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DVD Commentary, as requested by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
painispretty, who had the foresight to ask for the achievable, ie, just this scene.
Story without commentary to be found here.
Introduction [or the part where I whiffle over the opening credits]
Mal is a pushy little bint of a muse – which is probably why she gets written, unlike all the other straight girls in my head. She turned up not long after Trent, who I write, who is best friends with Ru, whotsuki_no_bara writes. Mal's known Ru for a while – he's one of the cool baby bats, and Mal likes being around attractive talented people. cicirossi, who amongst many others writes Erin, Trent's current lust object, very kindly invited the whole mess of them to come live in her city of Eden, which is a gloriously rich sprawling metropolis, which features in several of her stories. Mal was originally a throw away line – I needed someone who'd be brassy enough to tweak a guys nipple rings in Dennys one night, and I got Mal. Who then pushed and shoved and developed her own story and voice, and much as she sometimes drives me nuts, she's a lot of fun to write.
[Anyone who's reading who doesn’t have the kind of characters who act like a peanut gallery for their daily lives probably thinks I'm insane, but at least some of you know exactly what I'm talking about.]
This scene came from music – it's the first time I've tried writing with a playlist, and if there's any sort of continuity through this, then I lay the blame on that. Sat in a coffee shop, waiting for my friend, and 'random play' gave me Oh My God, Dead of Night and Fighter, and the images for some of this had me scrambling for my notebook
Oh My God - Pink Feat. Peaches*
Humble Neighbourhood - Pink
The Dead of Night - Depeche Mode
I Feel Loved - Depeche Mode
Breath - Depeche Mode
Fighter - Christina Agulera
As Heaven is Wide - Garbage
Sin [Live] - NIN
Love Song - Snake River Conspiracy.
***** ***** *****
Driving home with the sun long since up Mal was humming along to The Extaze around a small but persistent smile. That had been fun. The first half of the night felt forever ago, and the warm ache in her thighs and the slight press of bruises where she'd thrown herself against the table edges playing air hockey were only helping keep the more recent parts real in her head. She'd never have expected it to look at the guy, but Neo was good company, and a damn fine dancer. Put up a fair fight with the beat-em-ups too, at least once she'd accepted the handicap of not playing Ivy every match.
The Extaze I've made up, but they're dirty chilled electro – living in Eden gives Mal access to bands that we don't have over here. Mal's car – a converted hearse called Wintermute – is pretty important to Mal's self-created sense of identity, so the story as a whole has quite a lot of Mal driving, which tends to be the punctuation points when she slows down long enough to realise what she's feeling. I wanted to bring home the physicality of the arcade games a little – the same sort of pleasant physical tiredness Mal would normally get from a night on the dance floor, and it's important that Neo isn't a push over. Like Mal, he's a computer geek, but he keeps confounding her expectations, which is most of why she's intrigued. Ivy is from Soul Caliber – Mal shares my opinion that it's probably the best fighting game in the world ever ;).
Pulling into the parking lot behind her apartment building, she killed the engine, and just sat for a moment listening to the tick of Wintermute's engine and the distant sounds of other, normal, people going about their normal mornings. She stretched, pushing back against the steering wheel until the tops of her shoulders pulled and her neck cracked as she twisted. Definitely fun. And kinda cute, once you looked past the 'first two items off the floor' wardrobe method.
Trying to get across that slightly unreal edge that coming home at 8 or 9 am tends to have. 'normal mornings' is very Mal – she prides herself on being anything but.
She followed that thought process, just for the entertainment value, while she climbed the stairs, and dumped everything in a heap at the end of the bed. She was stripping off before the cd player caught and was in the shower by the time the first song started up, rinsing away sweat and smoke in tepid water straight from the tank on the roof. For a skinny guy Neo didn’t look bad sweating, she remembered, and the way his hair started to fall in little darkened tips over his eyes was actually pretty sexy. At least to some people it would be.
