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tsuru_sanWhoo, happy day! Definitely a movie day. This afternoon I watched Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children and Final Fantasy VII: Last Order with Audrey. The fight scenes and the animation were wicked cool, but the plot kind of went over my head since I never played the FF game. Audrey was kind enough to fill me in on the background information though. *grin* We're also thinking of having an anime night next Thursday along with some other girls on campus. I might bring Trinity Blood for that. ;3
I also saw Sweeney Todd tonightagain. This time I saw it with Alan; he missed its run at the movie theaters so he was really psyched to see it at UNH. When we left the theater, he was saying every other sentence in song. XD Heh, life would be so much more interesting if it were like a musical.
And now here are the A/R drabbles. I'll be computerless tomorrow so I'm posting them early. ^^
011 - Red: 493 words [Het Warning!]
(was listening to the song "Wait" from Sweeney Todd while I wrote this one. ;3)
Asmodeus is seeing red; he really is. Limping and tired but still furious, he paces around a pool of water set in the middle of Leviathan's thrown room in Hell's watery Fourth Circle. Ever the able hostess, the large pool of water was designed for the comfort of Leviathan's more aquatic guests. Right now though, Marquise Leviathan is making use of the pool, and Asmodeus is her only guest. He's just recently returned from the fiasco with Tobias and Raphael in Media, and the sting of humiliating defeat is still fresh.
"Raphael will return to Earth eventually," she offers. "Be patient."
"I don't want to be patient!" the Marquis half-screams. "I want that healer's head mounted on my wall!"
The Archdemon of Gluttony sighs, pushing long strands of green and black hair out of her face. "Come here, Asmodeus."
"Not right now—"
"Foolish man. I said come here!"
Reluctantly Asmodeus obeys. She has that kind of voice, plus Asmodeus is too tired to resist.
He kneels beside the pool, and she holds him close, all slippery and wet. It's nice actually; the welcome weight of her strong body and the darkness of her aura soothe Asmodeus, envelop him, and he can feel a trickle of lust flaring up inside him. Leviathan's company has always been pleasurably refreshing, unhurried and satisfying.
Asmodeus lets her pry his now soaked robe from his body. The Marquis is still weak from his ordeal in Egypt and Raphael's binding spell, but he wants the physical comfort and the soothing touches that Leviathan can provide. She is one of the few—very few—demons that Asmodeus trusts and so he lets her take control and pull him closer. He's half in the water now, and the currents push gently against him, almost like his shadows.
"You're still brooding," Leviathan admonishes. "When you're with me, pay attention to me."
"I can't stop thinking about it. As soon as I am able, I'm going to find that angel and rip his head off."
The Marquise scoffs as she sheds her armor, copper and gold clinking against the tile as she sets them on the edge of the pool. She is far less gentle with Asmodeus's shirt, preferring to rip it in half instead. "Hmph, 'as soon as you can'—what a silly notion."
Asmodeus's expression sours at her critiques. "Why? The first chance I get—"
"I say let it linger..." she purrs, guiding Asmodeus's hands to her breasts.
His hands are warm. "Linger?"
Honeyed laughter. "Don't you know? Half the fun is to actually plan the plan."
"Perhaps you're right," the Marquis concedes, and he leans close, inhaling the saline scent of his friend's hair. He nips her neck almost hard enough to draw blood, and she shivers with pleasure.
"Of course, I'm right." Leviathan smiles, the tips of her claws dancing teasing patterns across Asmodeus's clothed thighs. "Trust me, old friend, anticipation will make victory all the sweeter."
012 - Grey: 190 words
"You know, I wonder sometimes what color they were..."
Gabriel looked up at Raphael who sat across from him. They were playing chess. "What color what were? Raphael, if you're trying to distract me—"
"Asmodeus's eyes."
The pale angel's face softened. "Oh."
"They're so red and hateful now, but I never really knew him as an angel so I just wondered..."
"They were grey."
"Grey?" Raphael looked surprised. "But how do you know?"
Gabriel shrugged a little. "Even before the Fall, Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Asmodeus were friends, and I was...friends with Lucifer so yes, I saw Asmodeus often enough to notice.
"I always thought that they were a very pretty grey," Gabriel added, toying with one of his knights. "Even prettier than Beelzebub's eyes. Asmodeus's eyes were almost silver actually."
"Silver," the healer murmured thoughtfully, shuffling his queen across the board. "I bet they must've been beautiful. Not that I really care... Checkmate, Gabriel."
Gabriel gasped at the chess board. "Drat, not again! Oh, Raphael, let me win for once, won't you?"
