuuuuuck?

We get this sort of weird POV shot of Paul crossing the room when it's not actually happening:

which I think is supposed to suggest some subtler form of control than the Voice, which Paul resists.

Before they've even properly entered the room, Mohiam manages to insult both Paul's parents ("defiance in the eyes, like his father" and dismissing Jessica with a curt "leave us"). And the first thing Paul says is to defend his mother's place in the social hierarchy ("You dismiss my mother in her own house?") with all the haughtiness you would expect.

The power dynamic gets rapidly clarified.

Momentary aside to say that I love the composition of this shot. Neither of them are quite on the third--they're just a bit too close to each other to make the shot look balanced. But neither of them are in center frame either--the box is in the center. They're not exactly aligned to the light gray columns between the bookshelves behind them, either, and the bookshelves are just slightly asymmetrical. It all makes things feel just a little claustrophobic and unsettling. Denis Villeneuve frequently uses this technique of creating unbalanced shots and intentionally leaving too much space in awkward parts of the frame to create a sense of unease.

Paul isn't kneeling in the book either--he's standing beside the chair in a setup that I don't think would actually work given the heights of the actors here, or would look awkward as hell. So they've solved a practical blocking problem and done some storytelling with it as well.

This is where we get our first look at the Voice at full power, and it's one of only two scenes where we get some subjective POV of what it feels like to be Voice-controlled (the other one being Feyd-Rautha and Lady Margot's interaction which deserves its own post). I really like that they didn't go for Voice Slow (zombie shuffling across the room) because Voice Fast is much more disturbing. The subjective experience of it seems closest to like, blacking out and waking up in a place or doing a thing and not knowing how you got there. The camera effect is just a really fast dolly and a slick edit, but Timothée really sells it with his split-second moment of confusion and shock before he realizes what happened and gets angry about it.

So now we're here, with the poison needle and the pain box.

"No need to call the guards. Your mother stands behind that door. No one would get past her."

This is a slick fucking piece of editing. Because just as Paul is learning that his mother has not only trapped him in this situation but is ensuring it continues uninterrupted, we cut to Jessica for the first time since she left the room and we see how absolutely terrified she is.

Also from this point, the sound in the film starts crossing the barrier of the door--we hear some of the dialogue between Paul and Mohiam when we're on shots of Jessica, and when the pain sound effect starts up, we hear it continuously on both sides of the door. So even though Jessica is not literally experiencing the pain, it feels like she is vicariously.

It would be really easy to tip the balance of sympathy in this scene one way or the other--toward Paul who's realizing his mother has handed him over to a painful and potentially lethal test, or toward Jessica who is listening to her child scream in pain and not only cannot stop it but is tasked with making sure it continues. But Denis Villeneuve is an absolute master at controlling and directing your POV in a way that allows you to feel sympathy for multiple characters at once and engage with complicated, contradictory emotional landscapes, and this is a little demonstration of what he's going to do on a much larger scale later in the story.

Timothée's pain acting...is excellent, that's all I'll say about that. Love that he's allowed to get all gross and drippy with it.

Now we get to the litany against fear.

Jessica starts it specifically in response to hearing Paul scream on the other side of the door. So, practically, she is using it to control her own fear. But the way the scene is intercut, it plays as if she is almost coaching or guiding Paul into controlling his own reactions. With every line that she says, we cut back to Paul as he is starting to master the situation.

"I must not fear." Paul is not in control here and seems about at his physical limit for keeping his hand in the box.

"Fear is the mind-killer." This is the one where it really seems like he could be reciting the same litany in his head or under his breath.

"Fear is the little death that brings obliteration." We don't really see Paul's face in the accompanying shot, but the pain sound effect really goes into overdrive, like she is pushing him harder.

"I will face my fear and I will permit it to pass over me and through me." Seems like Paul is getting to some kind of Zen place or whatever where he can withstand the pain.

This is when the first flash of vision pops up and the balance of power starts to shift in Paul's favor. We realize it at the same time both he and the Reverend Mother do.

Then we have this great moment where he looks up at her and we don't quite know what is happening but somehow Paul has started to win this interaction. And we go through a whole Face Journey with him that's intercut increasingly rapidly with Jessica's lines, flashes of the visions, and Mohiam's reaction as she starts to realize she's lost control of the situation.

"And when it has gone past--"

"I will turn the inner eye to see its path--"

"--and where the fear has gone, there will be nothing--"

"Only I will remain."

This part is great because like...nothing is happening. He just looks up at her. But we know that whatever battle is going on between them, Paul is winning now.

(Side note: this is a duel, right? This is his first of three duels, and like the duel with Feyd, he wins it on his knees.)

Then as soon as she says, "Enough," the facade cracks again a little.

And then he does the thing!! That is one of my favorite Paul physicalities!! Where he tilts his chin up so he can look down his nose at someone. Which is particularly audacious when you're on your knees.

It looks arrogant but there's also something a bit...childish? about it. It's something that he does specifically when he feels he does not have control of the situation and he's trying to regain it. He does it to the Emperor at the end of Part Two.

Anyway I LOVE the whole section of intercutting between Jessica and Paul because like. They are physically separated by a door but emotionally they feel connected. She put him in this situation, but then it's almost like she is reminding him that she also gave him the training to survive it. Which like, isn't that a microcosm of their whole fucked-up relationship?

"...You inherit too much power."

"What, because I'm a duke's son?"

"Because you are Jessica's son. You have more than one birthright, boy."

Almost all the dialogue from this scene is taken word for word from the book (although sometimes condensed). This is one of the few lines that got changed. In the book, Jessica is the one who reminds Paul that he is a duke's son--not her son. In general the movie dialogue is more faithful to what's in the book than you might expect. But every once in a while there is a line that feels like it's talking back to the original text like this.

There's another little emotional reversal right at the end of the scene, when Jessica comes in and her face just floods with relief at realizing Paul is still alive. But meanwhile you can see that Paul is really processing how betrayed by her he feels.

And then, after all that, they do talk about his dreams.

Denis has said in interviews that this was one of the very first scenes they filmed. Which is. Insane to me. This is an iconic scene from the book that every fan will come to with expectations and it's a really hard acting job! For everyone involved but especially for Timothée, because so much of the scene turns on him having an intense reaction to something that's not real and generally just...doing stuff with his face, and hoping that the sound design and the score and some scenes that haven't been shot yet will sell what's going on. Usually you would want to work up to an intense emotional scene like this, give the cast and crew a little time to get comfortable with each other. Nope! Anyway Denis has also said that he knew after this scene that he had cast correctly and yeah. I would say so.

#asks answered #dune #dune 2021 #paul atreides #lady jessica #denis villeneuve #timothée chalamet #scene breakdown #thank you for prompting me to take so many screenshots of timmy's pain faces that was fun

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muirmarie · 11 months ago

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spock coming back to life in st iii immediately triggers his pon farr bc everything is out-of-whack, and whomst would he possibly be considered bonded to besides the person he literally entrusted his katra to?? they're on vulcan for three months before they head back to earth and start searching for those whales.

st iv is a perfect movie and cannot be improved upon at all but it COULD be funnier if spock and mccoy had banged for like a week right after they shoved spock's katra back in his body, neither of them were fully in their right minds, and then they simply didn't talk about it again. mccoy isn't even sure if spock remembers??? that's part of what he's trying to figure out when they're talking together in st iv??? spock do you remember our seven days in heaven?????

meanwhile spock has spent the entire movie fully unaware of mccoys mental gymnastics, and reasonably assumes they're now together.

the end of the movie, right after the trial, spock turns around and kisses mccoy in front of god, starfleet command, and everyone. mccoy goes a shade of red spock genuinely did not know humans could go. it is.....charming.

#star trek #star trek tos #leonard mccoy #spock #the one with the whales #st iv #st:tos #spones #writing ref

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shirefantasies · 2 months ago

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Hey, are your requests open? If not then feel free to ignore this, or don't feel the need to write a whole set of headcanons for it, I just wanted to ask something. What Lord of the Rings characters do you think would most love a character who wears pretty skirts and is generally decently feminine but also has huge muscles and is really strong? Basically the full Luisa Madrigal type of person, huge muscles and cute skirts. I can't stop thinking about it and wanted to know what characters you think would be into that the most.

Have a good day! Take care of yourself 💋

LoTR Characters + Buff Woman

Luisa is my favorite omg! I also think of Ilona Maher whomst is gorgeous and I love 😌 Great ask OP. On behalf of the entire world I would like to say W O M E N. BUFF WOMENNNNNNN

Respectfully would like you to step on them: Gimli, Boromir, Eowyn, Galadriel, Arwen, Aragorn

Slightly intimidated: Sam, Merry, Faramir, Haldir

Mostly just sees you for you/your other traits and doesn’t really think about it until a certain moment: Legolas, Frodo, Pippin, Eomer, Elrond

Gimli takes one look at you and he’s already fallen. You’re drop-dead gorgeous by dwarven standards even if you don’t have any facial hair. You catch the way he is dumbfounded in your presence, the way his eyes linger, and yet how gently and reverently he makes any contact with your body or hair that happens. Half-accidentally drops jokes about how you could overpower him any day when you spar. | Boromir’s brows raise when he first lays eyes upon you, your demure dress contrasted by an impressive physique he can hardly peel his eyes from. At first he tells himself he envies you, but the longer he lets his thoughts linger, the less he can deny envy is not the slightest of his feelings toward you…. | Similarly, Eowyn admires your obvious strength, wonders if she appeared so if she would be taken seriously. However, seeing how others act intimidated by you or even take you as her opposite, viewing you as some contradiction despite your beauty and wondrous disposition, she finds herself standing up for you and staying by your side. | Galadriel's eyes fix upon you like a fox's, glinting with a mix of pride and hunger. She compliments your strength and gives you the most beautiful gift that not only brings out your feminine beauty but also keeps you safe. No doubt rests in her mind that you could protect yourself, but it gives her peace of mind. It also allows her to press her hands over yours, maybe slide them ever so slightly along the muscle of your arms. Something about her teasing quips and looks have you wondering just what reaction she would like to see... | Arwen encourages you to give your all when you spar, grinning and joking that she can take it. "I want to see your strength," she tells you. She also adores highlighting your beauty, gently hanging flowers in your hair or tucking them behind your ear with a smile, savoring the way you smile back at her as though it hadn't sent a shiver down your spine the way you pinned her in practice, your sword hovering above her neck. | They all say they have never seen Aragorn act this way before. His countenance is severe despite his caring heart. And yet you tease smirks out of him like nothing, draw sounds from him during spars that none of the fellowship have noticed before. As your swords meet, your shared whispers of banter have the hobbits looking this way and that, meeting each other’s eyes. But the first invasion shows how you fight for each other as one, moving like a unit and displaying more than a little willingness to sacrifice yourselves for the other.

