#you know i couldn't resist a scene at the globe

[fiachrastudios]

So. I finished it last night. Spoilers below the cut.

I initially tried to finish Monday, but reached the brain stem and couldn't climb it bc of the bug where one of my summoned allies died. So I reloaded yesterday and just had Astarion sneak in invisible while the rest of my party stayed near the entrance and got tped after he reached the stem.

NGL I save scummed a lot bc I just wanted to finish before I went to bed. First time Orpheus got shoved off the brain by one of the dream visitors, second time gale and Astarion were inside the brain portal and got insta killed by those globe things bc I didn't realize they would die if they were on the glowing platforms. I had no idea if withers would be able to rez them, so I just reloaded lol.

And I gotta say, having access to misty step/dimension door/fly were sooooo helpful, absolutely would not have been able to win without them. And gale, Astarion and Orpheus really were the MVPs of this battle in terms of damage but aelar was good for healing and karlach was super helpful peeling for gale and tping him to the portal. I know a lot of ppl don't like this last fight as much, but I loved all three stages, it really felt like everyone was working together as a team : ). The bugs are a real problem, but the actual battle was really fun if youre highly mobile like I was imo. I liked it even better than Raphael's fight.

And all the speeches from your allies before you fight!!! So good!!!!

And the ending. God. I teared up a bit at lae'zel's; I was so proud of her and Orpheus!!!! And poor Astarion : ( but god, karlach s was the one that had me actually sobbing. And I was so shocked that aelar had the option to go with her and Wyll to avernus, but I knew I had to take it. He had promised her that he would hold her as she was dying but deep down he still knew he would do anything to get her back to avernus for a cure, and to be given the chance to do that with her? Of course he would take it.

It was really interesting bc it's definitely one of the harder choices I made, between the "Wyll will protect you" and "Wyll and I will protect you". Bc I know both are good endings, but obviously the second one would have complications for Aelar's relationship with Astarion. Who, you know, had just run off screaming as the sunlight burned him to ash. But they're interesting complications, you know! Which have given me a lot of creative fuel, lol, so uh...maybe expect some fic or comics from that. I just love how this game makes all of the choices interesting, not just the successes or most optimal or whatever.

It really reminded me of the half-illithid choice at the end of act 2 in that respect. I could have save-scummed that one, but I just thought that the narrative beat of aelar resisting the worm so hard and failing was so important to his storyline, watching him go from this really open, trusting person to having that trust betrayed in a really terrible way, how taking the worm would affect his relationship with Astarion - those possibilities were all so interesting to me.

And the other choice that both Karlach's ending and the half-illithid scene that I see as being most important to aelar was the choice between him or Orpheus becoming illithid. That was another real struggle to pick but I feel confident in my response. Aelars been a pretty typical, self-sacrificing type up to this point - which is part of why I see him chosing to help karlach over Astarion in the last scene. at this point, aelars only just freed of the worm and still hasn't processed that he's not in survival mode anymore. And I think he would do anything to help karlach safe at that point, which would be easier with two friends instead of just one. Even if he ends up dying, bc he's still self-sacrficial to an extent.

So on one hand, he knows he's supposed to do the "right thing" and become a mind flayer. But on the other hand, he wants to be "selfish" and stay himself. He felt so violated by the emperor's betrayal, and again, I think he thinks that it would permanently fuck his relationship with Astarion given his feelings about the astral worm and how hypocritical aelar would feel after talking him down from ascending. Assuming he would even be able to stay himself!!! So, in this instance, I don't actually think he could bring himself to do "the right thing". But he could with karlach, even if it meant sacrificing things with Astarion bc keeping karlach alive was more important. And I'm just a slut for platonic love okay!!!

But god, what an experience. This truly is one of the greatest pieces of media I've ever seen, and I don't know that I'll ever experience something like that again. It's gonna stay with my forever, I think.

[alphacygni]

The Globe Theatre, London  1601

“The stench really is remarkable.” Aziraphale scrunched his nose at the masses teeming around them. He got that same look when Crowley mentioned some foul deed he’d perpetrated. Or when Crowley suggested pub food.

