#this got more florid than i like to be

[twig-tea]

Love in the Big City Part 3: Kylie Recontextualizes Everything

I have waffled all week about what to write about this chapter. There have been some great essays about HIV and the stigma in Korea by @stuffnonsenseandotherthings here, as well as how antiretrovirals and pre-exposure prophylactics work and when they were available from @wen-kexing-apologist here. This context was all critical to understand everything Young doesn’t talk about in this section of the book. 

I’ve been stuck on so many parts of this section of the book. The way stigma holds people back from care, from maintenance, from life-saving treatment and knowledge, from understanding their condition and preventing them unnecessarily from living a full life, which @doyou000me had me thinking about with their comments about Young’s coping mechanisms of minimization and emotional distance that possibly worked in conjunction with the Korean government healthcare policies and social stigma to keep Young from being informed about his own condition. The way Young holds himself back from happiness, and how it’s so heartbreaking to watch him open up to it slowly in this section and then, as @my-rose-tinted-glasses wrote , he let the shame and self-loathing take control again. The way this relationship feels so real; @lurkingshan wrote so eloquently on how this section describes the details of a relationship as it started to settle. The relationship with Hyung was entirely ephemeral, in the liminal period of time between when Young was visiting his mother in hospital and before everything opened again for the day. There is so much that Young and Hyung never talked about–more than was obvious in chapter 2, because he never told Hyung about Kylie. In contrast, as @bengiyo pointed out, his relationship with Gyu-Ho started with honesty and was rooted in the physical presence of their apartment, which as a beautiful metaphor was grounded and improved slowly over time through the work they put into it but was also too small for them. 

I keep thinking about how Part 3 is bookended by Young disappointing Gyu-Ho with his absence. How he leaves him at the airport both times, thinking he’s doing Gyu-Ho a favour actually–he characterizes Gyu-Ho’s trip to Japan without him as much more fun, and he imagines Gyu-Ho’s future in Singapore will be better. In both cases, Gyu-Ho was only going because of Young, because Young wanted to, and Young planned it. But our narrator cannot get past seeing himself as something that brings Gyu-Ho down, and so he sabotages his own future. I feel for Gyu-Ho, being shepherded onto a plane alone when he was envisioning his future with the man he loved. It must have been devastating to be pushed away. 

This is not related to anything but I just love the detail of Young’s split lip and how he tastes blood when he kisses Gyu-Ho while drunk at the club and not yet knowing his name, and then panics, and we as readers don’t yet know why. Brilliant storytelling. 

I can’t stop thinking about how this reveal recontextualizes everything in parts 1 and 2. How the “incident that earned me a medical discharge” means Kylie was already in Young’s life as he took the engineering student he was seeing with him to get an STD check; as he was screamed at by an ex who prophesied that Young would get sick from being promiscuous and called him a ‘dirty rag that could never be cleaned’, which Young took with stoicism. I loved @bengiyo ‘s observation in his post linked above that Kylie’s presence likely coloured his reaction to Jaehee outing him to her fiance. 

Kylie was present as he watched his coffee be stolen by Hyung, when he thought about introducing Hyung to his mother, while he was wrestling with how Hyung (and, I think the narration makes clear, how he) was ashamed at how Young couldn’t ‘pass’ and was ‘obviously gay’, when he choked Hyung in his mother’s kitchen and it was seeing his tears on Hyung’s face that made Young let go. Kylie was part of him when he drank pesticide and tried to die, while he sat by his mother’s sickbed and had her head in his lap in the park, when he said “disease can turn anyone into a completely different person”, when he said he would “hope that she would die without having known.” 

Mostly, my brain keeps getting stuck on how familiar Young is to me. His choices, his self-loathing, his refusal to take anything seriously because at his core he’s terrified of facing what his reality means. And that fear ironically gets in the way of him understanding that his reality is not as scary as he thinks it is. He functions like he has to be alone, and so much of that comes from his internalized homophobia and his HIV diagnosis. He’s been told he’s dirty, something to be cleaned but irreparable, by so many people in different ways through his life. The man he claims as his greatest love barely even liked him as a person, and didn’t fully know him. I think that’s why he was able to feel more fully with Hyung, because in a way that relationship felt safer..Gyu-Ho, the person who knew all of him, and who wanted to build a life together with that complete and full knowledge of him, must have been terrifying, and I’m not surprised it felt easier to push him away than to fight for their future together. But it breaks my heart. 

There’s something rattling in my head about the T-aras that I don’t really know how to get out onto the page. In this chapter it’s revealed that the T-aras have been around the whole time, but they weren’t mentioned in parts 1 and 2. I think the fact that Young’s life feels more rounded, filled in with other people, and rich, than in parts 1 and 2 speaks to his emotional state in this part, as well as to how his time with Gyu-Ho wasn’t obsession but was more grounded in the mundane and the everyday. The T-aras themselves feel like familiar friends. Like with Hyung and JaeHee (at first), Young is drawn to people who he can remain emotionally distant from and who remain emotionally distant from him. People who will buy the story of “ruptured disc” for why he left military service early. People who joke about being poz and won’t ask questions and who hear the news about his new boyfriend as an ‘in’ to their favourite club. People who don’t take things seriously (or in Hyung’s case take things so seriously that Young can’t take him seriously). I was so glad to find out they existed because up to this point Young felt so isolated most of the time, with his world circling around one obsession in each part. But he had the T-aras the whole time; I’m choosing to read this as he just didn’t hold their importance to him in the same way in parts 1 and 2. As was already clear in the narrative but this makes even more obvious, Young’s isolation is not only self-inflicted but it’s in some ways a lie he tells himself to feel safer. He has friends, he just refuses to acknowledge their presence or importance, or to let them in to be more important, because he is so braced for being rejected for core parts of him that cannot be excised.

[serpentface]

What do Brakul and Janeys see in each other?

(I wrote some of this in quasi-character voice/pov on impulse (in brackets), though don't take it as actual dialogue. They wouldn't outright say most of this.)

WHAT JANEYS SEES IN BRAKUL:

-[He is just objectively beautiful. There's no way around it, this is just a material fact. He has the prettiest brown eyes and a cute gap in his teeth and he's 6'2'' and he's big and strong and hairy and well endowed (balls) and sooo virile and 6'2''. This is the ideal male body at peak performance so it's just inevitable to be wildly, painfully attracted to it. There's probably tons of other people who want to shove their face into his armpits.]

[But they don't get to.]

-Janeys is significantly more at ease with him than almost anyone else. He doesn't feel such an acute need to posture and put on performances, or as devastating shame when the performance 'fails'. The psychological factors that motivate this to begin with don't just like, magically go away, but they're much less acute. He feels like he can just Exist around him. It's nice.

-Thinks he's a really funny, smart and interesting person general. Very pleasant to talk and amicably argue with. Janeys finds a lot of things he never would have given a shit about suddenly very interesting because it's coming from him. Like 'yeah he's not EDUCATED per se but he has a fascinating repository of knowledge about like, cheesemaking and birds and freakish snow vampires and the many nuances of highland seasonal transhumance.'

-Janeys sees a lot of things in Brakul that he finds lacking in himself, and experiences a sense of being more complete, better, stronger, via this partnership (somewhat literally, sharing blood Is sharing spirit). He feels genuinely more confident around him, not just in his typical "I'm Confident that my family name and Odonii bloodkin status can force some deference out of you" way but like legit confidence. Not the healthiest way to develop self esteem and not put to the best uses but it is what it is.

-Matches his freak and exceeds it in strange and compelling ways

-Meshes Fairly well with his clingy attachment style (it causes friction sometimes though) and meets his substantial needs for physical affection and casual intimacy (at least in private).

-[He's a really, really, really good kisser]

-[He is my closest and most trusted friend, my brother. He's like how the most florid love poets describe their wives, except if a wife was a man and wasn't someone you had to marry. No one has ever loved a man like I have. No one has shared a spirit like I have. The concept of life without him is no longer imaginable, he is carved into my very skin, he's in my veins, mouth, hands. He is my natural compliment and easiest companion. My beloved, my heart, my blood, my other face.]

-[He's 6'2'']

---

WHAT BRAKUL SEES IN JANEYS:

-[He's very good looking, in kind of a subtle way. Like you don't necessarily notice at first, but he's got this sort of... sturdy yet gracile handsomeness to him? Like a deer, or a small to mid-sized bird of prey. Except attractive and a man. Very attractive. He has such a nice smile and the most gorgeous legs, and a cute little trail of hair up his stomach. Nice hands. And feet. Sturdy. Lovely hair. His eyes are just kind of scary but, otherwise.]

-[He's actually soooo nice when you get to know him. He is one of the sweetest and most caring people I've ever met, actually.]

[Sure he's kind of an asshole. To most people. On most occasions. But have you considered that THEIR vibes are, very often, simply bad and offputting, and maybe it's sometimes their faults for being irritating? Yeah. Think a little.]

-Brakul distinctly likes being one of few people Janeys likes and one of much fewer that he actually chills out around. He likes that he gets to see sides of him that are almost completely reserved for himself. He feels special.

-Overall sees him as someone who is often difficult and frustrating but ultimately deeply lovable. He finds him to be very caring, admirably loyal, genuine, and funny. Good to talk to, and good to sit in comfortable silence with. He sees him as a very different person but someone who compliments him well. Natural choice of companion.

-Has a generally realistic outlook on Janeys' abilities but considers him to be more capable than most people think and fairly talented in some respects. He would note him as skilled with the spear, pretty decent with the lyre, a good dancer and very beautiful singer.

-He absolutely likes that one of Janeys' 'love languages' is giving him gifts. He loves being the spoiled male wife of a nobleman. He was made for this shit. The gift-giving on Janeys' part initially made him nervous (on the presumption that it was indebting or otherwise transactional) but he is LONG since over it.

[Everyone was always saying, "Brakul you're kinda lazy and annoying, you lost all your mother's cattle in a really pathetic way, you strained the alliances between multiple clans to a breaking point by being a fuckup, you abandoned your firstborn," etc etc but look at me now. I'm so loved and I have 200 cattle and 12 khait and eat meat every day of my life.]

-Doesn't Fully match his freak, but does where it matters most. Sub/switch masochist for a dom/switch sadomasochist. Peace and love.

-Easily flustered in a way he finds cute/hot.

-Really likes his intense and earnest enthusiasm for physical affection/intimacy. The other people Brakul has had romantic/sexual experiences with in the past have been substantially less touchy-feely, and he prefers being able to show affection this way. Expressing this shit verbally can be difficult (with or without having to translate), it always feels a little insufficient. Lengthy and complicated sessions of making out/cutting each other/blood consumption/frotting/doing weird shit with cum/still vaguely sexual wound cleaning with vinegar/cuddling/etc have turned out to feel like a more comprehensive form of romantic expression. And not a lot of people are into that kinda thing, so this is pretty special.

-[He makes me happy. Sometimes I'll look at him while he's asleep or just sitting next to me or whatever, and still get hit with that new love, 'I'm going to throw up but in a good way' feeling, even after all this time. I'm glad to have found him. I'm glad to share my life with him. I'm glad we belong to each other. I've never found an adequate describe it, 'brother' is easy but completely wrong. It just is what it is. I love him.]

-[He does some crazy shit with his mouth]

[mochinomnoms]

Hi, vacations are killing me rn (I am going on multiple walks to explore, and damn I am busy)

But I did have time to listen to vocaloid songs, and I got me a little idea~

It's very sweet too

Okay so there's this song that despite controversy (the controversy is actually silly dw about it) that's about mocking the trope of "tsunderes" so this girl has a crush on a classmate and calls them a "small fry"

I think yk where I am going

Hell yeaaaah the tweels get their own game turned on them because of all the teasing they do to their crush and have to risk that their crush is going to get tired one day and try to leave because excessive teasing is not that enjoyable

"Loser, loser.. despite all of my bullying, you still have a crush! ♡" (rough translation)

"Your reactions are just so cutee! I can't get enough ♡" - Something Floyd would say about his dear shrimpy

"Hm? Did you join my club to spend more time with me, Prefect? :)" - Maaybee something that Jade would say to his darling pearl

Their teasing can be really cruel sometimes, yet they still care? Maybe? It makes you feel overwhelmed and used because they keep stringing you along with all of their joking, pulling you close to only laugh at your flustered face but they are not clear with their emotions and it's frustrating!

One day, the two of them gang up on you cooing mockingly (perhaps) about how cute yet pathetic you are! You had enough you get up from your desk instead of curling yourself in embarrassment until the two leave you alone and get up to stay away from them

It's the first time you have done something that's out of the ordinary, and while normally they would enjoy this unexpected change, but it's different when you start crying while walking away from them, frustrated clearly!

"H-hey! Wait, don't leave me! I will apologize. I am sorry -" (rough translation again)

So they chase after you because they care deep down, but they are stupid

And I only thought about these two for the "small fry" thing, hehe

-Vaquita (I am alive)

hi vaquita! i missed you very nice to hear from you again!!!

i think i know what song you're talking about?? a miku one right? i'd have to look it up i remember hearing the discourse on it, but i don't really interact with discourse all that much so idk for sure

i think Floyd would get a kick our of a tsundere s/o most! just look at how popular FloRid is, i think part of that Riddle could potentially fit into the role of the tsundere (at least in the fics i've seen). But Floyd likes it so much because he thrives off the reactions and pushing your buttons. it's the fact that you try so hard to be composed and fail each time that he likes! Though, I can see him getting bored after a while if these are the same reactions you give, especially if he knows that you like him a lot. He gets frustrated that you won't just be upfront with your feelings, and if you can't do that why is he still playing around with you, putting in all the work when you won't do the same?