Mal's appartment is small, fairly cheap, and very messy in a building mostly full of grad students and first jobbers. She agreed to come to University in Eden only if her parents rented her an appartment off campus. This was the compromise between the nice neigbourhood her mom wanted, and the sort of boho-loft-squat that Mal thinks should suit her. The hifi is the most valuable thing in there. Mal takes her music seriously – it's a constant background to her life. Tepid water to remind us that it's still summer although a few weeks on from the beginning of the story. I have a real habbit of defaulting to Fall / Winter when I write in Eden, so it’s a reminder to me as well. .
The water felt like bliss on her scalp, and she ducked her face under the water, scrubbing off the remains of her makeup. People who liked skinny vaguely grungy looking geek boys with cheekbones and long fingers and really pretty tattoos wrapped around one wiry bicep. Somewhere in the rough-housing that followed her final DDR victory she'd leaned over and licked the sweat off it, and he'd jerked away, wriggling and tickling, leaving salt and himself on her tongue. Tasted good.
See – brassy enough to tweak a guys nipple rings in Dennys. She's small and pretty and brash and very physical with her friends, and gets a long way on sheer nerve. That probably wasn't flirting so much as forgetting and treating Neo like a friend, although he can be forgiven if he missinterprits it. The description is the second little thumbnail of Neo in the story, and I think shows that her perceptions of him are moving. Also that he's really not her usual type. OK, so on occasion her usual type is 'avaliable' and everything else from gender to body size is negotiable, but – her usual eye candy type. In the past she's always gone for the big Grrrr Ramsteain type guys, and scene stars, not nobodies.
She concentrated on the practical for a minute, towelling herself mostly dry and pushing the junk far enough away from the door to make it shut all the way and keep the light out. The thick blinds over the window took care of the rest, and when she realised that nothing she could lay hands on right now was going to mesh with the bass that was throbbing up from her neighbours' flat and switched off the hi-fi, the room was cool and dim.
Switching off the hifi? That's me wallpapering a gap, although I think it works. The scene I originally wrote started with 'she was already slick' and I went back to write the beginning a week or so later, and I'd forgotten that the bassline had gotten so interwoven with the smut. Decided to keep both, because it's absolutely Mal's style to hit 'play' without paying too much attention first thing, and it's more than possible that her neighbours cranked theirs to drown out hers.
It was a relief to just let go and hit the crumpled sheets, letting all the tension go with one long out breath, making space for tiredness to creep up on her and pounce, making all her muscles tired and heavy. Languorous. Dreamy. Kinda horny. Her hands found the curves of her breasts automatically, squeezing and rubbing at her nipples while her mind wandered.
Again with the transition – I'm really really really bad at joining together the things I write in more than one sitting. I'm still not sure that it flows smoothly, but it's the best I could do. The casual 'feels good, do it' practicality is very Mal, and this is largely orgasm as sleeping pill.. And she's not gotten laid in a lot longer than normal. She's generally pretty much in favour of casual hook ups, but the attack that starts off her story proper has her running wary [read terrified] at the moment.
She was already slick by the time she allowed her fingers to reach that low, wet and waiting, pulsing in time to her pinched nipples and clenching thighs and fuck but she was horny, home alone after all that playing. Felt good. So good. Too good, and she danced away from her clit, spreading her juices, rubbing over her folds, dipping a fingertip to make her cunt clamp down and her hips arch and pulling all the breath from her body.
Girl smut. Eeep! Fortunately Mal's voice is nice and clear and kinda carried me along with it – she's just not the 'folded petals of her pleasure' kinda girl.
So hot already and nothing much to concentrate on but body parts, hands and lips and arms and bodies and the music shaking through the chipboard walls with a sensuous slide of notes and words and electric blue sparks against her eyelids, screwed shut against reality.
Mal is not, has never been, and is unlikely to become, best friends with bleak reality. She's all about imagination and presentation, and making the world fit the way you want it to by force of will. Why do you think she likes virtual reality so much?.