“You’re the one who wanted to make him popular,” Crowley pointed out as he leaned back to let the oyster wench pass. “And you could stop using the nose, you know, if it’s so awful.” Though Crowley’d long since grown accustomed to them, he didn’t see the point in most of these bodily appendages anyway. Toes, teeth, fingernails. And the bellybutton. He didn’t even bother manifesting that one most of the time.

The eyes, though—he liked the eyes. You could see some lovely things on this little world.

He glanced over at the angel and adjusted his sunglasses.

From somewhere Crowley hadn't caught, Aziraphale had produced a vibrant peach which he was now running under his nose. “If I turn of my sense of smell, I won’t be able to enjoy this.” A reverent inhale. “They’re perfectly in season at the moment.”

The bite was a pop of skin followed by an indulgent squish and a low, moan-shaped noise Crowley wished he could lie out on, languorous and warm as a rock.

That wasn’t an angel’s noise.

Sometimes, Crowley had to turn off a few bodily functions of his own.

He cleared his throat and his thoughts. “Look, angel, I don’t have time for your—“

“Oh, don’t start with that.” Aziraphale wiped a bead of juice from his mouth with a pout. “You’ve been in a foul mood ever since you arrived.”

“I’m a demon! Whad’dya expect me to do, giggle?”

But of course the angel was right. He was in a foul mood, and it wasn’t from the stench or the angel’s noises or the general fug of discontent he was meant to luxuriate in as an agent of the Dark Prince.

It was the play.

“Another tragedy,” he groaned.

“Oh, but this a marvelous one! ‘Two households, both alike in dignity’…”

“Load of melodrama if you ask me. How old are these kids anyway?”

The angel’s nose turned up. “Honestly, I’d think a demon would prefer tragedy.”

Crowley grit his teeth[1]. He wasn’t about to start trying to explain why the tragic story of two lovers kept apart by the feuding of their flawed and fundamentally indistinguishable houses really wasn’t his favorite sort of story these days. “Look, I’m not here for the entertainment. Did you tempt the man or not? I’ve got a report to write, and I don’t want—“

“I’ve already written it,” Aziraphale said, flat, drawing a scroll from, assumedly, the same place he’d kept the peach. The bow around it was crisp and black.

Crowley stared. He decided not to point out that Hell didn’t really go in for bows. “You…you wrote it already?”

“Had to do mine.” He shrugged. “Always best to do the paperwork when everything’s still fresh on one’s mind, I find.”

Crowley preferred to do his later over a glass of wine. Or three. Helped when he needed to embellish the details.

Scroll in hand, Crowley turned the thought over several times. His first instinct had been one of gratitude, but now…looking into the angel’s unmoving eyes, suspicion took its place. “How…how did you do it? The tempting, I mean.”

“You could read the report.”

“You know I’m not a reader, angel. Give me the highlights.”

Aziraphale shifted. “I…well, he was a strapping young man.”

“Right.”

“And…, I was tired and sore from the horse and ready to come home, so, I…I took the easy route, you could say.”

Crowley was afraid to guess what that meant. “The ‘easy route’?”

“Yes.”

Crowley blinked. “Do you…mean you…?”

The angel didn’t say anything and definitely didn’t look Crowley’s way.

“You…” He searched for a heavenly euphemism. “…knew him?”

The look of scandal on Azirphale’s face was frustratingly charming. “Absolutely not! Nothing so tawdry. Just a little…flirting. A challenge to his machismo. That sort of man will do almost anything to impress a young lady.”

“Young lady?” Crowley tried to be circumspect as he inspected the angel for any visible sign of the feminine. You really couldn't tell anything in those breeches. “You…changed?” He’d never seen Aziraphale take any other form. Didn’t even know he could. He’d assumed it was the sort of thing heaven would find a bit too flamboyant.

“Oh, not really. You know, a glamour here, a glamour there. Although I did put on enough to fill in the dress. And I plaited my hair.”

