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classpecting-the-hoyoverse · 2 years ago

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can you do jingyuan from honkai star rail ?

aaaaaa my first request! and of course~

Jing Yuan: The Seer of Breath

Seer: The passive knowing class

One who sees their Aspect or one who sees with their aspect

Alternatively, one who understands their aspect or informs others of/with their aspect.

Breath:

Abstract: Freedom, Isolation, Detachment, Influence, Individuality, Movement, Direction, To be on a path

Literal: Actual Breath, Wind, Air, Flight

Lets start off with the first half of his title: The Seer.

Seers in Homestuck are often known as the analysts in a group, for their role is to see their aspect or to see using their aspect. Their strengths lie in understanding their aspect and using what thy know to guide others towards their goals.

Seer of Mind Terezi, though never going god tier, had the ability to view the choices an individual could make and its consequences. Mind is concered with logic; choices. An intricate web of actions and consequences was at her disposal and she could choose to inform others which line would take everyone to victory. Once the timeline was doomed, she was able to guide John Egbert via a list of choices that he has to change , or influence, in order to avoid the chain reaction that causes their downfall.

We will come back to Egbert later.

Next, there is Seer of Light Rose Lalonde, whom of which is given powers that allow her to clarify what was previously hidden. Light is the aspect of knowledge and fortune, therefore, Rose is able to present others with information that was previously unknown. In the early acts of Homestuck, Rose made a SBURB walk through by scraping as much info as she could in order to guide others through the confusing game.

There is also another line spoken by Aradia, which surmises the role of a Seer pretty well

As you can see here, Aradia calls the Seer class strategists, something that has been used to describe Jing Yuan quite often. This is especially when you consider the Path he is on:

Yet that alone does not define how calculating and clever Jing Yuan truly is. The man was been given the title of Divine Foresight for a reason.

During his first stellar expedition, Jing Yuan's ship was forced to land on an ocean world infested with parasitic jellyfish that can take over the minds of other lifeforms with the goal of converting their vessel into a hive.

It was Jing Yuan though who was able to identify the invaders the moment they appeared. He was also the one who came up with a plan to get rid of them, guiding his crew with what he learned about their enemy and leading them towards an outcome which turned out to be successful and earn him praise amongst the Cloud Knights as well as a promotion in their ranks.

Next, lets talk about his aspect: Breath.

Those aligned with the aspect are known to be influential, leaving an impression to those they come across:

With how everyone describes the man himself and his position as a centuries-old general, it sounds like Breath fits him to a "t" doesn't it? Garnering a reputation for being a drowsy man and a headache to work with, yet a not only a competent general, a successful one too.

It's safe to assume that everyone working in the Cloud Knights has some sort of opinion of the Divine Foresight. Especially to Yanqing, who is his retainer and to Fu Xuan.

From here, there is more to say when talking about Jing Yuan through the lenses of someone who is a Seer of Breath rather than just discussing how he relates to either part of his title in isolation.

Let's talk about the character arc that all Seers take. A Seer starts off often blinded by their aspect's opposite. It is when they're able to rid themselves of what obfuscates their aspect could they start to learn about their aspect themselves and provide their insight on it for others.

Rose was once shrouded in Void, first confused by her mother's nonsensical affectionate shenanigans and again by Doc Scratch who pushed her over the deep end and turned her Grimdark.

And Seer of Blood Kankri, his aspect concerned with bonds and ties, was isolated by Breath. He was the only one of his blood color to be born on Beforus. Unable to belong or relate to any of the existing blood casts on his planet.

It's important to remember that Breath is also the aspect of Individuality; one deciding to take their own path in life.

A small example could be found in the short dialogue present in the Light Cone "Before Dawn". A subordinate of Jing Yuan's warns him of the consequences of making a huge decision, of how it could impact his legacy. Jing Yuan replies saying how he doesn't care how his choice affects him.

We know a little about Jing Yuan's past, but from what we can glean off of his character stories we learn that he was born to a family of scholars and was expected to continue their family's legacy of becoming important officials for it was in their blood.

It was during a ceremony that the infant Jing Yuan has decided what he'll become for himself and threw away any expectation his family had for him:

Then we have his relationship to his mentor, Jingliu.

There is not much known about their time together, but it's apparent that they were close and that under her guidance Jing Yuan became an excellent sword-wielder.

