#guillermo's face is everything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beansprean · 2 months

Text

Lil comic from chapter 1 of Alethophobia by @jay-auris! Character designs by the incredible @pejntboks!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Distant shot from behind a white van parked on a patch of gravel and dirt with its rear doors wide open, pine trees in the distance against a darkening sky. Human Nandor is rummaging around in the equipment in the back of the van, muttering angrily to himself. He is wearing a green flannel with rolled sleeves over a white tee shirt tucked into cut off blue jean shorts, white knee socks, and hiking boots. The side of Guillermo's face appears in closeup in the foreground, looking at him. 1b. Shot from inside the van as Guillermo comes up behind Nandor, both now facing the viewer. Nandor has his graying hair down and hanging messily in his face as he scowls, sweat beading on his forehead. He wears a silver medallion around his neck, orange tasbih prayer beads around his right wrist, has two orbital piercings with silver hoops and a silver conch stud in his left ear, and silver vertical studs on his right eyebrow. He continues glaring at the equipment and shuffling it around with his left hand as he thrusts a camera bag out behind him with his right, snapping, "Leave Laszlo to pack everything like an overgrown child. Here, pull out the extra batteries so I can put them in the actual fucking battery cases we own." Guillermo looks down at the bag in surprise as it is thrust towards him, hands coming up automatically to take it. He is wearing a black tee shirt with a gray symbol on the chest under a sleeveless unzipped dark blue hoodie with red trim, black leggings, red sneakers, a black fidget ring on his right middle finger, and a silver cross around his neck, tucked into the shirt. 1c. Close up of Guillermo as takes the bag and removes the batteries, aiming a concerned look at Nandor as he does so. He asks, "Are you okay?" 1d. Waist up of Nandor from Guillermo's POV as he straightens up and wrestles his hair back into a messy bun with quick, angry motions. Still glaring down at the equipment, he snarls, "I dislike long car rides; I dislike being out of the city;" 1e. Reverse shot, close up of the back of Nandor's head with its painful looking bun in the foreground as he continues, "I dislike laszlo's laissez-faire attitude towards the security of our expensive equipment..." In the background, Guillermo frowns as he observes Nandor's hair.

2a. Repeat. Guillermo interrupts Nandor's venting by pointing toward his hair and asking, "Can I fix that?" Nandor's head in the foreground turns toward him, asking, "Huh?" 2b. Wide shot facing the rear of the van as Guillermo says, "Your hair, just- c'mere." Guillermo takes Nandor by the shoulders, turns him around, and pushes him down to sit on the bumper with a small, unassuming smile. Nandor looks shocked and not a little flustered, shoulders tense under Guillermo's hands. 2c. Close up on Nandor as Guillermo pulls the rubber band from his hair and lets it loose around his shoulders, covering his eyes. Guillermo combs his fingers through the strands and Nandor stills, expression hidden but cheeks going red. 2d. Close up of Nandor's face from the nose down in profile as Guillermo's hands gather his hair behind his shoulders. 2e. Close up of the back of Nandor's head from Guillermo's POV as he pulls all of Nandor's hair together neatly at his crown.

3a. Close up on Nandor's side, elbow to hip, as Guillermo's right hand leaves his head to tap two fingers on Nandor's jeans pocket. Nandor pulls his elbow away in surprise. 3b. Repeat. Nandor's other hand obliges, pulling a second rubber band from his pocket and offering it to Guillermo, who hooks it onto his finger. 3c. Waist up of Guillermo as he steps back with a hesitant grin, hands clasped together at his sternum. He says, "There. Better?" 3d. Close up of Nandor's right hand as it lifts his phone and unlocks it with a thumb. His phone case is a Lisa-Frank-esque close up of a white horse with purple, blue, and pink spots on a backdrop of a blue sky with clouds and a rainbow.

4a. Bust of Nandor as he raises his phone up to take a look at himself in the camera, expression now softened from his earlier frustration. His hair is now twisted up into a neat, round bun at the crown of his head, one stubborn strand loose at his temple. He raises his eyebrows, liking what he sees, and says "Huh. That's very good. How did you do that?" 4b. Zoom out to knees up, Nandor still perched on the bumper of the van. Guillermo stuffs his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and leans back against one of the van doors, flushed and grinning as he aims his gaze elsewhere. With a humble shrug, he replies, "Sister taught me. She said that if I wanted to impress a girl one day, I should learn how to do basic styles." Nandor lowers his phone and drapes that arm over his raised knee, left hand palming the other to balance himself as he turns his torso towards Guillermo with a grin. He says, "Well, color this girl impressed." /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #alethophobia #fic rec #fic comic #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #human nandor #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

563 notes · View notes

ja-khajay · 9 months

Note

hiii! In regards to the "Guillermo del Toro Says “We Have to Rescue” Studio Animation From “Emoji-Style Behavior”" article/statement, do u have examples of animation that specifically is & is not this type of expression/animation? Bc it's rly hard for me to actually picture this and like I need examples ahaha

Disclaimer - I was not at this specific talk, so I don't have the full context and I know from reliable sources - friends of mine that DID attend it - that it's not all he said there, so that article is pretty much only relying spicy chosen bits. That being said, I will focus on this paragraph.

Getting more specific, he went on to detail what he despises about certain lazy proclivities in commercial animation, notably how characters and emotions are “codified into a sort of teenage rom-com, almost emoji-style behavior.” He added, “[If] I see a character raising his fucking eyebrow, or crossing his arms, having a sassy pose — oh, I hate that shit. [Why] does everything act as if they’re in a sitcom? I think it is emotional pornography. All the families are happy and sassy and quick, everyone has a one-liner. Well, my dad was boring. I was boring. Everybody in my family was boring. We had no one-liners. We’re all fucked up. That’s what I want to see animated. I would love to see real life in animation. I actually think it’s urgent. think it’s urgent to see real life in animation.”

What he talks about here is something I find omnipresent in modern American animation, or from studios that are funded by and/or trying to sell to americans (ex: Illumination McGuff). Here del Toro specifically mentions characters and emotions and how they are codified, which would include how characters are written, how animated their emotions and body language are, how they interact... He also mentions studio animation, an important distinction - this does not include indie animators!

A few things, adding * to those he's specifically calling out here, and more of my own that are not stated but I feel match the style

*one liners

*the "dreamworks face"

*sassy attitude

*quick banter

*taking poses

looking into the camera

overtly smooth, cartoony body language

characters explaining their emotions, plot resolutions around this

I will now get to examples, starting by a comparison between two animated films. Both of these films are contemporary, family-audience, french animated films. They share similarities in setting, being medieval fantasy fairytales about female heroes. One of these films was made with an american audience in mind (Pil), and the other caters to a french audience (Dragon Princess). You can compare how the characters act in both trailers:

youtube

Try and only focus on dialog, body language and expressions, barring art style and story!

Feature films that, in my opinion, also fit that "emoji style behaviour" (* for those I have not fully watched) any why:

Turning Red: the sass, the one liners, body language, camera looking, quick banter, plot resolution with characters explaining their emotions. The whole film fits

Puss in Boots: The last wish: sass, one liners, body language, banter, characters explaining their emotions. Scenes like Puss meeting his past lives and the dog's dialog are strong offenders

The emperor's new groove: sass, one liners, posing, banter

Encanto: sass, posing, banter; the explaining their emotions to drive the plot is ridiculously present to the point where I'd say del Toro was vagueing that one with the family example

Klaus: posing, banter, body language, explaining their emotions

*Nimona: sass, posing, banter, expressions...I only watched the trailer so can't say much but it leans HARD into the rapid fire quip territory with emotional resolution

*Trolls: sass, posing, banter, body language, camera looking...

