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fanimesenseiwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Things the MC would bring back to their demon bois from the mortal realm:

Lucifer:

MC goes to second hand stores and vintage shops always on the look out for vinyl records that they think Lucifer would like.

Most of the time they try and bring back stuff he'd actually like, such as Tchaikovsky or Vivaldi

Once, they brought back Stravinsky's Firebird Suite and Lucifer wouldn't stop kissing them (once they were in the privacy of his room of course)

Sometimes the MC will bring back more modern music just because it makes them think of him

"I dunno, I just listen to Hozier and think of you"

Lucifer doesn't like all the modern music they bring back but he appreciates the sentiment just the same

Then there's the gag gifts...

Any kind of music that has a reference to the devil or Satan or hell is fair game

These gifts usually elicit an eye roll from the eldest brother but he keeps them all the same

This is why Lucifer owns a copy of "The Devil Went Down To Georgia"

So when MC brings back a copy of Giuseppe Tartini's Violin Sonata in G minor, they're a little surprised at Lucifer's delighted reaction

"You know, I was the one who visited Tartini in his dreams."

MC's mind = blown.

"Also, this copy is cursed. I know you know how much I enjoy cursed vinyls."

"I- wait... What?!"

MC is very upset that they had a cursed vinyl in their possession this whole time

Mammon:

This boy loves stuff, and he loves MC, so he's gonna love any gift really

But MC knows he loves treasure and jewels and as much as they'd love to just bring him back nice watches and jewelery...

MONEY IS A THING, AND MC IS NOT MADE OF IT.

So MC settles for semi-precious stones instead

They always find fun and beautiful stones at museums and those metaphysical stores and they always pick out one that reminds them of Mammon

They're really nervous when they give him his first gift

"Hey, I got this for you and I know it's not fancy or expensive but I saw it and thought of you and I just wanted you to have it."

Mammon will love them until they die. He is really just so touched that MC thought of him. He'll try and play it cool though

He totally fails. MC won't tell him that though

MC brings him Lapis Lazuli and tells him it reminded them of his eyes and Mammon is now a puddle of lovesick goo on the floor

Mammon puts more shelves in his room dedicated to all the gifts MC gives him

One time MC brings him back some fool's gold in a teeny little jar on a chain, so that he can wear it

"Fool's gold? Why cuz I'm a fool?" Mammon asks with a roll of his eyes.

"What? No, cuz I'm a fool for you."

Mammon only love MC until they die? WRONG.

He's gonna love them forever now

He was gonna do that anyways

Leviathan:

C'mon, this boy is easy. Anime/manga stuff and TSL. Need I say more?

At first he'll be suspicious of MC wanting to give him gifts, but once they've convinced him that they're doing it out of the kindness of their heart he's really touched

The first thing the MC brings him is a pen with a little Ruri-Chan on the end of it

"I know it's not much, but I just happened to see it and I knew you'd like it"

Like it??????

HE LOVES IT! HE'S OVER THE GODDAMM MOON.

He's never seen anything like this in the Devildom and he doesn't think about the small stuff usually because he's too busy trying to get the big collectors edition items. So he actually really loves this.

MC continues to bring him cute small stuff like buttons and keychains and Levi loves them all.

His favorite item(s) that MC brought him is a pair of Lord of Shadows and Henry BFF enamel pins

He definitely tackle hugged MC when he got them

He gives the Lord of Shadows pin back to MC so they can each have one and show off their BFF status with them

Satan:

MC loves going to second-hand bookstores to shop for Satan.

Satan also appreciates new books, but there's something special about how his face lights up when he finds something old or rare. Anything with a little bit of history to it.

Of course, finding rare books for not a lot of money is a rare event in itself

So a safe bet is to bring Satan non-fiction, the boy loves to learn

But he really loves it when MC puts thought into finding fiction books that he would like

"I just really feel like you'd like Dean Koontz so I brought you one of my favorites by him."

Satan loves those gifts the most because he can talk to MC about the books afterwards

Satan's absolute favourite gift is a leather bound copy of Arabian Nights though

"I was thinking we could read this one together"

"Like you read it to me and pretend to be Scheherazade?" Satan suggests.

MC is flustered at the connotation of the suggestion but agrees anyways

The time they spend together reading that story will forever be one of Satan's favorite memories

Asmodeus:

He's a little harder to shop for than the MC had originally imagined

They tried bringing him make-up and skin care, which Asmo always graciously accepted, but he never seemed super excited about the gifts

But what else is to be expected from the guy who already uses only the best products?

MC suddenly gets an idea when they send Asmo a selfie of them at the park

- OMG! You're so cute! And the background is pretty too!-

MC starts dressing up and going to nice and beautiful places just with the intention of taking pictures

Botanical Gardens, museums, downtown skylines, anything that would make for a good picture

MC goes full on aesthetic art hoe just for Asmo

Only the best pictures get sent to Asmo

Asmo is LIVING for the looks their MC is serving up

- You are absolutely STUNNING! I'm in awe at these AMAZING pictures-

MC makes a scrapbook of the best pictures to give to Asmo the next time they see him

Asmo loves it and keeps it on display in his room always

Also, Asmo definitely makes MC their personal photographer after seeing the wonderful shots they took

Beelzebub:

Obviously, the boy loves food. He's always down to try new snacks from the mortal realm.

But MC wonders if there's something better that they could bring him

One day MC is at GNC for supplements for themself when they notice the workout supplements and get an idea

They grab some fun flavored protein powder and some BCAAs and a really nice shaker bottle just for Beel

Beel is actually really excited to get these gifts!

The Devildom doesn't have fun flavors of protein powder and the shaker bottle is such a great idea!

MC always brings new flavors of protein back for Beel, doing their best to find the weirdest flavors for him to try

Beel's favorite is definitely Birthday Cake.

MC starts bringing him new stuff to try too, protein bars, recovery supplements, collagen, and superfoods shakes

Beel tries everything and tells MC what their favorites are

"I love the BCAAs, I just wish the Devildom had them..." *sad Beel noises*

MC may or may not talk to Diavolo about researching BCAAs and getting them produced and sold in the Devildom

The supplements MC brings actually help Beel with his workouts and to control his hunger (a little)

Beel actually gets hotter??? Who knew that was possible???

MC definitely takes advantage of Beel's new 8-pack 😏😏😏

Belphegor:

What do you get the boy who only wants to sleep?

MC has gotten him stuffed animals and blankets and even a couple of nice pillows, but nothing seems to excite him

... but maybe that's just his personality??

It's not until MC accidentally leaves a sweater in the Devildom, that they figure it out

- You left your sweater down here- Belphie texts MC.

- Oh no, I'll just get when I come to visit y'all again-

- That's fine. I like having something that smells like you-

And the light bulb went off in MC's head.

Every time MC goes to visit they leave a shirt or sweater behind for Belphie, so that he can have something that smells like them.

Belphie loves how MC smells, its like a sweet dream all the time. It helps him sleep better when they're gone.

Belphie starts to complain when MC is gone longer than the item they left smells like them

(Which is every time)

So MC will start leaving Belphie more than one item, packing them in airtight bags so he can use them one after another until they return

Belphie can and will fight anyone who tries to take MC's clothing

"Mammon, you have two seconds to put that sweater back or I will kill you."

And Lucifer probably won't stop him

Diavolo:

He's honestly the easiest to please.

He's so fascinated with any thing that humans do that he'll enjoy any gift from the human world.

MC's first gift to him is a rubber duck.

"The duck is wearing a crown so it made me think of you and I just thought it was cute."

"I love it! What's its purpose?"

"Uh... to float around in the bathtub with you and look cute?"

"Isn't that what you're for?"

Diavolo loves the rubber duck so much it gets his own silk pillow to rest on when it's not taking a bath with Diavolo.

MC brings him cute pens, and keychains sometimes bottles of wine if the bottle is cute.

"The bottle is shaped like a cat! Isn't that delightful?!"

MC's proudest moment was when they found a full and intact tea set at the thrift store

Diavolo immediately fell in love with it.

He insists on only using that set when having tea with MC

But his favorite gift will always be the rubber duck.

Barbatos:

He'll insist that he doesn't need any gifts but that won't stop the MC.

MC is with him in the kitchen in the Demon Lord's Palace when they get an idea.

KITCHEN TOYS.

Barbatos works so hard, he deserves some things to make his life easier and liven up the bland kitchen

MC's first gift is a vegetable spiralizer.

"You use it to turn zucchini and squash and the like into noodles so that you can do fun stuff with vegetables!"

Barbatos accepts it graciously, but he'll probably never use it.

MC brings him spices from the mortal realm and Barbatos actually really loves those.

When MC brings him a food processor, he offers to cook for them right then and there

Despite all the weird gadgets MC ends up bringing him, and there are plenty out there, Barbatos's favorite is a ladle that looks like a stegosaurus.

It's far more whimsical than anything he would've ever picked out, and he'll never use it, but only because he's afraid of ruining it, not because he doesn't love it.

At some point, Barbatos does ask MC to stop bringing him kitchen gadgets

"Why? Do you not like them?" MC asks with a pout.

"I appreciate all of them, but I have everything I need when you're in the kitchen with me."

If MC wasn't already in love with him they are now

Smooth bastard just doesn't want anymore shit in his kitchen

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undinoble · 4 years ago

Photo

Crazy long text ahead i warn you, just explaining some process I went through while drawing this Frank and Julie low light dying thingie, probably gonna drop some wips along the way, you may want to see… idk, dealer’s choice

!TRIGGER WARNING! Violence, death, suicide. Proceed with caution.

Well where do we begin? The inspiration maybe?

Exploring the magical world of Spotify when a band came in, one of the first songs (if not the first one) of theirs I heard was Partners in Crime by Set It Off, you know, love at first sight, love for their voices, their music style, aaand the lyrics, OH BOI the lyrics, check it out:

“You’ll never takes us alive We swore that death will do us part They’ll call our crimes a work of art You’ll never takes us alive We’ll live like spoiled royalty, lovers and partners”

Dunno, for two passionate juvenil delinquents that just wants trouble this line really fits to me, the dreamy couple feels invencible.

“Everybody freeze Nobody move Put the money in the bag Or we will shoot Empty out the vault And me and my doll will be on our way”

It’s actually interesting to think of the Legion robbing a bank, it’s not like troublesome teens didn’t do that in movies c’mon, it’s a small city, they wear masks, ez!

“Our paper faces flood the streets And if the heat comes close enough to burn Then we’ll play with fire ‘cause

You’ll never takes us alive”

THIS. This is so a Legion thing to say. Can you imagine their masks all around the streets as a warning like “HEY, WE ARE HERE, FEAR US” I love this

“Here we find our omnipotent outlaws Fall behind the grind tonight Left unaware that the lone store owner Won’t go down without a fight Where we gonna go He’s got us pinned Baby I’m a little scared Now, don’t you quit He’s sounded the alarm I hear the sirens closing in”

The second big moment, the adrenaline along with the instrumental is crazy for real

“The skies are black with lead-filled rain A morbid painting on display This is the night the young love died Buried at each others side”

THIS. (again) is the main theme of the drawing, it’s where the inspiration flood over me, the scene was clear in my mind, c’mon if you read till here there’s absolutely no reason not to listen to the song you won’t regret im not even getting payed to show it off

ACTUALLY FORGET IT- i just won a sub on Cody Carson’s stream WHAT IS LIFE??????? Thanks Max!!!

I totally didn’t draw this while listening to the music when i should be working what are you talking about??

Hold the sketch, focus on the gun. It’s dope aint it?

Anyways, here goes the lore, along with the music lyrics I filled up the gaps, well, Suz and Joey are not around, maybe doing school stuff Julie didn’t feel like doing so she decides to hang out with Frank in the meanwhile, they’re on the lodge, bored, upset about the world cause it’s what teens do in their free time, listening to one of their mixtapes, probably Frank’s, the more hardcore one when the idea hit: what if they try some good mischief? “There’s a small banks a mile from here, want some adrenaline babe?” And oh of course she does, grab your mask, here we go

Sorry, not a big legs-drawing fan…

They grab their knives, put on the masks, get ready, drive to the bank. I didnt really think this part through, the song says it all. Long story short - they rob the bank, the police arrives, the action begins.

They brought their knives, didn’t expect the cops to show up with guns, damn they didnt even know little Ormond cops had actual guns. After long minutes of hiding on the bank safe the couple decides to fight their way out, they would be more useful alive than dead so laws could apply, but that went out of question once Frank stabbed the first bank employee on his triumphal way out, the police don’t think twice before shooting to protect the citizens inside.

Frank and Julie have too little time to react, the stress and anxiety kicks in, they go feral, crazy cinematic bullet avoids, for a moment it’s possible to get away. It all happened too quick, but in Julie’s vision it went slow motion. She just saw a cop leaning behind a car, aiming directly at Frank, even her fastest reaction wasn’t fast enough to stop the trigger from popping. With tears in her eyes she watches as the bullet hits her boyfriend right in the chest.

She snaps. One target in mind, she sprints to the cop and stabs him over and over until she’s sure he won’t see the sun set ever again. She takes his gun and rushes towards Frank who is kneeling against a taxi holding his torax, she screams that they must go to the hospital immediately but he refuses, hospital would be just a quick stop on his way to jail. No fucking way.

He demands to go back to the lodge, the cops are too busy helping their wounded partner to look for them, they think Frank may be dropped dead somewhere on the street after multiple shots, the two of them must flee before the cops realize the mistake and go hunting for them. NOW.

Julie side-carries Frank back to their car, the lack of a license of her own won’t stop her from driving as fast as the car can. Breathing heavily while constantly telling Frank to hold on, they will find a way out, they must do. Oh what a fucking stupid idea holy SHIT.

The travel takes half the time it usually does and still feels like hours. The car gets all red with Frank’s blood that keeps leaking. Once they arrive, Frank wants to go upstair, Julie shouts at him to keep next the central campfire once he should grab some heat (and for god’s sake why is he still carrying the money bag they stole????), anyway he gets the last word and they climb the stairs up and lay on the bed, Frank hisses from the pain but also sighs in relief for the soft spot under him, ignoring Julie cursing besides him, saying she can still call an ambulance, she doesnt want to lose him, Suz and Joey will be devastated, although he just replies with the phrase they were saying sooner that day “They’ll never take us alive”.

After 20 minutes of agony, low whispers of memories of how they met, what they had been through together and a huge amount of blood moisturing the covers, Frank says he’s feeling light-headed, Julie looks at him and he’s paper white, the blood loss is finally getting to him, she wants to cry, scream, curse and stab that damn cop a hundred times again, but all she does is cuddle her head harder against his shoulder and tell him she loves him, that she will keep his legacy alive, with Joey and Susie, she will revenge him. He chuckles and slowly feels the life being drained from his weaked body until everything goes black.

Julie need a few seconds to process. Frank died. For real. He was good a few hours ago, he was right. They would never take them alive. Death could do them apart, but, he never said for how long they would be apart.

She reaches for the gun on the hand under Frank’s body. THAT DAMN GUN. She aims it to the side of her head, never leaving Frank’s side on the bed. Triggers it.

“Partners in crime”

Damn did I just write a fucking fanfiction? This shit is way longer than I expected, did anybody even get down here?

Well, this is the part of the drawing where i left cause I just couldn’t afford to work on it, have in mind everytime the file were opened the whole lore came in my head, and fuck did i feel dizzy writing it all down. Hell the bloody details get me, seeing Frank so white with a blue undertone simulating the lifeless body gave me headaches fr. My escape was drawing other things until the courage to finish it came back. It was easier because the story kinda faded away from my mind, the drawing became “lighter” to deal with.

Well, guess that’s it. I hardly have this big insight while drawing, to visualize the finished piece on my brain and it’s just so fucking cool, making art with so many mixed feelings along, and overall pride, cause i feel so proud with the result you have no idea. It isn’t perfect tho, but i like it anyway. So, thank you so much if you made it all the way here. gonna sleep now for fucks sake im gonna pass out bye

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bellesque · 5 years ago

Note

Can you write a smut story with Loki?

Ask and you shall receive! Also on my AO3.

An Inspiring Distraction (Loki x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3.3K (yikes)

Tags/Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Orgasm Delay, Established Relationship

Summary: You’re adept at pretty much every genre. Except romance. You take to watching romance movies to help you along the creative process, only to be interrupted by the God of Mischief. Turns out, your boyfriend has a better idea of how to spark inspiration and get your juices - creative or otherwise - flowing.

A/N: Well. This turned out way longer (and way dirtier) than I originally planned. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this.

YOU REALLY TRY to ignore the interruption.

The tapping of a finger isn’t totally distracting, a light rhythm on the top of your shoulder. Almost feather-light. Only you expect it to end at some point, if you disregarded it long enough—but it doesn’t. The movie that plays on the screen in front of you has lost your focus, and because of that you huff in exasperation.

“Loki,” you whine, shifting from your position on your couch to sit up and whirl around to chastise your boyfriend.

Except he isn’t there.

You sigh loudly, hitting pause on your movie. “Loki,” you call again, this time with a little bite in your tone.

“You called, dearest?”

His voice comes from behind you, in between you and your television. You shift against the pillows. Most of the time, you loved Loki and all his tricks and games. Other times, like today—well, sometimes dating the God of Mischief had its disadvantages.

The only one being that he could be such a distraction.