Under her training, Jing Yuan had came face to face with people he once knew become corrupted and mad, Mara-struck. During a fight with someone we can assume has has know for a while, he hesitates killing him. He doesn't kill him right away because of their bond.

Long after that, Jing Yuan then had to make a choice that battle with his Mara-struck mentor in front of him. It was during that battle that he decided to not let his bond with his mentor hinder him and free her of her affliction, no matter how painful it was to him. He knew that this was the best decision for both her and the Xianzhou.

It's there where I would consider him ascending towards his role as a Seer of Breath.

The current Jing Yuan has come into his own since then, being able to lead the Xianzhou into years of peace under his leadership. This would also translate well into him being a good Seer of Breath right?

Why don't we look into the game of chess that the Dive Foresight and Master Diviner play together:

Not Fu Xuan but the gif helps to visualize.

Jing Yuan has an affinity for playing chess, a game of wits and war. A game that requires the player to not only be several steps ahead of their opponent, but also to be able to predict their next moves and plan accordingly for their victory to be possible.

A game that Fu Xuan is confident she can win in.

There is a question that the General proposes to the Master Diviner: Why does chess use round pieces yet is played on a square board.

Fu Xuan answers with the claim that a chess game mirrors the old beliefs of a flat earth and a domed sky, represented by a square board and circular pieces respectively.

Her opponent however, only half agrees.

The checkered pattern represents the fixed motions that a piece could take and the roundness of a piece represents an individual.

With those perimeters set and his experience in war, Jing Yuan was able to identify what set of moves he needed in order to win the game before organizing his pieces to execute them. With subtly and suavely, he was able to beat Fu Xuan, despite her clairvoyance.

A more recent example would be during the end of the Windswept Wanderlust quest, in which Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan have a conversation of the origins of the Stellaron. The Master Diviner still believes that Kafka and the Stellaron Hunters were the ones who planted it, but the Divine Foresight thinks otherwise:

Even he had suspicions that the Stellaron Hunters weren't the ones behind the chaos, and Kafka had confirmed his notions.

In addition to this, Jing Yuan has not only already known where the stellaron is in advance, but also has predicted the movements of the opponents next move and placed the Cloud Knights in a position to corner them.

Jing Yuan is an excellent leader and an amazing strategist, being able to accurately predict his enemy's movements and deal with them accordingly, he is befitting of one who is the Seer of Breath. Despite his laid back and seemingly lazy attitude, he is able to keep a watchful eye of the Xianzhou's Luofu and maintain tranquility through diverting the movement of trouble rather than solving it once it appears.

Although this analysis states that his arc as the Seer of Breath is complete, there is still a lot in store for our Divine Foresight. As of the time of writing this, Jing Yuan does not have a lot of screen time and his tale isn't quite done yet. There is more for us to see of not just him...

But for his retainer too, if his prediction comes to fruition.

#ask #homestuck #classpect #classpect analysis #godtiers #Seer of Breath #seer #breath #breath aspect #honkai #honkai star rail #hsr #jing yuan #fu xuan #hrs jing yuan #hrs Fu xuan #honkai jing yuan #honkai fu xuan

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two-red-lungs · 3 years ago

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Player of Games

Eddie Munson Drabble

Content: Implied reader/Eddie, DnD shenanigans, fluff

Summary: Sitting nearby and spectating one of the Hellfire games can almost be as fun as playing them. Especially when you know exactly how the combat encounter is going to end.

Word Count: 1157

“Why isn’t your girlfriend playing with us this time, dude? College make her too cool for us?” One of the newer Hellfire club faces asked, looking at Eddie, who was perched up on his seat behind the DM screen.

Without even looking up, Eddie waved a hand in my direction, focused on his notes. “The good lady has sided with the foul Beholder. She knows too much.”

I dropped my copy of Startide Rising from my eyes, reclined on one of the Hawkins High play set pieces in our nook behind the stage. “He’s saying I helped him prep the combat for this encounter. Can’t play if you’re a co-conspirator.”

Over his screen, Eddie winked at me. Like a grand maestro directing an orchestra, he slowly lit the candles on the table, tension rising… and then he began the session right where they had left off. Backstage lights dimmed. All attention on him.