Regarding films that do not do this, the quick answer would be...watch foreign (=not american) and/or older films. Nowadays with internet a massive catalogue is available, although the USA has such a monopoly on animation via its advertising budget other countries don't have that those films can be harder to find especially if you only use english-speaking internet.

As most studio animation is for a young or family audience and my entire example list above is, I will give some recommendations of films that are also for such an audience, but with older and worldwide picks. Some of these films are fully available on YouTube (although not in english always), so I'll be linking that when possible!

Mom is pouring rain (France, 2020s) (trailer): A shorter film about a little girl sent to live with her grandmother while her mom heals from depression. Has emotions front and center but expressed and animated in a way typical of modern french animation, with cartoony designs but subtler, more "boring" acting

The little prince and the eight headed dragon (Japan, 1960s): Beautifully animated in a style distinct from anime, this is a simple folktale adaptation. Fully on YouTube, albeit in its original english dub who's quality is frankly not great.

Next! (UK, 1990s): Stop motion short by an animator who specifically explores subtler, harder to animate expressions, as well as the art of theater, represented here by a Shakespear puppet playing out his works as a one-man show.

Ramayana (India, 1990s): Animated version of the legend of the same name, coupling a Ghibli art style with your ancient legend's large scale battles and polite heroes.

Ne Zha (China, 2010s)(trailer): that trailer is dead serious, it's actually a pretty damn silly movie! Including this one because as a big CGI animated film it's interesting to compare to what Pixar/Dreamworks/etc is doing.

...I'm realizing that I included a whole lot of animated folk tales so for modern chinese animation I'll also name Legend of Hei (2020s)(trailer), an original fantasy film with indie origins and a whole lot of over the top action.

As for films from the US that do NOT match that style? As a country the US has a rich history of animation asides of Disney! I personally grew up on Tex Avery and Looney Tunes cartoons who (pre-90s) are great examples of this.

For more adult films, I'll link my list of mature animation recommendations!

My ask remains opens for any clarifications :) have a nice day!

#answered #animation

841 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 9 months

Text

Iridiscent (Pt.2)

PirateAU!Miguel x Mermaid!Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, Historical Figure use, mild sexual situations, a dash of history inaccurracy just for the sake of the plot, implied mysticism, character origins, mourning and grief, mentions of slavery.

Summary: The origins of The Red Eyed Demon.

Pt. 3

I apologize in adavance if this one is a bit too boring or too difficult to read, they'll meet ;) I promise <;3 . Hope you like!

The incessant wailing of a toddler echoed through the barns of the sugar cane plantation. English man with wide eyes as he held a knife, looking how the olive skinned woman flailed like a fish out of water, gaping her mouth open as blood flooded her airways.

Air stagnant in iron, horse shit and sweat. Each odor fighting to see who was the stronger one in the secluded area. The man dropped the knife as he tried to dress his lower parts as quickly as he could. His wide and horrified sight settled in the woman that, despite having her life slipping through the deep wounds, tried to reach for the crying toddler.

The woman choked as the tiny human hiccuped watching his mama.

Everything went still.

"Conchata!" the man panicked when the true commanding voice of Hacienda De La Vega, called for the woman that laid before him, lifeless.

He was the foreman, and of course he would have authority above everything that breathed under his command, even the owner's favorite plaything. Conchata.

The woman was beautiful, cinnamon skin, dark ravenous hair that reached to her waist, pouty lips, strong nose, high cheek bones, eyes that could kill with a single look as they were a deep shade of red, almost mahogany, hooded under thick brows, a plump hourglass figure that had captured almost immediately the owner's attention as she came down the slave shipment he just had acquired in Veracruz, México, long ago. A rare gem among coal and stones that had given birth to a bastard child.

And now, she was gone, dead on the floor after trying to retaliate the big english man that was trying to force himself on her as she was attending her duties in the barn. Anger took over him as she denied him multiple times with a plain disgusted expression on her sharp features.

"Conchata!" The owner, Guillermo de la Vega, called again, worry laced with anger in his voice. The forgotten infant looked at the door, as his tiny face contorted into a crying one.

"¿Dónde se habrá metido esa mujer?" (Where did that woman go?)

The foreman escaped. It took a couple of hours for the crime to be discovered. Guillermo could only look with heavy eyes as his lover was taken out, and thrown in the mass grave down the hill that was used to bury the ones that were too weak and sick to withstand life itself. After all, he had an image to uphold.

"Mi señor, ¿qué haréis con el infante?" (My lord, what must be done with the baby?)

Her spaniard accent thick as she spoke. The little boy resembling his mother raised little to no suspicions as to who was the father, was nested in her arms quietly.

The midwife asked as the little boy had cried himself to sleep. He was but two years old.

"Dáselo a una de las esclavas que lo cuide. De preferencia una que esté amamantado." (Give him to one of the slaves. Preferably one that is nursing.)

-----

The boy was now twelve years old, features a bit more prominent and the resemblance to his old love had settled in. Despite his age, the boy was tall and his face was already showing the hardships of life, frown on his brows as he dug yet another grave, this time wasn't for another slave that died under poor conditions, no.

Miguel had taken his bittersweet time in digging a grave comfortable enough for the person that perpetually rested next to him. Adia, an african slave that had nursed him to health, wiped his tears, consoled him the best she could at the hard, cold, lonely nights in the settlement. A woman that without a doubt had taken him in, and had turned into his mother. The only form of love he had known so far.

He had begged Guillermo to have her burried, De la Vega accepted with the condition that he would have to do it himself, since everyone was busy enough as it was in the sugar cane harvesting season. It had been hours since he was shoveling dirt. His tears watered the land. Adia had died out of malaria.

At everyone's sight, Miguel was trying to put his mother's body on the grave, but it was too heavy. He sobbed in frustration and kicked dirt. Cold realization hit harder than a whipping on his flesh, there would be no more sleeping stories, none to wait for him after helping in the fields, none to sing him to sleep when his nightamares frequented him at night, none that actually cared for him.

Two other men had been kind enough to help him as they tried to keep an eye for the foreman. One of them patted Miguel on the shoulder, a measly yet comforting gesture to show him compassion. Another form of love that was foreign to him. No words were needed.

Calloused, hard and shaky hands shoved dirt back, covering bit by bit the lifeless form of his mother. Oddly enough, the vocalizations of the men and women around that shared the same fate of slavery as him and origins of Adia, raised their voice in a foreign chant. A chant that promised a new start, in another life. Strangely enough; comforting, soothing to his aching little heart as he kept shoveling dirt back in it's place.

A forever farewell song.

----------

"¡Maldito hijo de puta!" (You son of a bitch!)

Miguel had rolled the loose leather handle of the weathered whip in his large hand and walloped his mother's killer with all his might, over and over again. The whip tore and ripped the feeble fabric of the supervisor's clothes to then tear viciously at his flesh, biting harder each time Miguel struck him down with it.

A gunshot resonated through the air, Miguel didn't stop.

"Golpeas a ese hombre una vez más, y el próximo en ser enterrado serás tú." (Strike that man one more time and you'll be the next one in being buried)

"¡Pues Hazlo! Pero primero lo mataré." (Then do it! But I'm killing him first)

Miguel's rage had consumed him, people just stared with horror at the damage he had done on the agonizing man. Eyes flashed red in anger, teeth baring as the overseer held his hands up in defense, a rather pathetic tactic to gain some sympathy from those witnessing his eventual fall.

