perverbially: (lesbian porn)
perverbially ([personal profile] perverbially) wrote on August 9th, 2010 at 01:29 am
Drabble Meme - In Which Adrian Andrews is a Sexually Empowered Loaf of Bread
I'm cheating. I'm not going to tag (want, take, have; as always), and I've only done six. But mother of god, what a six they are. And by that I mean, please make it stop what is this I don't even :| Also with track uploads, because that's what I do and maybe it'll soften the blow, idk.

Put your iPod/Mp3 player on shuffle. Write drabbles based on the first ten songs that play, but only write them within the time the song is playing. Then, after you post yours, tag 5 people.

[How Fucking Romantic - The Magnetic Fields]
(I'm not even sure myself how this song was the inspiration here. I guess I just like the idea of Adrian and Franziska attempting to have a romantic meal, only for yet another corpse to come along and spoil it.)

"How is it, every time we go out to eat, we end up choosing the one restaurant in which a murder just so happens to have taken place?"

Franziska scoffs, looking up from the sous-chef's final resting place (if a vat of watercress soup can be called something so elegant), an eyebrow raised pointedly for Adrian's benefit. "Need I remind you that this particular restaurant was, in fact, your selection, Adrian Andrews?"

"It was lovely the last time I was here!" Adrian protests feebly, wincing as she averts her eyes from the corpse Franziska is examining so clinically in prospect of the police's arrival. "I don't know... I suppose it just strikes me as too frequent to be a coincidence, really. Corpses seem to follow us around, don't they? It's almost like being in a murder mystery novel."

"Don't involve me in your foolish little fantasies, Adrian. You know full well I hate that sort of mindless, inaccurate dreck."

"Not even if I cast you as the glamorous, enigmatic-yet-beautiful Lady von Karma, a mysterious new Prosecutor from overseas with a penchant for whipping defense attorneys into unconsciousness?"

"A man is dead, Adrian Andrews. A little seriousness, if you please," Franziska replies stiffly, snorting. "And quite apart from that, I only whipped Phoenix Wright into unconsciousness once." She straightens up, smoothing the front of her evening dress before fixing Adrian with an unexpectedly wicked little smile. "Unfortunately."

[Super Kiss Attack - Electrocute]
(I've always wanted to use this song for *something*. It's just too much fun. Can't quite believe it ended up like this, though...)

"You taste... different." Franziska frowns as she pauses to draw breath, before pressing another experimental little kiss to the corner of Adrian's mouth. "Strange... it's almost like... chocolate."

Adrian hums against Franziska's cheek, amused. "Did I ever mention that it's unsettling when you analyse me while we're kissing, Franziska? I'm not a crime scene, you know."

"And yet, if you were, I would say that the the witness is suddenly behaving in a rather tellingly defensive manner," Franziska muses thoughtfully, smirking. "Hmm. I wonder why." Adrian opens her mouth to argue the point further, only to have her protests most effectively smothered by Franziska capturing her mouth in another fierce, but disturbingly methodical kiss. When she pulls back, licking her lips thoughtfully, Adrian almost laughs. "It is chocolate, isn't it? Now, why on earth do you taste like chocolate, Adrian Andrews? And why are you so desperate to hide it from me?"

"I'm really quite certain that I do not taste like chocolate, Franziska. You're imagining it. Maybe a little wishful-thinking, hmm?"

Franziska rolls her eyes. "You really are a pitifully poor liar, Adrian," she mutters, tugging Adrian's lip lightly between her teeth. Adrian harrumphes, but cannot stop herself responding to Franziska's mouth, pressing herself closer into the kiss. And then the prosecutor stiffens. "Wait a moment. It doesn't just taste like chocolate. It tastes like..."

"No, it doesn't - !"

"It does!" Franziska draws back, eyes narrowing. "Adrian Andrews! Why do you taste like Swiss Rolls?"

"It was just - they had some at this meeting, you remember, the one I told you about, the chef reopening his restaurant? And I just had one, because I'd skipped lunch, and - well, they weren't even that nice, to tell you the truth - "

"I don't want to hear it, Adrian," Franziska replies coolly, detaching herself and folding her arms. "You - of all the foolish - I can't believe you didn't even bring me one!"

