dreamingorbeeing

[dreamingorbeeing]

aftermath, pt. 1

(next)

after sending nega gyro back from whence he came, gyro and fenton take a moment to talk about things.

i’m pretty inexperienced when it comes to comics (this is my first time making a comic w a program that’s actually meant for making comics), and with how long the script ended up being i probably should have just made a fic. but i’ve committed now, so let’s see how this goes!

[dreamingorbeeing]

tfw a weird interdimensional portal to a mirror universe opens in your lab (even though your boss banned you from portal technology ever since the lawsuit) and a cheerful version of you falls out of it

[dreamingorbeeing]

Snippet of a comic I'm working on...it's taking forever but it's gonna be good when it's done I promise. Just needs more time in the oven.

[dreamingorbeeing]

more please :-* O:-)

I’ve never tried to properly make a comic before. Like paying attention to lettering and paneling and going through all the steps and such.

I am also a “Klavier and Ema are friends” TRUTHER. They are bisexual man and lesbian asshole solidarity in my mind. I just. Couldn’t get this scene I created out of my head. Like, this would be how they actually start their friendship in my mind. Klavier also really really needs friends

[dreamingorbeeing]

you always make is sound like above else klavier is an immense burden to you. would you feel relieved/freed if he was gone ?

"No."

"Believe it or not, I wouldn't say I would feel 'relieved'. It's rotten work, caring for him, yes... but it's still a job I took up. He's my responsibility and my family.

Perhaps I speak negatively about him often, but he's my brother. Sometimes I just wish he had stayed a clueless child instead, though..."

[dreamingorbeeing]

imagine 😅

The Real Bobby Fulbright Went on Vacation & Came Back AU™

[dreamingorbeeing]

oww Kristoph..

you're so used to taking others under your wing, be it as a brother or mentor but how do you feel about the concept of someone looking after you? like for once letting someone take you by the hand? care for you? or would that be humiliating

"I'm not sure what to say. It'd feel odd, to say the least."

[dreamingorbeeing]

dear Kristoph,

what's your opinion on the sentence :

perfection is boring.

"Foolish. Those that think perfection is 'boring' simply can't achieve it themselves."

[dreamingorbeeing]

Good fanfic please read 😇

=✮Green + Gold✮=

[MCU Loki x Amora]

CHAPTER TWO

=Masterlist=

Please see the above linked “Masterlist” for all warnings and disclaimers about the fic, thank you.

[Chapter One] [Chapter Three]

Days as a god-like being pass faster than imagined, yet there are times where it feels the years crawl on like a wretched creature dragging itself across the floor, pulling with nails to just reach the nearest reprieve. It’s not always a bad thing, Loki thought, especially nowadays.

Since his proper meeting of his blonde companion, he’d found himself wishing the days lasted longer, as surprising as that was to himself.

Years had passed since that night, how many exactly he wasn’t sure, and they had fallen into a strained form of friendship. Debates held over tomes, spars in the training grounds between daggers and sword, or spell against spell, quiet evenings spent reading side by side with little conversation. All of it blissful in comparison to the loneliness he had often felt in the years before. He wouldn’t find a true equal, he knew that, but he supposed this was as close to it as he could picture. Yet he always held back, the conversation on his part never drawing too close to his kin, never exposing emotion beyond what was surface deep, no tales of youth beyond what she had herself witnessed or heard about. The most he had ever laid bare for Amora, after one too many cups of mead had been had, was a deeply rooted ambition, though he wisened up before he could say as to what it was for.

He’d avoided her for nearly a week after that, refused invitations to train and ignored her knocking on his chamber door. When he returned, she had poured half a cup of ale over his head and that was that, the next day returning to their almost friendship. Those days he truly wished lasted a bit longer.

This day didn’t start off as one of them though. Not at first.

Dim yellow light hung in the Palace of Valaskjalf, home of the royal family of Asgard, and it’s great hall, nowhere near as large as the neighbouring site that’s sole purpose was a gallery for grand events (like coronations* and passing of titles or medals), but still opulent enough for occasions like this evening.