Munson was a performer for sure. It shone even when he was off the stage: he was always at 110 percent, twenty-four seven. His lips wove seas of sound and story, gestures sending candle flames aflutter, spinning rapt illusory webs of high fantasy that ensnared his players. It was enchanting to watch from the outside.

Incredibly geeky, but enchanting.

“...King Terevin gives a wave of his hand, and the massive iron gate begins to slowly lift with a click, click, click.” He punctuated every onomatopoeia with knuckles against the wooden table. He spread his fingers. “The gaping maw of darkness stretches wide in front of you, our brave guild recruits. You hear the thunk, thunk, thunk of heavy, wet flesh, scraping across the stone. And then,” Eddie rose in his seat, holding clasped hands out over the board, “lumbering out into the light of the fighting pit, the crowd roaring in your ears—” He dropped the hulking miniature onto the graph paper map, “—Is a titanic, club-weilding, undead flesh atronach!”

The table exploded into cries, Dustin grabbing Mike’s sleeve and shaking it vigorously. The players protested in fear and Eddie gleefully rolled out the enemy’s stats: twenty feet tall, level ten, boasting 220 hit points. He spat the facts over the cacophony.

“A creature of infamy and legend!” Eddie crowed. “Known throughout the king’s lands, older than the stones that built the very fortress it’s imprisoned in! Your most dangerous foe yet.” He rubbed his hands together and pointed at the players. “Alright. Roll for initiative.”

I made steady headway in my science fiction novel as the table thrummed with action nearby, voices echoing off the high theater ceiling. Spells were cast, blows were struck. Poor Mike’s new elven sorcerer got his shit rocked, down to two hit points and barely avoiding getting reduced to a smear of blood on the cobblestones.

“I click my Sidon’s boots of speed, doubling my speed, and use my full movement to get…” One of Eddie’s players said, counting on his player sheet. He was pretty new. Only sat through three sessions, with three wins under his belt. It made him cocky. “Fifty feet to the side. Then I use my fast movement feat—” The other players groaned, protesting him leaving the formation, “—to take a dash as a bonus action, adding fifteen feet.”

Eddie slowly moved the player’s mini across the board. As he did, he looked out under his fringe of hair at me. “Congrats, man.” His eyes never left mine. “You’re now flanking the atronach.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling, hiding my face in my book. Remembering the conversation we had had last night. My grin would be a sure-fire giveaway to the players.

Ten-thirty PM, pouring over the monster manual, trying to come up with some contingency plans to throw roadblocks in the group’s way. Eddie bit at his nail, looking at the stats sheet. “I don’t wanna pad the atronach’s health any more than we already have. I mean, I’m known for my epic TPKs, but that’s just cruel.”

“You’ve basically custom-built a killing machine NPC, Ed.” I reminded him, painting the last finishing touch stitch on the miniature. I set the tiny brush down on Eddie’s crowded desk. “You gotta use it. They’re leveled enough. But maybe you can put some, like, secret rules in place.”

He rested his hands on his hips, looking over at me. “Like what?”

I shrugged, blowing on the mini. It was perfect. Ugly, undulating waves of flesh. “Like, uh… the party’s rogue. The new-ish guy? He always thinks he’s a solo act, right? If he breaks away from the safety of the party, punish him for it. Hold the atronach’s legendary actions until he does.”

A slow, broad grin began to crawl across Eddie’s face. “Oh. Wow. You’re kinda evil. I like it.”

He was giving me the same look now, a night later, fingers moving away from the rogue’s miniature. Did I feel good about basically sentencing the cocky player’s favorite genasi player character to death? Yes. No.

Maybe a little.

“I use my secondary action to throw my poisoned daggers at the flesh atronach, using my cloak of shadows to get stealth damage.” The player dropped a die onto the table. “That’s an eighteen, plus a mod two. Dirty twenty to hit.” He sat back in his seat, arms folded, smug. Far too confident for a rogue with his actions all burned up.

“That’s a hit.” Eddie smiled back just as smugly. He paused, dragging the silence out. Everyone was waiting for him to describe the crippling damage. “...But. Your genasi releases the dagger, and they spin into nothing, clattering to the floor.” He snatched the mini off the table, and the chorus of protests started to rise. “The atronach’s glowing jewel embedded in its chest flares, and suddenly it’s gone. It uses a legendary action—” The chorus became a myriad of shocked shrieks, “—and teleports right next to Sir Endon the Rogue.”

The player’s face dropped.