[Worked Up So Sexual - The Faint]
(Apparently my shuffle function really wants a Mistress of Pain AU, with Franziska as the owner of a high class dungeon/club of some sort, and Adrian as a new recruit. Who am I to argue with the shuffle function? WHO AM I, I ASK YOU D:)


Adrian blushes, fidgeting awkwardly with the hem of her underwear as the owner's dispassionate eyes rove over her, taking in, she's sure, every soft, painfully toneless curve of her near enough completely unclothed body. It's enough to make her want to run, to give up before she's even begun; in front of this statuesque, experienced woman, she feels about as sexually empowered as a loaf of bread.

"Have you ever used a whip?"

The question catches her completely off guard, and she blinks, looking up from her studious observation of the floor at her feet and into the woman's sharp grey eyes.

"A whip - ?"

A tiny, patient tut. "Yes. A whip. It is a fairly common preference amongst our patrons - not to mention our staff," the woman informs her, surprising Adrian with a faint, ironic smile. "Do you have experience with one, Ms. Adrian Andrews?"

"Ah - um - "

"No matter. I will teach you, if needs be." The woman rises abruptly, and Adrian has to stop herself fumbling backwards, suddenly expecting the aforementioned whip's imminent appearance. It doesn't come; the woman merely grasps Adrian's forearm within a gloved hand, stretching it out to appraise some unfathomable quality of its form with professional expertise. "Yes... I think this will be satisfactory. You can start on Saturday, correct?"

Adrian feels her eyes go wide. "I - won't I need a little more training?"

"You think I am fool enough to send a total novice out on the floor on their very first day?" The owner laughs throatily, shaking her head. "No. On Saturday, we will merely begin our training. I will be overseeing it personally, and I warn you, I do not tolerate anything other than complete dedication. Can you give me that, Adrian Andrews?"

The woman's leather glove is still tight on her forearm, but her eyes are strangely knowing, almost offering the possibility of escape at this last juncture. Adrian finds herself nodding earnestly, desperate to prove this woman - not to mention herself - quite thoroughly wrong.

"Oh, yes, I'm very dedicated, Ms. von Karma! I'll do whatever it takes, I promise."

The woman's smile shifts slightly, and Adrian cannot help but wonder if she is imagining the almost predatory quality it has taken on.

"Hmm. Yes, I think you will."

[Werewolf - CocoRosie]
(LOLSERIOUS. Just because I like to mess with your heads?)

"What was he like?"

Franziska immediately shoots her a look that makes her wish she hadn't asked, but she doesn't back away, will not let Franziska intimidate her into silence when the younger woman's grip on her hand so desperately admits the pertinent need for the question to be answered, no matter how much it may hurt. Franziska breaks the eye contact first, surprising them both by letting her gaze drop, slipping back to the elegant, yet forbidding monument before them.

"He was rather like his grave, I suppose," she says, and then, abruptly, she is laughing, bitter and cold as the breeze chipping its way through Adrian's thick winter coat.

Adrian doesn't reply, letting Franziska's laughter die away on its own. When she is silent again, Adrian tentatively brings her other hand round, enclosing Franziska's clenched fist within both of her own. Franziska's body stiffens briefly, chin rising in a familiar, haughty gesture that fools neither of them.

"My Papa was a genius," she says eventually, not looking at Adrian, or even her father's grave, but rather upwards, grey eyes reflecting the steel-dark clouds above them. "But he was not what you would call a... pleasant man. To be frank, I'm rather glad you won't have to meet him, actually."


"He wouldn't have liked you," Franziska answers promptly. Then, seeming to realise what she has said, she brings her eyes back to Adrian's, shaking her head. "Oh, no, don't misunderstand me. It wouldn't have been personal. Honestly, I very much doubt my Papa genuinely liked a single person in his entire life." She pauses, tutting lightly as her gaze falls heavily back on the grave. "Particularly not his own foolish flesh and blood."

[Larry Butz ~ Still in The Shade - Noriyuki Iwadare]
(I don't have this on my computer right now, but I'm kinda thinking anyone masochistic enough to want it probably already has it. Me? Well, I could listen to his theme all day, which clearly means there is something deeply wrong with me. But then you already knew that :])

"This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me, Nick! This is just - this is the end for me! This is Larry Butz's last stand, I swear! I'm just going to kill myself, right here, right now!"

"Don't," Phoenix advises, handing Larry a beer. "Seriously. If you make a mess of Franziska and Adrian's big day, Franziska will kill you herself, and not in the fun way you're undoubtedly thinking of. It's just not worth it."