Do you detect a note of apprehension in Sam's eyes? The hobbit looks up at you with that wide green gaze, but he returns your smile when you give him your sweetest look. He stutters a bit whenever he addresses you, but you find it endearing, coaxing more and more words out of him. He holds you in high regard, anyone can see- or hear, should we say. After all, he makes many a comment to that end. "We're lucky we have 'er- she could even give Strider a run for it." | Merry, too, looks upon you with a piqued gaze that follows your movements, but he simply moves about you with extraneous politeness until the first time you bring him tea, smiling warmly and wishing him well before striding off, skirts flowing at your feet, and suddenly he feels a flush creeping along his cheeks and a smile raising his lips. | Your strength brings a seeming aura of purpose to your strides, one which Faramir has learned to detect from a young age. Detect and shirk from. At times, even hide from. He feels his whole body tense and brace, and yet when your lips part the words that pass from them are sweet and bright. Warm and appreciative. Just as quickly as the tension had rose, it deflated and Faramir welcomed you with the sweet hospitality his father did not always appreciate, but he felt a lady deserved. The closer you grew, the more and more Faramir saw of your beauty and grace on a dance floor and skill with an axe alike- and the more he found himself thinking how the addition of a lady like yourself would bring Gondor nothing but pride. | Haldir finds himself raising his brows upon first sight of you, unable to stop the darting of his eyes over your form, which is quite unlike anything he has ever seen in his many years of lifetime. And here he thought nothing could surprise him. Yet when you emerge freshly changed from your battle-torn cloak into a gown of elven make, euphoria, relief, and joy glistening from every fiber of your being, he is drawn to you like a metallic pole finding its other half. He learns of your sporting, that which has leant you such tone, and realizes you are nowhere near the callous fighter he had expected, but rather a women whose charms could claim the hearts of men day after day, year after year.

Legolas is naturally quiet, reserved. Observation is his domain despite his quick wit. You often wonder at him, feel a shell about the elf prince that has yet to crack. Little did you realize he thought the same. At least, that is, until the day he finds you strayed from the campground into a meadow. There you are plucking flowers, extending one to him and explaining as he strides beside you that you feel more at peace in silence. Among growing things. With a smile, Legolas expresses your kindred spirits, internally feeling a new glow building in his heart. Rather than your strength, he falls for your solace. | It sticks in Frodo's mind how willing you are to undertake the entire fellowship's repairs, sitting there with needle and thread in hand and serene expression on face. Contrasting greatly, of course, to the flexing of your broad arms with each motion, corded muscle serving only to create. The hobbit takes to sitting at your side, watching you work and reading aloud, glancing up at you with soft smiles. | Curiosity paints Pippin's every action, the way his head tilts when he looks at you, his eyes roaming over whatever you are doing. You find yourself drawn to him, giggling over his questions and sharing jokes about your observations. He finds his heart fluttering every time you laugh and the day you lift him onto your shoulders and run about the camp. Despite your height, your countenance is perfect to him to bring back to the Shire, and more and more he finds himself fantasizing about a life with you there, full of laughs and love and more piggyback runs through the flowering fields. | Eomer struggles with his own perception, tripping over judgment when you first come to know one another. You are a woman, demure in your dress and yet it is clear the way the soldiers treat you as one of them. War, he always thought, was the province of men, and yet here you were capable of defeating any of his comrades in an arm wrestling match. Just to show the ones that mocked your embroidered skirt or told you that you would never be worthy of it. You would slam their hands down, then turn around and bake them cakes to take on journeys. You were everything, and that somehow was no exaggeration in Eomer’s mind. He fell for your indomitable spirit. | Lord Elrond is well used to taking in all. No exceptions. The wounded, the disabled, the grieving. Nearly all races had set foot in the valley of Imladris. Having seen much, Elrond did not question you like the others did. He saw your fascination with elven culture, your peace amongst harpists. In fact, it was he who encouraged your lessons with Lindir and his apprentice, smiling as your strong hands plucked gently at her side. Reverence filled your eyes as you looked upon the artworks displayed in his halls, the years of history the lord was more than willing to grant you tours of. More than your amazing resilience and formidable build, Elrond loved your appreciation of beauty.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @evattude @kpopgirlbtssvt | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🖤

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unicyclehippo · 3 months ago

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the witches whomst are bitches, ritual + oleander + salt

imogen laid down in the centre of the ritual circle—“magic herbs” she was pretty sure were weeds and flowers, not remotely magical, that fearne had plucked out of random gardens and shoved in her pocket(s) and salt—and accepted a kiss from her girlfriend when she bent low to nudge a pillow under her head.

‘i’ll be here the whole time!’ laudna assured her.

‘unless i tell you to leave,’ fearne chimed in.

‘unless she tells me to leave. in which case,’ laudna lowered her voice, ‘i’ll sneak round the house, climb the side, and watch through the window. I’ll break in if she does anything dangerous. or threatens your virtue.’

‘baby, i don’t have any virtue to threaten,’ imogen teased, and dragged her eyes across the blotchy blush that ran up laudna’s neck.

‘oh well, yes that’s, well! well!’ laudna laughed.

‘are you two flirting?’ fearne asked. when imogen nodded, she pouted. ‘mean! i couldn’t hear! say it all again?’

‘well, i said—‘

‘she’s kiddin’,’ imogen interrupted laudna, reaching out of the ritual circle to squeeze her wrist. she paused, infatuated by the way laudna looked at her—the confused way she blinked, stammered, like imogen had swiped every thought clean out of her head—before settling once more in the circle.

fearne pouted, sighed, batted her lashes for good measure. ‘i wasn’t kidding,’ she said, kneeling next to laudna and the circle. ‘i’m really good at flirting too.’

‘we know,’ imogen chorused with laudna, exchanged another giggle and sidelong look.

fearne’s lidded look had imogen’s laugh trailing off, uncertain. ‘you have no idea,’ she promised. ‘take your shirt off.’

‘what? no.’

‘oh?’ laudna perked up.

‘oh fine, but the spell won’t be as effective if you don’t.’

‘aren’t we just trying to prank ashton? like, astral projection or whatever?’

‘oh is that what we’re doing? hm.’

imogen narrowed her eyes. ‘baby. grab her spellbook and tell me what it says.’

laudna flushed again—she wasn’t used to the term, nor the endearment, even though imogen had always been kind always been sweet it was different, she was hers now and everyone knew it, knew what it meant!!—and scuttled along to fearne’s altar—candles, a lava lamp, a dead bouquet of flowers, every train ticket stub she had from visiting her mama and oleander up the coast.

‘hm,’ laudna said, and ‘oh, hm,’ and ‘yes, that’s not the same spell at all. unless of course it’s a fake title.’

‘what does it say?’ imogen didn’t take her eyes away from a grinning fearne, who waggled her brows.

‘well.’

‘laudna.’

‘some parts are hard to read, since it’s in pink gel pen? and the light - it’s a little -‘ Laudna’s words barrelled out when imogen glanced at her just so—though not without a deep blush. ‘spell to grow enormous kno- breasts.’

‘knockers,’ fearne whispered the correction to Imogen, and winked.

imogen sat up.

‘wait! you promised!’

‘not for this! i reckon i’m doin’ just fine on my own!’

‘can confirm,’ laudna agreed from her place by the altar. she touched a dead stalk, which snapped, and guiltily hid it behind her back.

fearne huffed. ‘fine. we can do the stupid astral projection. and you can show me your boobs.’

‘fearne.’

‘you can see mine?’

‘fearne.’

‘well what else are we supposed to do on a girls night? not take our shirts off?’ she looked close to tears by this point and it was impossible to tell if they were real or not.

imogen looked wildly to laudna, who shrugged and gestured for imogen to go ahead.

me? you take your shirt off, imogen sent mentally.

it’s not my tits she wants to see! laudna hissed back, in that strange echoing manner.

‘i’m not takin’ my shirt off,’ imogen said. to both of them, it felt like, with laudna staring wide eyed and imploringly at her as well. ‘that’s fourth date kinda behaviour,’ she continued, and sent laudna a mental spike not to contradict her.

fearne eyed her, and then laudna. a coy smile twisted around her lips. laudna twisted around her pinkie, enthralled by their friend.

‘is that true?’ she asked, tone saccharine. ‘did she wait for your fourth date before whipping out the girls?’

‘oh,’ laudna said, and, ‘i felt like i had been waiting forever to see them,’ she said, and very carefully didn’t look at imogen, nor directly at fearne, who was only a mind reader when it came to things like this.

‘first date?’ she asked, knowingly.

laudna crumpled like tissue paper. ‘yes. the very moment we got to her room.’

‘laudna!’

‘i’m sorry! i haven’t gotten to talk about it to anyone and, darling, it was ever so lovely and i never thought of myself as particularly effusive—‘

‘really?’

‘not when it came to dates and whatnot!’

‘you can tell me everything,’ fearne soothed, patting the spot next to her and then, after a moments thought, her thigh. the blatant flirting with her girlfriend didn’t piss imogen off like she thought it might, though, and fearne must have seen it because she grinned a great grin, a cat with the canary grin, and patted her other thigh with a look to Imogen.