“He raises his twisted, mighty club, and brings it down…” Eddie paused to roll dice in his tray behind his screen, resin clattering against felt, “... for thirty-eight damage—”

“Dustin, your spare the dying spell!” The player shrieked in dismay. “Use spare the dying!”

“You’re not in range!” Dustin poineded wildly at the board, spittle flying “You moved way outta range!”

“—plus ten prone damage. That’s fifteen negative, right? You know what that means.” Eddie continued on. He dropped his face into the flickering candlelight shadows, and with a flick of his fingers, knocked the player’s mini over. “You…” he murmured darkly, “are dead. Reduced to a soup of blood and viscera, splattering the arena.”

The player was flabberghast. The other players ooohed at the sight, hooting. The rogue’s player face twisted, and he stood up, chair screeching. “Man. Seriously? Really?”

Eddie bowed his head. “The school of defeat in brutal, but a swift teacher.”

“Shouldn’t have broken formation, man.” Mike said.

“Whatever. God, ugh. Whatever. I’m going to the vending machine. Gonna clear my head.” With that the hellfire club member stormed off into the shadows, a beam of hallway light cutting across the theater as he pushed open the theatre door in a huff.

“I want a root beer!” I called to his retreating form as he left.

“Dos root beers, por favor!” Eddie tacked on. He shot me a secretive grin, lips all quirked up on one side, and I shook my head, smiling down at my book. He took far too much pleasure in this.

Teamwork makes the dream work, right?

“Now.” Eddie turned back to his remaining mid-combat with a devious, dark smile on his face. “Where were we?”

#rules lawyers dont come for me I've fudged half the stats for story purposes #stranger things #eddie munson #mike wheeler #hellfire club #my writing

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that-writer-101 · 2 years ago

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The Parent Series

Part one: Wanda Maximoff.

Author notes: AHHHH! Sorry I haven't posted in so long! I've been dealing with a lot of personal stuff! I'll be posting regularly again! :)

(the parent series will be a series in which one of the avengers will have a child[you] and it'll showcase one of the shenanigans that happens)

You're Wanda Maximoff's daughter. While you don't have any super cool powers like your mom, you're a really good fighter. You were trained by the avengers, so of course you are.

Though, you have a secret that no one knows. Not even your mom.

You're a vigilante.

While you're only 15, you find being one much easier than being a hero. You don't have to follow so many rules.

"Bye mom! I'm gonna go hang out with America!" You shout, grabbing your bag.

"Okay! Be home by dinner!"

"Kay! Love you!"

"Love you too, sweetheart!"

With that, you go down the elevator.

Now, while you did want to go see America Chaves, your best friend, you had other things to do.

As soon as you get far enough away from the tower, you turn into an alley way and change into your vigilante suit.

A suit loosely based on Black Widow's and a full face mask with a large spiral on it. The mask also has a voice changer in it, just in case you happen to run into someone you know.

The sky starts to dim and you begin to scout the streets for crime.

"I've got eyes on her." You hear someone behind you say.

The voice was familiar.

Too familiar.

You turn around and your only thought is SHIT. Steve Rogers.

Now obviously he doesn't know who you are, well he does, but not in this outfit.

He throws his shield at you and you skillfully dodge it using moves HE taught you.

More of your friends show up. Natasha, Peter, even Thor eventually showed up.

Apparently you had caused a bit too much trouble on some of your nights on patrol.

"Yield, Distortion."

"Distor- OH did you give me that nickname because of the voice changer? That's cute!"

Natasha aims her gun at you and shoots, a bullet lodges in your shoulder.

"OoOOoOoWwW!" You over-dramatically whine.

Honestly it did hurt like hell, but you wouldn't let them know that. You'd learned that from them, don't let the enemy see weakness.

Thor throws his hammer at you and you duck under it, then run at him.

You land a solid front kick to his chest, causing him to stumble.

You take your chance and try to run, but get cut off by webs sticking you to the side of a building.

You struggle for a moment, but manage to rip the webs off of you, using a specific technique that Peter taught you.

"Dude did you like train off of us or something?! How do you know how to dodge us?!" Peter shouts.

"You could say that, yeah."

You land a solid uppercut on his jaw, internally apologizing over and over.

-----

Meanwhile, back at the tower.

Wanda is currently on the phone with Stephen.