Some wedding of one of his mother’s courtiers, a woman he couldn’t remember the name of, did it begin with an S maybe? He shook his head dismissively, it didn’t matter anyway. They had been introduced once, and he could vaguely recall Frigga’s insistence on it, likely hoping to find a match for him but left disappointed when he only spared the girl a look before preferring to talk with a particularly blonde and imposing figure instead.

The only one who didn’t seem surprised by his newfound rapport with the enchantress was the woman’s former teacher and patron, Karnilla. The darkly dressed Norn was a dangerous figure, even to the God of Mischief, and though her visits to Asgard were briefer nowadays, she made appearance upon Odin or Frigga’s request. She’d eyed the emerald prince with her steely gaze, seeing his inclination towards her one-time apprentice, and only spoke to him towards the end of that particular day: “She’ll stamp on your heart, princeling, don’t forget it.”

The conviction she’d spoken with had almost broken his front of indifferent charm, but it was all but forgotten for the years after. Till tonight.

The hall roaring with the sounds of nobles, courtiers of every extension close to the household of royalty, along with their finest warriors (Thor’s rowdy bunch included, Loki counted with an eye roll), it wasn’t his kind of evening entertainment in the slightest. He’d much rather be in the sparring yard, throwing spells and blades with instructors till the moon rose, or sat in the library with Amora pouring over some ancient magic book, but here he was, stuck at yet another boring affair with his mother’s ire being the penalty for running off.

As he contemplated it, the doors parted again for the latest arrivals to the feast, a group of maybe thirty or so, announced by name and title each turn by a crier nearest the entry. Never mind that the room was nearly packed with over a hundred figures already.

“Bragi, poet to the Allfather, accompanied by the lady Idun.”

Boring.

“Lord Forseti, Justiciar, accompanied by the Valkyrie, Eir.”

Moderately curious, but dull.

“Mimir, Captain of the Einherjar, accompanied by the fine lady Gefjun.”

And back to boring.

“Lord Vidar, accompanied by the lady Amora.”

Pompous oaf, du—What?

Now that had his attention. He peered up from his place behind the column he’d chosen as his shelter for the night, just a few paces shy of the grand table of his family, which in turn stood raised behind the bride and groom’s own platform. Because even on a day like today, his family must be held in even higher standing than any other, just in case they should forget it between the crowns adoring his parents heads or their gilded attire.

Vidar was an unexceptional fellow, a warrior, vengeful and brusque with little intelligence from what Loki could recall, barely appearing any different to the husband of this wretched evening, whereas she…

Amora strode in at Vidar’s side, arm looped around his, looking utterly breathtaking. Far more stunning than the brown-haired bride in her finest dress. Her golden locks coiled up in part atop her head in fashionable braids, the rest hanging down her shoulders and back in waves. A verdant gown that hung off her shoulders, tight around the bodice encrusted with golden flecks and flowing out at the waist into many layers of sheer fabric in black and green.

If he had been paying attention to anyone else, he would have noticed his mother’s smile at the blonde sorceress, grateful that she accepted the invitation. He would have noticed the disgusting way Thor looked her up and down as if she were a new challenge. The way that Sif glowered at her for stealing the attention from her partner for the evening. The way the bride frowned for being outshone, and the groom licking his lips at the tightly cut gown that left little to the imagination.

But he didn’t notice any of it. All he could see was her. The glamours of shining eyes and perfect make up (a mixture of gold and black, as ever) held in place with minimal effort whilst the woman glided across the floor to greet and congratulate the happy couple. The way she batted her eyes and charmingly smiled towards each of them, the way Vidar held her waist tightly as if he had any claim to it.. It boiled Loki’s blood.

Why such a woman would ever attend with a man who had more in common with a Bilgesnipe than one of the Aesir, he couldn’t fathom. Growling to himself, he sauntered from his hiding place to his family’s side without even realising he was moving in the first place.