‘you’re incorrigible,’ imogen laughed. ‘and you can tell fearne anything you want, laud. you know? it’s - i love you, you don’t have to keep it a secret.’

laudna folded her hands over her face. peeked through the narrow splits between her fingers. she was very good with secrets. stuffed her feelings beneath the creaking floorboards. slipped tickets and valentine’s into the peeled back of the mirror. imogen hoped one day that would change. they would have a house where she wouldn’t have to hide.

‘i wouldn’t tease,’ fearne said, gently.

‘oh. oh, i know. I don’t -‘ laudna fingers fluttered. ‘i know.’

imogen crept closer to fearne. leaned into her friends side. she was soft and warm and smelled like the garden, like rich earth and flowers. her cheeks were freckled. imogen wanted, not for the first time, to press her lips against her chin where there was a strange lack of freckles. see if she could coax a hot blush to the spot, if the warmth would conjure more of the darling little marks.

‘no more boob spells,’ imogen said firmly.

fearne sighed. ‘i promise. besides, now you’re up close i can see you don’t need it.’

‘isn’t she perfect,’ laudna muttered from behind her hands.

fearne hummed her agreement. her eyes were burning hot, startling. ‘i’ve always thought so.’

imogen stared at her. her thoughts drifted to laudna. can i kiss her cheek? she asked her girlfriend.

of course? laudna returned, confused. you can do whatever you like.

so she did. leaned up from her knees and set her lips against that tempting spot, hand curling around the back of fearne’s neck.

‘oh?’ fearne laughed. ‘i’ll stop so many spells if this is what i get for it!’

imogen pulled back. rubbed her thumb against the same spot, swiping away her lip gloss. ‘it’s not for that. just.’ she probably didn’t think of it the way imogen did. she was fearne. she loved everyone, all the same, didn’t she? ‘we can have girls night whenever you want.’

#ot3 fearne imogen laudna idk what the name for that is #it wasn’t going to be but i love them SO #tagging my stories #prompt fill #flirting fun bitchy witches

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polutrope · 8 months ago

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Just pure headcanons, what do you think happened during Maglor's reign as a king? I don't know if his reign was short or something but I remember it took some time before Fingon was able to save Maedhros and unite the noldor and there was still some division between the host of nolofinweans and feanorians. I wonder if he considered himself a placeholder until Maedhros returned or was he a reluctant king? Did the host respect him as a king, did his own brothers respect him as a king? I am so intrigued because, aside from Maedhros, I think Maglor deserved some shoutout lmao (No, this isn't a maglor-obsession-spree that I have been on, nu uh). Also, I feel like he would have some cordial relationship with Fingolfin, they could bond as the second sons having to take leadership because the eldest died/was abducted idk.

Oh no, starlitelwing. I hope you know the Pandora's Box you've just opened. King Maglor is one of my all-time favourite things to think about.

First of all: there's actually no canonical information on Maglor's position after the capture of Maedhros (in fact, we don't even know what Maedhros' title/position was after Feanor's death; all we know is that Feanor "claimed now the kingship of all the Noldor" in Tirion. Contested leadership is SO GOOD isn't it? anyway...).

The published Silmarillion glosses right over the question of who's in charge during the time between Feanor's death and Fingolfin's official assumption of the Kingship of the Noldor (which, if you ask me, Fingolfin effectively had been King since the time of Feanor's exile, and he was in any case Regent at the time of Finwe's death... he said he'd follow Feanor but the people following him were calling him Finwe Nolofinwe soooo... aiee, I digress again). The book gallops at such a breakneck speed that you don't really notice the gap in leadership. Or, I didn't.

But then you look at the Grey Annals (where Tolkien Gateway gets most of its First Age dates) and you see that there are 2-3 Tree Years and 5 Sun Years between Maedhros' capture and his rescue. Now, however you imagine time works in Tree Years when there are no Trees, that's still a long time. Maedhros was gone at a minimum 6-7 years, more likely closer to the equivalent of 30 "regular" years. (That's way longer, by the way, than the time between Feanor's death and Maedhros' capture, which was like, a day to a month, at most. Maedhros, if he even was King, was King for way less time than whoever followed him. And he sucked at the job, btw. But I digress. Again.)

So someone had to be in charge for those 6 to 30 years, but whomst? That the leadership would pass after Feanor's death to the eldest son is logical, and that it would then pass to the next eldest is also logical. I see no reason to refute that, but note: it would not be uncanonical to have someone other than Maedhros or Maglor in charge at this time. You can make King Celegorm a thing and still be canon-compliant!

This passage in the published Silm is basically the extent of the activities of the sons of Feanor during Maedhros' absence:

Then the brothers of Maedhros drew back, and fortified a great camp in Hithlum; but Morgoth held Maedhros as hostage, and sent word that he would not release him unless the Noldor would forsake their war, returning into the West, or else departing far from Beleriand into the South of the world. But the sons of Feanor knew that Morgoth would betray them, and would not release Maedhros, whatsoever they might do; and they were constrained also by their oath, and might not for any cause forsake the war against their Enemy.

The sense here is that all six sons acted as a unit. But in the 1937 Quenta Silmarillion, the text on which this passage is drawn:

Morgoth held [Maedhros] as hostage and sent word to Maglor that he would only release his brother if …

To Maglor! Excellent evidence that Tolkien was also making the logical conclusion that Maglor, the eldest, was in charge. (My best theory for why Christopher Tolkien took that out is Too Many Names, but it's an odd decision.)

All that was to say: We don't know, canonically, that Maglor was in charge at Mithrim. But it makes a lot of sense, and it's my headcanon that he was.

Now. More interesting headcanons.

I don't think Maglor was called King until it was politically necessary.

I see him as someone who is comfortable in command (one meaning of Cano is "commander", after all) but who likes to command collaboratively. Double-edged sword: he values the input of others (admirable quality) and he does not like being fully responsible for the outcomes of a decision (less admirable).

Unlike much fanon I've come across, I don't think Maglor was a particularly reluctant or incompetent leader or that he hated it. He was miserable, yes, because his father just died and his brother was just captured, and he wasn't thrilled to become a leader on top of that, but he keeps it together.

So how do I imagine it all went down?

The problem with Maglor being in command is that his "collaborative" style of leadership is not appropriate for a time of crisis or for his family. While the Silm often talks about "the sons of a Feanor" as a unit, I do not think they were of the same mind on everything. At all. They need a firm hand, and Maglor does not have that.

But who does have a firm hand? Who would be a more martial ruler, someone who could get people in order during a crisis? Celegorm. And he knows it.

So why did the Feanorians "get nothing done" during those 6-30 years (sidenote: I don't actually think they got nothing done, but it does seem they didn't get anything BIG done)? Well, for one, they were fighting amongst themselves.

Maglor could not get his brothers to agree on anything, and yet he did not know any other way of commanding, and over time he becomes more and more miserable as a leader.

Celegorm, meanwhile, is chomping at the bit to "relieve him" of the burden.

Around them, everyone else is picking sides.

Curufin is an interesting case. I headcanon he actually was fully behind Maglor at the beginning, because he respects the orderliness of succession. But as Maglor proves himself unsuitable for the role, he aligns with Celegorm.

Outside the family, I headcanon that the Mithrim Elves were actually quite taken with Maglor, the poet-king. Their alliance hinges on him. But the Noldor, especially the army, would rather follow Celegorm.

As everyone knows, a rival for leadership with the army's support is Bad News. And yet Maglor manages to hold on. He should definitely get credit for that.

But why hold on? If he is hating this ruler job, why not just let Celegorm have it? Couple reasons:

It's Celegorm. He may be able to perform well, but Maglor knows he's the most like Feanor in temperament and, well, Feanor's kingship didn't end well.

If Maglor gives up that crown, he will have admitted to himself that Maedhros is not coming back. This is the same reason he doesn't give it over to Fingolfin when Uncle Nolvo shows up. He is hanging onto that thing for dear life because, to him, it belongs to Maedhros and only Maedhros. He is the crown's custodian, never its rightful owner (this bleeds into my headcanon that Maglor does not "in his heart" agree with Maedhros' decision to cede the kingship — he'll never be as vocal about it as the others, though).

Now we come to another piece. What did Maglor call himself? Like I said up top, I don't think he initially called himself King. He was "head of his House", or maybe, "Lord of Hithlum," or maybe King Regent, but never King. If one of the Mithrim got mixed up and called him that, he would always correct them.

That changes when Fingolfin shows up. Now there's another claimant to the title of King. Possibly a more legitimate one than even Maedhros (as Maedhros later says himself).

By that time, Maglor has been keeping that crown out of Celegorm's hands for years; he is not giving it up now. And Fingolfin is less likely to challenge his leadership if he offers no room for ambiguity. If he dons the mantle of kingship and pretends Maedhros is dead.

So that is what he does... Does Fingolfin accept it? Well: "Then there was peril of strife between the hosts."

For three years, on opposite sides of the Lake, they're at an impasse. Fingon doesn't go looking for Maedhros because he thinks Maedhros is dead (and other reasons: the mission is insane and desperate not the least, and contrary to popular opinion Fingon is not a rash idiot).

How does Fingon eventually learn the truth? You'll have to wait and read what @melestasflight and I are cooking up for Silm Epistolary Week ;)

ETA: Despite this, I do think you're right that Maglor and Fingolfin could have bonded over their similar experiences! There's the personal and there's the political, and I love the idea of the tension between these straining what could be an emotionally supportive familial friendship between Maglor and Fingolfin.