Tasting herself on her fingers almost short circuited the loop, and she abandoned her tender breasts, two fingers twisting inside and two more slick circling her clit and oh god yes.
Thoughts scattered as her focus narrowed down to just feeling, heat and rhythm and if Izzy and Bastien turned the music down now she might just scream because the tight curl of pleasure low in her belly was winding close and urgent with the beat forcing the speed of her fingers, keeping everything just deliciously there and…. Fuck. So good. So close.
This is the part that got so tied in to the music, with her letting the bassline set the timing, stopping her from rushing things and drawing things out just a little. The Pink and Peaches track, to be specific. Izzy and Bastien – Belle and Sebastien, anyone? At the time the reference pleased me. Of course now I have the image of their tiny new-age apartment with paintings and flyers and postcards all over the walls and books on every surface, through the plasterboard wall, and she's working with some sort of women's shelter, maybe environmental law and he's a grad student, and they're deliriously in love, feeding each other slivers of watermelon as they dance with their arms around each other in the minute galley kitchen and laughing just because. Mal knows them – sees them around sometimes when they're out, and gets on ok with Izzy, and flirts with Bastien, who makes both of them smile when he turns Mal down with gallantry every time to flatter his hearts-wife. Eden *does* that – makes you think about the neighbours and the other people in the grocery shop on the corner, and the bar staff at the clubs. I am so lucky that Cicirossi lets me play here!
The bright copper tang meant she was biting her lip, and the jolt of realising curled her fingers, drawing her hips up, her head back, grinding wet hair into grey cotton. The moment where breathing, bassline, and the slick-tight pulsing in her heart and her cunt hit in harmony could have been seconds or forever, and when her orgasm slid away, leaving her curled and panting the loss of that perfection stung a little before her body took over, drawing her into small contented gasps and sated stillness.
Aaand – smut-to-black. A lot of Mal's escape mechanisms involve letting her body take over, now I think about it. I wanted a bit of reality to poke back in, via the wet hair and unchanged sheets, just because Mal does such a good job of ignoring it, it's easy to forget.
painispretty, who had the foresight to ask for the achievable, ie, just this scene. Story without commentary to be found here.
Introduction [or the part where I whiffle over the opening credits]
Mal is a pushy little bint of a muse – which is probably why she gets written, unlike all the other straight girls in my head. She turned up not long after Trent, who I write, who is best friends with Ru, who
tsuki_no_bara writes. Mal's known Ru for a while – he's one of the cool baby bats, and Mal likes being around attractive talented people. cicirossi, who amongst many others writes Erin, Trent's current lust object, very kindly invited the whole mess of them to come live in her city of Eden, which is a gloriously rich sprawling metropolis, which features in several of her stories. Mal was originally a throw away line – I needed someone who'd be brassy enough to tweak a guys nipple rings in Dennys one night, and I got Mal. Who then pushed and shoved and developed her own story and voice, and much as she sometimes drives me nuts, she's a lot of fun to write. [Anyone who's reading who doesn’t have the kind of characters who act like a peanut gallery for their daily lives probably thinks I'm insane, but at least some of you know exactly what I'm talking about.]
This scene came from music – it's the first time I've tried writing with a playlist, and if there's any sort of continuity through this, then I lay the blame on that. Sat in a coffee shop, waiting for my friend, and 'random play' gave me Oh My God, Dead of Night and Fighter, and the images for some of this had me scrambling for my notebook
Oh My God - Pink Feat. Peaches*
Humble Neighbourhood - Pink
The Dead of Night - Depeche Mode
I Feel Loved - Depeche Mode
Breath - Depeche Mode
Fighter - Christina Agulera
As Heaven is Wide - Garbage
Sin [Live] - NIN
Love Song - Snake River Conspiracy.
***** ***** *****
Driving home with the sun long since up Mal was humming along to The Extaze around a small but persistent smile. That had been fun. The first half of the night felt forever ago, and the warm ache in her thighs and the slight press of bruises where she'd thrown herself against the table edges playing air hockey were only helping keep the more recent parts real in her head. She'd never have expected it to look at the guy, but Neo was good company, and a damn fine dancer. Put up a fair fight with the beat-em-ups too, at least once she'd accepted the handicap of not playing Ivy every match.