Tall, yet lanky looking sixteen year old boy had whipped him real good, given him a taste of his own medicine. Some of the men in the back had been silently cheering on the boy

"No lo repetiré de nuevo, Miguel."(I won't repeat myself again, Miguel)

"¡Él mató a mi mamá! ¡Este maldito animal la mató!" (He killed my mother! This fucking animal killed her)

Tears were simmering in his eyes as he struck once more. No gunshot came. A bone shrilling cry snapped Guillermo out of his stupor. Glaring at the boy, he put the gun away and marched towards both.

"¿Qué acabas de decir?" (What did you just said?) His voice wasn't threatening, rather confused and surprised at Miguel's accusation.

"¡¿Qué no oyes?! ¡Este maldito bastardo mató a Conchata, mi madre. Mi verdadera madre! ( Are you deaf? This fucking bastard killed Conchata, my mother. My real mother!)

He didn't mean to insult or despise Adia's memory and efforts in his upbringing, but his origins was something he had always been denied no matter how much he cried for answers.

It all took one night to remain hidden as he watched one of the women being dragged away from the group by the overseer and had his fun with her, and not exactly in a willing way.

The rapist was admitting his crimes one by one as he thrusted harder into the poor girl, marveling at the fact that none had caught him so far. Not even Guillermo himself. He detailed how he killed them, but turned vicious as he explained how he ended the life of a certainslave that refused him because she was in love of his master, and even had a boy with him.

A bastard child.

The thought sparked a fire he thought long gone, and when his mother's killer was unaware the next day as he was polishing his shoes, his punishment begun.

Miguel had aimed to kill him, not caring if it took him hours. He cursed and spat at the man. Guillermo took him by the arms softly but he flinched at his touch.

De La Vega could only stare at him, a bit of himself on his features, strong jaw, his prominent height and frame were his doings. And so was the hatred Miguel looked back at him. His son had grown.

Guillermo turned around and left. A killer and a hero at sixteen.

--------

The sound of the canons blowing all he had known made him freeze in his spot. Bells rang more than his ears allowed to tolerate, people ran in all directions, trying to put themselves into safety.

Hacienda De La Vega was under attack.

"¡Aseguren las entradas! ¡No les permitan avanzar!" (Secure the entrances, do not allow them to advance!)

De la Vega barked orders as he shot a few pirates away from the walls.

Pirates.

A chill ran down Miguel's spine as he watched the men slaying the guards in their wake. Slaves, his friends, were all rounded up like cattle, as the rest of armed men shoot, killed, maimed, any foe on sight.

"Por Mundaca!"

He had been on his studies, something that Guillermo had insisted for him to partake in a few weeks later after the overseer was killed, despite the broken bond between them. He couldn't give Miguel properties and lands, but the least he could do was to give him the power of knowledge. His one and only gift towards him.

Everything happened in a blur. A ground shaking explosion had blown brick, stone and debris on Guillermo's position, erasing him from existence within a blink of an eye. Miguel's body was sent flying as another projectile impacted his study hall area. Glass and shrapnel cutting into his skin. Pain biting and screaming at his bones, he whimpered almost breathless as he tried to stand and go to a safer zone.

He passed out only to wake up being dragged down by a group of armed, tattooed and dangerous men. The captain, wore a black robe, big laced rimmed hat with a black large feather, a clear mockery to the Spaniards.

Fermín Antonio de Mundaca had attacked Hacienda De La Vega, thanks to the rumor that Guillermo bought the best slaves other privateers offered. And not only did he find that, but a rich property, women, spices and of course, Miguel.

Dark eyes fixed on the eighteen year old young man that had put some of his men to sleep despite being injured. Adrenaline pumping through his veins as he fought for his life.

"¡Alto!" (Stop)

Fermín barked as he sheathed his swords and marched towards a wobbly standing Miguel. Never in his life had seen someone this tall with spark.

"A este lo ponen a parte. Los demás van al fondo." (This one goes separately. The rest goes to the bottom)

An air knocking punch was the last thing Miguel felt before collapsing.

-------

Fermín was an outlaw accused of slave trafficking and commerce among other illicits by the Spaniards. By the time they had arrived to Cuba, his ship was one of the most expected by the pro-slavers settled in La Habana.

"¿Cuánto por él?" (How much is he?)

One of the buyers had asked as Miguel glared holes into the man.

"No se ve como los otros. ¿De dónde es?" (He doesn't look like the others, where is he from?)

"¿De dónde eres, muchacho?" (Where are you from, kid?)

Fermín asked in a serene tone, with curiosity in his eyes.

"De tu puta madre, cabrón" (Your fucking mother, you dipshit)

Fermín couldn't help but laugh merrily at his temper. The buyer gasped, horrified.

"Nacido y criado en alguna Hacienda española en Yucatán de seguro. No está a la venta." (Born and raised in a Spaniard estate for sure. He's not for sale)

Once the sale was over, Miguel was shackled and pulled to Fermín's headquarters. The ship once more sailing after restocking. The swaying movement made Miguel's stomach to churn. Fermín only chuckled as he removed his robe and hat.

Weathered face along some graying strands poking here and there and his trimmed yet irregular shaped beard. He was tall, but Miguel was taller.

"Not used to travel by ships?" Mundaca spoke in a chewed yet understandable english that had earned him what he possessed now. An unethical and morally questionable fortune born by the traffic and smuggling of lives.

Miguel frowned, confused at the sudden language switching.

"Te he preguntado si estás acostumbrado a viajar en barco. Pero, viendo lo pálido que estás, ya es una respuesta en sí misma." (I've asked you if are you used to travel by ship, but seeing how pale you are, it's already an answer itself.)

Mundaca served himself a cup of tea, to then sip it and smiling, relishing at it's flavor.

" ¿Porqué no me vendiste en Cuba?" (Why didn't you sell be back in Cuba?)

"¿Y desperdiciar el potencial que tienes? No me hagas reír." (And waste away your potential? Don't make me laugh.)

Miguel sighed and held his stomach, dizziness slowly taking over.

"¿Qué edad tienes?" (How old are you?)

"Dieciocho." (Eighteen.)

Mundaca stared at him, doubt splattered all over his face, it felt like a terrible joke said.

"¿Con esa altura, puedes hacerte pasar por lo menos de unos veinticinco años." (With that height you could pass as a twenty five yeard old)

"¿Para qué me tienes aquí?" (What am I here for?)

"Creí que era bastante obvio, niño." (Thought that was pretty obvious, kid.)

"Un esclavo toda tu vida, que probablemente nunca conoció a su madre, hijo bastardo, y un padre que nunca miraba en tu dirección, ¿cierto?" (A slave all your life that probably never met his mother bastard child and a father that barely or never looked your way. Right?)

Miguel's lips remained in a tight line.

" Tema delicado, ya veo." ( A delicate topic, I see.)

Mundaca finished his tea and gave a cup of water to Miguel, who quenched it in a gulp.

"De nada. Ahora, no tienes nada que perder, estás solo, pero puedo ayudarte en eso." (You're welcome. Now, You've got nothing to lose, you're on your own but I can help you with it.)

"No gusto de hombres, gracias." (I'm not into men, thanks.)

Fermín laughed almost into a fit, and only made Miguel's anger to rise again.

"¿Qué mierda te da tanta risa?" (What's so fucking funny?)

"Mira, niño, si realmente quisiera ese tipo de cosas, ya las hubiera tomado. Pero, piensa en grande, piensa más allá de lo que tu limitada imaginación puede." (Look, kid, if I'd want those sort of things, I would've already took them. But think big, think beyond what yout limited imagination can)

" ¡Riquezas, mujeres, propiedades por todo el mundo produciendo para tí! No tienes que darle explicaciones a nadie, y si las debes, sólo matas y escapas." (Wealth, women, properties all over the world producing for you! , you won't owe none an explanation, and if you do, just kill them and escape.)