"You're at the sanctum with America, right?"

"Yes, why?"

"Did Y/n ever show up? She said she was going to go hang out with America and she hasn't come back yet."

"No she never came, at least I don't think so. America! Did Y/n come over today? ... Nope."

"No no no! That vigilante is out again and.. oh my god what if she got hurt!?"

----

Back with you.

You are getting your shit ROCKED.

Your arm is numb from the bullet still in your shoulder, your side is bleeding from getting grazed by Steve's shield.

You get punched in the face by Nat and the bottom half of your mask cracks and breaks off.

With that, so does the voice changer.

"C'mon, talk! Let's hear what you actually sound like!"

You shake your head. Your ears ring like bells and your head pounds.

The jagged edges of your mask scrape across your skin, causing blood to run down the bottom half of your now uncovered face.

You roundhouse kick Peter and he goes down.

One down. Three to go.

Steve. Natasha. Thor.

Steve throws his shield at you again. You catch it.

"How the fu-" you cut him off by chucking it back at him, knocking him off his feet.

The blood loss starts getting to you.

You feel cold despite all the moving you're doing. You can feel the colour draining your blood covered face. Every move feels like it takes so much effort.

Just as you're about to put your hands up in a yield, you get hit in the side by Thor's hammer.

You let out a blood curdling scream of pain before collapsing to the ground.

Natasha runs over to you.

"Let's see who it is."

She pulls off your mask.

"Im... Sorry... I'm so.. so.. sorry...." You mutter out.

"Shit! Fuck!" She picks you up.

"One of you call Wanda! Now!" She shouts

"Tell my... Mom.. that... That I love her.."

"No nope nu-uh. Stay awake kid. You'll be fine." She was in a full sprint back to the tower, "You've put up a great fight already. Just fight a little bit longer, alright?"

"My mom... Is gonna be.. be so mad.. she's gonna be mad.. at.. at me.." tears stream down your face.

"No she won't.. shhh... She'll be happy you're okay."

-----

With Wanda.

"I can't calm down! What if- Oh one second, I'm getting a call from Steve. Hello?"

"So you know that vigilante that we've been fighting for some time now? Distortion?"

"Yes, why? Did that fucker hurt Y/n?! I haven't heard from her all day!!"

"About Y/n... She is Distortion."

"W.. what?! But you guys were just fighting-"

"Yeah... We only found out after the fight. Natasha is rushing Y/n back to the tower for treatment. She got really banged up."

"I-i.... I'll talk to you when you get back.." The shock was evident in her shaking voice.

"Alright, Natasha should be there soon."

They hang up.

Your mother sits in a short moment of silence, quickly interrupted by chaos erupting downstairs in the med bay.

She teleports down then rushes over to you, now laid in a bed.

"Sweetheart!"

"M.. mom...!"

She grabs your hand, "I'm so glad you're alright..."

"I'm.. I'm sorry.. so.. so sorry..."

"Shhhh.. dear it's okay.. you're okay and that's all that matters.."

Your vision starts to fade.

"No no no sweetheart, stay awake."

The ringing in your ears gets louder.

"C'mon dear, eyes open."

"M..mom.."

"Yes love?"

"I.. I love you.."

"I love you too sweetheart, you're going to be okay... Just stay awake.."

Despite all your effort, your eyes close and you slip into unconsciousness.

- 4 and a half hours later -

Your eyes flick open. It's dark.

You look over at a clock on the wall, it's midnight.

Turning your head, you see your mother, asleep in a chair.

"Mom..?" You weakly ask, she stirs.

"Hm..?" Her eyes slowly start flickering open, "Sweetheart! You're awake!" She suddenly perks up from her sleep.

"I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have done that..."

"No no shh.. it's alright..."

"I love you.."

"I love you too, sweetheart. Now get some rest." She plants a kiss on your forehead as you close your eyes.

Soon enough, you fall asleep.

Four days later, in the meeting room.

"Well Y/n. You have a lot of explaining to do." Steve says.

You don't respond, simply stare down at the table.

"You nearly got yourself killed." Tony responds in your silence.

"Are we going to ignore who almost killed me..." You mutter to yourself.

"What was that?"

"I said: Are we going to ignore who almost killed me?!" You start to grow frustrated.

"Kid, we didn't know it was you." Natasha retorts.

"Could you not tell that you were fighting a kid?!"