Jade I think finds it cute at first, but will get bored quickly since he sees through you so quickly. Why must you hold yourself back? Isn't it tiring, isn't it a chore? Wouldn't it be much better if you were honest with your feelings? With Jade, he's wanting to see just how deep your feelings go for him, and have you chase after him! Maybe if he changes up your interactions, you'll just have to force yourself to be more than a little tsundere, forced character development hehehe.

[literallymechanical]

Just finished Empire of Silence by Christopher Ruocchio, book 1 of the Sun Eater series. Written as the autobiography of Hadrian "Half-Mortal" "Sun Eater" Marlowe, translated in-universe from Galactic Standard, an Anglo-Hindi patois.

Old-school space opera in a Dune-like distant future, but with a storytelling sensibility that owes more to Patrick Rothfuss than anybody else. Reads like epic fantasy rather than science fiction, which I think is fun.

The Sollan Empire venerates Mother Earth, slain in nuclear fire twenty thousand years ago, as the messianic god of their state religion. Ruocchio leans into the implications of that premise with a lot of fun linguistics stuff:

lol. Lmao.

The narration is florid and purple and delightful. Hadrian was an ass in his youth in the way that only the vat-born scion of a noble house can be, and his future self writes with wincing honesty while apologizing to the reader for the bad choices he keeps making.

I appreciate how the book opens by basically turning directly to the reader and saying "this is a Dune, we're doing a Dune. Here are three rapid-fire direct references to Dune. Got it? Okay, now we can move on." Highly recommend if you like door-stopper epic fantasy.

[nametakensff]

if you are still taking prompts (and if you are not please feel free to ignore this!) my request is: Finger under nose + edge of a sneeze for ANY disco elysium char!

I am still taking prompts and was sooo happy to see this one in my inbox 💕 This ended up jussst under 3k (whoops) and features sneezing from H/arry, K/im, J/ean and J/udit because why not!!

The M/ajor C/rimes U/nit find themselves at a crime scene - in a Perfumery 😇

~~~~~

Content:

M/M, Mostly M sneezes but F mentioned, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, K/im is a kinky motherfucker, J/ean is suffering, allergic sneezes/sneezing induced by scents, sympathetic sneezes, rapid sneezes, mentions of hayfever sneezes, briefly mentioned inducing, masturbation, teeny mention of mild mess, spray, sneezing on someone's face, elements of domination/submission, verbal demands, sneeze denial, hold-backs, K/im manually holds back Harry's sneeze, some caretaking, some voyeurism

CW: Mentions of serial killings and bodies in typical crime fic fashion, nothing too graphic; K/im briefly holds H/arry in place by gripping his chin

NSFW - Minors DNI!

Harry had to admit, it was a pretty sweet deal this particular serial killer had scored. Having access to a Perfumery within which to conceal the stench of rotting corpses seemed like a stroke of genius. The killer, however, was anything but; after he’d filled the underground crawl space entirely, he’d deposited several bodies in the attic, giving the poor insulation expert who’d ventured up there that winter a veritable heart attack.

The discovery of these bodies was a huge deal. Firstly, the location of this Perfumery was one of the bougiest, most affluent streets in Le Jardin; the middle and upper-middle classes of Revachol were in near hysteria at the very suggestion that such abhorrent crimes had crossed over into their relative bubble of high society. Secondly, from the freshest corpses alone, victims were identified as missing person records spanning several much less affluent precincts. By the time Harry arrived en scene with Kim, Judit and Jean in tow, the Perfumery was bustling with cops from all over.

Several officers from the GRIH greeted Kim as he entered the building, pulling him into a quick conversation. Jean scanned the premises immediately, an intense look of concentration on his weathered face. The four of them were eager to see if any further information could assist in several of their own open cases of missing persons, and it seemed the other precincts had had a similar idea. What a number this guy has fucking done, Harry thought to himself. Fucking sicko. He watched as a body was carried out on a covered stretcher and swallowed the urge to cry.

They’d been the last to arrive, and as the morning stretched on and other officers confirmed all they could, they were soon on their way. It was just as well; there wasn’t an awful lot to glean here as the bodies were slowly taken away, and the main suspect was already in custody. The employees of the Perfumery seemed almost robotic in their answers as they were interviewed, no doubt out of partial trauma but also out of boredom; by the time the 41st Major Crimes Unit got to them, they must have repeated the same statements ad nauseum already.

“Well,” Harry started, turning to his squad after they’d excused the last shaking staff member, “I guess that’s all we can do for now. Let’s burn rubber, gentlemen and lady.”

“Finally.” Jean muttered, striding towards the door, looking even more irritated than usual. Harry tried to swallow like a normal person when he noticed Jean was ever-so subtly pressing the tip of one finger down on his philtrum, the way he had done countless other times in Harry’s presence when he was desperately holding back a sneeze or twenty.

The aforementioned interviews had been difficult not only for the depressing subject matter; several officers had sneezed throughout the day, evidently bothered by the florid scents of the converging perfumes. Being such a high-class establishment, however, there wasn’t an overwhelming deluge of conflicting scents; the smell was strong, sure, but not enough as to be unpleasant or overpowering, at least in theory. Even so, Harry had thought he might sneeze several times. He neither heard Jean nor Kim sneeze, though he had seen Jean’s shoulders trembling incriminatingly, and saw Kim tense into a raised fist out of the corner of his eye. He was beyond grateful when one cop with a particularly attention-seeking, cock-teasingly desperate sneeze finally left. He had been so close to getting a hard-on that having not gotten one, he felt pathetically proud of himself.

Judit and Jean climbed into the back of the MC as Harry sat shotgun. Kim expertly pulled out of the cluster of other police vehicles and started them back to the station.

“So,” Harry started, pretending as hard as he could that he hadn’t just heard Jean’s breath snagging in tell-tale irritation. “That’s two missing persons identified, straight off the bat. Which is fucking awful, but at least it’s something.”

“Yes,” Kim said, sounding grave. “I was hoping we would locate some of the missing individuals but now, given the situation…I just hope there aren’t more.”

Harry nodded, hearing Kim but also hearing the tiny, definitive little gasp Jean made behind him. He again tried to swallow quite normally.

“Would it be worth gathering the rest of the unit today rather than tomorrow morning for a briefing, Lieutenant?” Judit asked from the back seat.

“I think so.” Kim nodded, weaving in and out of traffic. “I think if we…”

Harry’s brain could no longer focus on work, not one little bit. Kim and Judit continued to talk, but all he could hear was the barely audible swallows of air and shuddering exhalations as Jean sneezed, over and over again.

“-Gk’t! Nndt! Hh-Gxt! Ngxt’u! Hh-“

“-get Officer Torson to-“

“-Dtch! Hh’Gxt!-Dssh! Hh’Tsh’u!!-“

“-all go over the files from-“

“Hh’TSch’u! Hp’Tssht! HAH-Tsch!!-Tshh!-TSCH’Ieww!! hH-“

“-do you think, Harry?”

Harry blinked. Fuck. Kim and Judit were waiting for his input. He opened his mouth, hoping that whatever came out was a more appropriate response than the simpering moan he had been repressing, when Jean saved him the effort with an uncharacteristically harsh sneeze.

“-IhgK’TSHHH’IEWww!! H’ohh…”

Harry’s fingers dug into his thighs, wrinkling the fabric of his bellbottom trousers. How the fuck was he supposed to think of anything other than stroking his cock, which was absolutely and entirely hard at this point, when Jean was sneezing like that? Like he had the biggest tickle of his life, like it was too big for his body to contain or purge with his ordinarily diminutive sneezes? Why did he have to sigh like that afterwards?! It was unfairly erotic. Judit and Kim’s simultaneous and emphatically concerned blessings in response only made things worse; his cock throbbed over the fuss.

“Fuck, sorry. I was in there for too long. I feel like shit.” Jean sniffled, sounding suddenly much rougher than any of them had expected him to. Harry ventured a glance at him in the rear-view mirror, really wishing he hadn’t when he took in the sight of his twitchy pink nose and equally pink, watery eyes. He was a picture of allergic misery. Harry scrunched his eyes shut as his cock gave an enthusiastic throb. When he opened them and glanced sidelong at Kim, Kim was peering right back at him. The second they made eye contact, the Lieutenant’s gaze flicked away, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. Bastard.

“Don’t apologise – you can’t help it.” Judit started. “I think we were all in there too long. Our uniforms are probably setting you off right now.”

Jean wasn’t able to respond, at least in words, because he’d started sneezing again. Harry felt giddy with arousal. It had been ages since he’d heard Jean sneeze like this – even when his hayfever was awful, he had prescription-strength antihistamines to ease the reaction. With nothing at all, he was a wreck.

“-DDtsh’u-NTt’shu-HGxtt!! HaHH’GXT’TShhuu-!! Fuck…”

All three of them blessed him again, Harry hoping at the very least Judit couldn’t make out the breathlessness in his voice. Only ten minutes until they were back at the precinct and Harry could fuck his own fist in one of several men’s bathrooms.

~~~~~

In the end, Judit had volunteered to drive Jean home. He was so allergic that it didn’t take much to convince him to take the rest of the day off; he was exhausted and completely disinterested in continuing to sneeze his brains out on display for the rest of the unit. Harry and Kim had gone to shower and change into spare clothes, realising they had become nose-blind to just how much they stank of perfume. It was enough that some of their fellow officers had actually recoiled, which Harry found entirely over dramatic given how many dead bodies they dealt with on the regular.

Harry ended up jerking off in the shower stall right next to Kim’s. It had been entirely too much, watching Jean’s head bob forward so helplessly, the perpetual agony of the tickle in his nose worn plainly across his face. Before she had left, Judit also sneezed, several feminine “Hahdt’Tsch’iew!”s that seemed to shock her and went straight to Harry’s interested dick. The final straw, however, was the unrepressed double that Kim let out beside him, right as Harry felt his orgasm starting to crest.

“Huhp’TISHHH’Ieww!! Hh-! HaHPT’TZSSsshh!!”

He groaned far more loudly than he had intended to. His cock pulsed in his hand, waves of pleasure flowing through him as he was mercilessly tipped over the edge. Sighing in relief, he fucked gently into his fist as he continued to streak the wall with the result of his orgasm. Kim’s shower turned off with an abrupt screech of the handle.

“I’ll see you shortly, Lieutenant-Yefreitor.”

Hearing the amused edge to Kim’s voice, Harry knew without a doubt that he had made himself sneeze on purpose. His cock twitched happily with a final tremor.

~~~~~~

Harry really thought he had escaped the Perfumery entirely unscathed – the shower and changing of clothes was more of a courtesy for everyone else. It soon became apparent, however, that rather than him having no reaction at all, it had merely been delayed.

“…IIIIESSSSSHHHhhtttt!!!”

He barrelled forward with it, raising an elbow a second too late and dappling the paperwork he was completing with moisture. He snuffled miserably, squeezing his itchy, red eyes shut. Even with the antihistamines Judit had brought him, courtesy of Gottlieb (Harry’s regular supply of store-bought antihistamines pilfered from Jean’s emergency stash gone, he was irritated to discover), he was getting little to no relief.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. The sneezes weren’t rapid, nor nonstop. But what they were was a tease. They would come and go, hitching his breath with a promising tickle before leaving him hanging, sinuses prickling. He’d been working on that most recent sneeze for well over ten minutes, which made it all the more embarrassing he’d been unable to cover.

The rest of the unit were giving him a predictably wide berth, but it didn’t stop the joking. That wasn’t all too much of an issue for Harry. Even this prolonged, slow-motion sneeze attack was bearable. What wasn’t was the sympathetic sneezes he kept triggering in Kim – a quirk he should have gotten used to by now but wasn’t sure he ever would.

He glanced over at Kim’s desk in time to see him sneezing into his wrist, pen barely pausing as he worked through the convulsions – only just audible, yet deliciously desperate to Harry’s keen ears.

“Hh’Ggkt’shu! Ngxt’shh! Hh’Nndt’shoo!! Ouf…”

Harry sniffled again, repressing the urge to cough as his inflamed sinuses prickled anew. Stupid Kim and his sexy sneezes and god-tier ability to ignore everything else in the pursuit of immaculate administrative duties. He hissed a little as squirming in his seat pressed the too-tight fabric around his crotch into his balls, hot and heavy and now incredibly strangled. With a resigned sigh, he leaned his forehead on crossed arms and closed his eyes.

~~~~~

“-Lieutenant. Harry?”

Harry lifted his head, consciousness returning to him after his entirely unintended nap, and saw Judit hovering over him with a kind, concerned expression. He barely had a moment to take in the fact that he had been drooling in his sleep when the bastard tickle had him gasping in preparation for another sneeze.

“HAAAH’GKXXTtt!!”

Oh, that had been close. Twisting to the side and biting down hard, last minute, had prevented him from sneezing all over her. She’d foreseen it, of course, and he needn’t have bothered with such a degree of contortion, but he was relieved nonetheless. Less relieved to discover that he was still sneezing even after waking up.

“Sorry, Minot. Do you need me?”