"No soy un pirata." (I'm not a pirate)

Mundaca rolled his eyes and smirked

"Nadie es un pirata hasta que la probreza y la injusticias de la sociedad te arrastran y te obligan a serlo, muchacho." (None is a pirate until poverty and social injustices drag you down and force you to be one, kid.)

"Nadie es un maldito pirata hasta que los malditos ricos se ponen en guerra y las personas como nosotros sufren las consecuencias de dicha guerra" (None is a fucking pirate until the fucking rich wage their wars and it's people like us who suffer the consequences of said wars)

Miguel gulped as his eyes casted down, pondering in the elder man's words. He was slightly privileged to at least know hoe to read and write properly, a simple yet powerful difference between him and the people he used to bury.

"No hay malditas oportunidades en tierra firme, muchacho. Mientras los ricos se dan un banquete cada noche en base a nuestro sudor y sangre, los pobres mueren olvidados, solos y enfermos. Y me rehúso a eso." (There are no fucking opportunities on land, kid. While the rich feast each night thanks to our blood and sweat, poor ones die forgotten, sick and alone. And I reject that)

"¿Entonces solo tomamos de nuevo lo que nos pertenece? "(So we just take back what belong to us?)

Mundaca smiled and unshackled Miguel.

"Tienes un largo camino por recorrer, muchacho. Pero primero es lo primero. Aprende inglés." (You've got a long way to go, kid. But first thing first. you must learn English.)

-----------

He had just raided his first ship. A Spaniard ship named "Valencia Co.", He found medicines, people, spices and some materials that could be used to repair some wilthered parts of the ship Mundaca had gotten him.

Excitement was almost turned into ecstasy. He had proven to be worthy of something more than just burying people he once held dear and loved.

Life on land had shaped his body, but life at sea and Mundaca had shapen his mind. Mundaca had taken him under his wing, fed him, trained him, taught him everything he knew.

One night he had admitted through a bit too much rum, that he was better father than his own ever was. His body had also changed.

Work and food on land had gained him muscles, his english although chewed, had earned him more open doors within navy engineers that worked for either privateers or royalty itself.

Even though he chose to decline Mundaca's lesson on slave trafficking, and their views on said topic had created a small rift between them, where Miguel would stay at Isla Mujeres as Fermín made sure to deliver the slaves. The twenty six year old, rookie pirate never participated in a smuggling. Lives were out of his list.

----

Miguel couldn't help but notice how Mundaca's health deteriorated the more he traveled.

"You gotta stay here, old man. Ya no estás para esos trotes." (You're no longer young for that sort of action.)

Fermín's laugh was unavoidable as he listened to Miguel.

"Shut up, O'Hara." O'Hara. A surname that he adopted after his carpentry instructor passed. Old, wrinkly yet honest and kind man that gave him a chance onnthe spot as he was sent to learn how to repair boats through a fake note.

Pretensions had been necessary to learn everything he knew, but never actually indulged too much in it. It felt a disrespect to himself, even though it got some benefits.

"La trigueña looked at me today. She looked so beautiful as usual." Miguel was almost pitying his old man. A woman, 37 years younger than him, green eyes and overall pretty had been the reason of his sick look.

"Mundaca..." Miguel started but knew it was futile. Fermin had been deeply infatuated with the youngest daughter of the Pantoja family. Martiniana Gomez Pantoja, better known as "La Trigueña". Even killed his own crew to avoid any lose ends to reveal his location at Isla Mujeres where he finally settled down.

The portraits, pages full of poems, even small sculpts with a womanly face that resembled alot to Martiniana, loitered Mundaca's room. Fermín was unabashedly in love with her, but said obsession was taken too far when he out of the blue started to build "Vista Alegre", a estate that would be a gift to Martiniana. But of course, the young woman rejected him.

Crushing all his hopes once and for all. even though Miguel took him to Merida, to be medically assisted, Fermín Antonio de Mundaca ended up dying.

Once more, Miguel was alone, this time however he had much more than knowledge. He had a purpose. He took what Mundaca had inherited him, and used it to build his own ship. It was time to make his own history.

--------

He wasn't love sick, but definitely the woman had put him in a trance enough to make her be swollen with his child.

He was scared, even questioned way too many times if he would be a good father, something that was hard to grasp at the begining.

"Why do you stare at her like she will grow a second head?" The mother giggled as she looked from the doorframe of the small room. Miguel wasn't fancy, but practical. He provided enough for his family.

The sheer word made his skin crawl, the baby before him, a product of a one night stand, even though the woman played her role as a doting bride, he knew what she did behind his back. He couldn't be an hypocrite to call her anything but decent when he was much worse and still she had no idea.

She left as soon as she found out where Miguel went off to get money. She didn't hesitated in abandon him and their four year old daughter, Gabriela.

Oddly enough, despite living under the same roof, the both had felt like strangers sharing a common goal. As unethical both jobs were, they provided enough to keep the pretense of a good family. The mother couldn't complain of Miguel, he came home injured, but with enough money to live by another couple of months.

But of course, her leaving had put him in a difficult position where, he couldn't leave since none was willing to take care of his daughter, neither he trusted people to do so. And then, what he never thought possible, happened. Gabriela fell ill.

The Typhus had walloped mostly of the places in Campeche, and no matter how much he tried to look for medicines that would help his little girl to feel better, even being gullible enough to do small rituals that supposedly attracted mermaids to get one and make his wish true, nothing prepared him to see her exhale her last breath in his hands.

He spreaded her ashes in the sea, a reason why he turned himself into a full time pirate.

"Miguel?" The soft spoken voice had pulled him out the trance as the woman before rested her chin on his chest, staring with concern at him.

"Must be a powerful cunt if ye space out like that." The courtesan giggled but Miguel remained shut. A hand tucked behind his head as he rested on the perched pillows.

"What's on yer mind?" the woman asked as she gathered her clothes that had been discarded long ago. A few of the fancy courtesans that he knew was clean. Her sight drifted to the shiny pearl that rested on his trousers.

"Look at that! So shiny" The woman took the pearl and sat next to him.

"I could accept this as a payment." her tone playful, but a large hand retrieved the pearl and his dark ruby eyes looked at her.

"Do you believe in... those fairy-tales?"

"Like?"

"Mermaids."

Her nose scrunched up and shook her ginger locked head.

"The only thing I believe is money."

Of course, she was rational and had shared her hardships enough to make her who she was. Even though her hand stretched towards him, a signal for payment.

Sighing, he towered over her, then pulled out a couple of coins and a small gemstone and handed it over the woman's hand.

"A pleasure doing business with you, darling." He could help but fix his eyes on her, gorgeous, fascinated by shiny things, and surely knew how to lure men to a certain death. Difference between her and a mermaid was that the death part was just temporary, and of course she wasn't a fish like creature.

She was dressing up, and he went back to the bed. His frame occupied mostly of the space.

"I don't know if... would it be too personal to share this but..." Dark ruby eyes stared at her flushed back that still had some of his fingers imprinted on.

"When I was little, my grandmother used t'tell me about mermaids and shite." Her stockings were up on her feet.

"And I believed her, because... I had the feeling of being watched as I was on the shore, watching ships come and go." Her trousers were up to her hips as she fetched another layer of clothing that scattered somewhere nearby

"And then I saw her. I... I saw a mermaid. or at least I want to think that it was a mermaid." She shrugged and turned to him, breast still uncovered, and still he focused on her words.

"Because the pair of eyes I saw... were nothing like I had seen before. You could literally see the stars on them, Miguel."