You give him a pointed, unamused look in return of his smug, almost Cheshire cat-like grin. His eyes feign innocence, and you roll your own. “Was there any point to your little Morse code message on my shoulder?”

“Of course. I wanted your attention.”

“For what reason?”

“For no reason at all but to see your beautiful face.” Loki steps forward, and you fight the part of you that thaws at his compliment. Damn him and his silver tongue.

“Yeah, well, this beautiful face is still mad at you,” you mumble as he settles on the couch beside you, pulling your legs on his lap.

“You are most beautiful when you’re angry with me, sweetness. Why do you think I tease you so?” He grins at you in that way that causes your heart to seize (just a little; you won’t admit more than that), rubbing your bare calves absently.

You snort, turning your attention away from him and hoping that the warmth you feel in your face isn’t evident.

Loki too turns his gaze to the television in front of you, and you’re reminded to hit play. You allow yourself to relax into his touch as the movie continues, taking mental notes of key points you think would work in your own project. He’s quiet this time, thank goodness, allowing you to return to the level of focus you were at before his magic interrupted you.

He squints as soon as the music begins to soften and the sexual tension onscreen is evident. Leading to the iconic kiss, you can tell. This moment is big, you note, ready to take notes on every little detail that will concoct the perfect kiss—

“What are they doing?”

The speed at which you hit pause is surprisingly fast. “What does it look like, Loki?”

You can’t keep the frustration out of your tone this time. Your assigned project is a romance—a genre you are not well-versed in. Your concentration is broken and you’re not sure if you can pull off constructing a kiss scene that is both believable and emotional enough, and with enough steam that will fog the screens.

“I was not aiming for petulance this time, sweet. You would do well not to be angry with me over a simple question, gorgeous creature though you may be.”

His words are sweet enough, though you know it’s to mask the confusion—and probably slight hurt—he feels.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, reaching up to touch his forearm. “I’m just… it’s stupid. I have this big project coming up and it’s a romance. And that’s the thing I’m the least good at. I was hoping maybe this movie could give me a little inspiration, some tips.”

Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Am I mistaken about our arrangement? Are we not dating, pet? Shouldn’t you be drawing inspiration from your personal experiences?”

“It’s different,” you say, this time feeling the warmth of a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Not everyone has dated a god. And…” you trail off.

Loki looks at you expectantly. “And?”

“There needs to be a love scene.” The words tumble out, rushed and embarrassed.

Loki only laughs, sliding his hand onto the curve of your hip before resting his arm on the edge of the couch. “Alright sweet, let’s do it your way.”

“Thank you,” you say with finality, “now no more interruptions until this movie is done, agreed?”

“You have my word.”

True enough, you and Loki watch the movie in comfortable silence. You like to think maybe he’s even enjoying it a little at this point.

Well, until he’s the one pausing the movie.

“I cannot bear this anymore,” he says, rising to his feet.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“This—this show of yours.” He gestures at the TV. “Absolutely useless material for you, sweet. Bland and sloppy. Amateur at best.”

“I’ll have you know, Loki, a lot of people rave about this movie.”

“Yes, yes, you mortals have such poor taste in the arts because you fail to feel and capture the entirety of passion.” He offers you his hand. “It is up to me for your project to be as evocative as possible. Now. What is it that you want?”

“What I want?” you repeat, allowing Loki to lead you to your feet. “I’m not sure—”

“What aspect of romance, darling.” In an instant, Loki transforms his features into a shy, almost hesitant look, not meeting your eyes and shifting from foot to foot. “Is it the novelty of a new love, perhaps?” he asks, his voice timid and tentative.

You’re about to open your mouth to praise him, tell him that wow, he is a damn good actor, but just as quickly he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. You find your hands against the hard planes of his chest and in a split second he hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards so you lock gazes. The way he looks at you is smoldering, intense and captivating as his eyes pin you in place and you notice just how green they are.

You focus on that color as you forget to breathe, a familiar tingle blooming in the pit of your stomach.

After what feels like way too many seconds, Loki’s eyes flit down to your lips, the subtle dip of his eyelids a subconscious message for you to follow suit in anticipation for a kiss. Sure enough, his head angles towards yours, his eyes fluttering closed as yours do, and your lips pucker just slightly.

The hand on the small of your back moves to the nape of your neck, keeping you in place, bringing you closer towards him for the kiss—

He stops a hairsbreadth away from you, his lips just barely brushing yours. “Or are you looking for the undeniable thrill that sexual tension brings?”

The spell he’s seemingly put you under is broken and your eyes snap open. Your heart is actually beating wildly in your chest, your breathing just the slightest bit heavier. Loki grins at you mischievously.

“Lo—”

Loki spins you around, this time switching your position so that your back is to his chest. One arm snakes around your waist, the tips of his fingers moving underneath your baggy shirt and skimming over your bare skin. His hand creeps up, up, up, until it’s resting under the swell of your breast, his breath hot at your ear.

“Or maybe…” he purrs, moving your hair to reveal your neck to him. He presses open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive spot just under your ear, the hand on your abdomen tracing absent circles now. You can feel the goose bumps rise on your skin, starting at the base of your breasts until your nipples prick up, and your entire body shivers of its own volition, all while Loki sucks a bruise into your neck. “Everything that comes with seduction.”

You exhale, your head falling back against Loki’s shoulder as he continues his ministrations. Everything with Loki is still fairly new, uncharted territory, and you’re honestly liking where this is going.

The plus is that it’s going to help with your project, most likely.

“What will it be, sweet?”

“M-maybe the second option? Or the third…? Since, I dunno, I think that’s what’ll be most helpful for the—the love scene.”

“Well then,” he murmurs in your ear, his silken voice drawing a wanting pang from you, “we’ll just have to continue what we started, won’t we?”

The speed at which Loki shifts your position—yet again—is disorienting. He spins you again so you’re facing him, and he hoists you into the air close to him until you’re sitting on his forearms with your legs nowhere to go but wrapped around his waist. Your hands bury themselves in his soft hair as Loki pulls down the collar of your shirt and begins sucking at the skin of your neck without warning.

“Loki!” you exclaim as he begins walking up the stairs, presumably—where else would you be going?—to the bedroom. The high-pitched squeak you emit as his teeth graze your skin somehow prompts him to squeeze your butt cheek just a little.

Loki uses his magic to fling the door open, a loud bang accompanying it. His lips detach from you as he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You notice that his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are a bit dilated, and you think it’s safe to say you look the same as well.

“I apologize if I got carried away earlier, my sweet. Now, the lesson begins here.” He stands, towering over your sitting figure. “You’ve had a taste of the emotions of romance with me as your partner, but think of this moment, specifically, to aid in your project. Was it a proper seduction? Enough for what you will be working on?”

You give it some careful thought. Or at least, you pretend to—because frankly, there is no way in hell you’re letting Loki leave you high and dry after his heavy petting.

“I think I’m seduced,” you say, surprised to find your voice a little shaky. “But I think it needs a little more… something, I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“So it was unsatisfactory.” Loki’s eyes glint a certain way; the kind of look you’ve associated with his games, only this one you’re playing seems to be a very sexual one. “What is it again that you need help with?”

“Romance…?”

“And which of my options will aid in your production?”

“The second or thir—”

Loki surges forward and takes your lips between his teeth, rolling his tongue over your bottom lip and then sucking. You barely register it when your back hits the softness of the mattress and Loki settles himself on top of you.

The way Loki’s lips and tongue moves over and with yours is absolute bliss, and you return his actions with equal fervor. His hands roam across your torso, one hand toying with the hem of your shirt until it slides underneath to caress your warm skin.

Loki pulls away from you and nuzzles your cheek with his nose. “This, sweet. This is what you should be aiming for. The chemistry between us is unrivaled and cannot be duplicated, but you may possibly write something very close to it.”

“Okay,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady and as casual as his seems to be. “Uh, I do have a few concerns about the love scene, though.”

He perks up at this, his eyebrows raising and the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Oh?”

You’re finding it increasingly difficult to form coherent sentences as Loki’s hand travels south and toys with the waistband of your shorts. A finger hooks underneath it, just briefly, before tracing a line from one side of your waist, over your stomach to the other side and back again.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to get out, sucking in a breath as Loki’s fingers dance over a sensitive spot you didn’t know you had, “like how would it transition smoothly from the making out to the actual, y’know—sex.”

The way you say sex is breathier than you want it to be, but it’s because of Loki’s stupid wandering hands leaving you a breathless mess. He’s looking at you, desire clouding his irises, and it takes your willpower not to drag his face back to your lips.

“Well, sweet, it would usually go like this—but, from here on out, no interruptions. Just let me show you…” And his mouth descends on yours again, hot and heavy. An inner voice cheers loudly at this victory, knowing that this is how Loki likes to play his games.

His hands begin to pull up the hem of your shirt over your head, your lips parting for the briefest of moments before he’s latching onto you again and tossing your shirt to the corner of the room. Fumbling, you undo the buttons of his black dress shirt and slide it down his shoulders.

Loki pulls away from you and smooths his hands over your body. “You are a goddess, my sweet.” He bends down and presses a kiss to the center of the column of your throat. “Absolutely breathtaking.” Another one in between your breasts. “Maddening.” Another, just above your navel. “My goddess.”

Butterflies bloom in your stomach at his words, and you feel an instinct to shower him in the same praise. “And you, Loki…” You bring him back up to eye level and try to roll on top of him. He lets you, your knees on either side of him. “You are just exquisite.” You kiss his Adam’s apple, where you feel it bob just slightly at your words. “Marvelous.” On his sternum. “My God of Mischief. My Prince of Asgard.” The final one, this time below his navel, dangerously close to the waistband of his pants.

Loki groans, fisting a handful of your hair. “You are the death of me, sweet.”

“Good,” you say, placing a hand over the tent in his pants and flashing him a devious grin. “I should be.”

Loki growls and pulls you up, rolling over so you’re pinned underneath him again. Your shorts disappear in a flash of green, leaving you in only your underwear.

“Hey, no fair, you used magi—ah—” your complaint is cut off by Loki’s mouth on your breast, his other hand pinching and tweaking. Pleasure hums throughout your body.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Loki comments, smiling victoriously until your hand slides underneath his pants and cups his erection—at which his jaw slackens and he groans.

He cups your mound in response and then maneuvers your underwear to the side. Without missing a beat, he slides two fingers into your slickness. This time, it’s your turn to let out a moan. You grip his erection more tightly, pumping up and down, feeling the trickle of precum on your inner wrist, and Loki curls his fingers inside you. Your body arches upwards.

“All this be damned,” he mutters, and with a green shimmer you and he are naked. Loki presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing lazy yet purposeful circles over it, all the while his other fingers continue pumping in and out of you.

Your hand probably stops groping him at some point; your mind is frayed with the pleasure his hands are giving you, but you’re jolted back when you feel him jerk in your hand. Curiously, you swipe a finger of the slit of his head, and Loki’s hips and fingers stutter.

“Loki,” you breathe, gyrating on his fingers, “I need you inside me now.”

He doesn’t say anything, but covers your neck with a wet, hot kiss, applying just a little more pressure on your clit. You bite back a moan and decide to squeeze him harder, your other hand raking a stripe down his back.

“Need to cum soon,” you pant. “I think you do too.”

Loki pulls his fingers out of you and wordlessly places his fingers in his mouth, tasting you, all the while never breaking eye contact. It’s erotic, maybe a little obscene, but your libido only skyrockets.

“I want your eyes on me at all times.” His voice is dark with desire, practically dripping lust, and you nod, swallowing thickly.

Loki positions the head of his cock at your dripping slit, tracing over it with excruciating slowness until you’re covered in each other’s slick. He rests a finger on top of your clit, and then in a fluid motion he buries himself to the hilt as he presses on your bundle of nerves.

Closing your eyes at the heaven you’re both feeling, you both moan, a broken harmony, and the sound adds to the arousal you both feel.

“You are so warm and wet for me. It is almost unbelievable,” he murmurs.

“Your cock feels really good inside me,” you whisper, a little ashamed once it leaves your lips. But Loki doesn’t seem to mind—in fact, he seems to relish the praise. You stay unmoving for a while, your cunt experimentally fluttering around him, until you can see Loki’s restraint is hanging by a thread.

You grind your hips, a silent signal for him to move within you, and soon you’re a breathy, writhing mess beneath him as he thrusts, first slowly, until his movements increase in speed, a crescendo you can also feel in your body.

You feel yourself coming close to the edge of release, the coiling of energy deep within your core, and you reach down to guide his fingers to your clit.

And when his fingers begin their familiar rhythm, his lips crash onto yours in an urgent attempt for dominance, you clamp your walls around him and Loki groans into your mouth. He presses harder against your clit and he swallows the wanton moan that spills from your lips.

“I’m going to cum,” you tell him, feeling the familiar sensation burning even hotter now. “Cum with me. Please, Loki, I need you to.”

Loki’s jaw is set, beads of sweat forming on the top of his forehead. With a little growl he spreads your legs even wider and ruts into you, hard and fast, though only for a moment. His movements slow to a lazy pace, sliding in and out of you while his hands circle your clit in the same rhythm.

“Loki,” you whine. “Please.”

“I’d like to draw it out.”

“You already are, so just fuck me already.”

You clamp down exceptionally hard around him this time, and Loki captures your lips in a kiss as he goes back to the breakneck speed you were in earlier.

And then you feel your orgasm begin to crest, you and Loki moving in sync, your nails raking patterns all over his back you’re sure they’ll be red raw later.

He presses exceptionally hard, rubbing your clit between his fingers as his other hand cups your breast. “Cum now, sweet.”

Your body shudders as you feel the white hot pleasure explode within you, your walls fluttering around Loki’s cock as you cum with a cry. You feel Loki’s close too, so you continue rhythmically squeezing his cock until he cums with his own shuddering groan.

Loki takes your face in his hand and he kisses you, languid and lazy, as you both ride out each other’s orgasms. He rests his forehead against yours before rolling onto his back, pulling you on top of him.

“That was…” you begin after a few minutes of silent cuddling. You stroke his chest.

“Perfect for your project, correct?” he says, planting a kiss in your hair.

A warmth begins to spread across your lower regions. You prop yourself up on your elbow, giving him a particularly blatant nonchalant look. “I don’t know. I think I need to do a little bit more research.”

Loki pulls you down over his chest, his hands playing with the ends of your hair. “Devilish woman,” he comments affectionately. “Wherever do you get it from?”

“A certain God of Mischief.” Your hand snakes down to between his legs.

“Now. I think it’s time for lesson number two.”

Maybe some distractions are worth entertaining after all.

#thenatallie #fic request #tom hiddleston fic requests #reader request #loki x reader #loki x you #loki fic requests #loki imagine #tom hiddleston imagine #by belle

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angst-fairygodmother · 4 years ago

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Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

CHAPTER 1: CAT AND MOUSE

Word Count: 2406 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader Warnings: Canon-typical violence Rating: T Cross-posted to AO3: here

Masterlist

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Twenty minutes. Maybe more, if the neighbors were particularly unobservant, but twenty minutes was a sure thing.

Gently, you tested the doorknob, shocked and almost a little insulted when the latch clicked and the door swung silently inward under your guidance. What kind of smug prick leaves home and doesn’t lock the front door behind him; sure, the neighborhood was nice, but it wasn’t that idyllic. Still, gift horses and all that. You shrugged and proceeded in, closing the door again behind you, no need to draw attention, and ghosting up the stairs to the third floor.

Keeping your light low, you looked around for something that matched the description of the painting that would be hiding your target.

“The painting contains three apples and a lemon,” your informant had said.

Unfortunately, nothing in the veritable gallery of this home office was one of those weird fruit still-lifes. Scanning all of the images for some fruit, especially with the variety of art styles on the walls, would take time. You cursed under your breath as you set to work systematically.

It wasn’t like you could hold it against your informant that much. She was a disgruntled and bitter but still scared and reliant employee telling you where to find maybe not all but certainly the most fungible of her shitty boss’s assets. You could permit her a little crypticness, so long as it didn’t blow up in your face in the end. Which, since this bloody fortune was made in arms deals, there was always the possibility of, literally.

Three apples and a lemon, three apples and a lemon, three apples and a...

“Gotcha,” you murmured, the first real sound you had made since entering the house.

The tall painting took up most of the corner where it hung, and the fruit was not particularly prominent, but there they sat, in a bowl on the table of the young couple featured in the image. That was good enough for you. The frame lifted easily off the wall, and behind it, set in was a small steel door with three combination dials in the center. It was cute that he thought that would protect him from you.

Within minutes, the last of the tumblers thunked into place and the door popped open.

“Hello my lovely,” you purred, plucking out a padded box, opening up and gazing briefly at the way the finely cut gem glittered beneath your fingers. “I have a new home for you.”

You snapped the box shut, reveling at the way it echoed through the empty house. It was reckless, but you had earned a little bit of that. There was no one close enough to hear and if there was a security system, all it would pick up was a blip of sound, a glitch. Tucking the gem, and several other treasures from the safe into your bag, you put everything back to the way it was with expert precision.

Nineteen and a half minutes. You should be smart and get out, you knew, but there was no sign of concern, interest, pursuit. And this was the sort of man you wanted to take more from than money. You bit your lip, hesitating. And then you made your way to his desk, which was scattered with files and papers, a treasure trove of corporate secrets and proprietary scandals.