Frigga was the first to notice him, offering him a warm smile. “There you are. Just in time for the dancing, though I’m afraid you missed the best courses.” She chittered inconsequentially about the festivities she thought he had missed. He hadn’t, he had just not wanted to join, but rather than say it aloud he bobbed his head in a feint of listening. His icy-blue eyes never once drifted from the enchantress across the hall however, who by now noticed him and in turn shot him a sly smirk.

The Queen of Asgard was not a fool, certainly no one could claim her as such, it took only a matter of seconds of conversation with her favourite son that she realised he wasn’t listening at all. Following his gaze towards Amora, a small but knowing smile spread on her lips before she lightly placed a hand on her green and black clad child’s arm.

“Why not offer her a drink?”

“Pardon?”

Now his gaze finally snapped to Frigga, and she let out a small chuckle at it.

“You may stare forever, Loki, or you may offer her a drink.. Maybe even a dance?” Though at that he only glowered further. “And why would I do that? She is accompanied, and uninterested.” He ground out through slightly bared teeth.

“Because she has barely stopped looking at you either. Now go, before someone else beats you to it.” And with a light swat to his elbow, she shooed her dear son away with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Loki absolutely did not leave because his mother told him to. Or because he was concerned of even the slightest threat from any troglodyte that would attempt to curry favour with her tonight in his stead. He left of his choice, and just that. Entirely so.

Lazily grabbing two goblets off of a nearby tray, he swept over with silent steps to where Amora stood, leaning ever so slightly against one of the tables. She appeared to have just finished her prior drink, turning to place its empty shell down before another was forced into her hand. Turning back to chastise anyone who might presume to know what she wanted or that if she wanted a drink she would get it her damn self, all insults fell short when the lean figure stood mere inches from her and blue eyes stared right into her jade ones.

“Princeling.” She greeted him with a cat-like pur in tone, smirking graciously.

“I wasn’t aware you were attending this..” pausing only to idly wave with his spare hand. “Drab affair.” Loki uttered, without a formal return of hello.

“If I had known you certainly were, I would have of course told you.” She uttered with satisfaction upon seeing the annoyance she could see boiling behind the surface of his carefully indifferent expression. It was absolutely a lie, and they both knew it.

“Oh I am sure you would have, else you wouldn’t have had to attend with that oaf.” He spat back with coiled tension, like a snake preparing to bite.

Tilting her head back an inch as she let out a melodic giggle, and she eyed the mischief-maker with coy attention. Jealousy looked gorgeous on him.

“Had to? I never do anything that I don’t want to, as you should well remember. Don’t let a title delude you into thinking otherwise.” Amora retorted.

She actually seemed to enjoy this, Loki realised, there was a glee he recognised from her in the verbal sparring, not unlike when they would truly spar with magic or debate some obscure topic in alchemy. The insolence of it!

Brows furrowing, his empty hand grabbed her own tighter than necessary, downing his mead in a single movement, before he began to lead them towards the large space in the centre of the room, without checking if she had even had time to do the same. Which she fortunately had.

By now the evening had fallen into the more rambunctious part of the merrymaking; the feasting tables pushed to the edges of the room, the King and Queen having retired after a final well wish to the newlyweds (which Loki had missed entirely), and a concert of musicians had taken place up on the platform where the bride and groom had once sat, the table pushed aside, and playing jaunty tunes perfect for dance.

If a person wasn’t dancing, they were drinking, if they weren’t drinking, they were in revelry with their friends, and if they weren’t making a fool of themselves with jokes and boisterous games, they were dancing.

Led towards the edge of the whirlwind of figures swaying, spinning and clapping in time to the music, Amora and Loki fell in with the rest of them. Arms locked at the elbows as they twirled, tighter than necessary, hands clapped against each others so hard their hands stung, a different kind of battle waged between them now in comparison to their previous duels.

“Green always suited you, Loki, but aren’t you wearing it a bit too brightly now?” Amora sniped with an impish grin. His glare hardened at that, as he bit back. “Even if I were to lower myself to be jealous, it would not be of you.”