She shook her head and smiled softly at him, looking away politely as he started to scrub at his nose a little too enthusiastically with his handkerchief.

“Lieutenant Kitsuragi asked me to wake you and tell you he will be escorting you home.”

“Oh? But my paperw-“

Harry blinked. His files were gone, and his desk had been organised.

“Did Kim do this?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Judit said, starting to walk away.

“Damn,” Harry muttered, shucking on his jacket and rising on stiff knees.

“It’s been a long day, Lieutenant. Lieutenant Kitsuragi is waiting for you in the garage, he said. See you tomorrow – feel better soon!” She called over her shoulder, gradually receding in what looked like quite a rush – which made perfect sense after he’d  glanced sheepishly at the wall-affixed clock.

~~~~~

“…HHUHHHRESSSSSHHHhhh!!! Ugh, finally.”

Harry deflated after sneezing openly, enthusiastically into the air in front of him, sinking back into his couch cushions in relief. He idly rubbed his itchy, pinkened nostrils back and forth, grateful to be in his shitty apartment and away from judgemental coworkers.

“À tes souhaits.”

He heard Kim call from the kitchen. He listened intently for the sneezes that were sure to follow his own, disappointed only to catch the sigh that followed them.

“I hate when you hold them back in private.” Harry mumbled.

Kim laughed, walking into the living room with two mugs.

“You have no right to be making demands of me, not today.” He said, a cheeky smile crossing his face. He placed the mugs on a scruffy coffee table and sat next to Harry, reaching out to push a stray hair back from his forehead.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, cupping Harry’s cheek in his hand. Harry loved when Kim did that; it made him feel delicate and tiny in an entirely nice way.

“Fine. Itchy.” He said plainly, leaning into the touch. “Thank you, again, for doing all that. You’re an angel. Angel cop.” He murmured.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind a little writing.”

“Nerd.”

Kim grinned at him.

“Drink your tea.” He commanded, pulling away from Harry to reach for his own.

Harry was half-started reaching forward when another sneeze started to build. He paused and allowed himself to lean into it, irritated, semi-vocal snatches of air drawn out of him as he urged the tickle to culminate. He was sick of them taking so long. He just wanted the relief that only a huge, dramatic explosion would provide – if only for another 5 minutes or so.

He'd been so focused on sniffling and hitching his way through his build-up that he was startled by a sudden pressure under his nostrils. He opened his eyes as wide as he could – which wasn’t very, as he hovered right on the precipice of a sneeze – and took in the sight of Kim pressing an outstretched finger under his nose.

“K’hiim, what…?” He managed, breath wavering as the tickle lingered but did not swell, effectively wrangled into submission by the pressure on his philtrum.

“Don’t sneeze, detective. You need to learn some self-control.”

Harry blinked at him, unsure of whether to be affronted or aroused. Arousal always won with Kim, though, god damn him. Harry felt his cock twitch with renewed interest, shivering under Kim’s domineering gaze.

“But it ti’h!! Ti’hiiih’ckles-!”

“You can do it.” Kim stated, applying more pressure to Harry’s philtrum, barely even flinching as a droplet of clear mess rolled out of one nostril and onto his finger.

Harry was surprised when he managed, after several more dangerously close build-ups, to hold back the sneeze entirely. He exhaled in a near orgasmic sigh, glancing over at Kim under heavily lidded eyes. Kim removed his finger, wiping it on Harry’s shirt.

“Good man. Keep that up.” He said, reaching for his tea again.

Harry tried to – he really, honestly did. The absence of Kim’s finger and a poorly timed sniffle, however, meant he was bristling again almost immediately, the tickle so overwhelming he gasped hard enough that both he and Kim jumped at the sound. Immediately Kim was back in position, pressing his finger down hard and peering at Harry’s twisting pre-sneeze expression. This time he straddled his lap, and Harry reached out instinctively to grip his waist.

“What did I just say, Officer? Are you so eager to disobey me?”

Harry wanted to shake his head in dissent, wanted to hold back so badly, but it just tickled so much that even the pressure under his nose was useless. He couldn’t so much as utter a perfunctory warning before his helplessly crumpled features cinched tight, nostrils flared wide, and he sneezed all over himself and Kim.

“HAHH’EEEISHHHHHHhhh!! HIGGSHHUUUUuu!!!”

They felt incredible, great big spraying affairs, even more relieving having been fought back and denied. A pleasant wave of satisfaction washed over Harry in the aftermath, and his head fell back against the cushions, eyes closed in blissful surrender.

His eyes shot open as he felt Kim securely gripping his chin, squeezing fingers drenched with the result of those sneezes. He shuddered in anticipation, having a split second to take in Kim’s desperately cinching expression, cock lurching as he prepared for the inevitable. His eyes closed reflexively when Kim sneezed, unrestrained, spraying his face and neck thrice with delicate clouds of aerosol.

“Hupt’TISHHH’Uuu!! AhDD’TZzshieww!! Hh-! IhKG’TSCHHTtt!! Ohh.”

Harry blinked his eyes open, watching in giddy adoration as Kim used his free hand to rub at his nose, twitching nostrils squished side to side, audibly damp. He released Harry, slumping backwards and sitting on top of Harry’s lap, applying an unbelievably tantalising pressure that had Harry gasping softly and rutting against him.

“Well,” said Kim, shrugging as Harry looked expectantly at him. “It was worth a try.”

Harry lunged at him, drinking in Kim’s satisfied sigh as he pressed him back onto the couch. He figured now was as good a time as any to thank him for the paperwork.

[utilitycaster]

I was vaguely hopeful the book would address some problems I had with Laudna, but it sounds like it will not - does this book at least address why Laudna had little to no interest in getting rid of Delilah (or why it took so long for her to even engage with her in campaign?)

ok so I'm trying to write meta but I think it's got to cook, and I also need to clean my actual real-life kitchen, so I'm just going to give you a relatively quick and dirty rundown but short answer: genuinely this book detracts from the campaign. Laudna is a better character if you make up a backstory consistent with the canon of Campaign 3 than if you read this book. The stuff that Marisha probably came up with on the spot for her in episode 76-77? literally better than this entire book, Meghan Thee Paladin be damned, and uh, not to give it away but that doesn't show up in the book at all, in a direct conflict, because it's extremely apparent that literally there wasn't enough pre-planned backstory to write a decent book about.

Matilda Bradbury is in Whitestone; there are rumors about the Briarwoods but life seems kind of fine if a little austere. Her family gets invited to the fateful dinner; Delilah basically tells Matilda that her magic is mid and she'll never amount to anyone noble or fancy. During dinner, her parents are taken away, and then she is called to see a project her father helped the Briarwoods with. Surprise! It's dismemberment. Her father's body was used to help make Grog. Matilda starts screaming. Delilah rather weirdly has her beaten to death instead of like, cutting her throat or something efficient.

She wakes up in a pile of corpses. This is the part that was the preview so you can read it. Real talk I read it while in the endless line to get into the parking structures at Merriweather Post Pavilion to see Mitski and was like oh ok time to let go of my expectations now, I see how it is. This is however the most florid portion and the rest is usually if not more tolerable (see the clumsiness of register-switching - Khaw captures Laudna and Delilah's voices ok, and that of the girl Laudna befriends later, but everything else is a real crapshoot) at least less needlessly dense.

She can't really talk and doesn't remember anything due to suppressing it, which makes sense, and kind of wanders the countryside as a feral being for a year, which also makes sense. After about a year, Delilah shows up but doesn't introduce herself and simply is a voice in her head that tells her what to do sometimes, which Laudna sometimes listens to and sometimes ignores. She is in a sort of childlike state and makes Pate during this time. She watches a bunch of people and is lonely and tries to approach them, but due to the corpse-like nature and the fact that she doesn't fucking know how to act (making a cow doll with real teeth), people are understandably weirded out, and while she does do good deeds (laundry and similar) she does so anonymously in hiding. She encounters Meghan Thee Paladin (Exemplar) and hero-worships her from afar until Meghan finds her and is like there is a darkness within you, I will not hurt you now, but you must leave or die. She develops a parasocial relationship with an elderly half-orc woman who thinks she's a weird forest spirit and leaves out food; when the woman dies, Laudna buries her and then starts to go through her things but is chased out by the woman's relatives who realized she was dead when Laudna let the sheep go. All of this is like, fine, story-wise. Delilah is mostly frustrated with her for not listening and being a weird child, essentially. We're around 40% through the book btw.

She continues this stuff over the course of two decades, finding abandoned places, leaving when chased out, etc etc. Finally, she reaches Kymal. This is by far the most poorly written, stupid part of the book; unfortunately it's another 40% of the book. Basically, there's a foreman who is abusing women. This is fine as a setup but it turns into, essentially, a bad retelling of the Triangle Shirtwaist factory ft real-world early 20th century sexism in a world that's never had that. But I'm getting ahead of myself. One woman, Sybil, specifically gets attacked, takes out the foreman's eye, he starts to have people beat her to death, and Laudna rushes to her defense but also, through Delilah, is in a form of dread or similar, and infects her with possibly vampirism(?) in saving her. The other women are like "thanks, but also you are a horrible nightmare" and Laudna goes back to her hovel on the edge of town. However, urging from Delilah and her own sense of wanting to help and to connect with people lead her back into town. She meets with an older woman with hedge witch vibes named Miriam, and also meets Sybil's younger sister, Bella, who is 11. Miriam has her fucking head on straight, even if the register-switching reaches a nadir with her voice, and is like ok you do need to take responsibility for your actions, please leave, even though I'm glad you helped Sybil after also hurting her. Bella is enamored with Laudna, however.

We're still in Kymal I just felt it was time for a new bullet point. Laudna goes to the bakery to get chocolate pastries for Sybil, in the clunkiest, most poorly written, weird, maudlin, garbage passage of the book. She then finds the dormitories for the factory on fire. Sybil survives, but Kymal's poorest quarter takes damage. Laudna is mad and Delilah seizes on this as an opportunity to turn her towards the business of vengeance. Laudna finds the foreman, who is recovering in an infirmary, and terrorizes him, then kills him even when it becomes clear he didn't set the fire. The fire also causes an influx of new people into Kymal to rebuild or take up work at the mines. Laudna sort of blends in, especially after she raids a damaged clothing store! However, Meghan shows up to help out and heal people and generally be helpful. Delilah's like YOU MUST GO, but Bella finds Laudna and is like "we are besties now."

Laudna is like oh hell yes I have a friend and doesn't leave. She also gets made as the person who caused Sybil to have whatever darkness she has within her, and has to hide in Miriam's house from Meghan; Miriam realizes Laudna is why Sybil is like this and is like "leave". Laudna leaves town and tells Bella, who leaves with her. Delilah is at first not into this plan and then is like actually, a cute if weird child will be useful to us. She leaves with Bella. During this, Laudna's history starts to float to the top of her mind a bit more; earlier, in Kymal, Bella had asked about her ears, which Laudna didn't remember much about. and while telling a story with Delilah's aid around the fire that turns out to be the story of the capture of Cassandra, she suddenly has a breakdown and remembers everything. She also turns into her form of dread and Bella flees, realizing she is who hurt Sybil. Also, she realizes who Delilah is and is big mad. She finds Bella, who is in serious danger in a flooding cavern, and helps her out, mending their relationship in the process and also fighting a dryad, which probably was meant to be symbolic but sort of wasn't very interesting. Anyway, Meghan finds Laudna as she's bringing Bella back and is like you have a darkness within you and you spread it to someone else, and also you kidnapped this child. Laudna makes a poor argument against this, Bella vouches for her, and ultimately Bella goes back to Kymal with Meghan, with Laudna saying she'll come back one day if she can. We are like 80% of the way through the book.

Laudna flees to the Verdant Expanse and spends some time there, mostly being mad at Delilah, which is valid. Eventually, she realizes she needs to get further away and asks Delilah for help finding a port. They stow away to Marquet. On the ship, Delilah asks her to reassert the pact they made. Laudna does with pretty much no argument.

Laudna is doing ok in a city in Marquet for like 3 seconds before a Cobalt Soul researcher is like "hey you seem dead can you answer some of my questions of curiosity" and while he asks a bunch of questions, he does not attack her nor seem disgusted or hateful. Laudna promptly, in the funniest but also the most wtf moment, flees into the Rumedan desert for a decade. This is not elaborated upon other than that there are pink flowers there, and she is alone (and left alone).

Laudna makes her way to the edge of Gelvaan, and after she is found out and people try to drive her out, Imogen shows up and lightning bolts the shit out of them and they run off together.

The end. No, the two years of Laudna and Imogen together remain an utter mystery. No, there's nothing about Laudna apparently spending time in Whitestone Castle as a hollow one as described in episodes 77-78. While it DOES make sense why she doesn't get rid of Delilah for the first 20 years, she does straight up willingly make a pact on the ship DESPITE THINKING SHE COULD SURVIVE WITHOUT DELILAH.

[ryuichirou]

Since you have some headcanons on fem Floyd/Riddle, do you have any other genderswap ship headcanons for say Rook/Vil, Ace/Deuce and Idia/Azul? Sorry if that’s a bit too much

Anon, thank you for this ask! I’m always happy for the opportunity to talk about them, so I was actually excited to write this reply lol Since there are three ships there, it ended up being a bit lengthy, but I hope you enjoy the headcanons.

Just like in the FloRid post, the majority of the headcanons are more or less sexual, because the general dynamic between the characters wouldn’t change much.

Ace/Deuce:

They are pretty much “these two girls who always mess around with each other and it’s obvious that there is some sexual tension between them but they can’t acknowledge it”… yeah, just like the regular Ace and Deuce lol But with more boob grabbing… Well, usually from Ace’s side. Deuce also grabbed Ace’s boob one or two times but only as a revenge, and felt super weird about it. In general, sometimes it feels like they just try to come up with excuses to touch each other.

Which means they are also “these two girls who secretly kiss each other and say it’s some kind of practice”. This was also Ace’s initiative: Deuce only agreed because she didn’t want Ace to think that she chickened out. Or maybe there were other reasons hmmm? But yeah, they “practice” kissing every night, sometimes with Ace telling Deuce to imagine that she’s kissing her future husband or something, but it kind of makes Deuce’s kisses more stiff and awkward, which Ace finds hilarious.

Their kissing sessions would definitely lead to them touching themselves under the same blanket first, and then to them just touching each other. And they’re really a bit dumb and honestly think that their roommates don’t know what they do… but in all fairness, they really try to be secretive about it. Sometimes they even bite each other not to make any sounds.

One night they had a whole room to themselves, and got so excited that wanted to try something other than touching each other sneakily under the blankets. In short, they tried to do the scissoring thing… and didn’t really do it right, couldn’t find the balance, long story short they ended up falling off the bed.

Like I mentioned in another post, both of them wear sports bras, but own other sets too. And there’s been a couple of times when Deuce had to wear a regular bra, and just couldn’t make the little hook thingy in the back work. So yeah Ace helps her to put it on sometimes.

Rook/Vil

Like I already said in another post, Vil (just like the regular Vil) wears whatever she wants, and Rook prefers something functional (albeit stylish), so it’s not unusual to see Vil in a beautiful dress accompanied by Rook in a pantsuit. But if they were to get married, both of them would probably wear suits.

Not necessarily a headcanon, but a thought: with these two being girlies, Vil forcing Rook to take care of her hands and fingernails makes even more sense lol The first time was kind of rough for them. It wasn’t bad at all, but Rook was never allowed to touch Vil with her hands unkempt anymore.

Rook is skilled enough and knows Vil’s body well enough to make her orgasm in less than a minute, but she also likes to take her time and torment Vil a little bit. She likes it when Vil is having a hard time keeping it together and is getting impatient. Vil, however, sometimes just needs Rook to grab her, make her cum and then be free to do whatever she was doing before that. So whenever they sneak out, and instead of hitting all the right buttons at once Rook starts to tease her through her underwear, Vil gives her this very angry yet aroused look that Rook adores.

They are one of the couples who know everything about their own preferences, but also experiment from time to time. The catalogue of positions they like is quite vast, mostly due to both of them being flexible + Rook being very inventive. These are also the reasons why these two have absolutely mastered the art of scissoring lol

Rook is also very skilled with her tongue, because Vil is kiiind of hard to please, so one has to learn and improve to be able to satisfy her. One of Rook’s most absolute favourite indicators that she’s doing a good job is the fact that she can feel her head and neck being squeezed by Vil’s merciless thighs.

Azul/Idia

Azul is a bit of a touch-me-not: she likes being complimented on her looks, but is very uncomfortable with people touching her. Which is why Idia is a perfect partner for her: Idia is a bit intimidated by Azul’s natural sex appeal, so she never touches her and just lies on her back and accepts her fate.

That being said, sometimes Idia is allowed to rest her head on Azul’s lap. “No no, I’m good” Idia says at first, because this position is way too romantic and awkward, but then Azul forces her down and Idia just drowns in just how comfy Azul’s thighs are and how sweetly her perfume smells… if only Azul stopped squeezing her shoulder so hard to keep her down…

Sometimes they have sex a couple of times per day, sometimes they don’t have sex for a long period of time, and it’s because of Azul. She is a mermaid and doesn’t get human periods, but she must have some sort of cycle going on, because in general it’s like she doesn’t think about sex at all. Sometimes Idia looks at her and thinks “I wonder if Azul-shi knows how sexual this pose/gesture is”, and chances are, she doesn’t, because she’s too busy thinking about the lounge. But the next day Azul suddenly gets into the mood, tosses Idia, mounts her, kisses her, almost purring like a cat.

Azul (wo)manhandles Idia a lot in general. She tosses her, moves her around, throws Idia’s legs on her shoulders and stuff. Idia finds it both way too intense (not a bad thing lol) and a bit funny, because Azul tries so hard to look like a lady, but her actions are almost like of a hentai manga mob. Azul doesn’t fully understand what Idia means, but slaps her butt for that. It sounds offensive.

Azul is scarily good at cunnilingus for someone who doesn’t have much experience with sex. Or maybe it’s only good for Idia because she likes it when it’s strong and intense?? In any way, it doesn’t happen too often, but when it does, Idia isn’t sure if she is going to die faster because she’s overwhelmed or because she’s embarrassed.

[fryktheciller]

with you, though

anderperry + charlie being a slut

summary: neil freaking out at the flower shop

Wind through the hair, sunlight on the face, and sunglasses sitting proudly on the nose—that’s definitely not Neil, at least not now. That's, most definitely, Charlie Dalton, driving a car that wasn't his, without a license, and with Knox's clothes. He's so cunty one might actually think he owns both the car and the clothes and has the right to drive. 

Neil’s poor soul is tortured and has been for quite a while. He had asked Todd out, and the interaction went a little like this:

–Todd, listen… would you like...i mean, if you want to of course, to hang out- I mean, go out? Next...next week, perhaps? After the latin test?

The blonde blushed at the request and the eloquence it was made with. He replies in one breath and with anxiety:

–Yes, I mean... It would be great. Saturday's good. Sure

Neil noticed, other than the embarrassment the roommate replied with, a glint in his eyes, bright and sparkling, perhaps even more than the light that was kissing his face and brown locks. That light—that's what tortures him ever so sweetly; it has bewitched him completely. 

With Charlie, he had to get flowers—not really because he wanted to, but rather because of Charlie himself, who claims to know everything about dating. They get out of the car (alive and well, against every expectation) and get into the tiny little flower shop, filled with bright and intense-smelling blooms.

 –Whatcha getting him?

–Have no clue, honestly.

–Now that's the spirit!– and Dalton smiles, patting Neil on the shoulder. –I'll be over there with the short brunette; call me if you need anything. 

Perry nods, without even listening, and watches him leave. He had thought about everything but the flowers and blames himself for that, partially because he doesn't have a clue about what flowers Todd likes and because he doesn't really know if he wants flowers in the first place.

He starts wandering slowly between the big, black buckets filled with seasonal blossoms. Pretty much everything blooms in that period; if there were fewer flowers, it could have been easier, Neil swore. 

Asking Charlie isn't an option. "He'll make me get some roses and end it there. I adore Charlie, but for pity's sake.” He thinks, reading the Latin names written on some wooden signs inside the buckets. 

“Which nouns were irregular? Uuh… mater, matris; pater patris, and then what? The flowers, god."

Some wild roses had something mischievous in the way they stood proud, with open petals and straight stems. “It's a Goethe reference, you silly!” they looked like they were saying.

Neil falls for that a little and bends down to look at them better: florid yet so young, sweet and wild, and a rosy color that was so elegant and bright at the same time. 

“Like when he comes out of the shower and into the room, all flushed with wet hair,” and blames himself for thinking such things in a public place.

He gets up and walks away, over to a table filled with green and smaller buckets. There were tulips, standing like they were about to wither, even though sunlight was over them entirely. 

“Tulipa sylvestris… Tulipa is from the first declination; Sylvestris is from... Sylvester, perhaps?

Did he write something about them? Did I read something? 

No, no, no, he said his mother loved them.” 

And he moves on, walking over to the hyacinths, the purple ones. They stood proud, almost stern, in the shadow. 

“They mean joy... or I’m proud of you? Don't remember.It would be cute, though; I give him the flowers and go, “I got these for you because I'm proud of you,”” and he smiles stupidly, like only a fool who’s in love does.

He sees clearly now. Looks over at Charlie, who turns around and flashes one of his iconic grins. “I love Charlie; like, look at him” and smiles again.

He moves on, now with an actual idea in mind. 

“Philadelphus coronarius, both from the second declination. Oh, so pretty,” and smiles once again. “They look like orange blooms. That’s what that poem was about; where did he even see these?” and he looks at them, white and canid. Petals so thin they were almost transparent; the faintly colored pistil; the thin stems, somehow so resistant to hold 8 to even 12 buds of flowers; and then the leaves, so dark and intense, almost to compensate for the purity and innocence the petals transmitted. He moves his attention to Charlie’s coarse and vibrant laughter and the girl’s sweeter one. “He's taking her to bed tonight.”.

There was a tiny ant breaking the flower’s fairness, walking expertly between petals and blooms.

“He wanted to spend a summer in Greece or Italy; that’s what he told me. They have such a faint, bitter scent, too.” and he bent down, his gaze still following the ant. 

“The light in his eyes when he told me that...” and he smiled foolishly. 

A second later, he’s looking at a blondie, wrapping up a sprig of mock oranges and a couple of wild roses that begged him so much to choose them in a light brown paper. “How did Calvino’s story go? Je voyage en amour? Perhaps.” That’s not really his case: traveling for love, but he felt the same way. The blondie’s delicate hands were now tying a fine white lace around the small bouquet. 

Charlie reaches him, holding the flowers as Neil paid for them. Once done, he turns around and smiles faintly, to which Charlie replies with a much sweeter grin than usual. "Homosexuals,” he thought, with irony and fondness, as if he weren't bisexual himself. 

–Think he’ll like them?

–Of course, trust me. 

Neil smiles at him, a weird feeling in his stomach and dizziness seizing him again. He got in the car, followed by Charlie.

–The short brunette wanted to get to know you, told her you were taken.

Charlie blurts out with a chuckle; the other laughs heartily and smiles sarcastically, turning at him.

–Yes, Charlie. Thank you.

***

With a heavy breath and the hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, Todd wakes up abruptly and sits up on the bed. The room's dark, the air stale and hot. He takes off the light wool blanket from his knees and gets up, opening the tiny window and moving a thin curtain. April’s moonlight enters shyly into the room, lighting a messy bed with undone sheets and a perfect one: sheets tight and covers straight. 

“It was a dream; I was dreaming,” the blonde whispers to himself, in front of the window, all cold from the night's humidity. The knot in his throat tightens, his limbs are numb, and something like butterflies starts to move in his stomach. His eyes burn with tears that start to fall, hot and slowly, one by one, wetting the pajama shirt or making a slight plop on the wooden floor. 

–I did want to go to Italy or Greece. With you, though. 

The blonde goes back to bed, body heavy and mind numb. The thought of the next day’s classes makes it hard to breathe. His head hurts,his lips contort downwards, eyebrows furrowed and it hurts to keep that expression on; there’s nothing he can do anyway, tears steaming uglily and wetting the messy flannel sheets, his arms wrapped around his stomach, in a fetal position under the blanket, freezing and sweating at the same time, as the cool wind moved slightly the curtain. 

One second later, he’s awoken by the loud halls and the sun lighting up the room. His face is still sticky from the tears; a sense of tiredness in every inch of his body only made him want to cry more, but he’s just too tired of the swamp of pain he’s been in for almost 6 months. Images of spring are still running through his mind, as if nothing happened: long afternoons spent studying in the sunlight and coming back into the dorm rooms when the sun starts peaking.

Spring is when everything is reborn—everything, but Todd.

notes: hi!! i want to start by apologizing, i have no right to write such outrageous things; with that being said, this has been sitting in a corner of my google docs page for like months, and after editing for weeks it still feels really off but i cant tell if its just me or the whole idea is completely mad ok

[meatball-headache]

Hrm... we haven't heard from Tagashrokat in a while, have we? Or... was it, Tagashkarot? You know, the weird guy going on about algebra all the time, sucks at Scrabble, went all the way to Qud to get a walking stick even though we have a perfectly good stilt factory just a few parasangs away, and you could probably repurpose one of those into a walking stick? He kept sending letters "home" to the ink mines, which no one wanted to read, but old habits die hard and since we wanted to harvest the ink from the pages, we accidentally read them in the process. Something about being chased by an evil twin, and then going to Bey Lah but exploring some caves first?

Anyway, we want to watch Ace of Cards Presents: Billaventura Presents: The Domino Majesty 6000 Cavalcade tonight, but we can't find the remote. He had it last, and we think he might've left it in his jacket pocket, so someone's gotta go to Qud and find it. And, I guess, check up on Tag.

—

So, this is Nid Yimum. He was found in an egg carton amongst some other eggs, but when he didn't scramble like the rest, he was donated to the ink mines, where he shirked more than worked and thus developed heightened hearing, so as to know when the boss is coming and where to hide, which is easy to do, since he's got phasing as well, and, just to round things out, night vision. Since Tag hasn't been heard of since he ran off into the desert alone, Nid here is gonna take a look around. He's made it all the way to the village of Tarqammu and... hey, didn't Tag mention some legendary pilgrim in yellow? Maybe this is the guy, perhaps he can give us directions...

On another note: yes I did find a mod that changes Hooks For Feet into hooves/flippers/other things. So I made a character with hooves, spiral horn, thick fur, electrical discharge... yeah. Yeah, I just made Wicked Thunder, and she's awesome :)