Suddenly, the file you were reading was knocked from your hand and you jumped, startled by the heavy sound of something metal striking wood. Looking down, you saw the glint of a knife sticking out of the desk not more than an inch from your hand. You had been so engrossed in the numbers and figures, math and profits painted in blood, that you hadn’t noticed that you were no longer alone.

“Shit!” you shouted, recoiling.

Leaning in the doorway, another knife in hand, was a man dressed all in black, leather mostly, his eyes covered in a domino mask that really didn’t do much to hide his face. It might stop you from picking him out of a crowd, but if you were to try, you could probably figure out his identity. In fact, as you stared at him in the dim light, you were sure that he looked familiar, a fact you filed away for later, if he didn’t kill you.

“You know, solid black isn’t actually that great for creeping around in shadows,” you said, fighting back control of your voice. “And if you’re looking for Mr. Sullivan, I’m not him.”

“Good thing I’m not looking for him then,” he answered with a smirk. “But it does beg the question: what are you doing in his office?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m his secretary and he asked me to stop by and pick up a file?”

“In the middle of the night, in the dark, dressed like that?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I’d get that one to work. Listen, whatever you came here for, I won’t get in your way if you don’t get in mine. We can both walk out of here with no one the wiser.”

“I came here to stop you. Heard about a lurker on the radio and got here faster than the cops. But a lurker looks to me more like a thief.” His head tilted to one side.

“No point in denying it then. I was hired by one of his competitors to try and steal some blueprints for some new grenade design,” you lied, hoping he didn’t know enough about the man to know whether that could be true. “But I don’t see it here, and frankly the payday isn’t worth getting almost stabbed. So how about I just…go and we forget this ever happened, yeah?”

You kept your hands in the air where he could see them and slowly circled the desk, away from the man blocking the doorway, closer step by careful step to the window. You studied it out of the corner of your eye. Heavy, leaded glass. That was going to hurt, but you’d been through worse.

“I’m not going to let you just walk away after you broke in here.”

“Technically all I did was enter, there was no breaking. Asshole left the front door open. Practically an invitation.” You gestured as if to say you were helpless against the temptation.

“Oh in that case…” you couldn’t tell from the distance, but the tone of his voice made you fairly certain that he was rolling his eyes at you. “I’ll be nice and not pin you there,” he gestured again with the knife, pointing at the wall behind you. “But I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“Oh I dunno…strong handsome guy like you, I might like you pinning me,” you smirked. “But I’ll have to take a raincheck on it. Places to be and all that jazz.”

You had managed to position yourself directly in front of the window now, the light of the full moon shining around you like a very misplaced halo. He was watching your every move closely, tensed like he expected an ambush. Instead, you blew him a kiss.

And then you turned and leapt, smashing through the window in a rain of shards which glittered magically in the moon. By the time he reacted, crossing the room in a flash to stare out into the night below, you were rolling to your feet and running, adrenaline letting you ignore the distance you had fallen and a miracle letting you escape without blood.

You encountered the mysterious man with the knives seven more times over the course of that year. It had become almost a welcome tradition, a warning that someone was onto you, with plenty of time to get out before the actual police showed up. No matter how many times he threatened it, he never hurt you, and he never quite managed to stop you (part of you wondered if this was intentional, as you had worked out early on that this was one of the members of The Umbrella Academy which you had grown up hearing so much about).

“Diamonds again?” he asked, leaning casually against another display case as you placed the glass back over where the necklace now in your hands had been.

“What can I say, I like shiny things?” you offered with a shrug, holding up the jewels before dropping them into the bag at your hip. “And in my defense, I checked the provenance. These were stolen long before they ended up in my hands.”

“So that makes it alright to rob a museum in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah, basically. Doesn’t it?”

“No.” His voice was flat but his face beneath that stupid domino mask was incredulous that you would even try such an excuse.

“What if I add in that the necklace contains blood diamonds and ethically, no one should have them?”

“But you have them.”

“Only until I can sell them. And then I’ll put the money to way better use…I’m thinking Thai food, first at least. Wanna come?”

“What?”

“I’ll fly a signal or whatever it is that summons you and we’ll get dinner. You can leave your mask on if you like.”

“I’m not getting dinner with you.”

“Breakfast then?”

He pointed at you, with the hilt of the knife, as he had started doing more often. “You’re just trying to confuse me so you can escape again. That’s not going to happen this time.”

“Isn’t it?” you cocked your head to one side. “I don’t think the saying goes ‘eighth time’s the charm.’”

“Even if you escape, you’re not in someone’s house or office this time. A museum will have a security system. You’ll get tracked down for this one.” He sounded almost sad as he said it, like he regretted that your game of cat and mouse was coming to an end.

You took a step closer to him. He tensed. A certain amount of distance between you had always been one of the unspoken rules. Another step. You watched him swallow nervously and found it hilarious, since he could definitely best you in a fair fight. Third step. His eyes flickered to the sides as if looking for an escape route. Maybe he knew if you ever decided to have a go at him you wouldn’t let it be a fair fight.

By the time you stopped moving, you were inches from him and he practically vibrated with tension.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you whispered, watching his eyes flicker down to your lips. “I’d say you wanted me to get away.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped half-heartedly, licking his lips nervously. “You’re a criminal.”

“Then now’s your chance. Stop me.” You leaned closer, the motion with the double meaning of your words making your intention clear.

The knife he was holding clattered to the ground as his hand shot out to grab you by the wrist. But the gesture wasn’t used to restrain. No, he used it to tug you closer, making you stumble into his chest as your lips crashed together. And then, the kiss became a war. You were both all teeth nipping lips and tongues battling each other. One hand gripped bruisingly onto your hip, fingers digging into flesh and holding you against him. The other released your wrist and tangled into your hair, knocking aside the cap you used to keep it contained. For your part you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer. The other clawed his shoulder, clinging to him to keep yourself upright.

Your head was hazy and overwhelmed with the taste and feel of him, with the wanting more of it. But, there was a tiny part of your mind that was still paying attention. Your hand danced, trailing touches easily disguised as passion, freeing the knives from his harness, collecting them quietly in nimble fingers. He released your hip, slid his hand down over the curve of your ass, making you gasp. You set the knives as quietly as you could on the top of the display case, just out of convenient reach or obvious notice. His hand hooked onto your thigh, an inviting gesture. Instead you pulled away.

“This…” you murmured, lips still just barely brushing against his, “…was a bad idea.”

He released you; you stepped back.

“It doesn’t change things,” he said. “I’m still not letting you get away again.”

“Of course not,” you smiled, soft. You knew the steps of your dance. “But I’m still going to try.”

You turned. Diego watched as you ran, sprinting over marble-tiled floors. He reached back to grab a knife, not sure what he was going to do to keep from hurting you badly, but needing to do something. He frowned, the sheath was empty. Your steps drew you further away, he moved to follow, reaching further, only to find that every sheath was empty.

He swore, shouting the curse after you, and you couldn’t help the laugh that echoed back to him.

Laying on his bed in the boiler room that night, Diego couldn’t stop thinking about her: the feeling of her hair beneath his fingers, the taste of her lips on his, her soft warmth pressed against him. But more than that, it was her smile, her laugh, the light-hearted way she had teased him from the very beginning, utterly shameless and unafraid.

Something tickled at the back of his mind that there was more to her than just a good thief, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. And every time he tried, instead he was assaulted with the memory of the way her flesh gave way to his touch and her hot breath tickled his face. He wanted to solve the mystery of her, but more than that, he just wanted her.

He got up with a sigh, knowing he’d be unable to sleep in this state. He loosely wrapped his hands before taking out his pent-up emotion on the punching bag hanging in one corner. As he worked, his mind seemed to clear, and a new thought occurred to him. The next time they encountered each other, and he was certain there would be a next time, at the very least he would get her name. A name to put to the face, and the other things, would be enough.

#Diego Hargreeves x Reader #The Umbrella Academy fic #pre-canon #Light Fingers #I might hate this title more than anything else I have ever written #or I might love it

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allexiaah · 3 years ago

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For the cottagecore ask: 🥧 🍄🥐 and 🍀 !

🥧 - What's one thing you genuinely, truly love?

Man, there's so many. Idek. I could say my hyperfixations, and a whole bunch of things that you'd typically expect, because they're all true. But I'm going to say my friends anyways, because honestly without em? I don't think I'd have made it through last year. I love them with my whole little heart.

I know it said one lol. But for a less cheesy thing, probably sitting inside with calm music and a warm blanket watching the rain with the lights off, only the light from the window illuminating the room. It's like a different world. That or reading while it rains, the same cloudy light coming through the window with the sound of the raindrops hitting the roof. I have good memories of the stuff I've read during times like that.

🍄 - What's the kindest thing anyone's ever said to you? Has it influenced you in any way?

There's so many. And they all influence me, I think about them every day and how much it means to me. I get one compliment and I pin it to the little fridge in my heart. Some good contenders are:

- Stay rootin' and tootin', lil gaymer

- Very good vibes and always ready to spill blood (about me not to me but still. I'm touched)

- I was once told that my interpretation of Claudette is canon in their heart in the tags of a reblog (your Claudette = canon) and I just melted.

- Any nice comment I've had about my art. A friend told me once that my art's like a warm hug, and recently another said it was like hot chocolate, and once a third in the tags said they were proud of how far I'd come with my art, and that I did a fantastic job and honestly it all made me want to cry.

My memory is too horrible to remember all of the nice things people have said to me, and I've never been able to pick a "nicest," but these are all strong contenders. The art comments in particular are a huge motivation and inspiration to keep drawing, and I look back on em often when I'm feeling down ab my art. I don't remember specifics, but one friend of mine has told me a few times just how proud of me he is and every time it makes me want to keep trying to be the best person I can, and to be someone he can love and respect and approve of. And I'll always strive for that. For him, and for the others who've said the same things to me. If the people I care about so dearly can believe I'm someone to be proud of, I want to keep that. Not only keep it close to me and remember it, but to keep that by being the best person I can. By being me. It's a huge help for me, because I've always had huge self esteem issues and for the longest time didn't have a clue how people could tolerate me. I'm just glad I can be me, and do my best, and have people who love me that I love too. I dunno. It goes a long way, and even if I never remember the words exactly, every little compliment or encouragement is so sweet to me and means the world. I hold the nice things like that so close to my heart.

🥐 - What color do you think most represents you?

Man.. if I had to pick ONE color? I'd have to say maybe a pink, or a purple. Something bold and energetic but not angry, not anymore, and something that still feels kind, in a way. I don't know. Maybe a yellow-orange then?? One of the two. Favorite color doesn't quite mean it represents me the best, otherwise I'd say green, turquoise or blue.

🍀 - What's one thing you wish people knew about you?

Man. There's a lot I could put here... Most of what I'm coming up with are things that I'd say to a specific handful of people if they could see it rather than just.. something I wish people as a whole knew about me.

Probably that I'm trying my best to grow and be as good of a person as I can be, and I think about what I say, and do, but I know I'm not perfect, and even when I do think about what I'm trying to say, I still make mistakes, or say/do things wrong. But I'm trying. And I learn. I just need a little patience where it can be lent, or something to go by. I say things I don't mean because words are hard, so forgive me if I mess something up. Don't be afraid to tell me if I'm making a fool or an asshole of myself ^^'' That's really all that's coming to me.

Sorry for the real wordy answers lol, I couldn't simplify them as much as I wanted to, because I feel like it's all kind of important. Idk. But ty for the ask Nekrosmos!! Means a lot that you felt like sending these in <3 it was good to do a little bit of introspection.

#allex answers #ask #nekrosmos #honestly tho. tysm for the ask. i love getting these for lil ask games every now and again more than i say #they're fun to answer!!#personal #long post

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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Treasure (Indruck)

Prompt for the 9th was: Knight Terrors

Knights are generally well-prepared, the way those in charge of the kingdom's wellbeing ought to be. Prepared for monsters bursting from the woods or dropping from the sky, prepared to protect citizens from harm, prepared to guide royalty through all manner of perils.

What Duck Newton, knight of the realm of Kepler, was not prepared for was being carried off by a fucking dragon.

He didn’t even know there were dragons in this part of the world.

Worse the dragon doesn’t seem to know his haul contained an unwilling extra item, and so he’s dumped Duck into some sort of sorting room, rather than a central horde or other spot where he might be able to see the cave entrance and get out.

Beacon is somewhere in this mess, but he’s coiled and so can't talk. It figures, the one time that obnoxious sword’s even more obnoxious voice would be helpful is the time Duck remembered to silence him.

He’s never been do freaked out in his life. Fuck, he can’t even tell where the door is.

That problem is resolved and immediately replaced with a much worse one when a stone panel swings open and a large, black-scaled dragon appears.

“Huh. I was half convinced there was something wrong with my foresight, But no, there is indeed a human in my storage room. How on earth did you even get here?” He takes in Ducks clothes, the insignia on his chest, his armor. Red eyes narrow, “did you follow me, oh brave knight, hoping to slay me in my sleep?”

“No, I was in the goddamn carriage when you just lifted the whole fuckin thing up and flew off.”

“And what were you doing in a carriage meant for treasure alone?” The dragon cocks his head.

“Guardin’ it.”

“And what, exactly, were you to do to an attacker?” The dragon drops to all fours, thoroughly blocking the exit.

“Uhhhhhhh, um, to, uh, to not, fuck, to do not slayin? Fuck. Look,their directions weren’t real clear. They just told me I was headed for a royal guest.”

The glowing red eyes widen with understanding Duck does not share. “So that’s what they told you? A pity” The dragon steps closer, and Duck refuses to flinch when hot breath ruffles his hair, “I was hoping they had been truthful with mine.”

“With your what?” Duck looks down just as a black clawed hand is held out to him.

“I will explain in a moment. This is one of the colder parts of my lair, and I would rather have this discussion somewhere warm. Come.” He flattens his palm and Duck, energized by the thought of being somewhere with more escape routes or weapons, sits down in it. The dragon carries him out; it’s smaller than he assumed, maybe twenty feet at most from his head to the tip of his tail. But it’s terrifically strong, given that it picked up the carriage he was in as if it weighed no more than a sugar cube.

“What is your name?” One eye regards him with a glint of...something. It looks pleased whenever it scans over his body.

“Sir Duck Newton. It’s a nickname.”

“It is nice to meet you, Duck Newton. I am Indrid Cold.” His voice is remarkably lilting, not at all the deep rumble Duck expected.

“This is the parlor.” The dragon sets him down near an immense fireplace, embers glowing warmly nd reclines against a large pile of furs and pillows, “my room and horde is just through there. You may see it later, if you like, I am rather proud of it.

“Uh, no thanks, I’ll need to be headin back to take my licks for losin the thing I was guardin.” His hope is that if he acts as if the dragon has no reason to keep him around, it will just let him go.

“Ah yes, about that.” He taps a claw on the stone floor, “you see, this is terribly awkward. That carriage was meant for me. As were you. I knew you would be arriving soon, but not when, and I was preoccupied using my visions to watch for danger, and thus did not realize you were in it until after we returned.”

“Why do you keep sayin that I’m yours, what do you need a human for? Oh fuck, am I fuckin dinner or something?”

“Nono, nothing of the kind. In many ways you are the opposite. You see, it has long been a tradition for kingdoms along the Draco Mountain Range to send a knight to act as an assistant to each dragon. When there were more dragonborns and fewer standard dragons, there was another, ah component as well.”

“But you ain’t a dragonborn, so we don’t gotta worry about that second part?” He crosses his fingers in hope.

A sigh, “Technically I am dragonborn; long story painfully short, I was blamed for something I did not do and was cursed to remain like this for eternity. But no one outside of a few trusted friends knows that. So your kingdom assumed I could still take my more human form. Which means they chose you for the, ah, the second purpose as well as the first. You are meant to be my consort.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and then Duck is standing, looking for something to put between himself and the dragon, “nope, nope, no fuckin way, this ain’t happen, this can’t be happenin.”

“Oh dear, you are frightened.” The dragon furrows his brow

“I’m fucking terrified! Who wouldn’t be?!”

Indrid starts to move towards him and then thinks better of it, “I promise, you have nothing to fear. Is it not clear that the arrangement means I will not eat or otherwise harm you?” Indrid blinks at him, seeming perplexed.

“And the part where I’m supposed to be the start of some fuckin dragon harem or some shit is supposed to calm me down?” Duck’s voice echoes off the walls.

“You did not let me finish my explanation. While that is the misconception your kingdom is under, I will under no circumstances expect you to fulfill it. Your duties here will be as if I was born this way, so you will primarily do small household tasks, assist with security, and aid me in things where having small hands is helpful.” Indrid is frustratingly calm, as if Duck is the one being ridiculous for being afraid of this whole situation and the implications of his initial explanation.

“Great, just fuckin great, so I’m your servant now.” Duck rubs his forehead, as if that might make this all stop.

“Nothing of the sort. You may do tasks, but I must do the same. We are sharing this home, so we must each participate in its maintenance. So no, you are not my servant. Although you are part of my horde.”

“I’m not a fuckin necklace or somethin you dipshit!”

“You are not an object, if that is what you fear, and I do not see you as one. I, ah, my horde is made up of that which I value or find pleasing. You can be both those things as a human. You are a treasure and I will treat you as one. I will bring you the finest silks, jewels, works of art, whatever your heart desires, for everything that is mine is now yours. Indeed, you may be that which I treasure most; just looking at you makes me happy, and I dearly wish to curl around you and keep you safe.”