The woman sighed and dressed her breast with a easily removal, yet beautiful looking dress. His fingers helped to secure it closed.

" Thanks. And... You know, I couldn't help but make a wish."

She put her lacy gloves on, and picked up her hair before a small mirror available in the room.

"And what did you wish for?"

She went silent and sighed, sadness flashing on a small smile.

"A better life, but... Im still here, so that wishing thing is just a big fat lie."

Miguel hummed and looked at the pearl.

"If I could, I'd slap her for... making us all so hopeful."

The door was closed and Miguel sighed.

"You and everyone, bonita." he squeezed the pearl on his hand. A new route on his mind.

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

Tag List:

@nerdykat @munixumai @raiirai @sarapaprikas-blog @deputy-videogamer @rizahawkeye1380 @littlenyx @marit332 @iz-iplier @mad-hatter-rici @viriexo @

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #pirate au #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara angst #t writes✨#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman

563 notes · View notes

torturedpoetemotions · 3 months

Text

I'm rewatching the 3x10 fight scene and I can't tell if my third eye is WIDE open or of I'm just loopy from pain and lack of sleep but.

Nandor is SO calculating in this scene. Like I know it's somewhat left open to interpretation whether the invitation was a spur of the moment thing or not, but I actually think I'm now firmly on the side of it WAS a real test and it WAS premeditated.

Because like. Nandor is thoughtless, yeah. But the stuff he says to Memo when he walks in isn't just thoughtless. It is TARGETED. Every single thing he says from the moment he walks into that room AND the way he says it is tailored to press on Guillermo's sore spots and piss him right the fuck off. And there has to be a purpose to that, because Nandor is thoughtless but he's not cruel, not that kind of cruel anyway.

And then there's his face when he's facing away from Guillermo, when Guillermo is giving him the "I let you live" speech. When Nandor is looking at Guillermo before and after that, his face is lightly amused. Condescending, a little indulgent maybe. Pitying, at the end. But when he's facing away from Guillermo? That entire performance falls away and THIS is what we see:

Nandor isn't amused. He isn't humoring Guillermo or ignoring him, either, though that's clearly what the turned back is meant to convey to Guillermo.

No. That face is CALCULATING. He's listening. He's waiting. He's seeing how far he has to push Guillermo to get what he wants out of him.

I wish I could get good shots that weren't just goofy-looking of all the shifts in his expression here--I simply do not have HQ enough video for that. But the shift in his expression just before he turns back to Guillermo and puts the condescending mask back on is SO telling. It's an aha moment.

And when Guillermo has him on his knees in that headlock? I know we've all looked at that moment a thousand times but

Nandor is delighted with this turn of events (and yes I used the moment when Guillermo is saying the W in "weak" because it looks like he's giving Nandor's cheek a lil smooch lmao).

Ahem. The point is, I no longer believe Nandor was just saving his own ass or coming up with spur of the moment plans--though I DO think he was (pleasantly) surprised by how evenly matched he and Guillermo actually were (even if he'd never, ever admit it). He went into that room with the strategic wheels turning and got everything he wanted out of that interaction.

Fucking guy.

#wwdits #wwdits 3x10 #nandor the relentless #wwdits meta #nandermo #my meta

141 notes · View notes

bugeater77 · 7 months

Text

Nandermo things u probably forgot about

not in any order(i wrote them whenever i remembered them)

(scroll down for images, the ones pictured are highlighted) - Nandor holding guillermo up to make him feel like he is flying multiple times (quite possibly nandermo hug)

During the simon the devious episode where nandor once again takes him flying, they hold hands (last image)

Nandor telling guillermo to stay by his side until he falls asleep in the curse episode, then going to grab his hand but stopping (5th Image)

"you'll probably have to take it in the waist and out the shoulders" - guillermo knowing Nandor's exact measurements

Nandor getting so frustrated while talking about the other vampires wanting to kill Guillermo that he kicks and destroys a box

"take a picture of me having fun and then send it to guillermo so he knows how much I do not miss him" - nandor

Guillermo DROPPING EVERYTHING ON THE GROUND when he hears about nandor's engagement

"it's not gonna last." -Guillermo SHIT EATING GRIN after realizing that gale and nandor are not gonna be together

Guillermo PUTTING HIS ARM AROUND NANDOR AFTER THE GAIL EPISODE he thought he had a chance :( (4th image)

Sean calling Guillermo Nandor's boyfriend and lazlo not questioning it not one bit

pulling guillermo back way before he was supposed to after trying to use him as bait for the sire

this was also while he was shaking his money maker if i might add

like the second he did it...

entire scene where Nandor tries to convince guillermo to come back from celeste

ENTIRE HOMOEROTIC FIGHT SCENE

might i mention that nandor obviously thinks guillermo fighting him is hot??!

Guillermo gripping nandor plushie after he leaves (3rd image)

Guillermo has silver lined seatbelts in his car, meaning he was planning to rescue nandor for a while

"traveling the whole world with my nand- master" - guillermo

ermmmmmm glitter portrait ?!!

Nandor wishing to be human the SAME AMOUNT that guillermo wishes to be a vampire, seeing him as an equal

"my furry little friend" - nandor

Marwa, who likes EVERYTHING nandor likes, kissing guillermo all over his face

The wwdits cast interview about nandermo, which to me feels like a deep extreme very canonization

Nandor's pure jealousy after finding out about guillermo becoming a vampire

Him waiting for SO LONG outside of panera bread

Going to guillermos house to look at his baby pictures

talking about his goth phase with his mom...

"if i'm lying, kill me now" - nandor

Nandor being so upset and holding guillermos body after thinking he was dead

Nandor grasping guillermos sweater

speaking out against the baron to keep guillermo safe, which if you watch season 1 again you'll see that he is TERRIFIED of the baron

so excited to talk about guillermo killing vampires.... wtf is wrong with u nandor but we're not gonna get into that

"I will fix"

PUTS ON GUILLERMOS CAPE

he is so excited to kill derek, not to turn guillermo human, but literally just to kill derek out of jealousy

Nandor's face while guillermo is talking about his love life(second image)

Guillermos face after Nandor turns Gail into a vampire (first image)

guillermo hammering the door as hard as possible to wake nandor for his super slumber.

duh nandor knowing every part of Guillermos thank you card

The entire last episode actually?

theres absolutely more but this is all i remember just from my brain

(new additions) In another cast interview, Kayvan Novak says “I think he’s coming to the realization that his type is Harvey Guillén flavored.” about nandors type

Nandor makes guillermo spin around in his wedding cape

Nandor says he got the idea of having a wedding ever since him and guillermo "watched the wedding planner on that rainy sunday together"

ok listen closely, the wedding planner is about a woman planning a wedding falling in love with the groom causing him to leave the bride

he did NOT CARE WHO HE WAS MARRYING. BUT HE KNEW HE WANTED GUILLERMO TO PLAN IT FROM DAY 1

214 notes · View notes

nutmeg-cider · 5 months

Text

guillermo’s job description includes “other duties as assigned” such as:

- helping your boss design and attain the ideal dick

- your boss subsequently thinking about you every time he uses the dick

- being your boss’s best……..man

- being your boss’s “heart guard”

- being your boss’s closest companion of 13 years

- having homoerotic physical altercations with your boss

- agreeing to take a knee by the river while your boss bites your neck

- your boss clinging to one of your sweaters like a comfort blankie while you’re missing

- your boss violating multiple highly venerated vampiric customs in one day just to see you happy

- your boss literally constructing an intricate ritual that involves him tenderly tying a cape around your shoulders (paralleling what you have been doing for him for years)