“Now now, there’s no need to resort to childish insults. I’m only saying if you were even the tiniest, smallest bit envious.. You only need to admit it. To admit you want something for yourself, is that truly so difficult?”

Wretched woman. She had a way of doing that, Loki thought as they spun into the next dance, tune changing to another similar jig. A way of getting into his head, despite all the wards he kept up against mind reading or divination, peeling back his guards and making his emotions surface without his permission.

“Oh it is, isn’t it?” She crowed, “You can’t allow yourself to even think it, can you? That you want something.. Someone.. You’d rather be bitter, jealous, hiding in a dark corner, use it to fuel that directionless ambition and rage.”

Bitch. Stop doing that. He bit back the words before they erupted, temper flaring with a faint green shimmering in his eyes.

“All you had to do was ask, but who are you to lower yourself to that? All these years of friendship, and you refuse to let a single wall down for me. Why would I not seek the company of someone at least willing to speak honestly with me, if only for a night?”

Hateful witch. Aggravating, alluring, beautiful.. Shit.

Loki’s eyes widened for a moment, the realisation creeping up his spine like ice and his frown dissipating into a blank expression. Amora’s own features shod its smirk, eyebrows rising in confusion to his sudden change in demeanour, only to be forgotten seconds later.

He wasn’t sure how it happened exactly, it was like he lost all control of himself, bewitched and someone else was driving his motions. One minute they were dancing, then stilled, and in the blink of an eye he was pulling her to the back of the hall. Leading her behind one of the many columns, out of sight from the party yet near enough to hear incoming steps, he pushed her into the marble pillar with a heavy gasp from her lips.

Enough was enough. Damn it all.

Amora wondered if she had pushed him too far, if finally she had teased and played with him more than she ought to have done, and now he would cut ties, call her whore or raise a hand to her, and never speak to her again. She was wrong. She hated being wrong usually, but this time, she was relieved. Discomforting if not for..

In a breath, Loki’s hands were on either side of her neck, colder than she imagined, and his mouth came crashing down on hers. Warm, soft, and addictive. The shock of it was momentary, before she lost herself in the downfall of all their defences.

————

Notes:

*The hall where Thor was to have his coronation in the first Thor movie is said to be right next to the royal palace (the name of which is MCU canon) though I couldn’t find a name itself for that place, so hope the reference wasn’t too bad? 😂

The names used for the guests are also actual figures/gods in Norse mythology, cause I’m a sucker for it! 😁

I have also clarified in the Masterlist, but will again here too, that the first few chapters will be set before the movies but will fall instep with the MCU after maybe the first five? But first I’m going to focus on establishing Amora and the dynamic between her and Loki before we get to the good stuff!

[dreamingorbeeing]

read the reblogs.. it's just wow Kristoph is such a b****.

Like I'm sorry Apollo has no family, maybe feel genuine sad for him next time :-\

(OOC: okay, okay…. this is approx. 22 yr Apollo. still in college while interning at Gavin Law on the side. I wanna try roleplaying without any particular plot in mind—short/brief messages. just going for it, yk?)

There comes two firm knocks on Kristoph’s office door, a brief pause between them. Then Apollo enters.

”..Hey, er, Mr. Gavin? Quick question, if you’re not, uh, busy.”

-@thepollyjustice

"It's my job to answer any inquiries you may have, Justice. Do go on."

Kristoph smiles at him as usual. He's as cool and professional as he always is, it seems.

[dreamingorbeeing]

I must say i love everything about this picture.. the way Kristoph tilts his head, what he is doing, his eyes and eyebrows, his happy yet concentrated expression..

Couldn't have summed up his personality better if I tried..

house of cards

[dreamingorbeeing]

Day 18: The time bureau

Inscriptions:

So you used time travel to get first in line for

HOT DOGS?

Did you take the car without asking?..

There are too strict rules in the Bureau of Time, I advise you to refuse admission to this profession...