Chills run along Duck’s skin, and he notices the embers have gone out, meaning the only light is the red glow of Indrid’s eyes, pinning Duck in place. Vibrations move cross the stone.

“Hold the fuck on, are you, uh, purrin from thinkin about takin care of me?”

Indrid blinks several times, shakes his head, “Yes, it seems I was. I, ah, I apologize for all I just said it, it sort of came up unbidden. I wonder if that is why they chose you, if someone knew that you would be the most appealing human I ever laid eyes on.”

Duck tries not to be flattered, tries to focus on figuring out what the fuck he’s supposed to do now, but it’s hard with the way Indrid is looking at him with affectionate curiosity.

“Look, Indrid, I don’t mean no offense, but this is all super fuckin weird and I just...I don’t fuckin understand why they sent me and not, I dunno, a princess? Ain’t that traditional?”

Indrid cocks his head, “Why would they send princesses? Most of them are trained to run the kingdom, and thus are rather important. Knights as far more expendable.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You asked me for their reasoning. I did not say that I agree. Did no one ever suggest you might be trained for a specific role?”

He freezes, thinking back on ll the times he was encouraged to pursue knighthood for the sake of a supposed destiny. Then so much anger hits him at once he has to sit down on the cold floor, even as the dragon nudges a human sized chair his way.

“That’s why they were so fuckin determined to get me to accept my destiny. Fuck, they made it seem like I was trainin’ to do somethin great, to protect people, and all the while they knew they were just gonna ship me off without warnin! ‘Oh, sorry Duck, you don’t get to have a life of your own, we gotta train you up so you can go be a fuckin dragon toy!”

“That was rather uncalled for.”

“Well what the fuck else am I gonna call it? You talk about dressin me up, sleepin with me, you seem to think I ain’t no more than something you get to look at it.”

“I think no such thing” the narrow tip of his tail thrashes, “I am trying to be hospitable. I have not had a human visit me for more than a few hours before, forgive me for a few missteps. And I am not the one who misled you about your destiny, so kindly direct that anger elsewhere.” The last few words come out in a growl.

Duck’s so pissed he growls right back

“Fine. I’m gonna walk my ass back to Kepler and give ‘em all a piece of my mind.” He spins on his heel, only for Indrid to zip in front of him.

“No, do not do that. It is considered a literal declaration of war.”

“......are you fuckin kiddin me?”

“No. Now please move away from the door.” Indrid tries to scoot him backwards with his tail. Duck slaps the scales, causing Indrid to yelp.

“You only did that in one future.”

“I can move my own damn self. And I plan on movin it somewhere I can get some privacy.”

Indrid points down the center most tunnel, “The third door on the right is yours.”

“That feels like a trap.”

“It is a study. Equipped for humans, including a bedroom and washroom”

Well, that’s better than sleeping on top of a dragon.

He turns without another word, and as the room disappears from view he hears the slow slide of scales on stone, heading the other direction.

----------------------------------------------

Indrid reaches his bedroom and proceeds to clonk his head into the door.

There was no way around that confrontation. The moment Duck Newton asked for an explanation, there was no future where he was not upset by what Indrid told him. Indrid does not blame him at all, and he’s quite angry with whoever in Kepler misled him for so long.

None of that changes how excited he was when he was informed he’d soon be getting a human companion. He has visitors and friends of all kinds, but he’s lived alone ever since the disaster that led to his transformation. He was so looking forward to having someone to talk with, to get to know, to be gentle and kind to, something a dragon his size is not given many chances to do.

There’s a much smaller horde in the corner, full of items he thought a human might enjoy. Dragonborns still hold the custom of giving those they wish to charm (in platonic or romantic ways) finery as a show of goodwill. His eyes keep drifting back to the red cloak woven with gold and the green shirt made to accentuate muscles. Duck would no doubt look remarkable in them.

But the human wants to be alone, wants nothing to do with Indrid. If Indrid is to make him feel at home here, he must abide by that desire. He sighs, curling around his horde. The way forward may become clear after some rest.

Later that night, he sets several items of clothing,the finest he can find that are still simple, as Duck seems to prefer that style, next to a plate of fish from the nearby stream. He charred them on the hearth so they’d be warm, though this resulted in one being burnt to a crisp.

He ate that one as penance for frightening the human.

The next morning the plate is clean but the clothes are there. Indrid leaves them be until mid-morning and then replaces the plate with a bowl of blackberries and more fish. Since there are books in the study, he leaves the human tools for embroidery, in case that is a hobby he prefers.

This process repeats for the next three days, with Duck never taking anything besides the food.

On the fourth morning, Indrid leaves one of his favorite items he collected for the human; a kit with seedlings and a stone that mimics the sun, allowing one to grow the plants even in the dark of the cave.

When he comes back that afternoon, the space in front of Duck’s door is empty. This both pleases him and gives him an idea. He knocks on the door, then steps back, opting after a moment to go on all fours so as not to tower too much over the human.

“Yeah?” The drawl sounds tired more than hostile.

“I was wondering if you would like to see the gardens. You, ah, that is, I can lead you to them and then leave you be, you do not need to be around me if you do not wish to.”

The door creaks open, and Duck peers out.

“How can you garden in a cave?”

“Let me show you?”

The walk is silent and awkward, but when they arrive Duck’s entire face lights up. Indrid preens a bit, answers the question he sees coming.

“I believe when the mountains formed, something caused this area to not come together. Hence the lack of a cave roof.”

“Are all these yours?” Duck kneels down, radiant in the sunlight, examining a pumpkin plant.

“Indeed. I grow some for medicine and spell purposes, and some for food. Larger plants tend to work best for food, in that I can harvest them more easily. which is why there are many squash and melons. But, you will notice there are many unplanted patches. If you wish to garden, I can procure whatever you need.”

Duck grins, “Hell yeah. Wonder if I could get a tree or two to take. I’ll have to study the soil and the sun a bit before I know what I need.”

“Take as long as you desire. You can find your way back?”

The human turns fully to him, glances down at the dirt, “You can, uh, stay if you want. Wouldn't mind the company.”

Indrid dips his head, and settles into his favorite sunny spot, body curving around the bushes.

“Y’know, you’re a real different shape from what I expected.”

“My friend Barclay once said I looked as if I was a noodle that sprouted legs and wings.”

Duck giggles, “Yeah, that’s about right.”

Indrid flicks his wings, “I will have you know I am a very dignified noodle.”

Duck laughs harder at his prim tone, then his face turns serious, “Indrid I, uh, I wanna apologize for how I acted. I know you don’t mean no harm. It was just a lot to take in, and then realizin everyone had been lyin to me, rather than lettin me make a real choice about my destiny.”

“I understand, and I do not hold it against you. I want this to be a welcoming home for you, Duck. I have no intention of keeping you from other things you love or have trained for. And I foresee us being rather good friends and, hmm, I suppose collaborators is the right word. If you need more space, I will give it, but I would also like the chance for us to get better acquainted.”

Duck picks up a handful of earth, rubbing it between his fingers, and when he smiles this time it’s meant for Indrid, “Think I’d like that too.”

------------------------------------------

“Damn, this is real soft.” Duck rubs the sleeve of the deep blue bathrobe.

“Oh good, it is yours.”

“You sure, it was in your pile-”

“-as I have said, my horde is yours to use.” The dragon smiles, goes back to sorting paintings. A summer storm has ruined their plans to sit by the river, Indrid fishing or sunning himself while Duck swam or went for a walk. So they’ve opted to pare down Indrid’s horde, finding things Duck wants or can use as well as things the dragon no longer likes or needs, Duck using his knowledge of Kepler to figure out where in town could benefit from a sudden influx of precious metal.

“How about this? Wait, damn, though it was suspenders.” Duck grapples with the leather and silver straps. Indrid trills a laugh, only for his cheeks to turn golden.

“That is meant to be worn over a bare torso.”

“Oh, uh, did you used to wear it?”

“Oh no, I do not like the texture, but I know some humans who wore it beneath their clothes. Orcs also wear them in the summertime. My second cousin married into an orc family.” He adds when Duck raises an eyebrow.

“While I must admit the idea of you in it as intended is...intriguing” Indrid holds out a claw, at the end of which dangles a pair of suspenders.

“Thanks, ‘Drid.” It’s a double thanks. The suspenders are nice, but Duck appreciates the dragon trying to reign in his enthusiasm for Duck’s looks. It’s not that he doesn’t like feeling attractive, but the idea of a royal dragonborn stuck in his dragon form feeling that way about his squishy, farm-born body is too much. Just...too much. But Indrid has, on Duck’s request, scaled back the comments about his attractiveness and him being Indrid’s treasure. The more he's done so, the easier it’s been for Duck to accept his attempts to fuss over him.

The dragon is true to his offer to give Duck whatever he desires; the finest oils for his baths, soft linens on the bed, any food he wants (that first week, he walked into the kitchen to find the dragon trying valiantly to make a human sized french onion soup). While he cannot breathe fire, he does all manner of spells to make Duck’s life easier, and last week he even took Duck on a low flight over the forest.

What Duck is enjoying even more are the evenings stargazing with his back against Indrid’s side, the way they trade information about their respective corners of the natural world. He enjoys not eating his meals alone.

(He’s been dressing nicer for dinner lately, wasn’t even aware he was doing it two nights ago, when Indrid arrived with jeweled dust on his wings and Duck spent several minutes trying to work out why the dragon felt he had to dress up).

There’s a wistful sigh, and he turns to find Indrid perched on a cushion (in truth, the dragon's nest is far more pillows, fabric, and cushions than it is gold or gems), holding a framed drawing in his hands.

“I do so miss drawing. To do it in this form is such a rigmarole, I have not done more than rudimentary sketch in a long time.”

“There ain’t a spell for it?” Duck climbs to where sitting puts him eye to eye with Indrid.

“None that can replicate the feeling of being so consumed by creativity, the tactile sensations and the working and reworking until you have something you are proud of.” He looks at Duck, eyes, and voice far away, “so many things I would do, were my hands not immense and clawed.”

“Bet you’re real clever with ‘em.”

The double meaning only registers when the gold blush once again blooms on Indrid’s cheeks.

“I, uh, I’m gonna run that one sack of stuff over to Aubrey and Dani. You want to wait on dinner until I get back?”

Indrid smiles, “Yes, I can wait.”

-------------------------------

Fall comes early this high in the mountains, and with it comes the chill. Duck wakes up shivering, and none of the blankets are enough to chase the cold from his bones. Maybe Indrid has something he can use.

He only means to be in the room an instant, but as soon as he enters warmth floods him. Indrid explained he ran warm, as all dragons do, but got cold easily. In the summer, the heat radiating from him disappeared beneath the warmth in the air. Now it’s noticeable in the cold cave. Noticeable and tempting.

He offered once to curl around Duck as he slept, which--to his goosebumped skin--sounds like a good plan.

No, he’ll just find more blankets somewhere else.

His heel knocks over something that clanks, and Indrid opens an eye.

“Duck? Is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah, just got colder than I thought. I was, uh, was wonderin…”

Even in the near-darkness, Indird’s scales glint, and his eyes glow gently as he waits for Duck to finish.

“...I was wondering if I could, uh, take you up on that offer to sleep next to you. I’m thinkin on top might be safest. I mean, uh, if that's still alright?”

Indrid holds out his hand, helping Duck onto his back and handing him a pillow and three blankets.

“Are you comfortable?” The dragon nestles back down into his bed.

“Yeah, this is real nice. Thanks, Drid.”

“You are welcome, Duck.”

Duck has kissed before, has fucked plenty, has lain in bed next to someone. Yet the rise and fall of Indrid beneath him, the steady sound of his heart when Duck lays his head down, the soft purr that leaves him when Duck rubs his cheek on his scales, are unfamiliar in their intimacy and thus twice as captivating.

Which is why, when he awakens, their absence is instantly obvious. As is their replacement with a much smaller chest beneath his head.

“Well, I must say this is a surprise”

It’s Indrid’s voice, and when Duck sits up, startled, it’s somehow unmistakably Indrid’s face staring up at him. The ruby eyes are the same, as is the smile and the color of his horns and the scales peeking out in patches on his skin.

“My mother was only half dragonborn.” He says to the question Duck almost asks.

“Fuckin stunnin.” Duck breathes out.

Indrid reaches up, cupping Duck’s cheek with a slender, slightly scaled but very human hand.

“I fear it will not last. My foresight tells me I will revert to my dragon form in a few moments. But this is a singularly interesting development.”

“No kiddin. Guess we know there is way to get you back.”

“Agreed. Ah, before I revert, will you permit to do something?”

“Anythin.”

Indrid sits up, and places a gentle, cool kiss on Duck’s cheek.

“Oh yes” He sighs, resting their foreheads together as his body begins shimmering “just as lovely as I thought.”

And then Duck is once again atop a large dragon.

“Whelp, no we really gotta break the curse.”

“Oh?”

“Because I wanna kiss you back, properly. And soon.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #Indruck #TAZ Amnesty #dragon au #promptober

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rivalsforlife · 4 years ago

Note

I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE DOING COMMENTARY hope it's not too late to ask for The Scene at the end of chapter 5 of the catch up game?? if no one else has asked?

It is never too late to ask!! Genuinely you could probably ask me six months from now and I’ll ramble on about all this, I’m generally down to talk about my writing all the time. (And I’m actually a little surprised nobody asked about The Scene yet... oh well haha)

First though: have you seen this art yet? If you haven’t you should. It was going around twitter again lately and I love it a lot so I wanted to advertise it while I had the chance.

Anyways, keeping under a “keep reading” here:

So. The Scene. First I’ll present my notes from the outline when I was trying to figure out this fic:

Miles lets his feelings slip, Phoenix doesn’t take it too well, they part on a kind of awkward note.

Somehow “kind of an awkward note” ended up being uhhh that!

Anyways before we get into this I want to say that I really did not think it would have that much of an emotional impact? I got a much bigger reaction than I thought and that’s around when people really started talking about it on the narumitsu discord and stuff, so I ended up for the rest of the week soooo stressed out that I’d accidentally gone in a completely different direction than I’d planned and set people’s expectations too high and they would be COMPLETELY DISAPPOINTED IN THE REST OF THE FIC but uh luckily that didn’t happen! I think. At least if anyone was super disappointed they didn’t tell me about it!

And it was probably partially that I am not very uhh good with emotions and also probably that I got pretty desensitized to my work but I genuinely did not think it was that bad until I saw Ro’s art and then went “ohhh suddenly I am consumed with so much guilt...” (and also doubted how in character this scene was. how can ANYONE say no to that face --)

Most critically though, this scene distracted everyone from whatever the hell was going on with the casefic earlier in the chapter, so overall I think it’s a success.

Sorry it’s taking a while to get to the actual scene, but I wrote a few drafts of this thing beforehand and modified it a lot trying to get it right. I needed it to be sufficiently dramatic but I didn’t want it to seem like... I was just adding it in there for extra conflict? Like you know sometimes you read stuff and you’re like “where the hell did this sudden argument come from” yeah. I wanted to avoid that if I could, so partially this was supported by the weight of chapter 4 to explain Phoenix’s reasons for the rejection and then chapter 6 is supposed to elaborate more, but I still needed this to stand fairly well on its own.

The overall theme of this chapter was “Opposites”, and again, here’s what I had in my fic notes:

I want to contrast how Phoenix sees Miles and how Miles sees Phoenix. Because they both kind of see each other as an amazing person while seeing themselves as failures. Maybe at the end Phoenix is kind of putting himself down and Miles argues about it and then they have a slight argument. Miles lets his feelings slip, Phoenix doesn’t take it too well, they part on a kind of awkward note.

I couldn’t really find a way to integrate this conversation in naturally, so I could only get Phoenix’s perspective in there a little bit. Originally Miles’ confession wasn’t supposed to be planned, just a spur of the moment in the middle of an argument where Phoenix kind of goes “I don’t understand why you keep hanging out with me, why are you spending so much time with me, I’m not struggling, I don’t need you worrying about me” and Miles interrupts with a “Because I love you, you idiot!” ... But I couldn’t get that to work because the buildup into the argument felt too abrupt.

Last little bit of something just before the argument (some of the dialogue here went into the chapter 4 dinner conversation instead):

Miles: (quietly) I’ve spent most of my life trying to climb higher in my career, in order to fight corruption as best I could. And I have, and every day my mission is growing closer to completion, or at least as much as it can. But after that… (staring at some kids’ toy) what’s left for me? I’ve taken a rather unconventional path through life. I’m starting to wonder about opportunities I’ve missed.

Phoenix: (jokingly) Is that some long-winded way of telling me you’re planning on settling down?

Miles: I’d never settle. But in some sense, I suppose so.

Phoenix: (stopping in his tracks) You’re kidding. L-Like, what, in a year or so I’m gonna walk in to your office one day and find you with a wife and kids?

Miles: (rolling his eyes) You do know that I’m gay, don’t you? And why would I keep them in my office? There’s no need to be so melodramatic, Wright.

Again couldn’t fit it in I just found it funny. ANYWAYS FINALLY MOVING AWAY FROM THE DRAFTS AND TO THE ACTUAL THING, I’ll skip ahead a bit to just before the confession:

“How long has it been since I came here?”