- cuddling with a hand sewn plushie version of your boss when you miss him

- circumcising your boss

- giggling and kicking your feet while your boss literally flies to outer space to impress you

- having a crazy high kill count just to protect your boss from harm

- loving your boss most out of everyone because he’s the queen bitch

- your boss only being alive because you let him live

- your boss leaning over to rest his head on your shoulder

- your boss’s wife, who is essentially spellbound to like everything he likes in the most literal sense, kissing you all over your face and telling you she doesn’t know what she’d do without you

- your boss, after putting himself in a position of vulnerability while you hold a weapon to his throat, whispering in 2 languages that you can kill him if you think he’s lying to you

- your boss gently cradling the head and touching the hair of what he thinks is your dead body

- you boss keeping and a card you gave him 13 years ago and knowing by heart the message you wrote on it

- returning to your boss and intimately caring for him no matter how much he hurts you because you can’t shake your feelings of undying devotion to him

- also kind of getting off on the power you have over him by carrying the household on your shoulders so effectively that things devolve into chaos when you leave

#but he’d never fuck his boss #long post sorry #i got carried away #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #nandermo #brewing cider

129 notes · View notes

laszlossweetcheese · 9 months

Note

more poly nadja laszlo and reader pls?? 😖😖

Your wish is my command <3

We'll Take Care of You

Nadja x Laszlo x Reader

Summary: Nadja and Laszlo help reader relax after a rough day.

Warnings: mega fluff!!

“Goddamn it!” You huff, slamming the door to the house as you enter. You storm up to your room, tears of frustration welling in your eyes. You don’t even stop to say hi to Guillermo on your way to your room, too heated and too close to crying to do so.

Today was absolutely awful. First, you overslept for work and got chewed out by your boss in front of several of your coworkers. Then came the various difficult customers you had to deal with throughout the day, only adding insult to injury. One customer in particular had you remake her coffee three times before screaming at you about your incompetence, nearly pushing you to quit. The cherry on top was when you tripped and fell hard onto the uneven concrete of the sidewalk on your way home. The sting of the scrape on your knee wasn’t what led you to collapse onto your bed and sob, however. The day had just thrown way too many hurdles at you and you were /so tired/.

Only a few minutes of crying had passed before there was a gentle knock at your door. “Darling…? We can hear you crying in there, is everything okay?” Nadja calls out softly from the other side.

You sniffle and try to pull yourself together, sitting up and wiping the tears from your flushed cheeks. “I-I’m fine!” You call out, though your trembling voice doesn’t do much to make you sound convincing.

“We’re coming in,” Laszlo calls out, and the door gently opens to reveal your two lovers with worried expressions.

“Oh, my sweet darling baby! What happened?” Nadja coos, hurrying over to you. She takes your face into her hands gently, wiping your tears away gently.

“Who are we killing?” Laszlo asks angrily, convinced someone had hurt you and needed to be taken care of.

“No one, I’m fine! I just…god, I had such a shit day,” you sigh, another soft sob making your chest heave. You explain the trials of the day, your tears finally slowing to a stop as you talk.

The vampires listen to you vent, listening intently the whole time. Each of them took a seat on either side of you, comforting you with gentle touches. Nadja kept caressing your cheeks while Laszlo placed a reassuring hand on your thigh.

“I’d say that does sound like a shit day,” Laszlo says, sharing a look with Nadja. They nod to each other and you wonder what they’re thinking.

“Don’t you worry, sweetie! We are going to take care of you, okay? You deserve some relaxation,” Nadja says with a sweet smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead and making you smile.

“Thanks guys. I already feel much better just talking about it,” you admit, giving Laszlo’s hand a gentle squeeze as you lean into Nadja.

They help you to your feet and lead you to the bathroom, starting a hot bath as you watch. With candles lit and the tub full, the vampires help you undress, giving you soft kisses as they go. You melt into their touches, your heart swelling with affection for them both. You sigh happily as you sink into the hot water, your body already starting to relax. They join you in the tub, with Laszlo at your back and Nadja facing you.

“Just relax, darling. We’ve got you,” Laszlo murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You let your eyes close and lean back against his chest, a relaxed smile on your face.

Nadja lathers up a loofah with a sweet smelling body wash and begins scrubbing your body down gently, starting with your arms. She massages your tense muscles as she goes, taking her time and making sure to get every inch of you that she can.

As Nadja lifts up each of your legs out of the water to scrub them down as well, Laszlo gets to work with the shampoo. His fingers rhythmically massage it into your scalp, eliciting another content sigh from you. You could cry from the sweetness of their touch and how careful they were being with you.

Once you’re clean, they take their time rinsing you off, letting you stay in the hot water for as long as they can. Eventually, the water begins to go cold and they help you out, your body feeling like jello. Nadja catches you as your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, holding you up as Laszlo wraps a fluffy towel around you. Once you’ve all dried off enough, you get comfortable in your bed, a vampire on either side of you.

“You don’t have to keep going to that awful place you know,” Nadja says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Collin handles the money just fine! You don’t have to work.”

You sigh, giving her a gentle smile. “I know…I just like having a little money of my own. I love being your familiar and would love to stay home with you, but I like having something to do outside of the house when you’re sleeping. Even when it’s stressful.” “Just don’t push yourself too hard, my sweet. We hate seeing you cry,” Laszlo says, pressing a kiss to your other cheek.

“We really do hate to see you in pain, my love. But we also want you to do what makes you happy!” Nadja agrees, resting her head on your chest and nuzzling closer to you.

You smile, running your fingers through her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What if I only work part time from now on?” You suggest, looking over at Laszlo. “That way I’m not as stressed but I can keep working and you two don’t have to worry about me so much.”

“Can I also kill your boss for yelling at you?” Laszlo asks, earning a laugh from you.

“No, you can’t kill my boss…yet. He gets another strike and then he’s all yours,” you decide, giving Laszlo a quick kiss. You let out a breath as you get comfortable with your lovers, all of you entangled in each other’s arms.

“Thank you again,” you whisper, your eyes closing as you start to drift off. “For everything.” With that, you drift off, comforted by your lovers’ embrace.

#what we do in the shadows #laszlo x reader #nadja x reader #laszlo cravensworth #nadja of antipaxos #laszlo x nadja x reader #wwdits #fanfic #fluff #comfort

311 notes · View notes

sirfrogsworth · 27 days

Note

hi hi!!!

I'm a CFX artist (I do hair and cloth for 3D animated movies) and I wanted to clarify something!!

the encanto post? we talked about that one at length at work when it was first made, and it is incredibly evident that the guy who posted it is just bad at his job. the exact same effect can be archieved by changing the camera focal length- but animators never reach for technically competent solutions. (this is a roast.) and even if thats not possible, there is NO reason for why her shoulder area or chest are completely crushed or why her feet are inside of her hip bone.

and also, since I am in the department that comes right after animation- if I had gotten that shot, I would have either sent it straight back to the animator to fix it, OR cleaned it up myself, by which I mean it absolutely did not look like this off-camera by the time we send it for final light render.

essentially if animation looks that messed up off-camera, it is not "animation magic", it is actually someone doing a bad job.

I'm going to have to respectfully disagree.

For one thing, the behind the scenes image was not close to a final render so I don't think you can fairly judge what was probably just the animator lining up and blocking the shot. I don't think at that state they were concerned with the shoulders, chest, and feet. I'm betting the final polished version looked much better.

And I also disagree the exact effect could be achieved by changing the focal length.

As a photographer, focal length is not just about cramming everything into the field of view. I don't only use a wide angle because I want more stuff in the photo.

It is also an artistic decision.

Wide angle lenses exaggerate distance and can make foreground objects seem massive and background objects seem tiny.