The Extaze I've made up, but they're dirty chilled electro – living in Eden gives Mal access to bands that we don't have over here. Mal's car – a converted hearse called Wintermute – is pretty important to Mal's self-created sense of identity, so the story as a whole has quite a lot of Mal driving, which tends to be the punctuation points when she slows down long enough to realise what she's feeling. I wanted to bring home the physicality of the arcade games a little – the same sort of pleasant physical tiredness Mal would normally get from a night on the dance floor, and it's important that Neo isn't a push over. Like Mal, he's a computer geek, but he keeps confounding her expectations, which is most of why she's intrigued. Ivy is from Soul Caliber – Mal shares my opinion that it's probably the best fighting game in the world ever ;).
Pulling into the parking lot behind her apartment building, she killed the engine, and just sat for a moment listening to the tick of Wintermute's engine and the distant sounds of other, normal, people going about their normal mornings. She stretched, pushing back against the steering wheel until the tops of her shoulders pulled and her neck cracked as she twisted. Definitely fun. And kinda cute, once you looked past the 'first two items off the floor' wardrobe method.
Trying to get across that slightly unreal edge that coming home at 8 or 9 am tends to have. 'normal mornings' is very Mal – she prides herself on being anything but.
She followed that thought process, just for the entertainment value, while she climbed the stairs, and dumped everything in a heap at the end of the bed. She was stripping off before the cd player caught and was in the shower by the time the first song started up, rinsing away sweat and smoke in tepid water straight from the tank on the roof. For a skinny guy Neo didn’t look bad sweating, she remembered, and the way his hair started to fall in little darkened tips over his eyes was actually pretty sexy. At least to some people it would be.
Mal's appartment is small, fairly cheap, and very messy in a building mostly full of grad students and first jobbers. She agreed to come to University in Eden only if her parents rented her an appartment off campus. This was the compromise between the nice neigbourhood her mom wanted, and the sort of boho-loft-squat that Mal thinks should suit her. The hifi is the most valuable thing in there. Mal takes her music seriously – it's a constant background to her life. Tepid water to remind us that it's still summer although a few weeks on from the beginning of the story. I have a real habbit of defaulting to Fall / Winter when I write in Eden, so it’s a reminder to me as well. .
The water felt like bliss on her scalp, and she ducked her face under the water, scrubbing off the remains of her makeup. People who liked skinny vaguely grungy looking geek boys with cheekbones and long fingers and really pretty tattoos wrapped around one wiry bicep. Somewhere in the rough-housing that followed her final DDR victory she'd leaned over and licked the sweat off it, and he'd jerked away, wriggling and tickling, leaving salt and himself on her tongue. Tasted good.
See – brassy enough to tweak a guys nipple rings in Dennys. She's small and pretty and brash and very physical with her friends, and gets a long way on sheer nerve. That probably wasn't flirting so much as forgetting and treating Neo like a friend, although he can be forgiven if he missinterprits it. The description is the second little thumbnail of Neo in the story, and I think shows that her perceptions of him are moving. Also that he's really not her usual type. OK, so on occasion her usual type is 'avaliable' and everything else from gender to body size is negotiable, but – her usual eye candy type. In the past she's always gone for the big Grrrr Ramsteain type guys, and scene stars, not nobodies.
She concentrated on the practical for a minute, towelling herself mostly dry and pushing the junk far enough away from the door to make it shut all the way and keep the light out. The thick blinds over the window took care of the rest, and when she realised that nothing she could lay hands on right now was going to mesh with the bass that was throbbing up from her neighbours' flat and switched off the hi-fi, the room was cool and dim.