#asks #maglor #high king maglor #or not #bless you for this ask #apologies for the length #istg I did proofread this before hitting post #apparently not well

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sciderman · 6 months ago

Note

I know nothing of comics really, and all I know for Spideypool shit is that run really. I know you posted a short list of your recommendations and I read those, but are there more? Teach me your ways.

there's really honestly such slim pickings for spider-man/deadpool team-ups, @psychoticflyingdragonbunnies my beloved... if you've read my recommendations and you've read the sm/dp series then i think you've basically read all there is to read when it comes to spideypool! there really wasn't much in the way of canon spideypool content when i started here - and you'll actually find a LOT of my early stuff was influenced by fanon just as much as canon. because there really wasn't much canon. there really wasn't. in fact, there's fanon pieces that are so, so influential and have lived in my head for so long that - if you saw them, you'd instantly say "ah. yep. that's where sci got it from."

thinking of you, that one spideypool doujin illustrated by brian.curry that lives in my head and will never leave no matter what i do no matter where i go will always always always revolve in my brain never ceasing never stopping never ever even on my death bed this is what i will be thinking about always and forever for the rest of time always forever infinity until the heat death of the universe

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH.

yeah. this doujin irreversably changed me. it was so perfect and wonderful and i've done everything in my power to continue whatever this is because i think the world needs more of it.

so! when it comes to spideypool you'll have to lean more into the fanon stuff. the canon stuff isn't great. and there's not a lot of it. but there's so much really really good fanon stuff. if you know where to look. it used to be much easier to find, before the mcu ruined everything. the japanese do it well, though. sometimes. they do it better than we do. i think the west pales in comparison. even in their freaking anime!!

i think a lot of the spideypool things i consumed around the time i started writing the blog was from pixiv and japanese artists. so all of that fell into the pot. i was very well-read and researched in the world of spideypool, once upon a time. not so much anymore. i have no idea what's going on with the spideypool fandom right now, it's so scary to me. so i keep to my little corner, with my cozy little personal wade and peter, whomst i love so much. they're the wade and peter i want to see. so i stick with them, and hide away from the spideypool fandom at large. i've seen so much spideypool content that i don't want to see. so i stay in the safe little corner i've created for myself. it's a shame though - because pre-mcu, the spideypool fandom felt like a much nicer place. it just got weird when the mcu got involved.

spideypool is a very prolific beast. it's travelled the world. and fact is, the american comics really aren't even the best place to get it. go forth. explore!

#sci speaks

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igncrxntripley · 2 years ago

Text

their secret weapon pt. 4

request (anonymous): Just thinking it would be funny if secret weapon has an ex who's like 6'10 and they're on good terms, right person wrong time vibe yk? And he shows up to support her and they're like whomst???

tags: SFW, poly!judgement day, fem!reader, ex!brooks jensen, possessive TJD

A/N: i’m on a brooks jensen kick lately so he may not be 6′10 but forgive me...also i needed to put this out bc the inspiration is hitting me like a brick and i have ideas you just aren’t ready

mentions: @babybatlover @ripleyswhore

Before The Judgement Day welcomed Y/N with open arms, she didn’t have many solid connections to the people she shared the ring with. Of course she had friends, but the industry sometimes made it difficult. That changed when she met Brooks, who had started training at the Performance Center not long after she did. He was someone she could confide in, someone she felt a connection with as more than a friend. Their relationship developed, but the two decided to split. They both still loved one another, but it wasn’t the right time.

Y/N had to admit that ever since becoming the fifth member of The Judgement Day, she hadn’t thought about Brooks once. He hadn’t reached out to her since it was revealed that she was a new member, and it spoke volumes that she hadn’t thought about picking up the phone once to call him. Little did she know, he was in shock. And now that it had been a few weeks, Brooks thought he needed to saw something.

The group was backstage at Monday Night Raw the five of them relaxing in their locker room before their appearance for later on in the show; Damian and Finn were stretching in one corner, Rhea was in another doing pull ups, and Y/N had her head in Dominik’s lap as they played video games together. For a crew who was so tough on the outside, they really were just five normal people. They all looked at the door when a knock came from the other side, and they were confused as they weren’t expecting anyone. Finn was the first to move, so when he opened the door he was shocked to see none other than Brooks.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” He asked the taller, larger man. “Last I checked we didn’t invite you.” Brooks rolled his eyes a little and tried to look behind Finn for Y/N, in which they made eye contact from her spot on the couch. “I need to talk to Y/N.” Brooks said confidently, Y/N already standing up even though Dominik tightened his grip on her waist. No one knew who Brooks was or what his connection to their girl was, so they were on edge once he said why he was there. “Sorry pal, she’s a little busy.” Finn said and began closing the door, but Y/N got up and stopped him. “Brooks…hi.” She said softly.

To say the other four members in the room were shocked was an understatement. Not only were they surprised, but they were protective of Y/N and wanted to know who this was at the door. She turned to them and gently put her hand on Finn’s arm since he was the closest. “Give me a few minutes.” Y/N was going to go with Brooks regardless, but once her partners nodded in agreement and gave her the space she needed she closed the door and walked down the hallway with Brooks.

Once they were alone the two embraced each other for the first time in a long time, and it felt good to Y/N to have someone there she knew cared about her. “God, baby. It’s so good to see you.” Brooks said into her shoulder as he squeezed her smaller body. She still smelled the same, of strawberries and flowers but now with a hint of cologne from each of her boys in the room. And her feminine aesthetic hadn’t changed in the slightest either, but he was still worried about the long term effects of being involved with The Judgement Day. “I’ve been worried about you.”

Y/N pulled back to look at him with furrowed brows. “Worried?” She asked softly. “Brooks, I…I know you mean well but you don’t need to be worried. The four of them are amazing, and they’ve helped me so much.” Brooks put her down and gently held her arms. “You feel that way now, but they’re going to turn on you like they’ve turned on others in the past.” He warned her. “I just…I hate how people have treated you in the past and I don’t want it to happen again.” Y/N gave a soft sigh and looked up at her ex. “As if you wouldn’t be the first one I’d call if I needed help.” She teased softly, making him chuckle. “I promise you, I’m happy, And the four of them take amazing care of me.” Brooks just had to trust Y/N like he always had, so he nodded and pulled her into another hug. “I’m proud of you. And I’ll be watching you tonight front and center.”

Y/N could feel herself buzzing with excitement when Brooks told her. She smiled at him and practically jumped up and down. “I think You’ll like the new stuff I’ve been working on. But I have to go get ready, so I’ll see you later?” Brooks nodded and gave her one last kiss on top of her head as a good luck before she ran back to the locker room. When she walked inside, she was met with four stares from four quite large individuals.

“Care to explain?” Rhea asked first, her arms crossed over her chest and the look on her face making Y/N nervously play with her fingers. “He’s…he’s my ex. And we still have a really good relationship so he just wanted to talk.” She explained quickly. Damian shook his head a little and stepped closer. “Do you remember what we told you when you became a member of The Judgement Day, mi amor?” His words made Y/N shiver. Finn followed suit and stood in front of Y/N, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. “In order to be the very best you can be, you need to leave everything behind that was holding you back.” He reminded her softly. Y/N frowned and looked at the four of them again. “I-I know, but…but that’s not Brooks! He’s always supported me…” she said softly.

Dom was the next one to speak. He shook his head and stayed where he was, running a stressed hand through his hair. “That’s what you think. But you need to trust us for all of this hard work to truly pay off.” She turned her head from her partners and tried to think about what they were saying, but she knew they were right. “Yeah, I guess.” She said softly. In the back of her mind, she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy to cut off Brooks. But she still had a match later in the night and she couldn’t think about anything other than that.

Her partners all smiled in response, and this time Rhea was the one to step closer and wrap her arms around Y/N. “We promise this is the right thing to do, baby. You won’t regret it.” She said softly. Y/N nodded and leaned into Rhea’s touch. “Thank you all. I mean it.” Even though she still meant every word she said, she was still thinking about seeing Brooks in the crowd during her match tonight…and whether she should tell her four partners about that.

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chuuyasfanboy · 11 months ago

Text

No request with this one, just me being self indulgent because I'm an IDV addict again and I love Postman!!! Wrote this all while doing rank, congratulate me on multitasking

Paperboy x Reader

I'm an avid believer in all the skins having different personalities

So while default Victor is more reserved (NOT shy, The Prince is the shy one), I believe Paperboy is the most extroverted right behind Keyboard

He's a different kind of extroverted though

He's more focused on his blog than real life people, and so most of the conversing he does is through online forums and the like

DOES NOT mean he's afraid of in person convos!

His whole propaganda gang is trying to get people to STOP relying on tech, of course he doesn't mind talking to people irl

He's way more outwardly neurodivergent than the other variants, could probably rant FOREVER about product design, logos, hmtl and css, etc. He's really passionate about what he does

He's definitely lacking in friends though, despite all that

Other than his Call of the Abyss gang, he really doesn't get to talk to many people

It's pretty saddening, because after the fourth (read: ten-thousandth) rant about Have Fun, the only one who will listen is Luca, maybe sometimes Will

He really doesn't mind, but he does wish he could tell more people about it, people he liked

This is where YOU come in!!!

Someone new to the squad, someone who's interested in what he has to say!

Plus, even if you don't understand any of it, he has a cute puppy, isn't that enough to lure you in?

Speaking of Wick (whomst I will be referring to with all pronouns because I've been told that dog is every gender and I don't know what to believe anymore), he's the sweetest puppy ever!

When she's not ruining Jose's little dj gigs and radioshows, they're the most well behaved dog you will ever meet!

Play fetch with it, he will bring the ball back and give you puppy kisses while she's at it!

Victor LOVES seeing the two of you interact, it makes his heart explode with joy

Yes, he does talk to Wick like they're a real person. No, you cannot stop him. No, he does not use a baby voice, he is entirely serious about it.

Write him letters, he's never gotten one, none of his variants have except for maybe Prince.

He'll be SO SO SO HAPPY he'll love you forever

That's probably what kickstarted his little crush, actually, because he definitely fell first AND harder

You probably sent him an anonymous fan letter, just trying to make sure he knew people liked his blogs

He nearly CRIED running around showing everybody else, and you just laughed all joyfully at his excitement

He vowed he would find out who wrote it and write them back a thousand more word of appreciation

Imagine his joy when he found out (read: doxxed the letter for info) it was you!!