Raphael chuckled at his friend's humorous protestations, and for the time being, their respective demons were forgotten.
013 - White: 122 words
(forgive the odd, quoteless style, plz)
Asmodeus doesn't like white shirts. He says so.
Raphael laughs, that charming sound too sweet to ever be anything more than gently teasing. Raphael asks Asmodeus what he has against white shirts, and doesn't he know that they make the nicest dress shirts?
Asmodeus scoffs and tells Raphael that they're overrated. He's being deliberately vague.
Raphael presses and asks how so?
Finally Asmodeus admits that he finds them impractical. They get so dirty so easily.
Raphael says Ah. His tone and expression are too serious for someone who is only commenting on shirts. Well, he suggests, if you wash them thoroughly and try hard enough, the stain will go away.
Asmodeus tells Raphael to Please Shut Up. Some stains never come out.
014 - Black: 223 words
Raphael is bleeding from over a dozen tiny cuts. He shivers a little; it's been a hard fight, harder than most. Asmodeus looks to be in poor shape too, especially his shoulder and left side which have been gashed wide open. It is Asmodeus, however, who has won this round. The lesser demon Raphael had been chasing has escaped, and beside Raphael, his partner lies dead with his ribcage shattered and his intestines leaking all over the ground.
"What do you think?" Asmodeus purrs, gesturing to the black mess of shadows writhing around his ankles. "Are they not marvelous?"
Tendrils of shadow undulate and waver and make pleased little hisses and pops as if they can hear their master's praise. For all Raphael knows, maybe they can.
Their sounds alone are eerie enough, and the Dis shadows can hardly boast a comforting appearance either. They are black and slick-looking, but as Raphael has found, they don't feel oily. In reality, the shadows are smooth with a texture like soft rubber, like a dolphin's skin. Raphael isn't sure where the sharpness comes from, but somehow the tendrils' tips possess an edge sharper than tempered steel.
Little is known about them or why they chose Asmodeus as their master. While Lucifer also can command their teeming black masses, it is Asmodeus alone who they prefer.
015 - Blue: 499 words
(sequel to drabble 009)
Raphael faded slowly. His Light wasn't so much burning out as tarnishing, dulling as he weakened. Finally, after a very long time, it was over; his strength ran out, and then it was only a matter of waiting.
Asmodeus didn't leave Raphael waiting for long. It didn't take much, just a press of white fingertips to a pallid cheek, and Asmodeus knew. He summoned ornately-armored guards who flanked him on either side. The Marquis was dressed simply by comparison: a high-collared black shirt, leather boots, and black pants that hugged his slim hips.
Dragged in chains from the dark little dungeon, Raphael couldn't even fathom what would happen next. Dust, dirt, and silt had burrowed into the fabric of robes, and his wings, had they been out, would've drooped limply. Raphael could barely keep his feet as it was; the healer felt so dizzy and faint!
Asmodeus's guards left them alone a few floors up in what appeared to be a very lavish bathroom. The floor was covered in glossy tiles of varying shades of blue that formed pictures of Hindu gods and goddesses. The bathroom's fixtures were all glittering silver, and on Raphael's left was a large white bathtub, blue designs meticulously painted on its rim.
"Well?" the Archdemon asked. "Get in."
Raphael glared balefully at his captor. "Turn around first!" he snapped. The angel knew it was a wasted effort, but he refused to strip naked before Asmodeus without even a protest.
The demon smirked. "I think not. Either undress on your own, or I will come over and help you."
Face burning with indignation, Raphael disrobed slowly and methodically, refusing to be unnerved by Asmodeus's leering vigil. Leaving the hopelessly grimy clothes on the tile by the bath, the angel climbed into the warm water, grateful for the small shred of modesty it provided.
Raphael barely checked a sigh of relief; he'd forgotten how good a warm bath could be. He had indulged in a bath before on a handful of occasions, but normally if he got dirty, the healer would just miracle it away.
"You're looking light-headed, healer. Shall I assist you?"
The angel shook his head vehemently. "I don't need anything from you!"
"As you like," the demon murmured nonchalantly, but five seconds later the water was icy cold.
The angel gasped in surprise, but he'd hardly gotten over that shock when the water became suddenly unbearably hot. Raphael could feel his skin scalding, and the angel automatically tried to heal the slight burns before remembering that he no longer could. Fighting the urge to curse, Raphael washed in earnest, trying to finish the bath as soon as possible while Asmodeus continued to alter the water's temperature from freezing to blistering.