Switching off the hifi? That's me wallpapering a gap, although I think it works. The scene I originally wrote started with 'she was already slick' and I went back to write the beginning a week or so later, and I'd forgotten that the bassline had gotten so interwoven with the smut. Decided to keep both, because it's absolutely Mal's style to hit 'play' without paying too much attention first thing, and it's more than possible that her neighbours cranked theirs to drown out hers.
It was a relief to just let go and hit the crumpled sheets, letting all the tension go with one long out breath, making space for tiredness to creep up on her and pounce, making all her muscles tired and heavy. Languorous. Dreamy. Kinda horny. Her hands found the curves of her breasts automatically, squeezing and rubbing at her nipples while her mind wandered.
Again with the transition – I'm really really really bad at joining together the things I write in more than one sitting. I'm still not sure that it flows smoothly, but it's the best I could do. The casual 'feels good, do it' practicality is very Mal, and this is largely orgasm as sleeping pill.. And she's not gotten laid in a lot longer than normal. She's generally pretty much in favour of casual hook ups, but the attack that starts off her story proper has her running wary [read terrified] at the moment.
She was already slick by the time she allowed her fingers to reach that low, wet and waiting, pulsing in time to her pinched nipples and clenching thighs and fuck but she was horny, home alone after all that playing. Felt good. So good. Too good, and she danced away from her clit, spreading her juices, rubbing over her folds, dipping a fingertip to make her cunt clamp down and her hips arch and pulling all the breath from her body.
Girl smut. Eeep! Fortunately Mal's voice is nice and clear and kinda carried me along with it – she's just not the 'folded petals of her pleasure' kinda girl.
So hot already and nothing much to concentrate on but body parts, hands and lips and arms and bodies and the music shaking through the chipboard walls with a sensuous slide of notes and words and electric blue sparks against her eyelids, screwed shut against reality.
Mal is not, has never been, and is unlikely to become, best friends with bleak reality. She's all about imagination and presentation, and making the world fit the way you want it to by force of will. Why do you think she likes virtual reality so much?.
Tasting herself on her fingers almost short circuited the loop, and she abandoned her tender breasts, two fingers twisting inside and two more slick circling her clit and oh god yes.
Thoughts scattered as her focus narrowed down to just feeling, heat and rhythm and if Izzy and Bastien turned the music down now she might just scream because the tight curl of pleasure low in her belly was winding close and urgent with the beat forcing the speed of her fingers, keeping everything just deliciously there and…. Fuck. So good. So close.
This is the part that got so tied in to the music, with her letting the bassline set the timing, stopping her from rushing things and drawing things out just a little. The Pink and Peaches track, to be specific. Izzy and Bastien – Belle and Sebastien, anyone? At the time the reference pleased me. Of course now I have the image of their tiny new-age apartment with paintings and flyers and postcards all over the walls and books on every surface, through the plasterboard wall, and she's working with some sort of women's shelter, maybe environmental law and he's a grad student, and they're deliriously in love, feeding each other slivers of watermelon as they dance with their arms around each other in the minute galley kitchen and laughing just because. Mal knows them – sees them around sometimes when they're out, and gets on ok with Izzy, and flirts with Bastien, who makes both of them smile when he turns Mal down with gallantry every time to flatter his hearts-wife. Eden *does* that – makes you think about the neighbours and the other people in the grocery shop on the corner, and the bar staff at the clubs. I am so lucky that Cicirossi lets me play here!
The bright copper tang meant she was biting her lip, and the jolt of realising curled her fingers, drawing her hips up, her head back, grinding wet hair into grey cotton. The moment where breathing, bassline, and the slick-tight pulsing in her heart and her cunt hit in harmony could have been seconds or forever, and when her orgasm slid away, leaving her curled and panting the loss of that perfection stung a little before her body took over, drawing her into small contented gasps and sated stillness.
Aaand – smut-to-black. A lot of Mal's escape mechanisms involve letting her body take over, now I think about it. I wanted a bit of reality to poke back in, via the wet hair and unchanged sheets, just because Mal does such a good job of ignoring it, it's easy to forget.
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