My new New Year's Resolution is to beat this game. I'm trying not to look at wikis—though I did peek at how penetration rolls work, because I couldn't figure out why my 1d4 weapon kept doing like 16 damage—or Youtubes or anything. I want to be blind, ignorant, and stupid. There's obviously lots of RNG to the lore, but there's also obviously a thread of a real story. The writing in the characters' dialogue as well as the item descriptions is preposterously florid and excessive, and I love it so much. There's secrets and mysteries here, and I don't want to just read the last page—hell, I don't even want to read the next page, I want to drag it out and really savor it... It's gonna be a long ride, but like I always say: I'm not here for a good time, I'm here for a long time :P

Good luck, Nid Yimum! I got a hunch that you're gonna need it...

[leliosinking]

Hot take I guess but the fandom was way too hard on this book (and still is tbh) and for what? Because it isn’t interested in fan service? If anything Anne’s writing was at its best when she ignored what fans wanted, and I think it’s time for a reevaluation of my boy Vittorio the Vampire.

I just think this was such a promising start to New Tales (more than Pandora, even) and I sort of hate all of you for boycotting it or telling new readers to skip it. (as far as i’m concerned TVA, Merrick, B&G, BF and BC are all unofficially New Tales anyway.. TVL-MtD are the only proper vampire chronicles, everything else falls into different categories, but I digress).

With regard to Vittorio, however, we were given a true blue Ricean vampire hunter novel (the only one mind you) with an actual, functioning plot and some of the best action she’s written since TVL… and you all shunned it. And I get it, we don’t read these books for conventional, commercial plot contrivances, but for the florid language and richly crafted characters; but this is the rare Anne Rice novel that’s just.. fun for the sake of fun?

And no, I’m not blind to its problems. It absolutely needed another draft or two (as do a lot of the later VC entires) and no, Vittorio is not her strongest protagonist by leagues. But what we got was still filled to the brim with good ideas?

The Court of the Ruby Grail cult, especially, is one my favorite of Anne’s inventions. Like their dynamic with the local human villages feeding them their castoffs was legitimately disturbing and IMO better executed than most of the times she retreaded the Children of Darkness post-TVL.

And while Vittorio the character might be kind of boring, Florian and Ursula carry this novel and deserved to enter the larger narrative tapestry on their strengths alone but “waaah Lestat and co. aren’t here” so “it’s bad” or whatever.. I really can’t stand some of y’all.

Anyway, this is long enough and I really didn’t set out to write an essay in defense of what is ultimately a mid-tier entry into this series. But. I still feel that much in the way that MtD and Blackwood Farm have been recently reassessed as good novels that happen to be bad VC entires I think it’s time for some of you to similarly reevaluate Vittorio the Vampire, because this is a good vampire novel, it just isn’t a good vampire chronicle (well I think it is and yet and yet and yet). But it’s still part of the series and it does fit into the larger picture despite what some will have you believe.

If this is your first time, I personally like to read VTV between Body Thief and Memnoch. I think it is better thematically situated there than between TVA and Merrick as initially published. The archangels that enter later in the story build nicely upon David’s vision of God and Satan in TTOTBT and make for a strong intermission full of angels and demons that assist in setting up the Dantean finale of MtD. (I have more suggested reading orders btw, some other time perhaps).

I dunno.. if you like this book please let me know lol like I could use the solidarity because I feel like I’m the only one (I have it ranked #6 out of 15). But yeah, I think Vittorio is probably the most underrated and most unfairly slandered entry in Anne’s entire catalogue if I’m being completely honest.

[revasserium]

Hi! It's me, I'm the problem Jazz again 🤣

Ikemen Prince ask for either Leon or Silvio with prompt number 88 please 🙏 ♥️

send me a number and a character :)

priceless (88. This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.)

silvio; 1,374 words, fluff and... fluff LOL this is only tangentially inspired by the prompt u__u whoops

01.

when you break his heart the first time, he doesn’t really know it’s real. he presses the lips of a dozen priceless wine bottles to his mouth and imagines every one to be yours — he drinks until the world is spinning, the way it spun when he asked you to dance for the very first time.

he gets drunk on the sound of your remembered laughter.

he makes a mess of the sheets, of his silk-lined robes, of all the richest furs in the corners of his closet — he falls asleep wishing that this were all but a dream.

he wakes up and has to deal with the realization that it is not all just a dream and that for the first time in his life, this isn’t something he can buy his way out of because what is the price of heartbreak? the tag on the pieces of a shattered wish — he screams into every single pillow he owns and falls asleep at noon.

02.

the second time you break his heart, he catches your arm before you can leave.

“what d’you want?” he asks, desperate and imploring, with a shudder in his voice that he’s never truly heard there before but —

you shake your head.

“i — i don’t want anything from you.”

he feels his fingers slip from around your wrist as you purse your lips and stumble back half a step. but that’s all he needs. he’s needlessly reminded of a story he’s heard a long, long time ago — about a genie and a girl who accidentally summons him. about the genie who asked the girl what she wished for and she told him she didn’t. the genie stayed with that girl for years and years and years, and in the beginning, whenever she asked him to do anything, he’d ask if that was her wish but she’d shake her head no. she’d tell him that he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to.

and yet somehow, he always found that he wanted to.

silvio wonders what he really wants, and the answer comes — clear and quiet as a winter stream —

he wants… you.

03.

the third time, he thinks he can get used to this.

04.

the fourth time, he’s ready for it —

“no,” you say, shaking your head, frowning at something he’s demanded of you.

“alright then,” he says, shrugging.

you blink, watching him as he turns away. watching him as he takes three steps away from you before you reach for him, tugging him back by the sleeve.

“what — that’s it? you’re… not gonna force me?”

he chuckles, “what’s the point if you’re just gonna snark at me? and anyway — i’ve got proper maids for this kind of stuff.”

“fine then,” you say, petulant, your voice sharp in a way that makes his lips twitch.

he grins, cocking his head as he watches the color wash up into your cheeks.

“fine,” he parrots back, his own voice painfully sweet and just as smug. he revels in the way your eyes flash, the way your fingers curl into fists at your side as he turns away.

so it really does take two to tango.

05.

“y’know, a million girls would kill to be in your place right now.”

“then why aren’t they?”

“hm? why aren’t they what?”

“why aren’t they here, in my place?”

silvio licks his lips, tasting salt and heat and the midnight air.

“cause… i didn’t really take to any of ‘em.”

you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“and you just so happened to take… to me. why?”

silvio shrugs, “you’re beautiful.”

“bullshit — there are plenty of girls out there prettier than me.”

“prettier, yeah. but more beautiful? no.”

your breath catches in your chest — hook, line, and sinker. you feel the tug in the base of your belly, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“w-what? that… that doesn’t make any sense.”

silvio only laughs, casting his eyes back out at the florid lushness of his palace gardens, teaming with the world’s rarest flowers — the night blooming cereus, the elusive ghost orchids, the fire lilies, and his prized juliet rose bushes. he leans over the thick railing to tug one from it’s bed of thorns, pressing it to his nose and taking a deep breath.

“it took my best gardener 12 years to cultivate one o’ these,” he says, twirling the peach-colored flower between his fingers.

“wow,” you say, eyeing the small, unassuming bloom, “that’s… a long time.”

“yeah, sure. but the gardener was rewarded pretty damn well for his work.”

at this, you heave another sigh, leaning up against the stone banisters.

“and i’m sure that’s the only reason he worked as hard as he did, right?”

silvio traces a finger along the edge of a velvet petal, admiring the fractal-like formation of the flower’s center.

“yeah… i’m sure it is.”

06.

the sixth time you reject him, he almost laughs out loud. it really is fun pushing all your buttons after all.

07.

the seventh time, he curls his lips around the shape of your name and dares to ask why.

you tell him, “because… it’d be nice of you to ask instead of demand for a change.”

he shivers at the gentleness of your tone, at the feather-soft of your confession, the pink that kisses your cheeks like the rosy-fingered dawn.

“but… if i ask, there’s a chance you’re gonna say no.”

you laugh and roll your eyes, “i say no anyways.”

“so why bother askin’ when i know what your answer’s gonna be?”

“because… sometimes, if you give someone the choice to stay or to go — they’ll surprise you.”

08.

“can… can y’just… stay? please?”

“...okay.”

09.

“when’d you learn how to say please?”

you twist to face him in the silver light of an encroaching dawn.

silvio groans as he buries his face in the silken pillows, his hair a hallo of lingering moonlight.

“dunno — shuttup… it’s too damn early.”

you allow yourself a smile and snuggle in before drifting back off to sleep.

10.

“kiss me.”

silvio smirks, cocking his head, “no.”

you narrow your eyes, frowning even as he chuckles, his fingers tight around your waist as the pair of you spin in ever and ever faster circles to music only the two of you can hear.

“why not?”

“cause…” he bites back, laving his tongue luxuriously across the expanse of his bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth, “y’didn’t ask nicely.”

you fight down the urge to push him away but his grip on you is tight and true, strong and steady and… so very nearly sweet.

“fuck off.”

he grins a foxhole grin and you feel yourself sinking into it’s depths, deeper and deeper as he spins you beneath his arm and dips you low, low, low.

“nope — pretty sure y’didn’t ask there either. and… that ain’t proper language for a lady, now is it?”

you roll your eyes as he pulls you back up and the dance begins again.

“fine,” you bite out, sparing him a half-hearted glare, “can i please have a kiss?” you ground out the words, even as the heat crests up your chest and bubbles over into your cheeks, burning all the way to the tips of your ears.

“hm… now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

he leans in and you let your eyes flutter shut.

when he breaks the kiss, he is smiling.

“kiss me again,” he says.

you smirk, “what happened to asking nicely?”

“hn. don’t feel like it — too much trou—”

but you cut him off with another kiss, and briefly, silvio considers the merits of tugging away if only to tease you about the impropriety of interrupting a prince’s speech before he’s finished. and then the next moment, he decides that, really, he prefers just kissing you instead.

[chameleonspell]

HTDC commentary - 1: numb

[Looking back at HTDC after nearly ten years: comments on lore, character notes, influences, art, whatever. May contain spoilers for later chapters.]

chapter text: 1: numb

This chapter has had the most edits over time, as my writing skills increased, and I got ever more annoyed at the state of the opening, which ought not to be the worst writing in the fic, if I wanted anyone to stick around. It still needs work, but I was not made of infinite energy. I largely just tried to improve what was already there, rather than do what I really ought to have done, which is do some proper scene-setting. None of the early chapters have much in the way of description, especially of places. I was very much working on the principle that it was fanfic, and the whole point of fanfic was that I didn't need to do that. My assumed reader was intimately familiar with Seyda Neen, because my assumed reader was myself. I was absolutely writing only the bits I enjoyed writing, which was dialogue.

I'm still torn on the first paragraph, because in trying to make it more interesting, I mostly only succeeded in making it florid and purple. The reason I let it stand is because of a favourite excuse of mine for slightly ridiculous writing - it accurately reflects the mental state of the protagonist, i.e. tangled and confused. I will use this excuse again.

(See, maybe there's no description because Iriel's really out of it, and can't register anything! Bad writing is diegetic if the characters are having a bad time!)

Iriel was dragged

Not the exact wording of the original first-draft opening line, but I edited it in for symmetry, after I wrote the last words of the last chapter ("Iriel moved forwards").  Which was, according to an email I sent at the time, in June 2015, so less than three months after I wrote the first words? That seems crazy. I do remember writing a first draft of the ending chapter quite early on, but... that early? Gosh.

When I say I wrote the ending three months after the beginning, I mean that I ONLY wrote the ending. I then spent two more years, filling in the 198 chapters in between.

The contrasting significance of the beginning and ending lines was expanded from something Philip Pullman said about making sure the first and last words of His Dark Materials were both "Lyra", because it's her story, and she encompasses it.

the guard had seized the elf by his bony wrist

A running theme of Iriel's physical trauma triggers: grab him by the wrist and he's liable to shut down completely. A jail thing, of course - make sure the magic user can't cast spells.

His bare toes snagged between the planks of the jetty

Every time I read this, I flinch, and feel the exact sensation, because it is such a terrible, terrible sensation. I know I do worse things to Iriel later, but I might hate this one the most.

Oh gods. Come on, Ire.

Many people have told me they found they were pronouncing Iriel wrong, when they read him sound it phonetically in chapter 90: "Iriel. Eye-ree-el." I can see their point, but in that case, I want to know how they were pronouncing "Ire", the shortening he gives, right at the start! Which is an English word, pronounced like the Ire in Ireland, so I hoped that implied the pronunciation of Iriel

Regarding Iriel's name: I chose it because it was visually short, having a lot of long, thin letters in it, and I liked the symmetry of the capital I and the lower-case L at the end. The shortened version, Ire, is even more featherweight, barely more than a pronoun. This is a real boon for a protagonist name that's gonna turn up in almost every sentence - you can throw it in a lot, for clarity, and it doesn't look awkward. 