"Y/n. You had a voice changer."

"AND?! I am not the size of an adult!" You stand up, "Look at me! I'm much shorter than any of you here!"

"You can't go around doing the things that you were doing."

"What?! Stopping crime?!"

"Heros have a conduct that they follow. You weren't following it."

"Well then maybe I won't be a hero."

"Y/N." Everyone shouts at once.

"You tried to turn me into a hero. For 'justice' you said."

They all look at you.

"You got your hero. I got cheated out of my childhood."

"Sweetheart, you should've told us." Wanda speaks up.

"Don't you 'sweetheart' me. I TRIED to tell you."

"What do you mean? When?"

"No no, what do YOU mean?! I was into the fighting at first, but then came the training. OH the training! It exhausted me every. single. day. I complained whenever you brought me to another session!"

"I thought you were just being a moody teenager."

"Me being a moody teenager is when I complain about what we have for dinner, not when I complain about something day. After day. AFTER DAY."

"Y/n. Clam down." She reaches a hand towards you. You take a step back.

"No. I'm not going to calm down. I finally do something that makes ME happy and now I'm in trouble for it."

"Nearly getting yourself killed doesn't sound like happiness."

"You all do that on a weekly basis on your missions! Cause breaking into a HYDRA base sound sOoOo safe!"

"That's different."

"How!? You go to places where people have guns and bombs and god knows what else! All I do is stop stupid crimes!"

"You're a kid."

"So is Peter!"

"He has powers."

"So?! He has nearly gotten killed more times than me!"

At this point you're on the verge of crying or exploding on everyone with anger. You don't know which one is going to happen first.

Steve looks at you, "You're stopping this behavior and that's final."

"You're not my mom." You roll your eyes.

"I agree with Steve." Wanda concurs.

"This isn't FAIR!" You shout and slam your fists on the table.

"Y/n. Calm down." Your mother sternly glares at you.

"I swear I'm starting to see why the government doesn't like you guys.."

"Y/N! Go to your room right now!" She shouts at you.

"FINE!" You storm out and slam the door.

After a few minutes, Wanda calms down and starts to feel bad about how mad she'd gotten.

"Wanda, maybe you should go apologize." Natasha suggests.

She sighs, "Yeah, I'll be right back.."

Wanda walks to your room and knocks on the door, "Sweetheart?"

No response.

She pops her head into your room and... Its empty.

Panic instantly starts to set in. Had you run away? Had you gotten THAT upset about the argument?

Wanda runs back to the meeting room.

"Wands? What's wrong?" Natasha asks, noticing her panicking expression.

"Y/n isn't in her room! I don't know where she is!"

"JARVIS, where is Y/n?" Tony quickly asks his AI.

"Y/n left the building 5 minutes ago, sir."

"Oh god, she ran away! This is all my fault.." Wanda breaks into sobs, Natasha quickly runs to comfort her.

"Hey, calm down, I'm sure she's going to come back soon..."

For a few minutes, the two sit there, Wanda crying and Nat hugging her. Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in your mom's head.

"J.. JARVIS.. which exit did Y/n leave out of..?" She has a feeling that she might know where you are.

"The roof exit, ma'am."

"Oh thank god..!" Is all Wanda says before teleporting up there.

You're laying in the middle of the roof, just staring up at the clouds.

"S... Sweetheart..?" Wanda asks, her voice shaky as she takes a hesitant step towards you.

Your eyes dart over to your mother as you sit up.

"Oh, uh.. hey..."

Wanda rushes over and wraps her arms around her.

"Sweetheart I'm so sorry I shouldn't have gotten so mad at you. I should've been calmer about the whole situation. I should've been nicer when I explained why what you did was bad and-"

"Okay, okay, mom. I love you, and I accept your apology, but you're hugging me a bit too tight. I'm still healing."

"Oh dear! I'm sorry!"

She loosens the hug and just sits next to you for a moment. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I love you so, so much. I shouldn't have been so harsh on you. I just.. I need you to be safe."

"I know, mom. I should've told you what I was doing in case I ever got hurt like this."

You give her a hug and stay there for a while. When the two of you pull away, and smiles softly at you.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, mom."