“I dunno… since before I got my badge back, probably.”

“That sounds about right.” Edgeworth sighed and leaned against Phoenix’s desk. “I’ve barely gotten the chance to see you, since you got your badge back and I took my new position. I’ve missed going up against you in court.”

“I don’t,” Phoenix teased, slipping his case notes into his desk drawer. “You’re a nightmare.”

“You’re one to talk.” The corners of Edgeworth’s eyes crinkled as he looked over at him. “You can be so infuriating, but I do like working with you. I had fun today.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “Fun? You?”

“I suppose age has softened me up.”

“I didn’t think anything could soften you up.”

“You’d be surprised. I often have fun when I’m with you. I always…” He trailed off, averting his eyes and gripping his elbow. “I’ve been… thinking, a bit. On our earlier conversation.”

So basically... Miles got preeetty close to confessing during their dinner in chapter 4, but kinda backed out at the last moment, and he’s been agonizing over this ever since. Because the way he interpreted their conversation was sort of “We both want to move forward into a relationship but don’t know how to take the steps to do so”, whereas Phoenix interpreted more as a consensus that “We could probably start a relationship and there are feelings there but it wouldn’t really work out so we just won’t ever talk about it”.

And Miles throughout this fic assumed that Phoenix has been in love with him for a while and only holding back for Miles’ own sake, and waiting for Miles to signal that he’s actually ready to move into a romantic relationship. ... Which is very much not the case. What makes today different though is that Miles got to watch Phoenix solve mysteries, and I’m of the opinion that Miles considers Phoenix at his most attractive when he is uncovering the truth!! so Miles pretty much just saw him solve this case and go “I must kiss this man on the lips Right Now” but thought he should clear some things up before he did that.

which is good because if he just walked up to Phoenix and kissed him without preamble I’m pretty sure Phoenix would have died, so.

Something imperceptibly changed in the atmosphere. It made Phoenix’s heart race faster in anticipation. “Oh? Which one?”

“The one we had during the last dinner we shared.”

“O-Oh.” That had been weeks ago. Surely Phoenix had forgotten something.

“Everything has changed so much, over the course of my career, between us.” Edgeworth’s eyes flickered up to him briefly before settling back down on the desk. “I’ve never been afraid of moving forward, but this, I want…” He exhaled, shakily. “Give me a minute. This is… difficult.”

Phoenix kind of... knows, subconsciously, where this is going, but he’s trying to deny it until the last minute because he’s very unprepared and has no idea how to deal with this... which will become very clear by the end of the scene.

Miles is tricky to write in a confession scene because he can be kind of weird with emotions? Sometimes he’ll give these Grand Speeches about how much That Man means to him but at the same time he struggled a lot with talking about his feelings during the trilogy and I think he’d still struggle with it now. Especially something as raw and vulnerable as a love confession.

And Miles is also someone who is, at least by the Investigations duology, determined to pursue what is Right and what is the Truth without any sort of hesitation. However pursuing Wright is different. (insert horrible forced laugh track)

“W-Well, don’t strain yourself,” Phoenix insisted. “We can talk another day. I-It’s getting late, after all, we should —”

“We should stop dancing around the issue.” Edgeworth’s eyes snapped up and locked with Phoenix’s, pinning him in place. “Don’t go easy on me now, of all times.”

oh man I have to admit I got really into Persona 5 Royal for like a few weeks around the time I was writing this and that “don’t go easy on me now of all times” is looosely inspired by a similar line in there that’s like “do you think I’d be happy with being shown mercy now, of all times?” because although it’s a different dynamic than narumitsu I was uh. intrigued.

... sorry it’s so vague I wanted to avoid spoilers anyways, moving on,

Phoenix’s mouth ran dry. Edgeworth couldn’t possibly be planning to —

“Everything has changed between us,” continued Edgeworth. “I want things to — to continue to change, I-I want to be closer, is—” He sucked a breath in through his teeth “— is it not obvious?”

Hadn’t they agreed, in that way they could agree without saying a word, that they were never going to talk about this?

Phoenix broke his gaze. “No. It’s not. I— I don’t want to argue with you. It’s late.”

Pretty much same as previous notes: Phoenix in extreme denial that this is actually happening whereas Miles is just trying to force it all out.

Phoenix is kind of trying to talk Miles down from confessing; Miles is sort of interpreting it as “Wright isn’t going to let me get away with not actually saying this so I need to be more direct.”

I’m sure that later when Miles is curled up on his bed wondering where he went wrong he’ll think of that :)

“Phoenix.”

The use of his first name forced Phoenix to look up again.

Edgeworth stared at him for a long time. There was something impossible swimming just under the surface of his grey eyes.

“Phoenix Wright,” he said. “I am in love with you.”

HE DID IT!! He’s so brave I’m sure that nothing can go wrong!!

Gossip was one thing. Lingering touches and stolen glances, Phoenix could deal with those. The knowledge that Edgeworth was interested in him in a not-so-platonic way… that was more than enough.

This, hearing Edgeworth say the words out loud, was another thing entirely. Even if Phoenix already knew. Nothing could have prepared him for — for whatever this was, for Edgeworth, looking at him all open and vulnerable, and — and saying —

“Wh… What…?”

Edgeworth tilted his head slightly to the side, causing his bangs to fall into his face. “Surely you’ve figured it out already?”

“I-I don’t understand…”

At first there was a line right after “Even if Phoenix already knew” that was “Even if he felt the same”, but then I decided to make it so Phoenix can’t even admit his feelings to himself, so I cut that one out.

Anyways this is shocking to Phoenix partially because of Denial but also because he didn’t expect Miles to actually come out and say something like this. He’s used to Miles being closed off with his emotions and doesn’t think him the type to ever directly acknowledge them, so it’s got him totally off guard, too. It’s unpredictable for someone who is supposed to know Miles so well so it’s very unnerving for him.

“I… I think you are incredible,” said Edgeworth. “Your single-minded dedication to truth and justice. Your compassion. Your mercy. The way you… brought light, brought life, back into my world. You can be so frustrating, and stubborn, but that’s part of why I have always admired you so much.” The corners of his eyes softened. “You saved me a thousand times over, and I want to spend the rest of my life by your side… however you want me.”

Miles generally people go on at least one date before proposing marriage but okay.

One thing I find interesting about Miles as a character is that he’s very much an all-or-nothing kind of person... he doesn’t ever really half-ass things and he doesn’t know how to do things gradually haha. He won’t allow the truth to be covered in darkness for even a moment even if it makes things easier for him in the long run. Saying “I think you’re great, maybe we should go on a few dates and see how things end up?” is probably the SENSIBLE thing to say, but Miles puts 100% of himself into everything that he does post-character development; and he’s secure enough in his relationship with Phoenix that he doesn’t really feel the need to test the waters. Plus Miles is allergic to uncertainty, so by the time he confesses he’d need to be absolutely certain that he loved Phoenix Wright and was prepared to pretty much go all in with him.

after all Phoenix feels the same way right!!

Phoenix stared. His heartbeat was reverberating in his ears. “I don’t know what to say. … Me.”

“Who else?”

“Who — a-anyone else. God, Edgeworth, what even is that shit, about me being i-intelligent, and dedicated, and compassionate, and — and — incredible, geez, I’m a wreck! I—” His voice wavered into a fit of near hysteria. “The only reason I’ve gotten this far is ‘cause I’ve always had amazing people by my side, and — and once they’re gone I’m back to whatever I usually am, I-I only have this one suit, I still haven’t got my freaking driver’s license, I don’t think I’ve eaten anything but instant meals in a month—”

(And he looked to Edgeworth, desperately, but Edgeworth was still gazing at him, expression gentle, gentle yet unyielding, not taking back his words or expressing an ounce of regret — why wasn’t he changing his mind —)

“You’re describing yourself more than me,” said Phoenix weakly. “Really, I’m not — I’m not like that, okay, I’m not…” He forced himself to take a deep breath. “Why are you telling me this?”

This is the one part that stayed consistent throughout all drafts of this scene haha. Some of it is echoes from what Godot told him back in Bridge to the Turnabout about him always needing someone to swoop in at the last minute to the rescue; others are sort of a loose refence to his behaviour during the beginning of RFTA and Reunion and Turnabout where he couldn’t really function without Maya there to look after.

This part sort of ties more into that objective I had with this chapter of contrasting how they see themselves; they both see each other as incredible people, because they don’t really get to see inside each other and see how much of a wreck they feel.

Also the very first sort of script of this confession had Phoenix saying “I thought you knew me better than this!” but that just seemed way too cruel for this haha.

“I know that I… that I have difficulty with these things,” said Edgeworth, fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “I’ve never been the most open of people and we’ve — we’ve always been so distant, for so long. I wasn’t there for you when I should have been, and I want that to change. Because, ever since we met… you’ve been such a major part of my life. I never thought I would live to be older than my father. I never thought I would be happy with myself. But you, you came into my life, and you changed all that.”

(That wasn’t you,) a voice in Phoenix’s heart whispered. (You only started it. The rest was all him.)

“But I don’t want to be satisfied with what I have right now. I still want more. There’s still a part of life I want to explore, and… I want to do it with you.”

(He’s always been fine without you. One day he’s going to realize it too, and then…)

“I’m tired of hiding my emotions and being too afraid to upset the status quo when it comes to relationships. I refuse to be scared of that anymore.”

(Why isn’t he scared, too?)

ugh this was the hardest part to write I think...? Trying to figure out a way to get Phoenix’s internal feelings across where it doesn’t come out of nowhere. I settled with a lot of internal thoughts that are just like... self-loathing, pretty much.

Meanwhile Miles has prepared this whole emotional monologue that Phoenix is only half listening to, basically about what a huge impact Phoenix has had in his life and how he’s sort of... now that he’s presumably made large steps to fixing the justice system he’s turning to more personal goals in life, and one of those goals is spending his life with Phoenix, if he can be brave enough to do it.

Phoenix isn’t paying attention though because he’s too busy panicking...

“Most of all, I… I couldn’t hide anything from you for long. I’d trust you with the world. You’re my equal, and my opposite.” Something resembling a shaky smile crossed Edgeworth’s face. “And I love you.”

me shoving the “theme of the day” in there awkwardly

But he smiles!! This is one of the rare occasions where Miles kind of does smile... there’s a lot of “almost-smile”s or brief smiles and Miles is scared out of his wits here but he’s happy. he finally got that off his chest. he was brave and he told Phoenix how he felt and they’ll be so, so happy together, nothing can possibly go wrong,

The words knocked out any breath Phoenix had managed to regain. His skin suddenly felt cold and clammy, and he was faced with vertigo more intense than standing on rooftops. What was happening to him?

There was something he was supposed to say to this. He should react to this normally. His mouth was drier than a desert. His tongue felt unsightly and awkward in his mouth.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that if I have somehow misinterpreted, I won’t mention this again.” Unease and uncertainty flickered behind Edgeworth’s eyes. “And I would never be upset, as long as you tell me the truth. I want to take the next steps of my life with you. … Do you feel the same way?”

oh yeah this part was a little tricky too. Pretty much Phoenix is on the verge of a full-blown panic attack and cannot think of a response, even a nice polite rejection... and finally Miles starts realizing that something’s off, because before he was just running on adrenaline to try and get his feelings out that he didn’t stop to examine Phoenix’s reactions, otherwise he would’ve started overthinking and psyched himself out. But now that he got it out and seeing Phoenix pretty much in shock he’s starting to worry he’d made a mistake.

Also “unease and uncertainty” is definitely an “unnecessary feelings” reference because I’m shameless.

Yes, Phoenix wanted to say, yes, I do, and say what he felt, what he wanted. But the words wouldn’t come.

Why couldn’t he say it? It should be easy. If he truly wanted this, it should be as easy as breathing.

His vision swam with pink butterflies, he ran his tongue over the scars in his mouth, his breath caught jagged on the edges of chains —

Aaaand if either one of them had the magatama right now there would be the psyche-locks! I was gonna elaborate on this a lot but this is so far waaay longer than I intended so I’ll spare you and give a brief summary.

Essentially there are three locks. I wrote them as sort of representing each issue that Phoenix needs to acknowledge for them to break -- not necessarily fix, because that would be a super tricky thing, but acknowledging they’re there is a start. They’re pretty much “Trust”, “Abandonment”, and “Vulnerability”. Later I realized those issues are pretty much tied up in each other so instead I just made it so that each one is set by a traumatic event, and then acknowledging those events is what breaks them.

The first is an obvious “Dahlia and Iris really screwed up Phoenix’s ability to trust a partner romantically”. I love Iris but she really did mess him up as well. Phoenix kind of convinced himself he’s over this issue now since Iris was a good person! but really he’s still messed up about it. (And that’s where the butterflies + scars in his mouth sort of come from). Talking to Iris and acknowledging that he’s still hurting over it is what breaks this one.

The second is more directly related to all the times Miles himself has abandoned him particularly throughout the series. Some of the hurt when Miles prosecuted him in Turnabout Sisters, and definitely a lot regarding “Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth Chooses Death”, it’s pretty much him being scared to get /too/ attached to Miles because he fears Miles might abandon him again. This one breaks in chapter 7 when he has the whole realization that Miles might die and leave him regardless, and acknowledges how afraid he is of Miles leaving again.

And the last is more of acknowledging his need to be needed by people and help people but they move on without him and not don’t really him in their lives. This built up more gradually... with littler things like Apollo leaving the Agency and Maya not being around as much and Trucy moving out. Neither of these are Big Bad Traumatic Events like the other two but it’s still an issue Phoenix has that he needs to acknowledge. Trucy’s letter breaks this one by telling him he’s never going to be alone and they all love him and are there for him. And that’s why right after reading the letter he can tell Miles that he loves him.

So that’s that. Moving back to the actual story now...

“Phoenix?”

Edgeworth still stood so close, too close, and when Phoenix breathed his senses were assaulted by the scent of his cologne and — and he was too close, and his words were too much, Edgeworth couldn’t be in love with him. Attracted, sure, but love — how could he so easily say love?

This wasn’t like Edgeworth. This wasn’t how things were before, this wasn’t how things had always been, every time things changed too fast something would go wrong, every time things changed too fast Edgeworth would leave again —

(— and right now Edgeworth’s body was coiled tight with tension, like a spring, ready to take off at any sudden movement —)

— and Phoenix couldn’t say a word.

Fairly self-explanatory I think: basically acknowledging that fear that Miles is going to leave again.

Phoenix was standing on the edge of a turnabout. Somewhere he’d have to take the plunge for victory, for the truth. He’d never shied from them before. He’d always accepted the risks. And they’d (almost always) paid off.

But something had Phoenix in a vice. Dark chains that wrapped around his chest and constricted his lungs. Something that would drown him if he took the plunge. Something that whispered that he could not risk this, his heart and his life in one. There was too much to lose. It was all too much.

That little (almost always) there is referencing that one time he presented the critical case-changing evidence and got disbarred for it; his disbarment messed him up pretty bad too, I guess it’d fit in the category of the third psyche-lock.

And of course the second paragraph references the psyche-locks more directly before they actually show up.

The words came. They weren’t the ones he wanted.

“No,” said Phoenix. “No, I don’t.”

The rattling in Phoenix’s head cut out. Silence fell over the room.

Pretty much once Phoenix stops pressing the issue the psyche-locks stop shaking. I imagine they’re a pretty terrible thing to break directly; he can’t do it on his own like this.

“... I see,” said Edgeworth, and something snapped shut, drew tight, rigid, back to a statue. “I thought… nevermind.”

Miles kind of draws back into himself all tightly-controlled, less open than before, because that really hurt him a lot. He’d probably prefer it than Phoenix being all evasive and sort of reassuring because he prefers people just cut straight to the facts, but that was direct even for him.

And of course he thought that Phoenix did feel that way about him. He was certain of it. So hearing Phoenix didn’t and he was completely wrong is... not good.

He’d gone so still. At the sight of it, whatever spell was holding Phoenix in its grasp broke, and he came back to reality — this wasn’t right, this wasn’t good, he had to fix this, somehow, bring things back to the way they were, “Edgeworth—”

And the sight of Miles completely freezing up and closing himself off is enough to break Phoenix free of the initial panic, because he does care a lot about Miles, and seeing him withdraw worries him.

“It’s getting late,” said Edgeworth, and only someone as experienced as Phoenix could detect the waver in his voice. “Thank you for being honest with me, Wright. I’ll talk to you later.”

The remark stung worse than a knife would, he couldn’t let it end like this. “I—”

The office door shut, none too gently. Phoenix was alone.

“... I’m sorry.”

That “thank you for being honest with me” wasn’t SUPPOSED to be a jab, of course, because Miles would prefer that Phoenix was honest than lie to him. But Phoenix did lie and that’s what bothers Phoenix the most throughout the next couple of chapters; they both value the truth so highly that lying to each other is inconceivable.

And Miles probably should have stuck around for a bit and heard Phoenix out and maybe Phoenix could have managed a half-decent explanation of “okay I don’t know what that was but this was very sudden and I’m panicking, can you give me time to process?” but if Miles stayed for much longer he probably would have started breaking down and that’s the last thing he wants to do right now, especially in front of Phoenix, so he left as soon as possible.