I think I found it in a name list on uesp.net, and I don't think it was specifically feminine-coded at the time? ESO was only just out, so I refuse to be blamed for things it added to canon, such as two female NPCs called Iriel. My personal headcanon is that it's a unisex Altmeri name and the first i is pronounced short when it's feminine, and long when it's masculine. In his not-strictly-canon tumblr bookclub with @quickchangeartist's OC Moraelyn, Iriel says of his name:

P.S. i rolled my eyes gently at your “dear little bird” bit, but did you actually know my name is avian-derived, or was that an adorable accident? an iriel is a very pretty but sadly extinct type of finch (I am less pretty, but also less dead, a condition with which i am (on good days) content.) My mother selected the name in order to make me more matrimoniably palatable to her bird-mad noble friend. So mercenary

Iriel’s eyes jittered from surface to surface. “I was in the hold! I didn’t see anything! I don’t know anything about boats! I mean, the sail’s clearly square-rigged, but a brig should have at least two masts, I really have no idea what you’d call it, I didn’t get a chance to examine, I… I was in the hold. I don’t know anything.

In draft one, all Ire said was that he didn't know anything about boats. Then I reread it later, when it had been established that Iriel's dad was a fisherman, Iriel knows how to sail a simple boat, has absorbed a fair amount of nautical terminology, and, in general, KNOWS ABOUT BOATS! Which, I have to warn you, from a writer's perspective, is a fucking terrible thing to have your character know about. The research is a nightmare. Never have a character know anything about boats!

Anyway, I decided it was much funnier if he reeled off a bunch of technical stuff about boats, while still claiming he didn't know anything about them, because... he's just that confused? His reflexive paranoid guilt makes him deny knowledge under questioning on general principle? He doesn't think of himself as someone who knows about boats, in comparison to his dad? Yes.

someone a head taller than he was

I forget at what point I established Iriel's precise height. He's 6'4", which is below average, for an Altmer, but tall for Morrowind, a shift of identity and perspective he never quite adjusts to.

“Oh. Well… my name is Iriel of Lillandril. Which is far too many Is and Ls in one name, and really, you’d think my parents would’ve known better. We Altmer use loconymics, as I’m sure you know, so–”

Again, I chose Lillandril more or less at random from the Summerset map, based on it having a lot of Is and Ls, which felt right, all tall and Altmery, and a little bit ridiculous. Say it three times fast and you're basically yodelling. Later, I established Lillandril as Fantasy Wales, accent-wise, which made it even better.

ESO might have since established something different with Altmer surnames, lore-wise, but I don't know or care. Loconymics (being named for the place you come from) seem the norm for Altmer in Morrowind, and I like that.

I made up "loconymic", though googling now, there are other uses. I probably should have used toponym, as loconym is a greek-latin mix, which is bad practice. But I wanted a word for "named after a place" where the meaning was easily inferrable, without knowing either Greek or Latin, and "locus" is more familiar from words like "location" than "topos" is. I was trying to keep my linguistic technobabble vaguely intelligible!

In the very first draft, Iriel claimed he was a foundling in this line mentioning his parents, which was my attempt to stick to the exact terms of the whole Morrowind "uncertain parentage" thing. But I very quickly retconned it, realising there was far more mileage in having Iriel know he was connected by blood to his parents, and all the Altmeri angst he has over that. Only the first of many, many in-game "facts" I decided to bend or outright contradict! But it took me a while to realise I was allowed to do that, now, that I didn't have to keep to canon, as long as everything hangs together. In this case, I justified it later, by saying that the Empire had recorded Iriel as having unknown parents, because that's what he told them when he was arrested, in a futile attempt to prevent his family finding out.

pale-gold Altmer face, amber eyes and soft brown hair.

I had read something that advised writers to give hot, fiery angry characters warm colouration, and cold, reserved characters cool colouration, and I thought that was stupid. Iriel's not exactly cold (just numb), but Altmer in general are seen as cold, especially in contrast to fire-themed Dunmer, and... anyway, I wanted a warm-toned Altmer, because why not? Amber eyes is pretty, but not extravagantly so. I didn't want him to be exceptional, in any way - he's someone who can easily vanish from sight and memory, after all. So, he gets the most "boring" hair colour, mouse brown, which I have a soft spot for.

@Sinilakki sent me a picture very soon after I posted this chapter, and I was delighted, because clearly my limited physical description had worked - it was perfect. My first ever picture of Iriel, and it's still one of my absolute favourites.

“You are male, aren’t you? Hard to tell with you elves.” Ire racked his addled brain for the sort of lacerating response he would have given to that, in better days, but failed miserably.

The first thing to produce an actual spark of defiance in Iriel, even if he doesn't manage to act on it. Ire's experiences of Imperials having offensive ideas about elven gender will reoccur, once he's in a fit state to lecture about it.

Ire squeaked, and shifted as best he could, stumbling towards the door and struggling with the handle until it finally obeyed him.

All this is so early Pratchett, isn't it? Rincewind, but younger and gayer. Make a wet, nervous wizard and give him problems.

previous: 0: intro next: 2: labels

[twistedminutia]

Are there any ships from Twisted Wonderland you like or dislike?

So, I’ll confess here, I’m not much of a shipper in Twisted Wonderland. I’ve read a couple of ship fics I think are cute, but I’m not very deep into shipping myself. But! I do have some ships I think are cute or don’t go as hard for:

Like

- I think EpelDeuce (also known as AppleJuice) is really cute! I dunno, seeing Deuce help out Epel was really nice, and I think they’d be cute together. Give me delinquents supporting delinquents!

- Jamizul is a ship I like mostly bc I think it’s funny. But I also think Jamil deserves to have a partner who can be as scheming as he can and also gives him freedom to explore himself. Azul and Jamil going traveling together seems like it would be pretty nice for them!

- Silidia, I guess? This one’s not a strong ship for me, but I like the idea of Idia having a massive crush on Silver. Idk if this would work out long-term, they’re very different people with very different lives, but I think they’d make cute first relationships for each other.

-This one’s so unpopular I don’t think it even has a ship name, but Sebek and Jack is cute to me for some reason? I just like the idea of two tsunderes falling for each other. Both of them REFUSE to admit they’re crushing but they’re together all the time. They train together. Do people see my vision???

- RookVil, maybe? I like this one all right. Epel’s got two dads now, and both of them are going to lecture him about his skincare (Rook’s like the cool dad though so Epel can go play in the garden after lunch as long as Vil doesn’t find out).

- RidTrey (is that the name? Idk) is also kind of sweet to me. I’m not super into it, but I like the idea of Riddle being a powerful lawyer whose husband runs a little bakery and always slips sweets into his lunch.

Dislike

- Unfortunately, I really don’t like FloRid. I know a lot of people ship it, and I can see where they’re coming from, but ‘one half of the ship constantly bothers the other half who actively does not like it’ is not a ship dynamic that appeals to me personally. I can read Floyd as having a weird crush on Riddle, but I just can’t read Riddle reciprocating in any way.

- LeoVil is, again, a ship where I can see where people are coming from, but it doesn’t do anything for me because I’m not a personal fan of the dynamic. ‘Couple who argues all the time and probably gets off on being mean to each other’ is just not a dynamic I personally find interesting. But I DO see where people are coming from, I’m just over here like, Godspeed you crazy kids, canon is feeding you today.

- Any ships involving a student and Lilia. Yes, even the adults and Lilia. Sorry, but this man is 600 and has a son, my personal opinion is that is he all but physically incapable of seeing anyone around Silver’s age as anything more than a little baby. (And I kinda headcanon him as aroace anyway, so.)

- In a similar vein, shipping Malleus with any of the Diasomnia boys. Lilia, obviously, that’s his fucking dad, but I also feel like Silver and Sebek are kind of his brothers, in a sense? Silver moreso than Sebek, but I feel like Malleus watching them grow up kinda kills off the romance vibes there.

Also, as a bonus, a couple romance headcanons about some of the characters:

- Epel has a massive, unrealized crush on Leona for a while. He’s just like ‘wow, Leona’s so cool! And beautiful! This is a normal platonic thing I am experiencing!’ Vil recognizes the crush pretty quick and immediately gets pissed off. ‘Out of all the people on campus, you have to admire HIM?’

-Riddle’s never been on a date, and has old-fashioned ideas of romance. Part of this is because his mother expects him to marry into one of several selected families, so he’s never considered dating. Post-overblot, he’s open to the possibility of dating, but also kind of overwhelmed by it.

-Sebek has a bit of a hero-worship crush on Malleus. It’s completely unreciprocated and neither person involved actually realizes it’s a crush. (Lilia knows, but he’s not telling.)

[callmearcturus]

DVD Commentary KTOWL Chapter Six, The Sex Scene

Pursuant to discussion of Ace People Writing Sex Scenes, I thought I'd do a DVD Commentary for one of my own sex scenes. This is the sex scene in so we don't kill the ones we love, chapter six, "The Black Keys 'Turn Blue' (2014) Side A"

Yes, that is the chapter title.

This is fairly dense scene with a lot of deliberate choices. If I pointed out every single one, we'd be here all day, but I'll point out a lot of things and talk about the things I think about when I write something like this.

[Let me set the scene a bit for people who might not have read so we don't kill the ones we love. This is a full setting AU detached from the canon material. Our principle characters here are Karkat (an alien immigrant who is basically an indentured servant stuck working for a hotel for assassins) and Dave (a human who is, unbeknownst to Karkat, stuck working for the same hotel for the rest of his natural life and cannot hope to escape his contract). 

I am going to explain stuff that might feel very obvious, but this is a learning exercise.]

Wisely keeping his mouth shut and accepting the mercy offered, Karkat followed Dave up into the loft.

There was, as he expected, a bed. It was however dismantled. The mattress was on the floor, shoved flush to the corner. The support structure was against the wall, and Dave had repurposed the wooden slats to hold his music albums. They were spaced and arranged in a way that was pleasing to the eyes, very deliberate.

Below them was the turntable, spinning a blue and pink vinyl.

[This is my favorite expedient trick to use when describing a space is to give the reader just enough context to build a space in their mind but, unless there is something truly important and relevant about placement, not handing the reader blueprints. 

I recently got into a snag with Punct about Benji's apartment in our AU because they had envisioned something completely different than I had for the space, and it did become plot-relevant. But outside special cases like that, I think less is more. Do just enough description, so that when you stop to do florid, expanded description, the audience notices. And isn't mentally tired by the time you get there.]

Karkat reached out and turned the volume dial down about a third, until the sound wasn't liable to give him a fucking migraine.

"Square," Dave accused, and dropped himself unceremoniously onto his bed.

"Better than prematurely fucking deaf."

Dave cupped a hand around his ear. "Sorry, what?" Dave asked loudly, then snickered. "So I was thinkin'."

[This patter is very naturalistic, the way that— when we talk to people online, we can often maintain multiple threads of conversation. If I send you a paragraph block about what I had for lunch, asking you where you got those shoes, and asking how your day went, that's very difficult to navigate verbally. Something is going to get pinned or dropped in favor of something else.

So I frequently and pointedly have my characters swerve like this, where Dave consciously takes the reins of the convo to prevent lingering on the joke. There is an agenda here, and he wants to keep things moving. 

It is also one of the MANY times in this scene and other sex scenes were its reinforced that Dave is the guy getting fucked but he is completely in control. I think "topping from the bottom" is reductive, so I just like to talk about who is controlling the encounter the most.]

Feeling overdressed, Karkat started taking off his shoes.

"I was thinking this time, you can probably introduce your prehensile dick to my—" He tipped his head to the side with a hum. "You know, I kind of dig 'nook.' Not the worse terminology available by far."

[I've written a lot of trans characters but Dave is my favorite. I don't personally think I am equipped to write a story about The Trans Experience, but I think about gender and about bodies and identity a lot, and I poured a lot of that into specifically Dave and Jake in this story. 

Dave does not dig the terms "cunt" and "pussy" nor any of the more clinical terms nor the more euphemistic options. Like many people, there just doesn't seem to be a good neutral option to his tastes. So meeting an alien with their own term, a term that by the nature of being alien completely lacks humanocentric baggage, finally gives him an out: "nook." He even uses "nook" in his personal narration, it's such a relief to have it.

I just did an Entire Work search, and the only occurrence of "pussy" is Jake using "Pussyfooting" which feels right.

Worth noting: I think Rose would use "cunt" under the right circumstances. Different characters have different levels of comfort with terms, and you shouldn't assume that Dave's take is the author's take, if that makes sense.

But that's a discussion about Close Third Person Perspective for later.]

"Along with 'magic button?'" Karkat asked.

"Eh, I guess 'clit' doesn't sound as stupid as the other one. But I was just trying to help you along, give you some indicative nomenclature, I know trolls are huge on that, and no joke I think it's a cool thing. It's like y'all are constantly havin' a brainfart and forgetting the words for things. Like, damn, what's that thing in my chest, it's a— a chest throbber, right?'

"Pump biscuit," Karkat said.

"Whatever. The fuck was I saying, I had a point." He watched Karkat take off his jacket and fold it, draping it over the edge of the loft. "Tentacle on nook action, let's do that."

"Oh." Karkat liked that idea. A lot. "I thought you didn't want to do that."

[Boom, immediate characterization point. Karkat is turned on by the idea of putting his bulge in Dave's nook, but he immediately sidelines the idea to check on Dave's comfort level. He has already done this before with Dave and thus has pieces of information about what Dave likes and where he's comfortable.