Look at this super wide angle shot of Otis lusting after a tennis ball.

The ball has a huge presence in the photo. It is only two feet away, but the distance between them seems immense. The ball takes up as much space in the photo as Otis.

Compare that to the ball in this telephoto image.

The picture now becomes less about the ball and more about the act of chasing it. The ball is literally only a foot closer to Otis, but it has no commanding presence like in the super wide shot.

So what artistic intention comes from using a telephoto lens like in Encanto?

Telephoto focal lengths compress distance. Background objects appear much larger in the frame. They also flatten the face and give a more flattering perspective of said face. Human faces can look a bit alien at wider focal lengths.

So what if you want the background to look large and encompassing and you want the flattering facial proportions from a telephoto lens, but you also want a foreground object to have a commanding presence like the ball?

You cheat!

This is not a technique confined to the world of 3D animation though. It is actually an old live-action trick. They will actually use another person's hands to do effectively the same thing as above.

In Hellboy II, Guillermo had two problems. He wanted a telephoto feel and depth of field and he also wanted a very intricate practical egg prop that could open mechanically.

To get the proportions and the framing and the feel of the shot as intended, he double cheated!

He made a big freaking egg with a big freaking fake hand.

(I know there is a picture of the giant hand somewhere but my googling failed me.)

In any case, I think this is just a case of good problem solving over incompetence. I think the director or the animation lead wanted this scene to fit within a specific focal length and it was easier and more efficient to just give her crazy long arms.

I'm not trying to dispute your expertise or animation-splain. Perhaps there was a better way to achieve the same look. But if the final result looked good, I don't think we need to bash someone who was probably under tight deadlines and had a lot of other work to complete. At least not without a lot more information.

51 notes · View notes

fullofbees · 3 months

Text

Anon requested: Lucifer totally would want to have sex on a grand piano just because.

CW: Lots of religious undertones, tbh this is probably just straight up blasphemy

»»----------► Reader is Gender Neutral

The time on your phone reads 23:08 as you slump in the loveseat, stretching your legs out before you. For six hours, you have locked yourself in the library, skimming book after book for a report that’s due next week. You’ve made decent progress, but as the night passed, the more certain you became about having to give up your weekend.

The thought has you sighing in frustration and sadness. You had been looking forward to the weekend, having been invited out by Asmodeus for a spa treatment and much needed retail therapy. A Devildom influencer you liked had been raving about a new gel polish that you were desperate to get your hands on. And with Asmo by your side, you were sure to get one in each color, as his death glare would keep any lesser demons out of your way.

You can already see the demon’s pout as you regretfully cancel your plans in the morning. You know he’ll hug you tightly, promising to get the polish for you anyways before kissing your forehead. That is all well and good, but you miss the lustful fifth-born.

Focusing on it will only make your mood worse. Deciding to leave everything where it was– you did not have the energy to lug everything back to your room– you stand from the loveseat and put out the fireplace. Darkness overtakes the library in an instant, the eerie feeling creeping up your spine reminding you of the house’s haunted nature.

Holding your D.D.D. tight to your chest, you know you’re probably being silly as you turn its flashlight on. As you make your way to the exit, you can hear faint music echoing from beyond the room. It only adds to the creep factor, making you feel like the lovesick protagonist of Guillermo Del Toro’s latest blockbuster hit. You’ll exit the library to find your ghostly lover at the end of the hall, and you’ll call and chase after them only to watch them vanish into thin air as after rounding a corner.

The door creaks as you open it to the adjoining music room. Faint candlelight blossoms from the far corner, your supposed lover cloaked in a black silhouette. The melody flowing from their fingertips is soft and melancholic, as if afraid to be heard. Moonlight gleams from the windows, creating a tiled path up to the grand piano, cool grays melting into the warm golden light from the candles.

You hadn’t realized you had taken a few steps into the room until the heavy wooden door of the library slammed shut behind you. You’re not proud of it, but you scream and end up tripping over your feet when you try to run away. Bruisably soft body meets unforgiving cold tile. The melody stops, being replaced by frantic steps rushing your way.

Rushing blood causes your head to pound as you push yourself to your knees. You’re greeted with the sight of black Oxfords before you. Raising your head, Lucifer stares down at you with a confused look on his face. His large coat is nowhere to be found; his tie is undone, hanging loosely around his neck, with the first few buttons of his shirt open. A delicate rosy glow decorates the exposed skin, trailing up to his cheeks. His well-kept hair is now messy and tangled, like he’s been constantly running his hands through it.

“Lucifer…?” You hesitantly ask, wondering why he’s not saying anything.

The demon bends forward and offers you his hand, gloves absent for once, “Are you alright?”

After placing your hand in his, Lucifer helps you off the floor. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I just finished studying,” you answer.

“Very well, time for you to head to bed then.”

You stare at each other, an awkward aura settling around. Lucifer’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance, “What is it?”

“Uhm, it’s just– You haven’t let go of my hand.”

He looks down at your clasped hands, fingers intertwined, and his expression softens. Still, he doesn’t release you from his hold, now too entranced by the feeling of your soft skin.

“Lucifer, are– are you alright?”

The first-born drops your hand suddenly, as if he has been burned, before taking a step back from you, “Quite. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

You nearly roll your eyes, wanting to chastise him about how his health and happiness are always your concern as their assistant, but manage to refrain when you see how his gaze lingers. It’s not hollow, like he’s looking through you, but rather like he’s searching for something. A gut instinct tells you to defy his dismissal and stay; you have a feeling he wants you to.

“I didn’t know you could play, you’re really good,” You lie, trying to use conversation as an excuse to stay. But Lucifer merely answers with a confirming hum.

The awkward feeling returns, and you’re caught off by just how much it hurts. You forget that this isn’t your Lucifer; this is him at a time of vulnerability, of distrusting others, a time where you hadn’t existed to comfort him.

“Can I listen?” Now it is your turn to extend a metaphorical hand to him. You just hope he takes it.

The demon acquiesces with a gruff, “Fine,” before turning on his heel and making his way back to the piano. You follow behind silently, listening to the steady chorus resounding off the walls as your footsteps fall in line with his.

You’re startled by the mess that surrounds the instrument. Music sheets litter the floor; some crumpled up and piled in a nearby wastebin, some torn in half, others in multiple little pieces, all of them with hasty scribbles of ink and jarring lines where the notes have been scratched out. An uncorked bottle of demonus sits precariously on the piano’s frame, though there is no glass in sight.

Lucifer seats himself on the bench as you begin collecting the discarded papers from the floor. The demon doesn’t seem to pay you any mind, as he starts a slow melody, single notes echoing out into the adjoining planetarium.

Some of his writing has not been completely crossed out, and the repeating themes of his words both confuses and saddens you.

Dread encounters me

My palate discerns disasters

That my soul would choose suffocation

And are not satisfied with my flesh?

“I was there that day; the day my Father broke that man’s spirit... I had delighted in it,” Lucifer’s somber voice cuts through the chords, “Is it not poetry then that I would befall the same fate?”

The papers rustle in your hands as you even the pile out, “And what fate is that?”

He hums, gloved fingers idly hovering over the ivory keys, before chuckling and shaking his head, resuming his playing, “Forgive me, the demonus has loosened my tongue.”

It always does , you want to say. You have lost count how many times Lucifer had whispered the sweetest, and filthiest, words imaginable to you because of the damned drink. How many mornings had he awoke to find himself drooling on your chest, his hair wild and unkempt from your hands during the previous night’s activities?

It almost crushes you in its enormity; to realize how lonely you feel amongst the very devil you love, to feel his absence though he sits before you. You miss him so much.