The shadows around the Archdemon shivered with amusement and made hissy little mewling sounds, clearly enjoying Raphael's plight. As the angel, even more dazed now, clutched a towel to himself and half-clambered half-fell from the bathtub, Asmodeus was chuckling with mirth as well.
drabbles 001-005
drabbles 006-010
I also saw Sweeney Todd tonight
And now here are the A/R drabbles. I'll be computerless tomorrow so I'm posting them early. ^^
011 - Red: 493 words [Het Warning!]
(was listening to the song "Wait" from Sweeney Todd while I wrote this one. ;3)
Asmodeus is seeing red; he really is. Limping and tired but still furious, he paces around a pool of water set in the middle of Leviathan's thrown room in Hell's watery Fourth Circle. Ever the able hostess, the large pool of water was designed for the comfort of Leviathan's more aquatic guests. Right now though, Marquise Leviathan is making use of the pool, and Asmodeus is her only guest. He's just recently returned from the fiasco with Tobias and Raphael in Media, and the sting of humiliating defeat is still fresh.
"Raphael will return to Earth eventually," she offers. "Be patient."
"I don't want to be patient!" the Marquis half-screams. "I want that healer's head mounted on my wall!"
The Archdemon of Gluttony sighs, pushing long strands of green and black hair out of her face. "Come here, Asmodeus."
"Not right now—"
"Foolish man. I said come here!"
Reluctantly Asmodeus obeys. She has that kind of voice, plus Asmodeus is too tired to resist.
He kneels beside the pool, and she holds him close, all slippery and wet. It's nice actually; the welcome weight of her strong body and the darkness of her aura soothe Asmodeus, envelop him, and he can feel a trickle of lust flaring up inside him. Leviathan's company has always been pleasurably refreshing, unhurried and satisfying.
Asmodeus lets her pry his now soaked robe from his body. The Marquis is still weak from his ordeal in Egypt and Raphael's binding spell, but he wants the physical comfort and the soothing touches that Leviathan can provide. She is one of the few—very few—demons that Asmodeus trusts and so he lets her take control and pull him closer. He's half in the water now, and the currents push gently against him, almost like his shadows.
"You're still brooding," Leviathan admonishes. "When you're with me, pay attention to me."
"I can't stop thinking about it. As soon as I am able, I'm going to find that angel and rip his head off."
The Marquise scoffs as she sheds her armor, copper and gold clinking against the tile as she sets them on the edge of the pool. She is far less gentle with Asmodeus's shirt, preferring to rip it in half instead. "Hmph, 'as soon as you can'—what a silly notion."
Asmodeus's expression sours at her critiques. "Why? The first chance I get—"
"I say let it linger..." she purrs, guiding Asmodeus's hands to her breasts.
His hands are warm. "Linger?"
Honeyed laughter. "Don't you know? Half the fun is to actually plan the plan."
"Perhaps you're right," the Marquis concedes, and he leans close, inhaling the saline scent of his friend's hair. He nips her neck almost hard enough to draw blood, and she shivers with pleasure.
"Of course, I'm right." Leviathan smiles, the tips of her claws dancing teasing patterns across Asmodeus's clothed thighs. "Trust me, old friend, anticipation will make victory all the sweeter."
012 - Grey: 190 words
"You know, I wonder sometimes what color they were..."
Gabriel looked up at Raphael who sat across from him. They were playing chess. "What color what were? Raphael, if you're trying to distract me—"
"Asmodeus's eyes."
The pale angel's face softened. "Oh."
"They're so red and hateful now, but I never really knew him as an angel so I just wondered..."
"They were grey."
"Grey?" Raphael looked surprised. "But how do you know?"
Gabriel shrugged a little. "Even before the Fall, Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Asmodeus were friends, and I was...friends with Lucifer so yes, I saw Asmodeus often enough to notice.
"I always thought that they were a very pretty grey," Gabriel added, toying with one of his knights. "Even prettier than Beelzebub's eyes. Asmodeus's eyes were almost silver actually."
"Silver," the healer murmured thoughtfully, shuffling his queen across the board. "I bet they must've been beautiful. Not that I really care... Checkmate, Gabriel."
Gabriel gasped at the chess board. "Drat, not again! Oh, Raphael, let me win for once, won't you?"
Raphael chuckled at his friend's humorous protestations, and for the time being, their respective demons were forgotten.
013 - White: 122 words
(forgive the odd, quoteless style, plz)
Asmodeus doesn't like white shirts. He says so.