"TWO BEAUTIFUL LADIES, NICK. TWO. OFF THE MARKET, IN ONE FELL SWOOP." Larry drops his head into his hands, the beer clattering to the floor at his feet. "How am I ever gonna recover from this? No, I was right before, there is no recovering from this! This is the end, Nick! It's the eeeeeeeend - !"

Phoenix, seeing Franziska's sharp eyes suddenly find his from the top-table, almost begins to weep himself. "Keep your voice down! Come on, Larry, if you don't shut up you're going to get us both hurt - "

"I'm already hurt, Nick! No man can be hurt more than I am hurting right now! No lash from Franzy's whip can be crueler than this! WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME, NICK? WHHHHHHHY?"

"Maybe because you need to stop hitting on lesbians?"

Larry's wails sputter to a halt abruptly, and he turns, grimacing, to Phoenix, who shrugs into his own beer.

"It was just a thought."

[One More Time With Feeling - Regina Spektor]
(Right, this one... needs some explaining, really, 'cause I'm made of fail like that. I listened to this song a lot whilst I was writing chapter 5 of If Love is Surrender, and as such it reminds me of Franziska. I guess you could call this drabble an out-take from that chapter... (it was inspired originally by the dialogue in "The Stolen Turnabout" that occurs if you present Maya's profile to Adrian. You know the one.) In the end, because the chapter was so long and so cracky all by itself, I didn't put this scene in, but since I'm here and this came up... well, there you go. I'm pretty sure if I had left this in, the chapter would have ended up with Franziska being charged with murder, too :/ Aha. Um. Anyway, TL;DR - HAVE SOME CRACK, IT'S TASTY. ALSO, WTF, YOU THINK I'M GOING TO WRITE A DANCE ROUTINE IN THE SPACE OF A SONG? BITCH, YOU BE TRIPPING :|)

"Hey, do you want to hear my theme?"

"Your - ?"

"My theme, silly!" Maya says, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. She nods towards Pearl, who has all at once become deeply interested in the mechanism of Franziska's hospital bed. "Pearly and I even made a dance routine to go with it! Do you want to see?"

"Um, Mystic Maya, I'm sure Ms. von Karma doesn't - "

"Sure she does!" Maya has Pearl by the hand now, dragging her to the middle of the room. "Nick wrote it for me, after a little nagging, because he's a fuddy duddy like that." She raises her arms, nodding to Pearl. "Ready, Pearly? And a one, and a two, and a - "


"Well, what d'you think?"

"Ah. That was - " what did I just witness? Has someone slipped me more morphine? Am I dreaming again? Did I die, and if I did, will this be my last memory? " - spirited?"

"Well, yeah," Maya grins, collapsing back on to the bed. "Spirit mediums, duh. It's cool, though, isn't it? Hey, if you want, I could get Nick to write you your own theme!"

"I don't need a theme," Franziska replies, snorting. Finally, something she can react to with some modicum of dignity. "Least of all one written by Phoenix Wright."

"Of course you do. Everyone should have a theme. Yours could have lots of whip cracks, maybe, and, ooh, Nick could be sobbing in pain for the chorus?" Maya, apparently getting into her idea by this point, folds her legs awkwardly under her and starts tapping out a rhythm on the bottom of a dinner tray. "Do your best whip impression, then!"

"What? I - no - !" Franziska splutters, outraged. "My whip makes a perfectly good impression, all by itself!"

"Go on, just try it."


"Okay, then I guess I'll just have to give it a try myself." Maya frowns, waving her hand about in an imaginary approximation of a whip, and Franziska has to resist the futile urge to correct her painfully-incorrect posture. "K-ssssh. Kkkkk-shhhhh. Hmm. It's harder than it sounds."

"That's because my whip needs no impersonation, Maya Fey."

"Well, if you can do better...?" Maya is smirking now, dark eyes dancing with a challenge. Franziska tuts.

"I will not lower myself - "

"Kkkk-shhhhh! Kkkkkkk-shhhhh! KKKKKKKK - !"

"Stop that! Very well! Just - stop making that foolish noise!" Franziska snaps, gritting her teeth. "All right, all right... " She licks her dry lips, closing her eyes in an attempt to shut out Maya's irritating whip impressions for just a moment. "Kkk - "

"That sounds exactly like mine!"

"Maya Fey, if you would just let me finish - "

"You were just going to go shhhh!, weren't you? See? It does sound like that!"

"I wasn't - my whip needs no impersonation, Maya Fey!"

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