Karkat prioritizes physical comfort in sex and he will communicate shit, even if it taps the breaks on his own progress to getting an orgasm.

ON TOP OF THAT: This is a 252,409 word long epic and I'd estimate at least 200,000 of those words are about how people in this story don't tell the truth. Sometimes because they are lying, sometimes because the truth is painful, sometimes because they're too busy being charming to be upfront, sometimes because their truth is different than someone else's truth.

Act One is a lot about Karkat figuring out that everyone's perspective on the world is Very Different, so he overcommunicates. This is that.]

"That was the first time, now I've gotten a taste of that thang, and I wanna feel it all the way up in me."

Karkat pulled his shirt off over his head. "I feel like I'm missing some… really stupid human-centric cultural context here."

Dave smirked at him. "You kind of are? But… I sorta dig that too. I don't have to explain shit to you or— it's good, it's a bonus in your column, okay?" He sat up, arms hanging over his knees as he watched Karkat undress with absolute focus.

[See, here Dave literally confirms that Karkat is lacking information. Reinforcement of the themes, even in the patter leading up to sex.

Dave is Karkat's closest ally in the Umbra and even he will not give Karkat the full picture.]

Karkat got down to his briefs before realizing he'd just been on autopilot, stripping efficiently. Dave seemed to have no problem with this, taking in the sight and swaying to his music. Reaching over, he picked up another bottle of cider beer and took a big swallow, waggling his eyebrows at Karkat over the bottle.

Leaning down, Karkat stole it and lifted it to his our lips. He was fucking parched, and it was crisp across his tongue.

[Phy! Si! Cal! Ity! Karkat is from a background that makes him point A to point B in his movement, and sometimes he just falls into locomotive routines.

Dave's locomotive routine is to be constantly attuned to his surroundings and reacting to them. When he's working around the Umbra, his entire presentation changes to match the environment. When he's in his loft, he reverberates with the music.

Karkat's recurring motif in the story is being out of synch with the world. Dave is almost agonizingly in-synch with the world.

Also Karkat steals the sip of beer. It's an acceptance of the invitation Dave is giving him.]

"Rude as hell," Dave said, but allowed it nonetheless. "Come on, what happened to my show?"

Glaring at him did nothing, as Dave was immune. Still, Karkat dispensed with the last of his clothes.

The way Dave smiled and ducked his head was worth it. "I'd stick a dollar bill in your belt, but whoops."

[Oh, so, I love the fact that Karkat is canonically Fucking Hot in this story. This fic is written in Extremely Close Perspective Third Person, meaning it's a re-skin of First Person with "he" instead of "I". Karkat only notices things he would, only uses phrases and terms he would. If you read KTOWL, you will notice that his POV sounds different from Dirk's and from Rose's and from Dave's and from Jake's. 

The law of this specific perspective is that the audience should learn things that the character does not. Now there is a lot of Very Serious Examples of that in KTOWL, when you the reader should glean something even if Karkat does not.

But a cute jokey one is the Karkat Is Hot thing. Karkat does not know he's hot except that he has to navigate humans hitting on him all the time.

What I like about this is that you learn Karkat is hot from other people. Here, let's look at the next bit, it's related.]

"I don't get out of bed for a dollar anymore," Karkat groused, and lowered himself down to the mattress, knees landing and bouncing a bit. On a guess, Karkat curled a hand around Dave's bare ankle and dragged him closer, claws going for the snap of his cutoffs.

A flush of pink spread over him in three seconds flat. "Oh, shit, Karkat gettin' hands-on. Someone's learned a thing or two." He settled his arms behind his head. "If you're volunteering, have at."

[So I am very very very Weird about character description in fic. I wildly prefer to have a POV character noticing someone else than to have a POV character describe themselves to the audience.

So Karkat is very specific about the physical attributes he notices about himself. These do not overlap with what other people notice about him. As each person meets Karkat and remarks on him, the audience gets more information about Karkat's actual body, since Karkat doesn't… think about his body as much.

In comparison, Dirk and Dave both think about their own bodies more, but for very different reasons. 

Anyway, this moment shows us that Karkat has some fucking muscles and can easily move people.]

Karkat hadn't realized he was such a contrarian until he met Dave Strider, who said everything like it was a dare. It was impossible not to push back, to respond, even if Karkat knew it was exactly what Dave wanted. Glaring at Dave's flushed, smirking face, he unzipped the shorts and pulled them down, catching the boxers underneath with his claws to haul them off as well. It was worth it for Dave's little gasp.

Karkat was no longer sure his subvocal noises were being drowned out by the music. He could feel a bone-deep satisfaction humming through his bones. Giving into the greedy thing in his thorax, Karkat pushed his hands up under Dave's shirt, claws dragging lightly, palms firm against the soft give of human skin.

[Lets get into sexy stuff. 

I'm very specific about what characters like about sex. I am very ace, so the idea that people Just Like Sex is sort of odd to me. I guess it'd be like someone who enjoys running marathons. Sounds fake, what's the part of that you like?

For Karkat, he hones in species differences between himself and humans. He has a lot of trauma regarding being hunted by his own people and how his destiny was to be culled as a mutant who needed to die. So one of the many manifestations of that trauma is a curiosity and interest in human bodies.

He really really likes that Dave is soft. He hones in on the soft parts of Dave's body, since alternians don't have as many.

When you write a sex scene, I think it'd very powerful to have the POV focus on the points that the character would. This is how, as an ace person, you can lockpick the backdoor to understanding attraction. When you are deep in another person's POV, then you can make their attraction more tangible to you by knowing these anchor points.]

The hitch in Dave's breath only made Karkat want more, now. When he pulled, Dave lifted his arms, bending his head to help Karkat peel the shirt off him, leaving him in nothing but the bold stamp of his armband. The warm flush in Dave's skin deepened and spread down his chest. Karkat touched him there, cupping the softer flesh and squeezing.

"Um!" Dave said in a higher voice than Karkat had ever heard from him.

"What?" Karkat asked, his own voice lowering, his worried tone starting to fragment and hum with the chirring in his thorax. There was no way it wasn't obvious now.

[Even though we're not in Dave's POV, I also heighten the parts of Karkat I know he likes: the sonic.

This is also a tacit reminder to the audience that Karkat super isn't a human. I never want them to forget it, so I will keep his alien oddities present on a regular basis.]

"Nothing!" His ears were red, and he puffed out a breath. "Initiative, I like it. Great job." When Karkat remained still, concerned, he rolled his eyes. "I swear to god I'm fine, you just— surprised me."

"I can slow down—"

Dave dug his knees into Karkat's sides.

[Dave is in control of the scene.]

Fine. Easing in closer, Karkat rubbed his thumbs over the nipples and squeezed more firmly, kneading with his fingers, careful to keep the points of his claws from pressing too hard against soft skin.

["the nipples" makes me laugh every time.]

Dave's mouth opened into a little 'o', his body slumping against the bed, his throat working as he swallowed thickly. "'Kay. God, those are— are pretty sharp, huh?"

"I won't hurt you," Karkat told him.

A sound equidistant between a laugh and a moan answered him. "Good with your hands, Karkat?"

"I mean, you try growing up on a planet where it's real fucking useful to have knives on your hands." He dragged his clawtips down Dave's ribcage, stroking his sides.

"I like 'em." Dave pressed his head back, back arching a bit as he sighed, lazily enjoying being touched.

Karkat crawled further up onto the bed, trying to bite back his smile as Dave eagerly sat up with him. He hesitated, unsure what to do next.

[How do you show a person is aroused? How do you portray desire?

A lot of thinking, mostly. 

I think my sex scenes tend to buck some sequencing tropes (kissing then clothes off then prep then sex then clean up) and its because I think about blocking constantly.

I'm unsure if that's a well known term. I learned it in drama class in high school, when the teacher/director talked about how it's not enough to remember your lines and say them. You have to use body language just as much, and the 'script' of that language is "blocking." It's the direction people physically follow in a scene, where they are going to move and when, what marks they have to hit, etc.

When I have a scene outlined and ready, I think ENDLESSLY about the blocking. I think about it when I'm driving, when I'm on breaks at work, when I'm making dinner. Figuring out how the characters are going to show their intentions with their bodies takes much more time than writing dialogue. At some point in the craft of writing, dialogue became the easiest part. I can do that in minutes.

The rest of the direction is the bulk of the work.

This is why I watch Mission Impossible and scream "UGH, PHYSICALITY" because this is… how I learn. This is how I work that writing muscle, I just…. find someone in a film or whatever who moves in away that catches my attention, who is saying something with their body language, and I study that shit. And I put it here.]

Dave pressed his hand flat against Karkat's thorax, his teeth against his lower lip as the subvocals immediately strengthened, modulating into a drowsy wave of noise. "God, that's so fucking cool. Don't let this go to your head, but that's pretty sexy."

[Dave is in control of the scene.]

He looked up at Karkat through his lashes, smile playful.

Karkat really want to kiss him again.

Instead, Karkat pulled one of Dave's legs to the side, stroking the hairs there. "Dude, not against the grain," Dave laughed, and redirected Karkat's hand to stroke in the right direction.

"Humans are so fucking complicated and touchy," Karkat said.

"And yet you came here for your treat," Dave reminded him. His knees pressed against Karkat's side. "Oh, shit, this song rocks, hang on—"

The guitar got noticeably crunchier, the drum thudding dull and steady. It grabbed Dave's attention, away from Karkat, and heat flared in Karkat's body.

Grabbing Dave's wrists, Karkat pushed, falling with him until he had Dave held flat to the mattress, his grip around warm skin and the cool material of the armband.

Fever got me guilty, just go ahead and kill me, Karkat heard vividly as he braced over Dave, looking at his mouth.

Dave stared up at him for a second, then lifted his head, pressing his lips firmly to Karkat's, and Karkat just fell in. He kissed Dave's mouth open, tongue exploring those strange flat teeth, tasting boozy fruit. Dave's moan vibrated through Karkat's body as he squirmed under Karkat, hips rolling, working to line their bodies up.

[So right before this scene started, Karkat unthinkingly kissed Dave and got chided lightly for it.

Here, he thinks about doing it again, then another 160 words pass before it happens. I told you directly Karkat wants to kiss Dave and then I showed you how it happens.

There's that advice, "Show don't tell" and I think it's… situational. I am of the opinion that you need a balance of both. This is about tempo and expediency. When you just Tell the audience something, it can be impactful like a punch. 

Also, when you stop to Show, the audience will notice more. If you are only doing Show Show Show and never just Telling, I personally find that kind of narrative a little exhausting and I think it lacks snap. 

So, I tell you Karkat wants to kiss Dave, and then I try to paint the moment with details about the taste and the music and the vibration in hopes you'll pay more attention to those.

I want this moment to be their Big First. So it has details that they'll remember. All the way in Act Three, Karkat puts on The Black Keys' Turn Blue, and Dave literally identifies the opening song as "their song."]

Karkat's bone sheath had been taking its sweet fucking time getting with the program until then. It parted immediately, and his bulge felt up Dave's thighs, rubbing over his nook.

Laying there and making out for a while sounded like a great idea. Karkat carded a hand into Dave's soft hair, holding his head still as he mapped out his mouth and swallowed every little groan. In perfect counterpoint, Dave grabbed Karkat, blunt nails dragging through his hair to find the bed of one of his horns. Stroking the base of it brought a thick, curling pleasure surging up Karkat body.

[Another instance of them honing in on the anchor points of their attraction. Karkat's attraction to softness and being allowed to be gentle, Dave's attraction to Karkat's anatomy and (as a beloved friend once told me) the joy of being aliens to each other.]

Eventually, Dave broke the kiss, lips wet, parted as he breathed. He kissed Karkat's jaw, his cheek, his eyelashes dark against his skin, eyes closed.

He looked so good, it almost burned to stare down at him. It made Karkat's breath catch.

Dave seemed oblivious to Karkat having a fucking moment and knocked his legs into Karkat's sides. "Come on, party hardy, is that guest of honor ready?"

[Dave is in charge of the scene and is currently not at a point where he'll let it get too tender. He is in control.]

Karkat headbutt him gently. "Don't talk about my bulge like that."

"Why not, he's my new best friend," Dave said, snickering. Blinking his eyes open dreamily, he looked down, between their bodies, and wiggled his hips again. "It's like, what's the fuckin' word, autonomous?"

"Mostly." It was currently autonomously grinding loops through the coarse hair, painting translucent red streaks over Dave's skin.

"Well, can you ask Mr. Red Joy Toy to take this bit slow? It's been a while since— actually, fuck, better idea. Flip." Planting a hand on Karkat's shoulder, Dave shoved. Tipping over, Karkat let out an offended noise that Dave completely ignored as he swung himself over, straddling Karkat's hips.

[Dave is in control— you get it. There are constant signifiers.

Also you might note I didn't give a blow by blow on Karkat's bulge coming out. I have compared my sex scenes to other people's and one of my constant notes of concern is, frankly, my overuse of blocking.

I often worry that I am explaining too much, spending too much time making sure the audience is aware of the exact positions of everyone at all times. Which can become exhausting and can kill the tempo/flow. So over the last five years or so, I've made a conscious effort to just drop unnecessary beats and trust the audience to follow along.]

Staring up at him was a little like staring into the sun. "Oh."