Yeah, he actually cried this time

Happy tears, I swear!

He promised you he would never ever forget it, and you KNOW he didn't, because he still brings it up years later as the happiest day of his life

Since the Call of the Abyss movement advanced and began making a motion, he'd received so many more fan letters, messages on his blog, and other things of that nature

But yours? Pinned up on his wall, FRAMED in gold

Takes every chance he gets to show it off, even if everybodys seen it before

Back to more general headcanons, Victor is completely nonverbal

He communicates through his lil mask thing, projecting words on it

He also uses it for more practical things

Like spreading more anti-Metropolis propaganda!

When he wants you to understand some niche thing he's into, he projects a video essay on to the screen, makes you watch it like a movie

Even with his eyes obscured and his words filtered, he's still extremely expressive, and its easy to tell what he's feeling

His face goes REEEEED when he's flustered or embarassed

And his lips are so so cute when he pouts

The only person he actually talks to is Wick, he does it in private, very few people get to see it

Even with you and the others, he's never spoken, only grunted or giggled or something small to acknowledge what you've said

When the plan to expose the Aurora finally closed in, and the final day was approaching, he excitedly ran around showing off his latest design

The first real print he'd made, he'd been banned from most shops and had to be careful entering them because of the guards, so he hadn't gotten the chance to bring them into reality

But finally, after Luca managed to get him a nice printer and a lifetime supply of ink, he did it

They were gorgeous- or- not the right word

They were effective.

He's really a genius in the graphic design department, slaving away hours over his laptop creating the perfect logos to draw in attention

He was incredibly excited that he finally got to spread it the way he's always wanted to

And he really hopes its as effective as he's been told

Hopes that it will encourage people to go find the sun once more

Back to the cute fuzzy romance!

It's a little awkward to kiss him, considering he almost NEVER takes off his little mask

Sometimes he does, but he really wants to save it for when the sun rises on Metropolis, it's a big dream he has

You really have to tilt your head, but its very worth it

He's soft all around, hands, arms, lips

And also, he smells like lavender

Dont ask me how I know, but its canon, I was his perfume

He really likes flowers, even though he's only seen pictures

He thinks they're gorgeous, and he believes they'll smell even better in person, better than any scent a cheap perfume shop could provide (sorry Vera!)

While he may be hard to kiss, he loves hugs, the tighter the better

Even if he feels like he's being squeezed apart, the closeness makes him feel safe

He hopes sunlight feels that warm

Sometimes, he takes you out to the theatre to watch the Aurora

"To research," he'll tell you

But really, he's just a hypocrite

Even if she's false, she does have a beautiful voice

He would never deprive you of beautiful things

He figures two extra tickets can't do too much harm, right?

Take that unsure answer as you will.

#idv #identity v #idv x reader #identity v x reader #victor x reader #victor grantz x reader #postman x reader #paperboy x reader #idv paperboy #idv postman #x reader #victor grantz #requests open #male reader #female reader #gn reader

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empressofmankind · 1 year ago

Text

On My Silent Days

I Miss You A Little Louder

[Crocodile x female!OC]

Explicit with a capital E

Word count: 7k / 15 pages

A/N: Writing this has been my whole life the past 5 days, as anyone who has frequented my Dash recently can attest. I am obsessed with their chemistry.

Technically, this is part of 'The Show Must Go On'. You don't have to read it, but I recommend it. You'll get to know Shivs and her helter-skelter relationship with Buggy which sits as the background to this whole ordeal.

You see, this is like, Arabaste arch at the earliest - Cross Guild era more likely. By then, Shivs and Bugs have rollercoastered through so much bullshit and they've come out rock solid on the other side somehow. Clown keeps failing up, even with this relationship. Sir Crocodile finds the whole thing insulting, to say the least. And seems to think it is one well-placed remark away from utterly crumbling. Jealous ex, whomst? My dude, you fucked that up yourself. Repeatedly. You had more chances than you have fingers. Chemistry aside, this is absolutely a desert of his own making.

What else do you need to know? Shivs is only 2 or 3 years younger than Buggy (i.e. my age, come sue me), but Crocodile is 5 years older than the clown. So, she's in her mid 30s, he's in his mid 40s. She originally met him when he was maybe 28? Do the math. Oh yes, and for those less familiar with the Cross Guild era: our favourite clown has managed to accidentally become the lauded public face of what is actually Mihawk and Crocodile's venture. Understandably, the ex-warlords are a little miffed by this and spend decent amounts of time physically abusing poor Buggy.

Shivs' absolutely flawless plan is basically swapping sexual favours with her ex for get-out-of-jail-free cards for the clown.

My girl literally barging in here telling Croc: "I'll take ur cock if u leave my clown alone."

Yes. That's it. That's the plot.

She almost had him, too. Arguably, she had him the entire time. And then he gdamn snapped her from the pond edge like an unwitting gazelle in the last minute. Cuz we all - her included - forgot who we're dealing with for 14.5 pages straight. APPARENTLY.

screams into a pillow

Tag(s): Oh? Ok. Sexual favours! Is she fucking her boss? No, but he always makes it feel that way. Is she fucking her ex? Yes. Are they technically still married? Maybe. Blow jobs? Deep throat. Size kink? 100%. Filthy language. Graphic sex. Soft dom? Power bottom? I am on the fence. Little girl vibes on the margins, like, he tries. She too sassy and sooner a brat. Oh, orgasm denial! Big time. Humiliation? A little bit. Stretching? Yes. Moar size kink. Choking? Big yes. Spoiling? Also yes. She deserves nice things. Power imbalance? Yes. In whose direction? It kind of flip-flops. Did I need to spend so many words on their smoking and his cigars? Probably not, but it scratched an itch. With them, it counts as foreplay; I am sure. You know you're doing well when he takes the damn thing outta his mouth. World class banter, too. If I may say so myself. But really, the bottom line is that it's just oral and PIV dressed up real fancy.

ON MY SILENT DAYS

I MISS YOU A LITTLE LOUDER

The double doors were as tall and foreboding as Shivs remembered. All bevelled hardwood and delicate gilding. She stood before them, gazing up. In the dead centre sat a brass knocker shaped like a bananawani's head, polished to a sheen.

Knocking was for people with appointments, and waiting wasn't something she planned on doing here ever again. She put her palms against the cold, expensive wood and pushed the massive doors open as if breaking a siege. They swung on smooth hinges despite their weight and struck the marbled walls with resounding booms.

The opulent office beyond was exactly as she remembered. Marquina walls, fishbone parquet floors, blackwood furniture. The taxidermied juvenile bananawani set in the wall vitrine behind his desk was new. What had been there before? A map? A ship? No, a stone. An artefact of some kind riddled in curious glyphs.

Crocodile glanced up from his papers and the irritation flitting across his scarred face in the split second before he realised who'd dared barge in, set the hairs on the back of her neck on end. How often had she seen someone shrivel into a desiccated husk straight after that look?

Shivs held his pale gaze, set her jaw and strode into his office as if down the plank.

The creak of leather as he leaned back in his seat. “You know I've killed people for less.”

She paused in front of his outrageous statement piece of a desk. She put her hands in the pockets of her baggy pants and forced her shoulders to unclench, her stance to relax. If Buggy’s dumb luck had managed to rub off on her in these past months, then now would be the time for it to start working for her.

“Lucky I am not ‘people’,” she said as she crossed her fingers in her pocket.

Amusement squinted his eyes as the corner of his mouth twitched up behind his cigar. “No, you're not,” he said as he rose.

Shivs was not short. Not by any regular definition of the word. Buggy was only a head taller than her. She hadn't forgotten how tall Crocodile was, not really. And yet, as he came around his desk and towards her, there appeared to be no end to him as he approached. If she reached up, stretched her arm, she could nick his cigar. But only just.

"Do you still smoke?" he said as he stopped well within her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. He took a flat, brass case from the inside pocket of his coat and held it out to her. She remembered it. Remembered the exquisite taste of the narrow cigarillos in it.

"No."

"Liar." His gaze flicked down along his cigar at her. "You smell of cigarettes, doll."

"I have changed my ways."

Humour flitted under his gravelly voice. "For the worse."

Shivs pursed her lips. "It's an expensive lifestyle when they don't come free with a goodnight kiss."

"Hah."

The bark of laughter actually reached his eyes, crinkling their crow's feet for a moment. He held out the case to her again. "You poor thing. I do support charities, you know."

She took it this time and flipped it open. The rich waft of tobacco and sweet Goji berries greeted her as if no time had passed at all. Might as well enjoy her sojourn back to hell while she could.

She put one of the thin cigarillos between her lips and let him light it. Watched the firelight catch and reflect in his rings. Took a moment to savour the blend, rich and sweet as polished Beli.

They were very good.

Always had been.

Shivs took the cigarillo from between her lips and blew the smoke up in rings through a slow smile. They almost reached him.

Crocodile leaned down through the cloudy hoops to pluck the shoulder of her red-and-white striped sweater between thumb and index finger, a judgemental 'hmph' escaping around his cigar.

She enjoyed the expensive smoke and his fascination while it lasted. Maybe, just maybe, this would be enough? Letting him treat her like a doll badly in need of a better dress up? He liked to spoil, always had. Now, more than ever, he had the means to take it to completely nonsensical levels. Her ego could take it, if that was the price of leaving Bugs alone.

Shivs indicated his everything with an up and down wave of her free hand. "No way to afford the good stuff on a waiter's salary."

He let go of the fabric to brush his thumb across the smear of grease paint near the collar, staining his skin and the gold of his ring red.

"Or a dud's haul."

He hooked the silk kerchief from his vest's breast pocket and wiped his hand. She followed the length of his arm up to his face.

"The entertainment isn't half bad."

“Yes.” He chewed the butt of his cigar, derision twitching his thin lips as he tucked the kerchief into an inside pocket of his coat. “His pathetic antics can be mildly amusing.”