Crowley swallowed. It was no use trying not to picture it as the angel spoke. Shocking white plait, cinched waist, a swell here, a hint there. Satin or lace or, hell, rough-spun on pale skin. Crowley felt a little stutter as the image pulled into focus in his mind. He could only imagine what the poor man had suffered. Crowley might have stolen more than a few cattle.

“I do enjoy plaiting hair,” the angel went on sweetly through another bite of peach. “I could do yours sometime. If you like. Might look fetching.”

That was as much as Crowley could take. “Not really my style, angel…just…it worked, then? The…” He had been poised to say seduction but decided better. “The temptation?”

Aziraphale balked. “What do you mean? Of course it worked!”

“Don’t get your feathers ruffled. I’m sure it was a lovely…plait. I just meant that you…you did the job.”

A bite and a sigh. “I did.”

“And you wrote the report.”

“I did.”

“Well, that’s… thank you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about thanking each other. Makes it all sound a bit too…collaborative.”

Crowley grunted. A bit too collaborative. Yeah, he had been. And not nearly collaborative enough. “Right.”

Perhaps something had shown on his face because the angel’s expression softened. “Still, you should stay. We can…enjoy the play, can’t we?”

If there was one thing Crowley didn’t want from the angel—ever—it was pity. Pity was worse than revulsion. Worse than coldness. Pity was the pretty face the Holy put on disdain.

“Don’t see why I should sit through to the end,” he grumbled. “‘A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life’…gave it away right in the beginning, didn’t he?”

The angel wore his hurt the same as those ridiculous hose: a perfect fit and oddly flattering. “A story’s not all about the ending. You can know how it ends and still want to know how they arrive at it, can’t you?”

Crowley made a non-committal noise—the kind that wants to salvage anger even in the face of a better option.

“Oh, you are in a strop.” The angel pouted for a moment before some thought lifted into a smile. He held the fruit out in Crowley’s direction. In the muzzy light of the playhouse, the fuzz of its skin shimmered velvet. “Here. Have a bite. I challenge you to find anything tragic about it.”

Music strummed through the angel’s voice, and, though Crowley hadn’t bothered to eat since the first day of Creation, he found his lips wanted to part. His mouth flooded with saliva.

“Come on.” A wiggle of fingers. “A little taste will wipe that scowl right off.”

Crowley ran his tongue along the backs of his teeth.

On stage, the lovers clasped hands against the better advice of their elders. The sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness.

He swallowed saliva and the idea of honey as he stood to leave.

“You wanna make me smile, angel, invite me to something with a happier ending next time.”

[solemnart]

What if I... flirted with the Enemy? oh dear me- no no, no such thoughts! ...unless? (aziraphale, propably)

[Twitter link]

[obscureoperations]

talk to Martin on the phone and end up having phone sex with him.📞💦

Annnddd thats what’s up 👀👀😂 I can get behind this thot. The scene with him on the phone right before the church bit. Yeah. He looked so good like fuck off!

The soft sigh over the static like has you clutching the receiver to your ear. The sound of Martin's labored breathing and Cuda's voice booming somewhere in the distance.

It was seven thirty in the evening, Martin was stopping by yours around ten. He really needed to see you, he actually couldn't wait. Dinner was in less than a half hour, but Martin found himself with a situation. You could tell he was in a way the moment you picked up the phone, the sound of your name sounded more like a moan.

"Martin.. what are you doing?"

"I-I just really need to see you." He whispered. The sincerity of his words causes you to blush. With anticipation coursing through your veins you prop yourself up on your elbow.

"I know..I miss you too sweetheart."

"N-no.. not just that.. I need." He pauses for a moment and you perk up. Was he really going to do that right before dinner. He would be mortified..barely able to make eye contact with anyone. The thought alone thrilled you to no end. The image of him sprawled out across the mattress, cock in hand sheets tangled at his feet. You clench your thighs together...resisting the urge to join him in his endeavour.

"What? What do you need darling?"