I think he managed to repress enough that he could get home safely, but the moment he crossed the threshold into privacy he probably had himself a good cry... curled up on the couch and watched some Steel Samurai with a tub of ice cream... but he was pretty emotionally devastated by this. It took a lot of effort for him to open up and be honest about his feelings so just being shut down like that... hurt a lot. He’d never admit it though.

anyways I also have this short bit of writing I posted a while back about Miles actually getting a hug after all this, because he really needs one.

And that’s the scene!! I think I said more than enough so I’ll end it here haha.

#dvd commentary meme #the catch-up game #this one got SUPER long I'm SO sorry #asks

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nestofstraightlines · 4 years ago

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HDM S02E01: The City of Magpies

I’m going to be doing long-form reviews of the episodes of His Dark Materials series 2. For context on my broader feelings you might be interested to check out my writing here but as a quick precis: I’m a long-standing lover of the books with a lot of interest in the art of adaptation! Episode spoilers after the cut; previous-series spoilers from the start.)

Well, welcome back His Dark Materials! Whatever my feelings about how well or badly anything is accomplished in this series I’m always so delighted to find myself sitting down to watch a version of this story on the telly of a Sunday night.

And what is more - The City of Magpies is a very promising start to the new series.

... But as I’ve come to expect, where this series succeeds it does so more in spite of the writing than because of it.

Everything to do with the set/location work here is spectacular. I was excited and intrigued by screen-Cittagazze more even than when I read the book. Whatever my overall thoughts on the first series I admit of a few moments where I think the TV adaptation has actually done something better than the books themselves, where the adaptation has done the best thing adaptations can do - found some new angle of interest in this new form. For instance, In the first series I loved the re-staging of the battle of Bolvangar fight within the claustrophobic walkways of the compound itself.

Now we have a Cittagazze which is, I think, even better than book-Cittagazze.

And it’s not a case of design = good, but story = bad either, because things like set design aren’t separate, at their best, from storytelling. It’s not just that Cittagazze looks cool, but that the way its designed and filmed is carving out the emotional and narrative space appropriate for this part of the story. The step motif seen all over city picks up on the Escher-like image from the title sequence and that association immediately elevates Cittagazze into significance from its first moments. We know from the titles this image of Lyra and Will meeting/paralleling each other within this motif, and climbing… the design and presentation of this city setting are injecting all the right kinds of energy and anticipation into the story where the writing is, well, not always.

While we’re on the subject of good storytelling, though, I also want to praise daemons. I’ve written lengthily on how poorly I think daemons were handled in the first series, and it was brilliant to see some early promise of significant improvement for the second.

And yes, that’s partly because there’s simply more Pantalaimon on screen. That’s thanks to an increased budget, as well as the handy story fact that now the A-plot has left Lyra’s world that budget just doesn’t have to cover as many daemons. But the real difference is that daemons are handled better in story terms here than they were across almost the whole first series.

Pantalaimon here actually operated according to what is supposed to be his narrative function in His Dark Materials rather than just feeling like an expensive spare part. He was a foil and sounding board for Lyra, a means to personify her dilemmas and doubts as a character. And we see in The City of Magpies decent writing in establishing how Pantalaimon and Will relate to each other, as well as Lyra and Will, both as new ideas and characters. As well as their relationship being cute, it actually uses Pantalaimon as he’s intended; to be a way of showing a more hidden side of Lyra. If Pantalaimon likes and wants to trust Will we know that Lyra feels that way on some level.

It’s not flawless, and I thought we needed a bit more imagination and space given to how Will responds to Pantalaimon. I’ll come to it later, but Will’s doesn’t feel terribly anchored in any particular character context in this episode and I missed the sense of him reacting to all this new and fantastical stuff.

But the character/relationship dynamics were including daemons successfully, and that’s new.

And another thing: though I don’t know how the next few episodes will look of course, I’d be very happy now for Pantalaimon to be put on the back-burner for a while.

That’s the kind of handling of daemons I’ve always advocated for, not necessarily more of them, but rather more careful and intelligent work to use them as a story piece rather than meaningless clutter.

Stories don’t need to constantly be juggling every possible ball: you develop one part to a point it can be set aside while you pick up the next. So daemons are something that as long as you do the work in the right places you don’t need to constantly be seeing them outside of those.

I.e. now we have this solid work done in establishing the dynamics of Will/Lyra/Pantalaimon, it’s going to be fine for Pan to pretty much disappear mouse-formed up a sleeve for the next few episodes; we’ll need him to clear space for other parts of the narrative.

While we’re talking daemons I’ve also got some kudos to spare for their handling outside of Pantalaimon too. Something I wrote about here is how daemons are a versatile narrative tool; here a full character, there a personality-free symbol; there a malicious animalistic imp etc. This episode is showing much more understanding already that daemons can operate differently according to milieu and purpose of scene. In the Magisterium scenes, the daemons are more like well-deployed character notes, unobtrusive as the costume choices.

Again, it’s not all praise: the witches’ daemons are still dull, cardboard exposition-dumpers even more than their human counterparts; Lee’s dynamic with Hester is still feeling a bit try-hard and vaguely conceived, and the golden monkey feels under-utilised as the omen of horror he was in the books. I guess Ruth Wilson’s performance doesn’t leave a lot of room. Unlike the book-Coulter, screen-Coulter contains all the shades and affect of the character in one body, so there’s just not a lot of room left for the monkey to bring in anything notable. But it does seem a shame that when there’s that reveal of Mrs. Coulter being unexpectedly present in that first scene, it doesn’t come in the form of the monkey climbing into shot.

So moving more generally into the writing:

This episode is very plot-light: we don’t get into any world-hopping this episode, we just have Lyra and will meeting and forming a dynamic, and a few set-ups for what will become plot (the native children, the tower, the spectre-eaten man and, sigh, the knife calling to Will I guess).

That’s a pretty solid call, I think, in general. It gives us a chance to feel the significance of the relationship that forms here, and to have a cool-down/gather ourselves from the huge events that brought series one to a close. But it;s also a dangerous call when it comes to Thorne’s weaknesses as a writer. It means this episodes needs to be all about a relationship arc as its story and he’s bad at those.

The worst episode of series one was episode two The Idea of North, where he failed to notice he’d written himself into a story-less corner with how he handled the Lyra/Mrs. Coulter dynamic in their introductory scenes in the first episode, and so we had an episode with nowhere to go in terms of emotion, character or relationship.

Happily, the the Lyra/Will dynamic fares much better as the core of its episode. Even Thorne can’t entirely bunk the arc of these two interesting kids meeting and bouncing off each other.

But I’ll be damned if he doesn’t appear to be trying to suck the life out of it.

My hypothesis is that Thorne is just a very soapy writer. He cut his teeth on soap-form dramas like Skins and Shameless. That’s not an insult in the sense that soaps are ’low art’; my point is that he writes to serve meandering status-quo, for shows that have nowhere in particular to go, no forward momentum. I.e. he can write a perfectly good conversation scene but he can’t stack these scenes to show how two characters are progressing into something different from where they started. When we have a simple relationship-focused story as in this episode or The Idea of North you really see exposed how his scenes just fail to follow one from the other in his writing in the most fundamental ways.

So all of Will and Lyra’s scenes are good. Some are lovely. But they fail to really impart a sense of any core or significance to this relationship. (And that failure to discover the character/relationship engines is probably why we get the lean into prophecy and destiny, but I’ll come to that presently). Sometimes they feel oddly disjointed, and maybe it’s partly editing and lost scenes, but it’s definitely not all that.

For example, after the scene where Will saves the cat (or, you know, Saves The Cat) it feels weird that we don’t see or hear about the cat in the next scene. Sure I can infer that Will just let it loose somewhere that seemed safer, or whatever. But it’s less the logistical question that bothers me and more the sense of a lack of consequence from one scene to the next. The saving of the cat was a dramatic and emotional high point in the episode. The cat became a symbol and a macguffin – and then immediately disappeared between scenes. That goes for really all of the scenes’ relationships to their neighbours. For example, I don’t know why Will deduces that Lyra comes from a different world. Again, it’s not that I can’t fill in some plausible detail there but rather that it feels like what’s missing is the actual story part.

Or it’s half-there, I dunno. Because once again the series does raise things consciously which are great angles, it just doesn’t do enough with them to quite hold weight. E.g. I liked the beats that Lyra moves through in her initial encounter with Will. She gets the drop on him (in a lovely mirror of her S0101 encounter with Lord Asriel, where she was the one pinned); they talk – and then she realises he doesn’t have a daemon and backs off. She reacts with fear in the book too, but I really like the series turning that into a whole beat. After Lyra’s experiences in series one Lyra is, literally, triggered by the idea of a daemonless person and needs to get out of there. But again, the series doesn’t execute that idea very sharply or follow through on it much. We get this set-up, that this is going to be an obstacle for Lyra. But we don’t get the story beat of what gets her/them past that. But then we get a nice moment with Rullio, where Lyra shows how her experiences have made her kinder and softer in some ways. And then we get, towards the end of the episode the line that pays of Lyra’s initial fear and rejection of Will: “You do have a daemons,” she says, “You just can’t see it.” That’s a lovely character-informing pay-off, I just wish there was some writing that better made a story of how she got from point A to point B.

But I really do appreciate all that stuff. It’s crucial storytelling work to establish this sense of where Lyra is at psychologically/emotionally in terms of the particularmaterial she’s going to be dealing with this series. It’s valuable to see how she’s coming of series one feeling and thinking about this daemon stuff because that’s going to be relevant to how she deals with things like spectres and Will (and his world’s) daemonlessness.

Lyra’s part in the episode isn’t flawless….

And look, I mean, it’s not easy, this continuity of story and character, it’s really not. But Thorne has chosen to expand and extend on the book and that’s great but whenever he creates any additional material to the book’s scenes, the time spent almost always feels either under-utilised or misguided. Thorne’s added scenes often seem concerned with addressing practical issues or getting into fairly irrelevant back/side story which is harmless enough in itself, but he tends to do things which actively undermine the main story.

In S01E01 we opened with the scene of Lyra being delivered to Jordan which is bad because – well, for reasons too many to go into here, but which I talked about here. It’s a scene which is concerned with the how we got here without understanding that showing that part of the story can undermine the reality of where we find ourselves.

In S02E01 we again open with new material, this time scenes of Lyra making her way across country to eventually find the city of Cittagazze. And it shows the same problems, though thankfully less egregiously. This sequence is just too ungrounded in any kind of believability. I’ll aceot the idea of Lyra travelling for days as a passing mention. My mind will fill that space in with whatever plusible detail it needs to. If you show it, like this is shown, I stop believing it, because all you’re doing is pressing implausible detail upon my imagination. It undermines the main body of the story because I can’t believe the slightly-scruffy, slightly downcast Lyra who arrives in Cittagazze is someone who has been sleeping in caves and eating what she can find. That Lyra would be a filthy, feral, half-starved animal.

When the consequences of her hardship are so lightly felt it undermines an awful lot about the series. I can’t invest much in future trials very seriously when I’ve seen this level of hardship and hardiness handled with such breeziness.

As for Will…

It’s nice to see a version of Will that’s softer, less grim and less certain. Honestly, while I like book-Will as a character, I’ve never been wholly enamoured of the way he slots into HDM because his strength and competence seem to so frequently require Lyra to be silly and disempowered. He prompts a ‘chickification’ in her. So I’m up for lovely Amir-Wilson-Will.

But at the same time, that soft, sweet, fairly light/open-hearted affect does jibe oddly with the given facts of the story. In contrast to Lyra Will really didn’t feel very informed as a character by his recent history. As far as I noticed he doesn’t so much as mention the beloved mother he recently surrendered to someone else’s care, nor so much as cast a troubled look into the middle-distance to remind us of the fact that he, you know, recently killed someone and has a feeling or two about that, probably.

We don’t see much by Way of Will reacting to the fantastical and unbelievable, outside of when Pantalaimon first speaks in his presence. So Will feels a lot less grounded in particularity than Lyra so far.

Coming back to the relationship arc itself:

I’m finishing up a piece at the moment on The Haunting of Bly Manor and how it relied on meaningless, unstoried circumstance to move events forward. It had to do that because it hadn’t actually got a core story; it was an adaptation of The Turn of The Screw which remained pretty faithful to events and chronology but changed enough about the core that the story didn’t go any more. So the big beats have to be convenienced into happening.

I mention it because I see the same issue here, in (so far) less egregious form: Lyra and Will’s alliance is all circumstance.

In any story, and certainly any plotty story like His Dark Materials, events are moved forward by both external factors and happenstance as well as character choices. But those external factors should be built to work for and with a character story. Circumstances should push characters to make choices it is interesting for those particular characters to make, etc.

I feel that Will and Lyra’s alliance in this episode isn’t founded on anything particularly meaningful. Thee wasn’t a strong sense of why these two would connect and/or team up, say. It felt plausible to imagine that if Lyra and run into Angelica first she might equally have teamed up with her.

In the book this meeting is moved through more swiftly and it’s not long before Lyra and Will have realised that they might do better in their individual plans working together rather than separately for now, and are forging ahead with the plot.

And I do think it’s interesting to slow that part of the story down, but only if you feel you’ve got any actual story beats to explore within it. If you’re going to take longer to tell the story of Lyra and Will moving into a team relationship, I’ll need you to justify why that part of the story has any weight of interest. You need to be telling me the story of why these two team up, or why they make a good team.

I think what Thorne misses, as a writer who is so weak on structure, is that things don’t automatically get stronger for seeing more of it. In the first series – in the first episode – Thorne imagined that he could and should make the Lyra/Roger bond register more by showing us more. He gave it more screentime and showcased more moments of closeness. But he missed that there’s nothing more to show. In fact the more I saw of Roger, compared to the book, the more alienated I became because all I saw was how little he resembled a real child and how falsely his and Lyra’s relationship rang when pushed to be Significant.

Lyra and Will’s relationship is one that can take more attention. But it’s still the case that drawing it out doesn’t automatically make it better. You lose more than you gain if you’re not careful: here you’ve lost the sense of momentum from the book, momentum that pushed a very wary alliance into something more interdependent as the plot moved it.

And actually though the book’s time spent here is briefer, it is also better written as a progression. Pullman has a clear understanding of who his characters are, where they’re at and what would be needed to prompt them to have things happen or shift.

The show includes the great book moment where Lyra asks the alethiometer moment who Will is, learns he’s a murderer, and is like, “This is good news.”

That moment is an actual beat in the book. Lyra, having encountered this new person, asks the aletiometer to fill her in at the first opportunity she gets. She is facing a fork in the road and what happens there is telling in several ways: firstly we see how dependent she is on the alethiometer. Secondly we see how the alethiometer is certainly not totally neutral in the way it presents its ‘truths’. Most significantly, we get a character-establishing (or I guess, ‘reminding’) beat in Lyra’s unusual reaction to the statement. It’s a turning-point: Lyra decides to ally herself with this boy, and we also get a steer as to what ideas are going to play out here. We see that Lyra is operating according to a somewhat eccentric set of standards here and probably has some work to do interpersonal-relationships-wise. “I like him because he’s a murderer” is a good place to start a relationship arc from because it’s a hell of a false philosophy.

In the show… well, one thing I like is that we find Lyra here refusing to use the alethiometer. As I say the show is frequently great at picking out these new ideas that seem to spring logically from the book. Sadly it’s just as frequently bad at deploying them well.

So I love that Lyra has been wary of the alethiometer ever since it failed to warn her on Asriel’s plan for Roger. That’s great. It’s another place where Lyra feels informed by her recent history and it’s a nice complicating factor to take into this second season where the alethiometer might easily become too convenient a plot element. I just wish I thought that the series was going to do anything with that, or even be very consistent about it,

Because here it doesn’t really develop, resolve or advance. She refuses to use the alethiometer until, for no reason, she does use it. There’s no particular prompt that changes her mind and unlike in the book there’s no turning point attached to this version of the he’s a murderer moment.

Lyra has here already passed the point where she’ committed to teaming up with and trusting Will. She’s eaten his cooking, she’s connected him emotionally with Roger, she’s moved into ‘his house’, they’ve saved a cat together and had a bonding moment on the incredibly cool steps and made their plans. So this moment can’t do anything to their relationship: they’re already where this ought to take them.

Unless the arc is to be that these two characters have a good start but then distrust or wariness enters in because Lyra gets this answer that makes her see that there’s more to Will than meets the eye? That could work, except nope, because one way or another this series immediately cancels the impact of the line and instead places all its eggs in the ‘prophecy’ basket.

Not irrelevantly, the TV version of the scene also does another thing the series is prone to: it shies away from the hard edges of things and mitigates and softens the moment.

In the book the alethiometer simply says, he’s a murderer, and Lyra is immediately relieved to hear it. It’s undoubtedly a funny moment but it’s also a character-true and significant one. It’s striking and odd and so we’re forced to think about why Lyra would have such an unexpected reaction and we come up with some significant stuff about who she is and where she’s at emotionally.

The series (which obviously has to have Lyra narrate what the alethiometer tells her) has her say, “He’s a murderer – but the good kind.”

That for me totally misses the point of the moment. It skews both Lyra’s character and the moral character of the story universe. It sounds like the alethiometer has made this moral pronouncement, that it has both dubbed the accidental death Will was involved with ‘murder’ and absolved him because, I don’t know, he’s a goody. That implication of that is just fundamentally opposed to everything the books, much less this moment, are about.