Shivs’ grip on the cigarillo tightened, but she smiled pleasantly. “I like it when a man can make me laugh,” she said, pointing at him with the thin smoke between her fingers. “Even if at his own expense.”

She frowned at his broad back when he turned away from her without a witty reply, retreating to the button tufted camelback near them.

“You're not here for a social call,” Crocodile stated as he sat down, putting his arms along the sofa's curved back. Something flitted past his pale eyes, but it was gone so fast Shivs couldn't nail it. “What do you want, doll?”

Shivs rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet, pursing her lips as if preparing to drive a hard bargain. She intended to seem casual, unconcerned. But her palms were slick with sweat and her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She filled her mouth with smoke, tasting the rich flavours. Savouring them before blowing it out in small puffs through her pursed lips.

"I want you to leave him be," she said, extinguishing the cigarillo in his ashtray.

Crocodile shifted and put his shin across his knee. Her gaze flicked down and she saw him take note.

"And if I do?"

She held his gaze. One breath, two breaths, moved her jaw but didn't form the words. She wanted him to leave Buggy alone. Even if that meant taking his… beating, instead.

He blew out smoke through his nose, waiting patiently for her answer. The hint of a smile lingered as his pale eyes held hers from above the waterline of his scar. And in that moment, he reminded her so strongly of a lurking crocodile. Watching. Waiting. Biding its time to strike. It sent a shiver down her spine, and not entirely out of fear.

Shivs pursed her lips, steeled her emotions, checked her resolve. I'll do it for you, Bugs. It's a deal I know he won't refuse.

She met his intense gaze head on, then dropped hers slowly to his crotch once more. Allowed it to linger there, before looking back up.

He chewed the butt of his cigar and beckoned her. "You never could fit all of me down that skilled throat of yours."

Shivs watched him uncross his legs as she approached. She trailed her fingertips along his clothed thighs before leaning on them. It brought her face level with his and she deliberately took a moment to breathe in his secondhand smoke.

“Want to judge if that hasn't changed for the worse?” she whispered against his lips as she savoured the distinct flavours that made up his private blend.

Strong muscles flexed and relaxed under her palms, and she presumed that to mean ‘yes’.

She ran her hands down his muscular thighs, taking in their shape until her palms rested on his knees. His breathing changed, she could tell from the way he exhaled smoke. Denser palls, deeper breaths. No resistance as she pushed his knees apart far enough to kneel between them.

Brushing her fingertips across his overstated belt buckle, she smiled to herself. Some things never changed. She slipped the tooled tip through the frame, her movements slow and deliberate as she listened for the subtle shifts in his breathing. She loosened the prong with a sharp tug on the strap, using more force than was strictly necessary. An undercurrent of need laced the grunt that escaped him in response.

Shivs reached into his pants with both hands, catching his gaze as she drew his penis out, feeling it swell against her palms. She made a noise of appreciation as she let her hands slide down his shaft. His pale eyes hunting after hers when she broke their gaze to look at her fingers fitting around the base. She had not forgotten how tall this part of him was.

Leaning forward, she trailed teasing kisses from halfway down his shaft towards the tip. I’ve swallowed swords longer than this, and dicks aren’t even sharp, she thought as she flicked her tongue past the rim, playful-like. Length was only half the problem though, she knew that perfectly well.

She put a hand on his thigh and leaned on it as she ran the flat of her tongue across the head and took him into her mouth, suckling the tip. Inched his cock further with deliberately slow, short bobs, tilting her head to ensure he’d catch every movement of her lips as they worked around him. Need strained his stoic expression when she stole a glance up. A twitch of his eyebrows when the tip bumped against the back of her mouth. She sucked down and drew his cock back out, watched it twitch and his grip tighten on the backrest as she felt his thigh flex under her palm.

She took him into her mouth again and ran the tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock. Relaxed her neck and let it slip further than before, teasing at the entrance to her throat. Nudging it, stretching it just a bit before sucking down and drawing him back out, tasting precum for her efforts.

The frustrated groan that rumbled up from somewhere deep within his broad chest sent sparks flying down her spine. This is gonna work, she thought as he reached for her head, petted her hair while she teased the precum from him with fleet, wet kisses.

“Stop messing around and swallow my cock, sweetheart,” Crocodile grunted, pale eyes alight with hunger. The petting stopped, fingers tangling into the hair at the back of her neck instead. It was like the twitch on the line that told a fisherman to react.

Shivs glanced up along his hard shaft, and reeled him in:

“Yes, Sir.”

The horny groan that drew from him, before she’d even begun to take him again, settled comfortably in her bones. Gotcha, she thought.

Shivs breathed slow, deep, steady breaths as she slid his cock along her tongue, lining him up. The head pushed past the entrance of her throat and she switched to shallow breaths through her nose. The grunts and huffs that escaped him every time she swallowed were inhuman and she needed more of it.

She slid his cock further down, felt his thighs tremble as she did. The closer she got, the more his musk pervaded every stifled breath she managed around his thick cock. It was a heavy, heady scent and she shifted her position to press her thighs together. He didn’t notice.

She stroked his legs, ran her hands up to his hips as she leaned closer, and took him deeper still. His fingers were fisted painfully tight into her hair, but his large hand followed her without force or resistance, resting heavily against the back of her neck.

Almost.

Almost there.

And then the tip of her nose bumped against his flat stomach. She could hardly smirk with his dick this far down her throat but counted on the crinkle of her eyes to work for her as she caught his gaze and slowly raised her hands, palms up. She didn’t care that they trembled.

Look. No hands, motherfucker.

Crocodile grinned down at her through a huff of smoke, cigar dangling between his teeth. She thought it looked a little worse for wear.

“The pathetic clown doesn’t know what a dirty little slut you are, does he?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice thick with lust as he petted the back of her neck. “Giving such sweet head to save his sorry hide.” He ran his fingers along her throat as if trying to feel how far down his cock had gone. “I always knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“Now,” he added as he huffed out a pall of smoke and she felt cool metal sliding around the back of her neck, barring a retreat. “I need my cock-hungry doll to make me feel good.”

Shivs dropped her hands to his hips, gripping the folds of hard muscle there for support. She slid her tongue between her bottom lip and the underside of his cock, making sloppy little noises with the slightest bob of her head. Even those small movements pressed the round curve of his hook into the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine that made her squeeze her thighs together. She didn’t bother to try and hide it.

His large hand joined his hook, strong fingers digging into the back of her head, twisting into the hair there and holding her put as his thick cock twitched so far down her throat she didn’t even know anymore where precisely she felt it. She worked her throat around him, drawing rumbling moans from him that pitched.

“Ah -nngh- you feel so good, doll. So. Damn perfect.” His thighs tensed under her arms, flexing his hips with short jerks. She closed her eyes as she swallowed around him, frowning with effort. His breathy grunts as he lightly fucked her throat made her pussy throb.

Suddenly, his grip tightened like a vice and he shoved her nose-first against his hard, trembling stomach muscles, stealing her breath. Her eyes flew open as her throat strained and cramped, swallowing around him in reflex.

“Fuck, honey. Ah---! Yes, yes.” The satisfied, drawn-out moan as Crocodile spilled his hot cum down her throat reverberated through the quiet office.

Her fingers dug around his hips, tears jumping into her eyes as she gagged, feeling cum come up around his cock as stars danced into her vision. His grip weakened as he rode out his orgasm and she pulled back before he was quite done pumping cum. Shivs swallowed it mindlessly while coming up for air. His dick slid wetly out of her throat and mouth, streaks of cum connecting them before they broke.

She glanced up from his softening cock, glistening with her saliva all the way to the hilt. He’d tilted his head back, held his cigar nowhere near his mouth as he came down from his orgasm with deep, steadying breaths that expanded his wide chest and flared his nostrils.

He straightened with a lazy groan and a roll of his broad shoulders.

Shivs met his gaze, panting.

“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice breathy as he reached for her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. The gold of his ring was smooth where his fingertip felt rough, the warm touch grounding her fried senses. It lingered at her eyepatch, lightly brushing the faded leather. “The things we let people do to our faces…”

He hooked the kerchief from his pocket and dabbed her mouth. She reached for his hand with both of hers, touching the back of it, taking the cloth. She watched him watch her as she cleaned her face.

“Don’t you have a new pretty thing? Miss Face-of-the-Casino in her cute kimono?” Shivs forced her tone to be casual, edged with light mockery, maybe. It was stupid that it’d stung when she’d seen the younger woman. An irrational, petty feeling. An old pain. And, none of her business, at any rate.

The dismissive look that flitted past his pale eyes was rather unexpected. “An investment, nothing more.”

“She’s pretty,” Shivs said. Perhaps, part of the sting had been the fact that Miss Pretty had not responded to her the way women did when they were into other women.

Crocodile looked at his cigar before putting it back in his mouth. “That she is.”

Their gazes crossed and she pursed her lips. He reached for her jaw, fingertips grazing its curve. Then leaned down and pressed a peck against her frown. She sat up and chased after him as he took another draw from his cigar, stole the aromatic smoke from him as she teased her tongue into his mouth. He blew it out through his nose, taking the cigar from his mouth as he caught the back of her neck with his hook and took control of the kiss.

“You can have one if you like, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart, indicating his cigar.

And lord, if she wasn't tempted.

“You share ‘em these days?”

His derisive ‘hmph’ made her smirk as she rose to her feet.

“What about Miss Pretty? She enjoy your… cigars?” Shivs said, and noticed she’d gotten his cum all over Buggy’s sweater. Shit.

Crocodile glanced at her, pale eyes searching. “I prefer making deals with those who have something of value to offer, doll.”

Shivs put her hands in her pockets and rocked up on the balls of her feet with a mildly overacted grin. “Oh, it’s a deal then? You’ll play nice?”

“My compliance doesn’t come that cheap,” he said through a huff of smoke.