Maybe Milo thought that if he couldn't find a suitable profession in the present, he could then look in the future?

Thanks for the art challenge! @enbyhoneyfluff

[dreamingorbeeing]

Dear giaccabiancaisreal,

I prefer to keep the specifics to myself, but I'll put it this way -- the legal world is a dangerous place, even for the Coolest Defense in the West.

-Kristoph Gavin

[dreamingorbeeing]

Krisnix has the potential to be so deliciously fucked up hear me out

We always talk about Kristoph's influence on Phoenix, how it drove him to be this secretive, conniving sleazebag that we see in AA4, how Phoenix had to bear this man watching his every move for seven years and put up the friendship front at least every day every week. Can we talk about how resilient that is of him I couldn't stand to suffer that in silence with all my loved ones away from me. And to pretend you're that bitch's friend without bitching about it to anyone later? self inflicted torture.

but also

Phoenix, for however long he suspected Kristoph of ruining his career, never suspected him as capable of murder. And I don't believe that he was capable, not of the hands-on kind that he commited with Zak, but Kristoph was driven to the edges of his sanity with Phoenix as well. We know that he attempted to poison Drew and Vera Misham almost at the same time he got Phoenix disbarred, and while it was vile, it was all calculated. Flawless. Clean.

Which is why the way he murdered Zak is so fascinating. Kristoph Gavin, the coolest defense in the west, the gentleman attorney, hit this man with a bottle over the head. It's messy. It's desperate. It's his last shred of composure being obliterated, because during the seven years that he stalked and manipulated Phoenix, he was under his scrutiny as well.

He knew that Phoenix suspected him to some extent. Aside from the loose ends that he hoped would be resolved in time, he knew that this man had friends with inexplicable "bring back the dead" powers and that his best friend was Miles Edgeworth, whom he most likely has gone up against. He knew that Phoenix was only playing dumb with him, because whoever could best him at poker every single time could not be a complete fool.

Phoenix drove this cold, calculated killer into a barfight murderer. He brought him to the brink of desperation in trying to cover his mess and they only knew half of the shit each other were doing during those seven years.

Just the poison as symbolism for their whole relationship, man. Phoenix trusting Kristoph at first, slowly realizing what he's really done to him, him poisoning himself in return by being around him- the drinking, the dishevelled appearance, the backroom poker playing, Kristoph becoming more paranoid, more desperate, more risky.

Phoenix was aware of the fact that the man he was hanging out with had the potential to turn him and his loved ones out on the streets, but to find out that he was also a murderer? Capable of both the insidious kind and the hands-on kind? the betrayal. the anguish. just when you build a tolerance to him, he attacks you again.

I could easily see Phoenix develop an even deeper paranoia, having all of his house and belongings tested for poison after AA4.

I could see it actually being there.

[dreamingorbeeing]

it looks somewhat beautiful

Brothers Spiral -||- Rweon

[dreamingorbeeing]

I am over obsessing again 😬

Just why Capcom!

Why don't you give us more of the gavin Brothers..

Give Klavier some closure (and me ;-;)

klapollo week day 5: parallels

(lingering effects)

[dreamingorbeeing]

Rise TMNT incorrect quote because I haven’t posted one in a while 😌

Donnie: I just learned some very distressing news. Sometimes April doesn’t do things because she’s worried about how I’ll react.

Raph: First of all, it’s not sometimes it’s always.

Mikey: Second, it’s not April, it’s everybody.

Leo: And third it’s not news, it’s well established.

Mikey: Yeah, like earlier today I wanted to make croissants but I didn’t want to hear you say ‘ooh la la.’

Donnie: … So you’re saying, everyone walks on eggshells to spare my feelings?

Leo: No, of course not… Because we don’t want to hear you complain about how much you hate the sound of crunching eggshells.

Donnie: Well, I don’t want my friendship with April to be like that.

Raph: Donnie, it’s okay. April knew what she was getting into back then.

Donnie: You think so?

Leo: Of course. We all warned her.