It’s such frustrating storytelling because the character story is right there. It would all work well if not for the inclusion of one single moment-ruining line.

Funnily enough, I felt that there is a single line of S01E01 whose removal would immediately improve more than one episode. In that instance, it was where Lyra vocalises her decision to go and live with Mrs. Coulter: ““If the Gobblers have Roger she’s our best chance to getting him back”. It’s line with brings to a close all the tensions that have been set up in the Lyra/Mrs. Coulter dynamic, settling into an unstoried synthesis that Lyra has reconciled a wariness or Mrs. Coulter with her own particular agenda and decided to accompany Mrs. Coulter on certain terms. That is what leaves episode two, The Idea of North, without a story to tell, because that relationship story has already been resolved and brought to catharsis.

Here we have just the same problem in just the same way. Again, we are heading into episode two of the series in question focused on a new relationship in Lyra’s life, and again all the show would have to do is cut the final line of her dialogue reflecting on that for it to be great. End on the revelation, “He’s a murderer” and you’ve got a great set-up of tension and ambiguity to fuel this ongoing story. End on “… But the good kind” and all you’ve done is assured us that there’s nothing to be intrigued or interested by here.

So the moment’s deployment in the series doesn’t create intrigue or tension, it doesn’t inform us about Lyra’s character and it’s not even very funny or striking here. In the book it’s funny because Lyra’s “phew” is kind of an unhinged way to react. Here the ‘yay murderers’ thing is indicated as the alethiometer’s phrasing/opinion, so there’s no joke.

So yeah, lots of bad and lack-lustre writing choices within the A-plot and yet still overall it all works This is what I mean when I say this show succeeds in spite of its writing!

The witches, Lee, Magisterium. Mrs. Coulter stories meanwhile… are all fine. I like the series’ version of cloud pine. Er… nothing much to say really; these threads were fine. They’re pulling their weight so far better than in season one’s early episodes, where the Gyptian scenes often felt fillery; too many in number weighed against how much story they actually had to tell.

So finally I just want to complain about prophecy. As a result of a failure to find the character-motivated reasons for things happening, a lack of faith in the story unfolding in itself, Thorne is continuing to go hard on this destiny stuff which is such a boring crutch of a device.

Yeah, there was prophecy and predestination in the books. But it wasn’t a crutch, it wasn’t a lazy way to excuse why your characters are involved in events or why they are significant to one another. It was a. a theme to be interacted with (and not necessarily trusted) and b. not a motivator or relied upon to make things happen; stories worked whether or not the idea of prophecy was in play. The sense of destiny and the questions of agency gave what already worked narratively on its own a heightened feeling, a sense of having greater significance than they might at first appear to. Prophecy, in short, didn’t make His Dark Materials go, it lent a wider significance to a story that worked in itself.

So after a generally great episode I was super disappointed to see Will having unmotivated, meaningless destiny flashes of the knife. But I’m not going to get too churlish yet. I’m too pleased to see His Dark Materials back and too impressed with Cittagazze to dock too many points. I’m giving The City of Magpies:

B+

(Measured against the series’ own standards. For context my marks so far would be:

S01

E01 Lyra’s Jordan: B

E02 The Idea of North E

E03 The Spies C

E04 Armour C

E05 The Lost Boy C-

E06 The Daemon-Cages B

E07 The Fight to the Death C-

E08 Betrayal C+)

#His Dark Materials #spoilers #review #Philip Pullman #criticism #The Subtle Knife

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 5 years ago

Text

Off Day: Eleven

Bucky leaned on the bathroom door watching you apply makeup to your face, pulling seemingly endless pallets, brushes, and bottles from your bag. “Why’s your foundation not match your face?” he asked.

“Because I’m not gonna go out and kill the Batman later.”

“Huh?”

“If your makeup stops at your neck, you look like a party clown.”

Bucky smiles a little and watched you work for a second and nodded, “You never used to wear makeup,” he mused.

“I never used to have money,” you say shrugging, pouting at him in the mirror. Bucky nods, “How does that work?”

“Does what work?” you ask, starting to blend things in properly.

“Do you get a check from the store?”

You shrug and smile a little, “Theoretically. But. Jack and Judy are paying for the groceries in the house. Kaity won’t let me pay rent. So, like... I just take enough to buy gas and cat food. Everything else I take out of my savings.”

Bucky shook his head, “Baby,” he scolded.

“What?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

“When’s the last time you bought yourself something fun?”

“I buy art supplies and makeup all the time. Online shopping is nice. I can buy pretty things in my underwear.”

Bucky tutted and made a mental note to buy you a little something. Still. He couldn’t be upset. You had his hoodie on and your panties, nothing else. It was a nice view. It was why he’d come to lean on the doorframe. He stayed because he was a little fascinated. Like watching you draw on his arm with sharpies, it was a miracle of artistic skill watching you play with contrasts and colors. If he hadn’t watched you do it, he wouldn’t believe it. You look like an almost totally different person.

When you finished your makeup, he smirked, “How mad would you be if I dragged you back to bed and ruined all that?” he asked.

“Pretty mad. I’d be keeping Kaity waiting,” you answer, smiling just a little as you put things back in your bag.

Bucky winces internally, feeling guilty. For just a minute, he’d forgotten. You were his and didn’t have responsibilities. It wasn’t Christmas and Kaity wasn’t dying. You weren’t putting makeup on like you were getting ready for battle. Armor to protect you from the reality that nothing was ever going to feel right again.

“Are you ready to go home?” he asked.

“No,” you answer, “But. I need to. I just... I don’t know if I can handle this.”

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

You shake your head, “No. I just... I just need to suck it up. It’s not. There’s not anything I can do.”

He nods and wraps his arms around you slowly, “I’ll come by tonight,” he murmurs, “Put something warm in your belly and put you to sleep.” He kisses your neck and shoves his hand in your hoodie pocket.

“Okay,” you murmur, focusing on putting things away to give you time to breathe.

“Maybe make you come two or three times,” he teased, kissing the spot on your neck that he learned made you shiver, chuckling when you did. “That never gets old,” he rumbled tightening his arms around you.

“Bucky-” you protest weakly

He grins at you in the mirror, “What is it, doll?” he teased, taking his hands out of your pocket to rest them on your hips.

You whimper and he stops moving, not letting you go but not pressing any further. “Baby girl,” he said gently, “Talk to me. What do you need?”

“I need to go home. I’m sorry I-” you take a breath and let it out slowly, “They’re waiting and if it’s another bad day, they’re gonna need me.” You can’t meet his eyes expecting him to be mad and Bucky feels like an asshole. “Let me put on some decent clothes and I’ll take ya home,” he said softly, “And then tonight I’ll come keep ya company... can’t promise to behave. But I’ll be there.”

You half turn to look up at him, all big sweet eyes and a soft smile and he kisses the tip of your nose. “Promise?” you ask.

“Promise,” he answers softly, cuddling you for a second before going to get some jeans and a clean hoodie to replace the one you’d stolen.

He’d never had a girl that asked so little of him. All you wanted was his time. Some attention. A little TLC from time to time. And he felt, strange. It felt like he wasn’t doing enough by not buying you gifts and making extravagant (for him) gestures. Char had been like a magpie. She liked her shiny shit. She liked to be fawned over. Treated like a princess. He desperately wanted to treat you that way. You deserved it. But as far as he could tell, you didn’t wear much jewelry and you worked in a whole store full of books if you wanted books. He didn’t know dick about art supplies of jewelry. And he felt silly buying cat toys. What did you get somebody who’d learned to get by on as little as possible? For Christmas, well. He didn’t know if you’d like it but. It was the only thing her could think of.

He pulled it out of the closet and set it on the bed, thankful the girls had done the wrapping for him. It looked pretty. All green paper and silver ribbon. Glitter. “Fucking glitter” he groused, brushing it off his sleeve. The inside of his closet looked like a titty bar exploded.

You pause in the doorway, pulling leggings on, “What’s that?” you ask, cocking your head. “Santa must have figured out where you were,” he said grinning.

“Bucky,” you protest, “I told you not to.”

“And I didn’t listen,” he said simply. “Come on, open it,” he encouraged, “I looked everywhere for it.”

You look up at him and smile, kissing his jaw before sitting next to the box, starting to open it carefully.

“C’mon, we’re not gonna save the paper!” he teased.

“I’m trying not to get glitter on your bed!”

“Doll, there’s been stripper dust on my sheet before. It’s fine.”

You snort and tear the paper off, opening the box carefully, “Bucky,” you gasp softly, “This is too much!”

“No it’s not,” he said grinning as you carefully inspected the new tattoo kit. “I figured if you wanted you could start doing them again. I got bored the other day and looked through the Instagram you post your art on... It was a few years ago and you were learning sure, but you did pretty good tattoos.”

“I dunno, Bucky,” you say hesitating, “It’s really nice but-”

“No buts,” he said, kissing you softly, “I just wanted you to have it if you wanted it.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, blushing as you kiss his cheek.

“Anything for you, doll,” he murmurs, “Honestly I didn’t know what to get for you at all but, then you kept doing a bunch of pretty artwork on my arms and so I thought I’d do this.”

“Even though I told you not to,” you pout.

“Sorry doll,” he chuckled, “I took enough orders in the army. Unless you’re naked I’m probably not gonna let you boss me around.”

“I don’t wanna boss you around,” you protest, “I just knew I wouldn’t have time to go get you what I wanted to get you.”

“Whatever that was, darlin’,” he drawled, kissing you slowly, “It wouldn’t have compared to last night.” Your cheeks burn and he smiles, “That was a dream come true. Literally. Thinking about you was the only thing that got me through basic. And both deployments.” He tugs you into his lap and kisses your head, “I always had a picture in my head of what it’d be like if I saw you again. I’d know exactly what to say. I’d sweep you off your feet and do the whole nine yards... Instead I didn’t even recognize you.”

“I mean, Dolly Parton once lost a Dolly Parton look a like competition to a drag queen, so I can’t really blame you. A new nose, some new hair, and sometimes probably made it a little difficult,” you tell him.

“A new nose?” Bucky asked.

You shrug, “Got my shit busted enough times it needed done,” you tell him.

“I couldn’t even tell,” he said.

“Well, no,” you answer, standing up to get your things around, “That was the point. I just had them get as close to the original as possible.”

“Who busted up your face?” he asked following you.

“Parents a couple times. The last time, it was a guy I’d just started dating,” you don’t look at him, pretending to be preoccupied with your coat. Bucky does his best to breathe. To stay calm. He’s very, very aware of how fragile your emotional state is and how likely you are to jump to the worst conclusion if he looks angry but inside, he wants to reach through time and beat the living shit out of your dad for it. And find the guy that hurt you and snap is legs off.

“Y/N,” he said gently, tilting your chin up, “I love you.” It’s all he can think of to say. The best way to remind you that you’re safe.

“I love you too,” you tell him, turning your head slightly to kiss the palm that’s cupping your cheek.

_________

Bucky walks you into the house. It’s quiet but for A Christmas Story playing on the TV and Jack and Judy quietly eating breakfast. You sigh and let Bucky help you out of your coat before padding into the kitchen. This is going to be a long day. It feels like a wake. A really fucking lame wake. The kind of thing Kaity hates.

Bucky accepts hugs and Merry Christmases after you get yours and watches helplessly as you pad into the bedroom to say hello to Kaity.

Judy hands him a mug of coffee, “How was your party?” she asked. “Fine,” he said, “We had a drink and I took her home with me. Watched some movies.”

“No mistletoe?” she teases, handing him a plate to go with his mug.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he said blushing.

“You’re a good boy, Bucky.”

“Shh,” he hisses, “Don’t say that too loud. You’ll ruin my rep as a drug king pin.”

Jack chuckles, “Son,” he said, “Anyone who believes that is an idiot. Your truck is real nice but it ain’t that nice.”

_________

“Hey, Kaitykat,” you murmur, leaning over to kiss her head, “Merry Christmas.”

She opened her eyes a little and smiled, “You smell like boy.”

“Well I mean. I slept with one and stole his hoodie so, that’d probably do it.” you tell her, smiling a little and curling up on the bed next to her to watch Muppets.

“Slut,” she teased, tugging a hoodie string, “Did he at least go down on you.”

“Kaity-” you start blushing.

“So no,” she chuckled, tucking hair behind your ear. “But did he take good care of you?” she pressed, looking anxious.

You nod, “Yeah,” you tell her, “He did.”

“You used a condom right? I mean. If he knocks you up I’m not going to have any fun making fun of you while you panic taking the test.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you giggle.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“You know I do, Cat-cat.”

She smiled a little and laced her fingers through yours, “Do you love him,” she asked, laying her head on your shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she murmured. For a long moment, Kaity’s quiet, watching Michael Cain find redemption. Trying to gather the strength to go sit out in the living room. “Promise me something?” she asked seriously.

“What?” you answer.

“When he does knock you up, name it after me.” She grins at you and you groan.

“Goddamnit Kaity.”

“What,” she pouts, “You’ll make cute babies.”

“He probably doesn’t even want kids, Kaity. And I don’t think I do either honestly.”

“Why?” she asked, letting you help her into her chair.

“Because,” you answer, kissing her head, “I don’t want to turn into my mother.”

Kaity winces but lets the matter drop. For now. Letting you wheel her out to the kitchen for something to eat. She’s thankful for the pain medicine that makes this possible. Thankful you’re here. That she can watch Bucky fuss over you fire hand. Coffee. Pastry. Anything he can coax into you. She meets her mother’s eye across the table and they nod. Thankful Bucky realizes that you’re losing weight and shouldn’t be.

Bucky lets you walk him to the door and steals a kiss goodbye. A lingering kiss that makes you sigh, “Be a good girl?” he murmurs, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Yes, sir,” you answer, rolling your eyes. Bucky chuckles and raises an eyebrow, “Careful with that, darlin’. Especially with those pretty red lips.” You blush and he kisses your nose again, “I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answer, kissing his jaw before he slips out the door into the cold.

Tags: @lancsnerd @stevieang @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess @wellfucksorrymum

#Bucky Barnes #soft bucky #Christmas #biker!bucky #biker!au #fluff #mentioned smut #implied d/s #fluffy fluff

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

Text

FIC: Hickory Dick-ory Dock (baon)

Summary: A prequel to the series, a glimpse at how Sans and Red's relationship got started.

Tags: Kustard, Angst, Ecto-Genitalia, Sex, Antagonism, Brats to Lovers, Lemony Goodness

Notes: Okay, this is the last kustard one, I swear, Edge and Stretch just needed a little break after everything that happened. Besides, with all this Sans and Red stuff coming up, I thought it might be interesting to see how they started out.

It's swell! Watch out for that lemony goodness!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was either too early or way too fucking late to be awake, and Sans’s body hadn’t decided on which one yet. The only chair in the room was as shitty as the rest of the furniture, stiff-backed and with the kinds of stains it didn’t pay to think too deeply about. Not really worth sitting in except for those moments where someone shouldn’t be having a cigarette but still was. Supposed to be no smoking anywhere indoors, but in a motel that prided itself on a cash-only, Sans didn’t think anyone would be chasing them down for a cleaning fee.

Of the two vending machines by the elderly ice maker, only one of them worked and it reluctantly parted with a can of Pepsi for the rip-off price of two bucks. Not even an honest swindle, it was piss-warm and unsatisfying, even for someone without a proper throat.

The tiny bottle of whiskey he’d nabbed earlier on the plane was of a decent sort, though, helped smooth the path down, and by their powers combined, it was teetering on the edge of acceptable. Not like they were going to be here for long, anyway. Sulking about it would be petty waste of precious little time.

“you gonna offer me some of that or keep it for your private party?”

Sans glanced at the bed, but Red didn’t bother opening his sockets, still sprawled out in the wreck of the sagging mattress. A corner of the sheet was draped over his pelvis in a parody of modesty and the colorful splatter on his femurs made Sans idly think of the modern art at the museum Blue dragged all of them to a few weeks back.

Sans took a deliberate sip from the can, then a drag from the cigarette, holding in the smoke long enough for it to start seeping from his sockets before he exhaled it. “dunno, haven’t decided. maybe i like a solo act better.”

That got him a single socket opened, a thin rim of crimson showing. “yeah? was getting the idea earlier you preferred a duet. i spent the better part of an hour sucking you off, and this is the thanks i get?”

“isn’t it supposed to be the thought that counts when it comes to gifts?”

“uh huh, and what i’m thinking is it should be your turn to make your way downtown,” Red shifted, drawing his knees up and letting them fall to either side. The tangle of the sheet gave tantalizing glimpses of pelvis and the beginnings of a swirl of magic within it. “c’mere, little boy blue, come blow my horn.”

Sans snorted and crushed out the cigarette on the scarred old desk, leaving a blackened mark that matched a dozen others. “like i’ve never heard that before.”

“i know you haven’t,” Red gave him a sly, sulking look and rolled to his side, giving Sans his back, and yeah, he got the unspoken insult there. “you’ve never fucked anyone with my crushing wit.”

“mother goose ain’t exactly phd material and you might be crushing, but i’m the one pounding tonight.”

Sans hopped down from the chair and snagged the can, carrying it with him to the bed. He sat on the side of the mattress, trailing an idly finger down the intricate curves of Red’s spine. That was worth a faint sigh, exhaled through a jagged-tooth smile. Fondling the sensitive cartilage between each vertebra was better, Red arching into the touch with a hissed groan, undulating between that generously stroking hand and the stained sheets.