She crooked an eyebrow, risking a hint of ridicule in her tone. “Cheap? And here I was, thinking I have a unique skill up for offer.”

He actually cracked a smile as he flicked the butt of his cigar into the general direction of his desk and ashtray. Then beckoned her with hook and hand.

“Come here, doll.”

It would have been too easy.

She sauntered back to him and linked her fingers with his, curling the others around his hook, letting him draw her into his lap, straddling his thighs. He shifted so his cock was between them, pressing against her clothed cunt.

“What else will it cost me?” she said as she rested her hands on his shoulders, lightly riding against him. Every rub along his dick pulsed pleasure up her spine, and she hadn’t failed to notice it was already stiffening again.

He stoked the tip of his hook along her cheek as his large hand took in the shape of her firm butt, guiding her movement. “I want to know if your tight pussy can take all of me now, too.”

“Here, on a couch?” she said as she slipped her fingertips under his coat and pushed it off his shoulders. She trailed her hands down the revers of his vest, grabbed hold of them as she dry humped against him. “I thought you said you weren’t cheap?”

The bark of laughter that drew from him shouldn’t make her smile the way it did.

He pressed a kiss against it.

“I wouldn’t dare, honey,” Crocodile said as he gathered her up in his arms and rose smoothly from the couch, leaving his coat behind. He strode across his study and through the adjacent library to the expansive bedroom beyond. She remembered the sweeping view from its curving window wall and the sea of nightlights twinkling far below.

Instead of depositing her on his spacious bed, he set her down on the plush rug beside it. And motioned up and down her clothes with a dismissive gesture. “Take those rags off.”

Not my rags, Shivs thought as she kicked her boots aside, removed her baggy pants and grabbed the edge of the sweater. She didn’t wear a bra. She didn’t like them, and she hadn’t bothered wearing one this evening either.

Fingertips traced the lacy sides of her underwear while she had the sweater pulled over her head.

“You still have those.”

He sounded…not surprised. Curious, maybe?

“No reason to get rid of perfectly fine underwear,” she said as she freed herself from the sweater, finding he’d already undressed.

“They can stay on,” he said as she folded the sweater, her hand lingering on it before she turned to him.

“For now?”

A smile twitched the corner of his lips.

“Here, doll.” He held something out to her, cream-coloured and neatly folded. It seemed small and delicate in his large hand.

When she took it, the fabric cascaded into a surprisingly classy, mid-thigh negligee of shimmering silk. The top was constructed from intricately detailed lace with tiny bananawani worked into the pattern.

“Pretty,” she said as she brushed a finger across the delicate lace. She put it on and it fit her so neatly it felt like a second skin. An outrageously luxurious second skin for the silk felt soft as sin and the lace light as air. She turned a full circle on her tiptoe, overacting it just a little. She knew he liked that.

“Looks good on you.” He reached for her head, combing his fingers through her tangled red hair, tucking stray bangs behind the strip of her eyepatch. “I’d never let you get so grimy.”

“Can’t be a dirty little slut if you wash me.”

“Hah.” Crocodile leaned down and scooped her up into his arms, just like that. “Come here before I shove my cock down your throat again to shut you up.”

“Don’t tempt me- ah!”

Her reply cut off when he suddenly let go, dropping her into his bed. And that was quite the distance, even if the landing was soft. He immediately climbed on top of her, caging her with his much larger body. She spread her legs, accommodating his wider hips as he reached for her breast. His thumb traced circles around her nipple through the fine lace, stiffening at his touch.

“Like what you see?”

“Always have, doll,” he rumbled against her collarbone. Though no longer smoking, she could still smell it on him. Would be able to pick it out of a crowd. Subtle tones that reminded her of burnt coffee, dry glass and cinnamon, mingling with the faint wax smell of his hair gel and heavier citric notes of his cologne.

A small gasp escaped her when he brushed the lace down and kissed her hard nipple, taking it into his mouth and licking the sensitive tip. She felt the curve of his hook press against her hip, hitching up the silk as his hand slipped between her thighs. Strong, confident fingers pressed against the fabric of her panties and outer labia underneath. It ignited old desires, flickering life into fires she’d thought snuffed out.

His rough fingers traced the delicate lace, undulating with its curling, stylised waves. Her breath caught when they found the edge along the crease of her thigh. A mewl on her lips as he dipped them under the smooth fabric, fingertips grazing the warm, sensitive skin of her outer labia and sending sparkles of anticipation up her spine. The delicate fabric stretched with an alarming whimper from the seams as strong digits brushed between her folds, not quite able to reach. He grunted against her breast at the soaked pussy he found there.

She felt him slip the hook under the edge, warm from resting against her hip. The thought of him pulling her panties down with it lit up every nerve in the vague vicinity of her hips. Her eyes snapped open at the sharp jerk, the sudden cry of fabric tearing at the seam between silk and lace.

Shivs made a noise, nose wrinkling. Those were the nicest-.

“I’ll get you new ones,” Crocodile promised against the curve of her breast, his gaze down as he hooked the fabric from her hips. The hunger in his pale eyes as he looked at her pussy made her spread her legs further. He leaned down to caress her labia and press a light kiss against them that made her throb, thinking about his tongue.

A breathy huff escaped Shivs when he slid his middle finger between her folds instead, running slow circles around her inner labia. Gathering the moisture there before teasing them apart and brushing across her clenching entrance. Pleasure sizzled up her spine when he pressed it inside, mapping her inner walls and finding all the right places far too easily. If he kept this up, she was going to come very soon.

He switched to her other breast, teasing the sensitive skin as he inserted a second finger. “I seem to remember you liked getting your little hole stretched,” he rumbled against her nipple, and spread his large fingers apart. She moaned at the strength in them, the ease with which they pried her open. It sent twinges of sweet, sweet pressure blazing through the haze of need fogging her thoughts.

She reached down to his hand, stroke the back of it. Found his thumb and guided it against her clit with a needy moan. Her thighs trembled as he massaged it firmly, pushed his fingers all the way in, then spread them as he pulled out. She felt his knuckles and the hard edges of his rings press into her labia when he pushed them back in but she didn’t mind, kind of liked it. She reached a hand for his shoulder, neck, grabbing hold of the tout muscle there as she arched her back towards him. His pace was torturously slow and she was loving it.

Shivs let out a drawn out whine when he stopped, pulled at his neck, wrist, knowing perfectly well neither will give an inch but trying, anyway. She tried to clench her thighs, rub them together, nurse the need smouldering in her veins, but his knees were between hers and she writhed in vain.

Crocodile shifted unto his elbow, bunching the silk further up her hips while taking his hard dick in hand. A hoarse whisper close to her ear as he guided the head against her slick pussy: “Won’t you beg for my cock, sweetheart?”

“I need to feel your cock in me,” Shivs said as she caught his hungry gaze. “Feel it fill me, stretch me.”

He grunted with barely contained need, she could see it in the straining of his back as she reached for his thick neck, folding her hands behind it. Felt it in the way his hips twitched as he pressed his shaft through her wet folds, coating it with her juices.

“Am I not a good girl, sir?”

“Yes, you are.”

Shivs moaned loudly when he entered her. Whined at the delicious pressure as he pushed deeper into her soaking wet pussy, stretching her around him. She clung to his neck, mewling with incoherent need. Her hand went to his hair, messing it up but not caring. Neither did he.

“Ah -ngh- fuck,” Crocodile grunted, his breath hot against her neck.

Shivs held onto him for dear life as she arched against his hard body, savoured the sharp pleasure of him stretching her cramping, soaking cunt wide enough to plough through. He’d not bottomed out yet. If she could take him, she’d have him wrapped around her finger.

“You’re. Fuck. As tight. As I remember. Sweetheart,” Crocodile groaned into her neck, his gravelly voice strained to the point of being near unintelligible. It was getting tougher and tougher to push further through her tight, contracting walls.

“Almost there,” Shivs whispered as she brushed a stray bang of dark hair from his eyes.

The noise he made in response was inhuman and she drank it in as she closed her eyes, spread her legs further to accommodate his hips and relaxed every muscle she could still feel. A whimper bubbled from her lips when he pushed up against something deep within her that twitched a pleasure so sharp up her spine it sat right next to pain.

“Fuck, yes,” he ground out as his hips pressed flush against hers, his breath hot, heavy pants buffeting against the crook of her neck. “Feels. So good.”

He managed to push himself up onto his elbow, satisfaction animating his whole face as he looked at their joined hips, her soft labia squashed against his pubes. Shivs whimpered, his movement nudging tight bursts of pleasure deep within her.

“I knew you could do it, doll.” His tone was thick with lust, laboured from his heavy breathing. He gently brushed a strand of sweat-slick red hair from her forehead with his hook, looking so proud. “You like getting your little cunt stuffed, don’t you?"

Shivs gave a sharp nod, struggling to form words.

“I know you do, honey,” he whispered as he rolled his hips against hers, not truly thrusting. She reached for his face with trembling hands, stroking his hard jaw. He grunted under his breath with each push and she pressed pecks against the puffs of hot breath until he responded. Until he chased her tongue back into her own mouth and pressed her head back into the pillow with the desperate force of his kiss, demanding entrance with his tongue that she was more than willing to give.

“That's all you g-got?” she whispered through a moan and a bated breath when they broke their kiss for want of air. “I b-barely feel it.”

“Ah? You want more, doll?” Crocodile pulled out with a grunt, just a fraction, before shoving himself back inside her to the hilt, making her mewl with pleasure through clenched teeth as his cock bottomed out and up against her cervix. “Shall I take you back to my study? Pound you bend over my desk, like I used to?”

Shivs whined into his mouth as she latched onto him again, arms tightening around his thick neck as her cunt squeezed around his cock from the pleasure coiling around her spine. If he took her from behind, he could probably push deeper still. Oh, she’d be in trouble.

“Who’s cheap now, hrm?” A breathy hum into her ear as the obscene slap of his hips against hers filled his bedroom. She whined in need, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain making her tremble against him. “Do you want to be my little whore again? My pretty fuck slut to sit on my cock whenever and wherever I want?”