Raphael laughs, that charming sound too sweet to ever be anything more than gently teasing. Raphael asks Asmodeus what he has against white shirts, and doesn't he know that they make the nicest dress shirts?
Asmodeus scoffs and tells Raphael that they're overrated. He's being deliberately vague.
Raphael presses and asks how so?
Finally Asmodeus admits that he finds them impractical. They get so dirty so easily.
Raphael says Ah. His tone and expression are too serious for someone who is only commenting on shirts. Well, he suggests, if you wash them thoroughly and try hard enough, the stain will go away.
Asmodeus tells Raphael to Please Shut Up. Some stains never come out.
014 - Black: 223 words
Raphael is bleeding from over a dozen tiny cuts. He shivers a little; it's been a hard fight, harder than most. Asmodeus looks to be in poor shape too, especially his shoulder and left side which have been gashed wide open. It is Asmodeus, however, who has won this round. The lesser demon Raphael had been chasing has escaped, and beside Raphael, his partner lies dead with his ribcage shattered and his intestines leaking all over the ground.
"What do you think?" Asmodeus purrs, gesturing to the black mess of shadows writhing around his ankles. "Are they not marvelous?"
Tendrils of shadow undulate and waver and make pleased little hisses and pops as if they can hear their master's praise. For all Raphael knows, maybe they can.
Their sounds alone are eerie enough, and the Dis shadows can hardly boast a comforting appearance either. They are black and slick-looking, but as Raphael has found, they don't feel oily. In reality, the shadows are smooth with a texture like soft rubber, like a dolphin's skin. Raphael isn't sure where the sharpness comes from, but somehow the tendrils' tips possess an edge sharper than tempered steel.
Little is known about them or why they chose Asmodeus as their master. While Lucifer also can command their teeming black masses, it is Asmodeus alone who they prefer.
015 - Blue: 499 words
(sequel to drabble 009)
Raphael faded slowly. His Light wasn't so much burning out as tarnishing, dulling as he weakened. Finally, after a very long time, it was over; his strength ran out, and then it was only a matter of waiting.
Asmodeus didn't leave Raphael waiting for long. It didn't take much, just a press of white fingertips to a pallid cheek, and Asmodeus knew. He summoned ornately-armored guards who flanked him on either side. The Marquis was dressed simply by comparison: a high-collared black shirt, leather boots, and black pants that hugged his slim hips.
Dragged in chains from the dark little dungeon, Raphael couldn't even fathom what would happen next. Dust, dirt, and silt had burrowed into the fabric of robes, and his wings, had they been out, would've drooped limply. Raphael could barely keep his feet as it was; the healer felt so dizzy and faint!
Asmodeus's guards left them alone a few floors up in what appeared to be a very lavish bathroom. The floor was covered in glossy tiles of varying shades of blue that formed pictures of Hindu gods and goddesses. The bathroom's fixtures were all glittering silver, and on Raphael's left was a large white bathtub, blue designs meticulously painted on its rim.
"Well?" the Archdemon asked. "Get in."
Raphael glared balefully at his captor. "Turn around first!" he snapped. The angel knew it was a wasted effort, but he refused to strip naked before Asmodeus without even a protest.
The demon smirked. "I think not. Either undress on your own, or I will come over and help you."
Face burning with indignation, Raphael disrobed slowly and methodically, refusing to be unnerved by Asmodeus's leering vigil. Leaving the hopelessly grimy clothes on the tile by the bath, the angel climbed into the warm water, grateful for the small shred of modesty it provided.
Raphael barely checked a sigh of relief; he'd forgotten how good a warm bath could be. He had indulged in a bath before on a handful of occasions, but normally if he got dirty, the healer would just miracle it away.
"You're looking light-headed, healer. Shall I assist you?"
The angel shook his head vehemently. "I don't need anything from you!"
"As you like," the demon murmured nonchalantly, but five seconds later the water was icy cold.
The angel gasped in surprise, but he'd hardly gotten over that shock when the water became suddenly unbearably hot. Raphael could feel his skin scalding, and the angel automatically tried to heal the slight burns before remembering that he no longer could. Fighting the urge to curse, Raphael washed in earnest, trying to finish the bath as soon as possible while Asmodeus continued to alter the water's temperature from freezing to blistering.
The shadows around the Archdemon shivered with amusement and made hissy little mewling sounds, clearly enjoying Raphael's plight. As the angel, even more dazed now, clutched a towel to himself and half-clambered half-fell from the bathtub, Asmodeus was chuckling with mirth as well.
drabbles 001-005
drabbles 006-010