"Oh..." The moan sounded more like a question before he sighs. " I just need you so bad right now y/n.."

A wave of heat rushes to your face as you try to envision him. You have a clear painting in your mind. The black turtleneck lifted up to his chest..jeans bunched down past his hips. He knew better than to get completely undressed..he had a chair propped up against the bedroom door. Flushed and overheated, nipples hard as rocks as his hand moves reverently over his leaking cock.

"Why..Martin? You sound like you're taking care of yourself well enough. "

He sighs in frustration, but you faintly hear him chuckle. "No..y/n.. I need your mouth. "

You bite down on the insides of your cheeks, despite yourself you body begins to react. A rush of sensation between your legs as memories flash through your mind..you could almost feel him at the back of your throat. Going down on him had to be one of your top quilty pleasures. The boy was so highly responsive. Trembling as your tongue swirls at the tip of his cock, gently probing at the slit. The noises that always escape were nearly sinful, he often had to stiffel himself with the back of his hand. Folding in on himself once he starts to cum in an attempt to hold that glorious mouth in place.

"Where do you want my mouth Martin?" you smirk. The slight whimper causes you to lean forward.

"Oh.. o-n me..please..."

You can hear the sound of pots and pans clattering in the distance. Cuda's voice seems to grow louder. You knew he'd better finish up quickly, or he won't be leaving the house at all.

"Martin..you have to be specific.. use your words baby.."

Fuck..

" On my cock.. " The words sound rushed, you already knew he was blushing profusely. If you didn't know any better, you could've sworn you could hear the sound of his hand over slickened flesh.

" Just there Martin?" You press

"Yesss.. wan-want you to blow on it.." Now we were getting somewhere.

"That could be arranged.. but where else?"

He gasps lightly over the receiver, fully aware of what you were implying. You didn't do it all the time. You just always managed to catch him after a shower. He thought you were mad but didn't protest in the least when you instructed him to remove the towel and lay on his stomach. Hands roaming down his back in a soothing caress..lower as you palm at the firm globes. He wanted to sink into the mattress and die of embarrassment as you move to spread him apart. " Y/n.. what are you.. ohh?"

“Only if you want to...”

Surprising a grin you sit forward. “ If your good then we can see. But I need you to cum for me Martin... can you do that for me baby?”

His breath begins to quicken the closer he gets to release. He knew that he had to hurry up. One of Cuda’s main rules was that he was never late to dinner. He was starting to think this was a bad idea. He had about five minutes and then another three to get presentable.. he could feel the familiar sensation coiling deep inside.

The sound of your voice was becoming a blur the closer he got to release.

You really wished you could see him right now.. trace your tongue over his parted lips. At times you wished you could take a picture as you work him over.. the expression on his face. He was absolutely beautiful.

“You’re doing so good baby.. Can you make some noise for me? Go on darling .. it’s alright.”

He actually whimpers, you want to kiss him silly.. the noises flow and you  firmly grip the receiver. Breathy moans and whimpers turn to deep sighs and exhalation— groans of ecstasy and pure delight. For a moment you worry he’s becoming a bit too wrapped up but then he speaks.

“Oh.. ohh y/n itssoogoodd...”

“ I know baby.. keep going.”

He begins to babel unintelligibly.. variations of your name and how good your mouth feels. You needed to see him.

“ Oh.. ohh it’s coming..” he whimpers, your cheeks grow hot..and you clench you’re thighs together. You had planned to tidy up a bit before he got there but now you had more pressing concerns.

“ Y/n.. I’m gonna.. oh ohh don’t think I can wait..”

“ Do it Martin.. I want you to. Give it to me.. please??”

Your words finally send him over, the receiver falls to the bed with a soft thud. You can hear the sound of his labored breastifledled moans and grunts against the back of his hand. It’s eerily silent for a moment but soon enough you hear him reaching for the phone. Always so shy and pensive afterwards.

“Y/n ... I’m sorr—“

“ Don’t sweetheart, don’t even think it. I think you should go get cleaned up. I’ll see you in a bit.”