You remind yourself that you will return to him soon; that’s he’s not as far as he seems, all you need to do is form the pacts again. If you think about it, freshly fallen Lucifer is much like the Lucifer you knew when you first came to the Devildom, albeit considerably more brooding.

It’s familiar. He’s familiar. You can do this.

Lucifer had told you about ‘that day’ once, when he was but a babe of an angel, with only Simeon and Michael to keep him company. You had heard of the story before, as it had been spread amongst humankind for hundreds of years. You even had spent a a great deal of your own time studying it and any accompanying texts.

No scribe could match the horrors he had shared with you. It was the worst you had ever seen him, save for tonight. It was a distant past wound to your Lucifer, but for the one before you, it is open and raw.

Cautiously, you approach him, clutching the music sheets to your chest. You had comforted him once before, and surely that kind of bond can transcend time.

“Therefore, I will not restrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit. I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.”

The music stops. Lucifer now stares at you with both curiosity and apprehension. His gaze is piercing, intimidating, but it no longer phases you, for you have seen the tenderness that hides below.

The demon shuffles over to make room for you on the bench and you graciously take the offered seat. Such a simple action should not thrill you so, but the warmth radiating from him is like your second home. The remnant of his cologne fills your lungs, and you’re pleased to find that it is the very same that he uses in the future. How very Lucifer to wear the same scent for centuries; you’ll have to tease him for it later.

You’re about to speak, to further soothe his worries, but do not get the chance as his lips meet yours. His bare hands cradle your face, trapping you to the onslaught of feverish kisses, but it barely satisfies your craving for him. The papers you hold begin to slip from your grip before you cast them back to the ground so that you can run your hands through his hair.

Tension quickly melts into desperation as you cling to each other, but your body demands air, and you are forced to separate. Lucifer takes the moment to stand, his hands dropping to your waist as he encourages you to rise as well. Once up, he immediately spins you around to press your body against the piano.

Harsh and discordant notes chime from below as he balances you against the keys, hands gripping your thighs as he trails sloppy kisses along your neck. Your need is only intensified when he grinds his clothed cock between your spread legs, eliciting a small moan. He repeats the action again, harder than before, and it shakes the piano.

You’re interrupted by the sound of glass breaking, and if the growing red puddle on the floor is anything to go by, a perfectly good bottle of demonus has just been wasted. Lucifer releases a deep sigh with a scowl, and tries to part from your body, presumably to clean up the mess.

But you refuse to let him go, not when he was finally where you wanted him most. You push your heel into his backside, hands simultaneously pulling on his belt, forcing him back into position.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

•••✦ ❤ ✦••• Submit A Request | Read on AO3 •••✦ ❤ ✦•••

#fullofbeeswrites #fullofbeesasks #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer smut #obey me smut #nsft

54 notes · View notes

indigayghost · 4 months

Text

The Proposal

It wasn't supposed to start at all. When Nandor asked him to polish his opal ring, Guillermo smiled, taking the ring.

It was supposed to be an easy task. But then he saw the pile of dirty clothes and if he didn't take care of it now he would forget, he didn't want to lose the ring so he put it on his finger. It wasn't supposed to stay there, it was just to make things easier.

And it did! It did make things easier! He put the clothes on the washing machine, took the clean ones to the fancy room, fold everything, b-lined to Colin Robinson's room and threw his neatly folded beige shirts and pants in like he was delivering food to a solitary cell, noticed the rugs needed to be vacuumed and better to do it sooner than later, and, well, you can't blame him for forgetting the ring.

When Nandor found him, he was humming some pop song and calmly brushing Barry the Bear's fur.

"Guillermo, did you-" He stopped, furrowing his brows.

Guillermo jumped a little bit, cursing to himself by being taken by surprise (he and Nandor do not not have a friendly competition about who can scare the other the most and he would be lying if he said he didn't matter losing) while turning to face his master.

"Oh, good night, Master!" He greeted him. It took him half a second to realize Nandor was staring at his hand and half a second more to remember why. "Oh my- Sorry! I wasn't! I wasn't using it! I just put it on and I forgot-"

"Keep it." Nandor said, interrupting Guillermo's attempt to take the ring off.

"What?"

"Keep it." Nandor repeated, looking away. "I don't even like this ring that much."

That, Guillermo noticed, was a lie. Nandor never takes this ring off, but he wasn't going to point that out now, was he?

After a moment, not as a second thought, but almost as something he wasn't sure he was supposed to say, Nandor added:

"It looks good on you."

And then he vanished in a dark smoke, as Nandor often does when he puts himself in situations he's not ready to face, leaving Guillermo to process what the living fuck happened.

So, yeah, it wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. And now Guillermo has to deal with the consequences, mostly Nandor acting as a spoiled brat and a thousand more boxes for him to stuff in the "don't think about it" storage room of his mind.

He is so good at not thinking about it, in fact, that he didn't at all in the past five days since it happened, and he would gladly continue to not think about it if he wasn't being forced to by an overly aggressive Nadja.

"What the fuck did you do this time?" She said, cornering Guillermo between her coffin and her taxidermy armadillo.

"Nothing?" Guillermo responded, trying to decide if he would manage to squeeze below her arms.

"Exactly! Nothing!" She flap her hands in annoyance. "Are you dumb? Are you idiot?"

"Look, you're being really mean right now." Guillermo ignored how Nadja looked like she was visualizing all the ways she could kill him in favor of putting his hands on his waist and pretending he has no clue what she's talking about.

"You'll see how mean I can be when i rip your fucking head off, you dumb stupid donkey!" Nadja took a deep breath and fixed her skirt. "Gizmo, my silly little baby, how much longer will you let Nandor brood around like someone kicked him in the balls before you say your cheesy gay little speech about how 'oh Nandor of course I want to marry you' or something?"

Guillermo opened his mouth to say some smart little response before his brain finally got what she actually said.

“Of course I want to what?!” He almost screams- almost, he has some self respect, after all.

“Oh, oh please don't tell me this is another one of those situations none of you talk to the other and we all have to suffer through it!” Nadja flaps her arms like some kind of delirious chicken and turns her hands into fists when she sees Guillermo's “of course it is one of those situations” stare. The one he does where you can literally see the question marks dancing around his tiny little brain. “I'm going to kill you all!”

Nadja screams. She thinks about really doing it. Ripping Nandor's heart out and snapping Guillermo's neck. It would be easy, practical, and she would never need to deal with their crap again. But then she would miss them, so she sighs, recomposes herself and says, the calmest she can muster.

“My sweet stupid human, Nandor asked you in marriage. Please accept it before he kills himself.”

Guillermo just stares at her for a second. And then stares back at the ring, now heavy in his finger. Then back at her again. And then he screams.

“What kind of shitty marriage proposal was that?! He didn't even- He didn't even ask! It's not even a wedding ring!” He argues, as if that's the strangest part of all this and not that Nandor is asking to marry him. He decides not to think about that part yet.

“The guy is one thousand years old, what did you expect?!”

“She asked Gail all right.” Guillermo says, the disgust he feels remembering Gail is clear in his tone.

“Well, yeah, but Gail wasn't for real. He didn't want to marry her, don't tell me you believed that.”

“I did!” Guillermo lies. He lied for about two seconds before he chickened out below Nadja's piercing eyes. “Look. It's just… How do I even respond?! He didn't ask it. I can't go to him and just say yes!”

“Then fuck him yes. He'll get it.” Nadja says, shrugging.

Guillermo, as much as he wants to argue, doesn't really have a good response to that

#wwdits #wwdits fanart #Oops in writing again #Deal with it

46 notes · View notes