It added to the novelty of the occasion, could tack that sight right in with all the other scenery Sans never expected to see. Lovely bones, gleaming palely in the neon light creeping in through the slatted blinds covering the windows. The scars littering Red’s bones were predicable, but discovering the slimness of them beneath that ever-present jacket wasn’t, smaller even than Sans, all bulked up and hidden beneath heavy layers.

None of that made Red any less dangerous, but then, that was part of the fun, now wasn’t it.

His hand got lazy while Sans was taking in the sights and Red made a complaining sort of sound, rolling onto his back and stretching. The sheet, already doing a poor job at an attempt at modesty gave up even that, sliding completely loose. That left nothing covering Red but the remnants of come, still tacky yet, smearing as Red ran a pin-sharp fingertip up the inside of his femur. Sans watched, rapt, as red and blue mingled, sullied into purple.

“give me that.”

For a split second, Sans lurched obediently forward, ready to crawl between those femurs. Then he saw that wickedly sharp smirk curling up and noticed Red was reaching out towards the can that was starting to crumple in Sans’s too-tight grip.

It didn’t pay well to show Red any weakness and Sans swallowed down his flusterment, handing it over. Watched as Red tipped it back and swallowed down half the can in a single gulp. There was probably a pun to be made there, getting hit hard with a soft drink, but instead he only watched, tried not to think of what his eye lights were revealing as he stared at Red licking his teeth, the tips tinging to crimson as he nicked his own tongue against them.

“you gonna come down here or just enjoy the show?”

“i was about to leave,” Sans said, slowly. Like it wasn’t a lie and he wasn’t sitting here without even his shorts on. “paps will be wondering where i am.”

All the ambassadors were tucked away in their own five-star hotel, none of them suspecting their head of security and his second had skulked off, leaving them with the rest of the bodyguards. They were safe as houses, had to be or Red never would’ve been coaxed off, but Paps might come to his room, might ask for a bedtime story or just a chat.

“yeah, can’t let your little brother know you’re sneaking out to fuck around with me, now can you?” Poisonously sweet and okay, Red could, and did, get away with murder all the fucking time, but Sans wasn’t gonna let that slide.

“that how you want to play it?” Sans let a smirk of his own work its way loose. Like this lovely secrecy was for his benefit? “oh, miss mary, quite contrary, you want me to call him? i can give him the room number, see if he wants to stop in and verify. probably some paperwork that needs done, ain’t there, the bossman fucking his subordinate, bet he’d volunteer to help, he likes filling out forms.”

“you’d need form 109b, you’re the one who fucked me,” Red’s eye lights glittered with unnamed emotion. “hoping i’ll call you on that?”

“go ahead, if you think i’m joking, i could use a few chuckles."

“bet you could. i’m all about the jokes, but 3 am is a tough crowd.”

Sans ran his tongue along the even line of his teeth, considering. And then he went for blood. “we aren’t meeting up at roach motels to keep secrets from my brother. tell you what, wanna give the edgelord a call, instead? bet he and stretch are already done banging for the night, all curled up together for beddy-bye.”

“it’s 11am back in the states, i’m more likely to interrupt some meeting.” Oh, but there was blood in the water now, and fucking shark that he was, Red could smell it.

“great, then asgore can listen to our first ever porn podcast.”

Sans reached for his shorts and dug out his phone, humming as he pulled up Papyrus’s contact. “i don’t worry about my bro. let me give him a call, then you can call yours—”

His phone clattered to the floor as Red slapped it out of his hands. Sans kinda hoped it wasn’t broken, he wasn’t gonna have time to get a new one in the morning before all the meetings started and sitting there without candy crush to keep him entertained would be an endless nightmare.

“you gonna fuck me or not.” The words caught on a snarl, Red’s eye lights shading into a deep, harsher crimson, his mouth twisted into a grimace.

Sans hummed thoughtfully. “you gonna give me something to fuck?”

He did one better, rolling onto his front and forming ectoflesh from just beneath his ribcage to the tops of his femurs. The generously rounded globes of his ass were a bribe, but Sans wasn’t too proud to be cheap. He cupped them in both hands, firm flesh but with comfortable give.

But he wasn’t quite ready to be bought. “needed a nice cushion for some pushin?”

“you’re bitching at me for mother goose when you’re putting out that shit? fuck me, already, before i die of boredom—hnn!”

Seemed polite to wait until he was at the end of a sentence to push two fingers into his cunt. So slick inside, already practically dripping with want and Red whimpered as Sans worked to coax out a little more, pressed in another finger just to feel the hot stretch around his knuckles.

“huh. think i like your mouth better when you aren’t speaking,” Sans teased. He worked another finger in, all that slippery wetness making it easy. Yeah, much better like this, gasping and whining, mangling obscenities while Sans scissored his fingers inside him.

"yeah? think this is gonna shut me up?” Red managed to gasp, "gonna have to try harder than that, i could take your fucking fi—gah!!”

"what was that? seemed like you had something to say, sweetheart." Red gave it another try at the same moment Sans gave a little thrust with his fingers, letting them glide in and out, riding that silky wetness as Red’s curses tangled in between whines. In the interest of both their orgasms, it seemed best to reach up and push two fingers into his mouth, forcing him to suck on them and hoping Red didn’t take the opportunity to bite them off.

Instead, a moan vibrated through his phalanges, the slick little tongue between his fingers made him think of other places that mouth had been. Tight, hot little mouth almost as good as his tight little pussy and yeah, it was kinda vulgar to pull his fingers free, slip them still wet between Red's legs to rub his clit but the lovely little writhe he did excused it.

"oh,” Red groaned out, “that's…oh, fuck, you – yeah, just –"

Might be better if he took the continuing effort at speech as a compliment. Not difficult to do with the way Red was pushing back at him, wriggling and rolling his hips in a way that could never be taught, could only be known. He felt the sudden clench around his fingers as Red started to come and quickly pulled them out, left his cunt clenching on nothingness while he scooted back away.

Even as Red spat out curses in the ruins of his orgasm, Sans caught hold of his hips and dragged him up to his knees, hastily forming his cock. He rubbed it along the wet slit, but Red was squirming so much beneath him he slipped away on the first try.

“hold still!” Sans slapped one asscheek, and Red howled…and did it, spreading his knees wider to let him line up. Then he had to catch his own breath, that long, easy slide inside, surrounded by wet, clenching pussy. Easy, too easy to dig his fingers bruisingly into the giving ectoflesh of Red’s hips, lifting him to make the angle that much deeper. His rhythm was shitty and desperate, no finesse left to him. Sans could only drive in as hard as he could, his hips slapping against that generous, crimson backside.

Didn't matter, Red was along for the ride, both hands braced against the headboard and wood shavings curling around his razor fingertips as he dug them into the cheap particleboard. The room was a cacophony of conflicting sounds, flesh and bone striking, the bed frame creaking, and both of them breathing like they were about to dodge a blow. The sudden feeling of Red tightening around him in a sweet, constricting ripple made Sans gasp and listening to his choked, desperate cry as Red convulsed and came again was almost as good as coming himself.

Almost.

The air around them was thick with the scent of their sex, sourly spicy and nothing sweeter to soften it. Sans sagged down on top of Red, ignored his grunt as he let him take all of his weight, and breathed it in.

~~*~~

The sky was only graying with dawn when Sans woke up again. The bed was empty next to him, only the stained blankets and sheets to keep him company. Sans managed to crawl out of bed and headed towards the bathroom, gathering up his wrinkled t-shirt and shorts along the way.

Shitty as this little hotel managed to be, the mildewed shower still had plenty of hot water and Sans basked in it, scrubbing away the night before with the sliver of complimentary soap.

The cab ride would only take fifteen or so, but he still wouldn’t have time to get changed when he got back to the hotel where the ambassadors were staying. Paps would scold him for wearing the same thing as yesterday, loudly and with vigor, and groan at whatever puns Sans offered before slyly offering back one of his own.

But he wouldn’t say anything about Sans being gone all night in front of the others, those questions would only show in his worried glances, and soft, secret questions about whether Sans was being safe.

Damn shame Sans didn’t know the answer.

For now, it didn’t matter. Time to head back and play nice in front of the Ambassadors, and put on some sunglasses so no one could see if he fell asleep. Maybe tonight he could persuade Red out again and they’d give Humpty Dumpty a try or even Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. Worth a shot.

He hummed as he stepped into his rumpled shorts and slipped on his t-shirt. If he hurried, he’d have time to grab coffee. Maybe this time he’d bring one for Red, too, the way he liked it for once, hot and bitter black.

Maybe. It wouldn’t hurt to be a little kind, just this once.

-finis-

#kustard #underfell sans #underfell #keelywolfe #by any other name #lemony goodness

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expshared · 5 years ago

Text

this season was kind of whack, but at least we had Eizouken

Heya Camp is just kind of a lazy reminder that Yuru Camp exists, and will continue to exist in the future. You remember these characters?? OK good, just making sure. That said, did I immediately feel the tension release in my entire body when I heard the OST? Duh. Did I sing “it’s coffee time” to the ending not knowing these were the incorrect lyrics? The entire time.

I don’t know what to do with Isekai Quartet because like, objectively, I should hate it. I do not enjoy like 2.5 of the shows involved, and the addition of Shield Hero was not a welcome one. Turns out it doesn’t matter anyway because it was just Isekai Quartet and also Naofumi is Sometimes Scowling in the Background and that’s about as much of him as I want to see anyway. And yet? I do enjoy this Disney Channel Original Crossover. There’s something inherently fun about watching these characters from disparate shows interact with each other, and no matter what the original stakes were in their respective series, they’re all just doing homework and getting part time jobs and that shit’s funny when a big skeleton man is doing it.

After its first episode, Asteroid in Love was kind of a slog. This is your typical seasonal CGDGT show, and apart from that, I really can’t think of anything to say about it. I didn’t learn anything about the Extremely Niche Topic these girls are doing, and it wasn’t even that gay. Disappointing.

I was really looking forward to Toilet Bound Hanako-kun because I am a big fan of the source material, but I was pretty let down by this adaptation. It seems that they prioritized the art style and the color scheme above everything else, but that essentially just meant the entire project ended up being colored manga panels. I wanted to see them move around! There was not a single moment of animation that justified it being an anime. You might as well have been watching a PowerPoint. I can’t think of anything nice to say. Let’s move on.

Bofuri is my power fantasy. I want to play a video game so cluelessly I break it into tiny pieces and bumble into being the most powerful player in the world’s nicest MMORPG. Maple turns powercreep into powersprint. What Bofuri lacks in character development or plot, it makes up for in outrageous Maple feats. She holds the entire world in the palm of her hand and she doesn’t even know it. She named her OP pet turtle Syrup and then turned into an alien abomination unknown to the world and went on a killing rampage. This anime was Maple Crossing Online. Love you, Maple. Wreck shit, Maple.

If My Favorite Idol Got Into Budokan, I Would Die walks a thin line and what separates it from being a slobbering idol otaku engine preaching how Cool it is to Be an Otaku and an Idol Show Watamote is the fact that Eripiyo is a girl. That’s it. If you took her and replaced her with your average Joe Schmoe-san, this show would be insufferably creepy. Every time I was waiting for it to topple over, Jenga-like, it managed to right itself and straddle the tightrope. It’s not a particularly subtle piece of media, nor does it do what I was hoping it would do and engage in any sort of conversation about the obsessive nature of idol otakudom, but you know what it does a good job of doing? Portraying being an idol as a job. Just some adults putting on underground shows and selling the same CD of like two songs over and over again. I was also hoping it would address what happened to Eripiyo, maybe talk about why at the beginning she’s dressed like an office worker and apparently gives that all up to follow this kinda-shitty idol group, why this fanatic escapism is preferable, or even maybe address how gay it is? Not in the cards, though. Honestly Budokan was, despite itself, pretty enjoyable? There are some great background lesbians. Also can we talk about how consistently good the production values were on this show? Why did this have such great dance sequences? Why did this look better than Love “Has More Money Than God” Live? Actually no I take everything back this show was kind of just Idol Otaku Watamote

Hey, let’s talk about the other idol show airing this season: the completely unhinged 22/7. This show is Whack. This show operates on an entire different plane of reality. I know nothing about the actual band, so I came into this blind and oh my god. Hey guys, the plot of 22/7 is that a Wall tells some girls to form an idol unit. A sentient Wall whose orders absolutely must be followed. Why? Dunno! What happens if you don’t follow its orders? Never elaborated on. (Actually, is this a reference to Pink Floyd? I have no fucking clue.) In any case these eight girls, summoned by a letter from the Wall, are all invited to become an idol group, and then they’re magically an idol group. It’s unclear how they become successful, how they book gigs, who’s keeping the lights on at the agency, how they’re getting paid, who HR is, how their gorilla man agent found this Wall and determined that all its directives Must Be Followed, but shit, man. What follows in 22/7 is a one-member-per-episode serial that quite frankly stumbles far more often than it succeeds. One girl’s grandma died and that’s why she came to Japan. One girl had a traumatizing experience where she got lost in the woods for a week and it broke her family apart and now things just suck forever. These things are equal. One poor girl’s entire episode was about how she didn’t want to put on a bathing suit for a photo shoot and how uncomfortable she felt about it, but in the end she was made to apologize for dragging her feet for so long and takes her photo for a pin up. Yuck. Gross. Bad. The only valid girl is Jun, end of discussion. None of this even holds a candle to the finale-- wherein the girls are directed by the Wall to disband, and, defying an order for the first time, the girls return to their agency and throw shit at the Wall until it breaks down. It’s revealed that the Wall isn’t supernatural-- behind it are tv monitors, photos of the girls as children, records of their activities. A person or people are behind this. Why??? Are they being groomed?? Is the Wall a metaphor for the Industry? I’m so concerned. The girls aren’t, though, because after a little side eyeing, they ascend a staircase and wow! A Stage! Our fans are all here for our reunion tour! And then they’re fine and I guess their idol group is back together or something? Did I mention the stage where they perform? It’s at a zoo. I can’t tell if this is the most scathing condemnation of idol culture I’ve ever watched or just completely oblivious. The characters don’t engage in any sort of thought about what they’re being put through, but they are performing their final song, the lyrics of which are about how life is just too hard to keep on living, at a zoo and I don’t think you can have that sort of thing happen unless you’re trying to make a point. Right??? RIGHT?!? Dance and sing, monkeys.

Smile Down the Runway was another show completely divorced from reality. So you got your main character, Chiyuki, whose thing is that she’s Too Short to Be a Model at her father’s very prestigious modeling agency. Which, like, is valid! Let’s see some variation in the modeling industry. Let’s shake it up. Let’s lead the charge for alternative models with bodies outside of the very narrow requirements of the fashion industry. What’s that, Chiyuki? You have no interest in that? You want to be a Hypermodel? I don’t know what that shit is, I think you made it up. Our other protagonist is Ikuto, the destitute, put upon, bobcut boy with a dying mother and 3 younger siblings who is trying to pursue his dream of becoming a fashion designer. Are you beginning to sense the problem here? There is a fundamental imbalance in the presentation of these characters’ goals and situations. Also? Emotions are at an eleven, always. Characters are always acting as if they’ve just seen someone get murdered in front of their eyes even when it’s like. There’s a messed up seam. They are constantly being mortified, crushed, and having their dreams ripped away. One time, two different assholes offered Ikuto magical mom-fixing blood money when he was struggling to come up with funds to pay off his medical debt at the cost of giving up his spot in the fashion show. Wildin’

Haikyuu didn’t exactly come in like a lion, but I’m sure it’ll be more organic upon rewatching. We were laying the groundwork for much of this season so I’m expecting it to payoff later, but the beginning definitely lagged. Every time Haikyuu hints at a women’s volleyball tournament, I want a volleyball anime with girls. Man, those ten minutes we got with Kiyoko? Those were great.

I don’t have too much to say about Somali and Forest Spirit. Abe’s “Make Children” agenda feels at least a little more like a narrative choice in this anime, and I enjoyed Somali and the Golem’s relationship and their travels were in equal turns harrowing and heartwarming. And I did tear up at the end so you got me there, anime.

In/Spectre has some balls being an anime. It’s existed as a light novel and a manga and those are both superior mediums for it because let’s put all our cards on the table here-- In/Spectre is a show about talking. Five whole entire episodes take place in a car. The finale is winning an argument in an anonymous 4chan chatroom. That said, I have such a fondness for In/Spectre. I think Kotoko rocks. I think a show willing to do nothing but talk at you for two hours is badass. Sitting through this anime is like watching a podcast. I think the show engages in some great dialogue about human nature and how we prefer stories that are theatrical, narratively-driven, and have a logical cause-and-effect, instead of the truth, which is more often than not grim, and disappointing, and illogical. I like that Kotoko’s only function, in-story and out of it, is to bullshit so hard she invents alternate realities. Anyway In/Spectre is good.

There’s no praise I can lavish on Eizouken that hasn’t already been said. It’s powerful, it’s strange, it’s energetic, and it’s packaged with such love. It’s repurposed the CGDCT template into something deeply affecting. It’s an anime for people who love animation. I hope everyone watches Eizouken.

#animoose and mango #chitchat paddywhack #long post /

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