but damn look at those clavicles

A Rogue What? (2/?)

General Summary:  The forests of Underfell are expansive. When the Fell brothers investigate in one of the worst blizzards of the Underground, they find something unexpected.

Chapter Summary: It’s the morning after their encounter. The brothers have a long day ahead of them. (Also known as, “Papyrus REEEs.”)

Rating: Explicit (Smut will be sectioned off for those who wish to skip it.)

Tags: descriptions of explicit material, swearing, anal sex, disgusting amounts of flirting, Fellcest, mentioned voyeur kink, mentioned mutilation

“stupid, dumb fuck! god damn it!

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As inspired by @montmartre-parapluie’s suggestion on @tavsancuk’s post

The Great Clavicle Comparison: Who Wore Dem Collarbones Better?

Let’s meet our dashing duo!

On the left, we have Mr. E. Hewlett modelling a lovely deep V neck with a smooth chest and a prominent dip visible near the sternoclavicular joint. His rival, Mr. J. G. Simcoe, takes a darker, rougher approach, allowing his frankly alarming quantity of ruffles to frame a subtle but solid crop of gingery scruff. Hewlett’s overall aesthetic is the crisp déshabillé of a gentleman-scholar returning from an enlightening ramble on the moor, during which he probably was injured by cataloged three new subspecies of stinging nettle; Simcoe’s, the seemingly-careless-but-absolutely-intentional decadence of a poet in the Byronic vein, draped artfully over the settee as he practices brooding in the mirror. Two very different flavors of décolletage, to be sure, but an admirer could be forgiven for succumbing to the charms of either.

Shall we zoom in on the competition a bit?

Very nice, boys. Those are some damn fine ruffles you got there. Well done.

Now, God knows I have a preexisting bias between these two gents. I am trying to look at this objectively, though, and … Honestly, if it were down to necks (or to my own personal preference for a bit of roughage to run the fingers through), I’d have to give the victory to Johnny Graves. But ultimately, this is about clavicles. And while Edmund’s are out and proud, Simcoe’s barely show at all! He’s covered pretty much to the throat! I just feel like he didn’t put any effort in.

And then there’s the matter of overall presentation. Because yes, the rumpled dressing gown has a certain allure, but Simcoe looks so bored that it’s like he’s not even trying here, you guys:

Just … slouchin’ around all broody with your sherry and ruffles, huh Johnny. Okay. I know, I know, you’re very cool, pretending to be so over the girl you would literally kill for. If you don’t want to be here, there’s the door.

Meanwhile, not only does Hewlett show significantly more skin – he also knows how to strike a POSE!

Is there a certain level of pretention going on with both these dorks? Are they both, in the end, the 18th-century equivalent of painstakingly mussing your hair so it looks like you just rolled out of bed, the better to impress your crush? Sure. But personally, I’ve never been a fan of that “too cool for school” attitude Johnny’s putting on. Just work it, dude.

And hey, I gotta say it: ultimately, Simcoe’s outfit is basically a sloppier version of Edmund’s astronomy robes, minus the effort of putting on a hat.

Sorry, Simcoe. If you’re secretly packing some award-winning collarbones under there, you should’ve taken a few more buttons down.

So, there you have it, folks. But please, don’t take my critique of Simcoe too harshly. He is still a fine fine fellow, and I daresay anyone should feel quite honored for the privilege of an audience with that anatomy.

Also I’m kind of afraid he’s gonna bayonet me for this so haha heeyyyy Simcoe, how’s it goin’, man! Lookin’ good!!