All she could do was whine and roll her hips to meet his steady thrusts. Fingers digging into the taut muscles across his shoulders, keeping him close as he fucked her deeper than she’d ever felt a man, even him. She whimpered, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain all but overwhelming her. Especially when he thrust just right, shoving his cock against a sensitive spot so deep inside her she didn’t even know she had it.

“I missed my. Pretty cocksleeve,” Crocodile grunted into her ear. “The. Only. Little slut that can take me -hng- properly.”

“Fuck me harder,” Shivs whispered, hands massaging his broad shoulders. He groaned with effort, she could feel the bridled strength in the muscles working under her palms. His pace picked up, and so did the strain in his body. Every thrust stretched her so deliciously, stimulating every needy nerve inside of her.

“Do it,” she moaned wantonly as his thrusts started to push her up on the bed, her weight no match against his strength. “I c-can take it.”

“Ah - hng- you’re. Going to. Make me cum, doll,” he growled through clenched teeth. He grabbed her shoulder, holding her in place as he jerked his thrusts up against her. Her mind was unravelling. The only thing she could think about was his cock filling her, burning up every single nerve she had as needy pleasure coiled in her belly. She wanted him to cum. She really did.

When he paused, she struggled to comprehend why. Her gaze found his. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his mouth slack to accommodate the deep breaths heaving his chest. He was barely holding still, strain thrumming through every inch of his large frame above her.

“Does. My pretty little thing want. Cum as deep in her tight pussy. As her pretty throat?”

She whined, pulled at his neck with both hands. “Y-yes.”

“Beg. For it.”

“P-please,” she whimpered as she tried to make him move, weakly rolled her hips towards him.

“Please what?”

“Please, s-sir.”

The noise he uttered in response to that settled somewhere at the primal base of her brain. She wanted, no, needed, to hear it again.

“Please, sir. Pound my needy hole like I deserve,” she mewled into his ear, savouring the way his breath hitched, that noise came again.

“Damnit, doll,” Crocodile grunted through clenched teeth as he picked up a pace that became quickly rougher, slightly erratic. He locked his hold on her shoulder, broad fingers digging around her thin muscles and narrow bones, keeping her put as he pounded into her soaking, cramping cunt. “Gonna fuck you so full, you'll be leaking my cum well into tomorrow.”

“Please, please, pleaaasse,” she whined and clenched around him as he fucked her into the sinfully soft matrass with long, deep strokes that shoved his cock shamelessly up against her cervix to fit it all in. She wanted, needed, to cum around it, desperate for release. “Fuck me full of cum, sir. Stuff my tight cunny like you did my slutty mouth.”

“I -ngh- will, honey. I am,” he ground out, barely intelligible as his pace lost all semblance of rhythm and he bucked against her in the grip of his orgasm’s first throes.

“Oh! Yes, yes,” she moaned as he shoved his throbbing cock as far as she could take it, cumming against the deepest corner of her cunt as she shuddered around his cock with unfulfilled need. He stayed buried inside her as he came down, breath erratic before steadying, slowing. She whimpered in need, clenching around his softening cock. She hadn’t been able to cum around it like she wanted. It was too thick to cramp enough for a proper orgasm. She knew that, but had thought maybe this time…

He knew it, too. Remembered it.

“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he said as he caressed her cheek, ran his thumb across her parted lips. “Unable to cum around a cock like a big girl.”

She made a small noise that he swallowed in a kiss.

They stayed that way until her breathing steadied as well. Then he sat up and gathered her into his lap. She held onto him, her cheek against his collarbone. Not quite ready yet to let go.

“You look parched, doll,” Crocodile said as he brushed a bang from her eyes.

Shivs peered up at him. “I would not say ‘no’ to a sweet white.”

A noise escaped him that could have been a fond one as he lifted her off his lap and rose. The sound of his retreating footsteps filled the quiet. He’d gone to his study, judging by the distance. Shivs got up as well and shimmied the negligee down. Despite everything, she did not feel like taking it off. It felt nice against her flushed skin.

She sauntered to the curved window wall and found the view precisely as she remembered it. A sea of nightlights twinkled across the city below, mirroring the deep blue, star-speckled sky above. The moon hung low, waning from view. It wasn’t long before he returned. She heard him uncork a bottle behind her and fill two glasses. The snap and swoosh of his lighter. The familiar scent of his cigar preceding him as he came to stand beside her, still naked.

He held a glass out to her, a cigarillo clamped against its curve. The wine was a deep bronze instead of the pale yellow usual to white wines. She accepted the glass and smoke, gaze lingering on the narrow slot through its delicate stem. It allowed him to hold them with his hook without slipping. She glanced sideways and up at him. A fond smile twitched her lips when she noticed his hair was neater than before. He’d evidently taken a comb to it for a hot second.

Shivs put the cigarillo in her mouth and turned to find his lighter lying on the nightstand beside the wine bottle, and a corkscrew with its split cork still attached. She glanced at the label as she lit the cigarillo. It read ‘1811’ in large, proud capitals, and a name in a curving script she couldn’t be bothered to try and decipher. She would not be able to afford it, anyway.

Taking a sip, she returned to his side. The wine was sweet, indeed. With hints of lime, honey, saffron. She made herself comfortable against him, her bum resting on his thigh. “It’s a nice view,” she said as she blew out a thin pall of smoke.

He glanced down at her and their gazes crossed as he idly stroked her hip. “It is.”

Shivs leaned into his touch, sipping the wine. It really was, very good.

“Clever scheme you’ve gotten up to, in order to save the loser’s sorry hide,” Crocodile remarked as he blew a smoke ring against the narrow cloud she’d just produced. “But it has a flaw.”

Shivs let her weight shift from his thigh to his loin, only the soft silk between them. “You sure?”

A self-satisfied smile twitched behind his cigar as he gave her hip a squeeze. “None of this will work on Dracule.”

Only because I don’t have a penis, she thought, but no matter. They may have both grown older, but Croki was still fundamentally the same man she’d left years ago. And that would work for her, she was sure of it. Inevitably, Mihawk would pick on Bugs. She would take it upon herself to get irritatingly upset about it. Mihawk would no doubt insult her next, and Sir Self-Satisified here would take it personally by-proxy and shut him up. It’d be a win.

“I’ll think of something,” Shivs said as she blew a thin pall through his smoke ring, dispersing it.

He glanced at her, amused. “He’s partial to good wine, at least.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

She nipped her own wine, idly rubbing her thighs together. Pleasure skulked around the base of her spine, denied but not forgotten. She made a little noise against her glass when she felt his hand move up her thigh, his thumb brush under the edge of the negligee.

“Still needy?” he said as he bunched up the fine silk, rubbing his middle and ring finger against her clit in slow circles. It sent lazy sparks of pleasure straight to her brain. Drawing a shuddering whimper from her as he dipped his middle finger between her folds.

“Cum for me, honey,” Crocodile rumbled as he lightly ran the tip of his finger along the inner rim of her vagina, then teased the sensitive spot further down. Shivs gasped through her moan as the briefest shudder of an orgasm stole over her like a thief in the night. It was not enough, not nearly enough.

“N-need more,” she said as she put the glass down with a wobble. Reached for his large hand when he stopped, withdrew, tugging it back. Bunching two of his fingers together, of a mind to stick them into herself if he didn't.

“Come to our board meeting tomorrow. You’ll come sit with me and I’ll take good care of your needy little hole.” He shook her fussy touch and caught her pubes, massaging his palm firmly against her soft cunt, pressing her bum against his cock. “You can ride my palm like you used to, and I’ll make you cum on my fingers till your tight pussy is sore from cramping around them.”

Shivs wasn’t particularly keen on doing any of this semi-publically, least of all anywhere Bugs would be. Though she feared she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of this, as easily as she’d talked herself into it.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll leave the pathetic clown alone,” Crocodile promised as he stroked her flat belly with the rounding of his hook. “Can’t beat the loser if my hand is occupied with something sweeter, hm?”

Shit. She had to tell Bugs. Forewarned, forearmed, and all that. She turned in his hold, his hand moving to her butt instead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said, but he caught her wrist when she took a step back.

“Ah, ah,” he admonished as he stopped her, pulled her with him, back into bed. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

“I, what? Why?”

Suddenly, she wanted to leave as he gathered her against him, nestling her into his lap and chest, spooning his large body around her like a cage. She wanted to leave, wanted to go to Buggy and cry when he guided his cock back inside her still moist pussy with an incriminating noise and a satisfied rumble. She��d meant to turn this trick and tell Buggy about it. Tell him her plan to manipulate the ex-warlord to leave him alone, to leave them alone. Tell him it had worked.

Shivs pushed herself on her elbow but Crocodile pulled her back down to him.

“Stay,” he said as he hooked the fluffy underblanket and silk cover sheets about them, his arm around her waist, hand on her hip.

“Why.” She had to tell Buggy, but now she couldn’t. She’d left after they’d gone to bed. She hadn’t told him yet. He didn’t know. He’d wake up alone.

Crocodile stroked the midline of her belly with the tip of his hook, rippling the cream-coloured silk as it moved up her chest, counting to the fifth rib. The one behind which her heart sat.

“Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

A quiet sob escaped her.

"Ssh, sleep, honey," Crocodile whispered into her hair, fingertips stroking her hip. “I’ll take good care of you tomorrow.”

Honourary mention tags: @smut-goblin , @ruledbyproblematique , @gingernut1314 , @swirlsofblackandwhite

(N/A): To anyone reading & making it to the end. Writing this has consumed me the past days. I want to know what you think! What did you like? What made you laugh? Was there something specific you noticed? Something you now wonder about? I am 100% open to lengthy comments and blow by blows, ngl. I am obsessed with this.

If you want for more, I jotted down some of my own thoughts regarding this debacle. I may also be plotting another stint. Because Impel Down, do you understand me??

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