"Yeah, I dunno if I got the gams for a full rodeo," Dave said, his hand reaching down to grip Karkat's bulge, "but let's, uh, get it going before we turn tables."

"Whatever you want," Karkat said, because really? Honestly? Yes. He had zero complaints about the situation.

Dave laughed, tucking his hair behind his ear in a way that made Karkat's chest ache. "I don't do this part often, so just…"

[I love this moment of Dave doing a shy motion despite he is, as stated, in control. The royal flush is in his hand, but something about Karkat still makes him a little bashful, just for a moment. 

Also this is a purposeful juxtaposition: it's a cute bashful moment while Dave is straddling his hot alien coworker and working his alien dick. That kind of contrast adds texture and, in my opinion, a verisimilitude to the situation.

Because I've said this 100394823 times but while it is always okay to have a sex scene just for the fun or a sex scene, that's great, I tend to write sex scenes for a purpose. I want my sex scenes to convey something that can't be easily conveyed in another context.

This one here exists (among other reasons) to make it clear that Karkat isn't just a coworker to Dave, that he is getting something unique from Karkat, and it's something he's been lacking in his life for a long time. Which will make it harder for him to pretend this is purely fun and devoid of emotions.]

Putting his hands on Dave's hips, Karkat squeezed in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

Dave's smile was so fucking bashful, completely at odds with the way his hand worked Karkat's bulge, long wet strokes that had it curling around his wrist. Karkat groaned, hips lifting despite Dave's weight.

"Oh, huh," Dave said as he was jostled. "Looks like you got the gams. Impressive core muscle strength. Maybe test that out next time, but for now." Using both hands, he coaxed the narrow tip of Karkat's bulge up until it dragged along the slick folds of his nook. He stared down into his lap, focused, keeping a firm grip so Karkat wouldn't accidentally move too fast.

[Dave is in control and is already thinking about another round of sex with Karkat.

Also, I dunno how subtle this is, but Dave is in control in a way that speaks to the fact that the Umbra has him employed as a sex worker basically (its Complicated) and thus he has a lot of experience and instead of just lying back and letting Karkat have fun, he physically directs the action to ensure it goes correctly. He knows how much penetration he can take and at what speed, so he controls that too.]

Bit by bit, Dave loosened his grip, and Karkat sank into Dave's nook, taking gulps of air and digging his fingers into Dave's hips to keep from bulge from thrashing. God, he felt— so lush and wet, similar to working into another troll's nook, but different, more delicate, and without another bulge to tangle with. That was the best part, that nothing stopped Karkat from filling Dave up, his bulge twisting and exploring.

[Sexy advice hopefully but: I tend to focus in on the level of familiarity characters have when they fuck. Here, Karkat is fucking Dave for the second time but first time in his nook, so the narrative focuses on the differences, on what sets Dave apart from anyone else Karkat's fucked.

Later in the story, when it's established that these two fuck very very regularly, the focus shifts to what they've learned about each other. It's an aspect I think is sexy.]

Dave's expression went distant, eyes unfocused, face flushed. He bit his lip as his head lolled to the side, a soft, "Fuck," leaving his mouth as he rose up on his knees, then settled slowly back down. "Okay, okay, yeah…"

Karkat stroked his hips, his back, waiting. "Take your time."

"Don't tell me what to do," Dave said automatically, even as he slowly rocked his hips in a circle, letting Karkat's bulge go carefully. As it buried itself in him, he dug his slick hand into his hair, gripping, holding on. "Oh my god."

Because he was an idiot and his bulge had the reins of his brain, Karkat said, "You look so good."

[I'm not sure if I'm good at writing dirty talk? Like, I have no idea. But I really like writing sex talk.

Well, it's another thing that varies, I think. Sometimes it's fun to have two fucking chatty people who cannot stop talking fuck. It's also fun to have the moment when that all falls away because keeping up the patter is too difficult. And then again, sometimes a silent, intense, wordless fuck is the right choice.

It all depends on who is involved and also what the goal of the scene is. This scene is Dave and Karkat continuing to navigate their dynamic, so they can't shut up. The form fits the function in the story.]

Dave hitched a moan as Karkat stretched as far into him as he could. "I— jesus, Karkat, I—" He patted Karkat's hands on his hips. "Come on, it's time for you to do some work, let's go, babe."

[Dave. Control. Etc.]

Karkat rolled them back over, got his knees braced under him, and fucked into Dave.

Nothing about the situation felt real, and that was strangely what made Karkat feel helpless against it. The bass line that stroked down Karkat's spine as he moved and the way Dave looked at Karkat, hazey and pleasure-soaked, were so completely unbelievable… it didn't matter. There was no reason to hold back.

So he fell into it, tried to get his bulge as far into Dave as he could, kissing him just because he could, and fucked Dave in time with the music just for the way it made Dave start laughing.

Dave managed to sing a loose "Ba da dahm" before he completely lost it, laughing and moaning against Karkat's mouth.

[This is the part of the sex I always have the hardest time with. All the blocking and arranging bodies and banter and themes, that's EASY. But when someone needs to finally get off and come, it's like two to seven paragraphs that are agony to me, lmao.

For this one, I have a lodestone of the music. KTOWL is more than a bit about music, and how music is Dave's primary form of communication, so it makes its way into this moment, and that's the lifeline I need to wrap up the sex.

But if there is anything I think I need to work on in sex scenes, its orgasms themself. How do I make them a better conveyance of character? It's a point to work on.

(Ah, quick note, I phrased that as a question but I am not seeking advice on that. I don't tend to take unsolicited advice on my writing for several reasons. Thanks.)]

If coming here was a mistake, Karkat was so fucking glad he'd made it.

His bulge looped around itself in Dave, and Dave threw his head back with a shout, his legs bending.

Karkat pressed them both flat to the bed and felt how Dave shook with each stroke of his hips. He was so focused on Dave that his orgasm fucking shocked him, just there suddenly, making him thrust furiously into Dave as he just unspooled and flooded him with a heavy pulse of slurry. "Oh, shit," Karkat swore, eyes slamming shut as he tried— but nope, no, he was done for.

[I really like non-synchronized orgasms actually. Not to be gauche but sometimes you're coasting along and are turned on and think you've got a handle on it, and then the orgasm just happens! Whoops!]

"Oh, what, Karkat, hey," Dave whined as Karkat slowed. "Don't you fuckin' dare, I'm so goddamn close." He shoved a hand down between them to rub himself, groaning.

Karkat helped, folding their hands together, still pulsing drowsily in Dave's nook as they jerked him off. He felt Dave come, and thrust weakly into the clench of him, groaning.

His head rest against Dave's shoulder. He nuzzled in. It was so soft. Were all humans this soft? How was someone like Dave so soft under his clothes? It felt like privileged information he'd stumbled into bulge-first.

A hand cupped the back of Karkat's neck. That felt really nice, and he opened his mouth to exhale, layers of vibration coloring the tone into a modulation of subvocal hums.

"Fuckin' agreed," Dave sighed, deep and satisfied. "We are… real good at this. If there were awards for accomplishments in th' tantric arts, competitors would try to take out our kneecaps, we'd be such obvious front runners."

Karkat hummed an agreement to that nonsense.

Fingers gently toyed with Karkat's hair for a moment. It was so soothing. Karkat could sleep. Maybe his bulge would stay tucked up and warm in Dave for longer if he just dozed off.

"Hey, roll over." Dave nudged him.

"No," Karkat said, trying to nuzzle in more.

"Yes," Dave answered, and poked Karkat's sides, right along the grub scars.

With enormous effort and a deep groan of complaint, Karkat lifted himself up and flopped onto his back instead. It wasn't nearly as comfortable, and his bulge tucked up into his sheath again.

[Do I even need to say it?

I mean, it's important. If you read KTOWL, you know why Dave And Control is extremely important.]

Dave sat up, moving wearily. He dragged a hand through his hair. "Holy shit, I'm a mess," he laughed, and moved, legs slipping off the bed. He was shaky as he stood, holding out a hand in case he fell, but still managed to get up and pulled the sheet off the bed. "This is totally ruined." He balled up the sheet and used it to wiped himself off before… just throwing over the side of the loft, letting it fall. "Deal with that fuckin' later," he muttered, and stumbled a few feet away.

[A small note: we have all done the orgasm-then-clean-up thing. Sometimes, the scene has overstayed its welcome so you wanna just breeze over that stuff.

But sometimes, like here, it's an opportunity for a Character Moment, learning about how Dave interacts with his own space and possessions. And it's cute and funny.

I think that covers everything about This Specific Scene. I hope this is at all interesting. I think about this shit a lot.]

[dustedmagazine]

Antenna — S-T (Urge)

Royal Headache had a close to decade-long run, but it was never easy. They went from dive bar shows to opening for the Black Keys within only a few years and flamed out finally in 2017, as substance abuse and interpersonal disputes took their toll. And yet, if you like your punk rock spiked with romantic tunefulness, if you harbor affection for the Buzzcocks, the Jam or, further back, the Small Faces, there just weren’t any other bands like Royal Headache. A lot of that was due to one Tim “Shogun” Wall, vocally a dead ringer for a young Rod Stewart, but scrawny, amped to the gills, grappling with the mic and stalking the stage floor, making an anthemic, super-charged racket.

Interviews suggest that Royal Headache’s rapid rise and fall left Shogun in a pretty nasty place, but now, half a decade later with Antenna, he’s back at it, making music again. We covered Finnogun’s Wake, his duo with Finn Berzin in the first Dust of 2024. Andrew Forell placed it, “somewhere between the concise attack of Shogun’s former band Royal Headache and the anthemic end of Britpop.” This five-song EP from Antenna runs faster and more punk than the last Royal Headache album, and it’s, thankfully, not as indebted to Blur/Oasis and their ilk. It’s better than Finnoguns Wake then, and as good or maybe even better than the two Royal Headache records.

“Cube,” for instance, rages headlong, double-time, in a fury of drum-bass-guitar flailing. It’s fast but precise—Shogun has put together a very capable band here—and it feels like it might fly apart at any moment but doesn’t. But where most bands operating at this pace and volume might content themselves with shouted lyrics, Shogun puts frill and ornament into the singing, nailing the tune and ending phrases in lavish, multi-toned flourishes. It’s like Tom Jones finding himself in front of Bad Brains, and it’s fun.

“English Three” bangs just as hard, slamming the one-two beat with a jackhammer intensity. Musically, it’s got an antsy, carnival glee vibe, which contrasts with the lyrics, which deal with mid-life alienation and isolation. “Don’t own me, touch me, I don’t need anybody, until the ending of the day,” declares Shogun. By the sound, you’d think it’s a stirring manifesto, but the words are more like a suicide note.

The EP ends in glory, with the seething, soaring, blue-eyed soul anthem “Antenna State,” hemmed in by with flaring guitars and Motown-style backing “oohs and ohs.” “Don’t smoke god, don’t smoke god, love should be all that you need,” wails the singer, in fluid, florid dramatics that would carry to the back rows of even the largest venues Royal Headache used to play. Maybe we don’t need religion or drugs to feel this good, but we sure do require quality rock and roll.

Jennifer Kelly

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! We’ll skip a day tomorrow by the way, but I hope to write a longer reply soon...

Anonymous asked:

Fortunately, I also love cursed things, the more cursed the better! Glad you agree! 😊😊

Of course, I absolutely agree! This is what makes it fun~

Anonymous asked:

Idk if I asked thus already but in ur opinion, how do the tops dominate their partner? Do they top by riding their partner or by penetration?

In our case by calling a character a top we imply that this character does the penetration :) But also while the majority of our tops are dominant, it’s not completely impossible for someone to be somewhat more submissive with the bottom of the pair riding their partner.

Anonymous asked:

Saw the bunny pic! Ortho looks so excited to have three subs all to himself!

Hehe yes!! Ortho is one lucky bun!

Anonymous asked:

So, we got all tops in the Pop Music Club, the one club that just sits around doing nothing all day. So who's the favorite "lucky guest" that gets brought in to help "cure" these boys "boredom"? ;) ;) ;)

Well, two of the three members of the Pop Music Club did attack Idia with their extrovert attention in that one vignette, and I have an obvious bias, so my answer is pretty predictable lol But realistically, I don’t think they would be able to bring Idia to their club room more than once.

Silver could be good, he is not only Lilia’s precious son kohai, but also Kalim’s classmate! And he’ll definitely try his best to do whatever he’s asked to do.

I guess the Pop Music Club just sits and discusses this exact topic for the majority of time... “- What about Jamil? - No, Kalim, we can’t ask Jamil every single time...”, that type of thing...

Anonymous asked:

*kicks down the door* Have you heard?!?! Japanese server has both of the twins in their merform!!! As fucken cards!!!!! Like holy shit?!?! Am I dreaming?!?! And OMG! the poses!!!! Like hot damn!!!! I need to scream!

They are so good, Anon!!

I was so sure we would get their merform cards eventually, but finally seeing it feels so weird in a good way. I wonder what their groovies are going to be like...

Anonymous asked:

So we are getting merman Jade and Floyd in  August... I've been blessed for it being my birthday month ( shout out to all my August bday people out there)

ANYWAYS

Soo do you think those two will have merman sex in their eel form? Wouldn't it be like having sex with a merman except this one can tear you in two if they could?

I am sure Riddle will have a blast when it's Floyd ^^ and Idia too with either twin^^

I mean,,,,,, I know I would if it's with Jade ~^^

Aw, happy birthday month, Anon!

Using the Tweels’ eel form in all kinds of nasty scenarios is always fun, we actually have a couple of posts about it >:3c There are probably some more but I can’t find them right now...

The one about Floyd in heat (FloRid)

The one about Jade in heat

The one about the eel peen

But to answer your question: yes, they will! And yes, they could tear a person in two lol

Poor/lucky Riddle and/or Idia~