#marvel fanfic idea #angst to fluff #marvel #the avengers #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda maximilf #wanda maximov #wanda #parentseries #multiple part series #fanfic #follow me on wattpad #i have tiktok too #its asgards.editor #i post pov tiktoks #i posted something

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kezibun · 5 years ago

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Storm of a hunt part 4

Part 1

You’d been asleep for awhile.. You looked so relaxed, your chest rising and falling with your soft breath. The sight of you safe and peaceful set his swimming mind at ease for some reason. But it felt… wrong. Like he wasn’t supposed to feel it. Like he didn’t deserve to feel that way. Is this real? Am I really supposed to… be with this person? I don’t even know them. Maybe.. Are soul mates even really a thing? He realized he was staring, and quickly turned away.

Papyrus’s phone chimed. He reached for the device in the pocket of his old orange jacket that Sans had thrown at him when he left, and his hand stuck through a long tear down the front. He cursed under his breath. A message from Sans stared at him from his phone screen.

Dinner’s ready. It said. Papyrus sighed, and set the the now half gutted heater behind his brother’s torture box. “have ta finnish ya later.” He whispered. He glanced at you again. Your head rested on the wall behind you on an old faded blue sweater that once belonged to Sans. You were wrapped in a dark gray blanket that was torn and frayed in several places. Was it really alright to leave you? his phone pinged twice. That’ll be him wondering where I am. Papyrus set a few more sticks in the rusty fire pan, closed his sockets, and focused on the kitchen. He took a step forward, and was greeted with the familiar waitless spinning sensation.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The room smelled like a bar had burned down, and was extinguished with chilli. The second was a spoon. A wooden one. In the face. Papyrus grunted, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead. He blinked at Sans, who was holding a backing sheet of cookies in one hand, and picking up the spoon with the other. He straightened up, and looked him in the eye.

“No space-time shenanigans, IN MY HOUSE!!!” Sans screeched, brandishing the spoon. He turned back to the kitchen, setting the pan on the stove. Papyrus sat silently at the table, and Sans came to join him. A plate of burnt looking tortilla bundles covered with melted cheese sat neatly on a plate in the center of the table. Sans placed one on his and Papyrus’s plate, and dug into his. Papyrus picked up his fork, and cut into the bundle.

The crisp layer flaked and crumbled anywhere that there was a burnt black spot. Some sort of greasy liquid ran out of the bundle. Not much, but some. Papyrus took a bite. It was a mess of soggy burnt tortilla, hamburger, rubbery, oily and burnt, soggy cooked leaves of some sort, and beans that were somehow still cold. The cheese poured over the outside was thin in some places, and chunky in others. The whole thing tasted smoky. And that was the only distinguishable taste aside from the cheese, which just toned it down some. Definitely one of his better burritos. The two didn’t talk to, or even look at each other for the entirety of the meal. Sans was still mad about you. Papyrus was the first to stand.

“Leaving so soon?” Sans asked, not looking up from his plate. Papyrus grunted an affirmative.

“Go to your post. It’s already well past morning. However, that’s no surprise. You’re a worthless sentry. If you weren’t my brother I would have gotten rid of you long ago.”

“‘Kay.” Papyrus muttered.

“And eat some of those cookies. I was practicing earlier, and I don’t want perfectly good food gone to waste.” Papyrus took a couple cookies from the baking sheet, pulled a black leather jacket off the back of the couch in the living room, and vanished. Sans sighed. He rose from his chair, and started picking up from the meal.

He brought his plate to the sink, but before putting it in, he stopped. Papyrus had left his plate next to the sink. He only ate half of it. Why does He keep doing this? How does he expect to live like this? Sans looked at the plate, sockets narrowed, and jaw set firmly, as if it would solve the problem and make the food evaporate. After a moment, he scraped the wasted food into the trash, and stacked the plates in the bottom of the sink. Why do I even make him food, when he doesn’t eat it?... “Worthless.” he spat, his hands trembling as he filled a plastic container with leftover burritos. Sans looked down at the food. All but one burrito were packed neatly into the container. Oh, what the heck. He thought.

“‘Pyrus! My favorite customer!” Muffet chimed as the skeleton pushed through the bakery’s glass door. Papyrus sauntered toward the counter. A few of the bakeries’s patreons, glanced his way, but only briefly. The walls were painted a pale lavender, with indigo trim lining the floor, corners, and ceiling. The tables were draped with lacy black and white doily-like tablecloths. Each table was donned with a glass, gold trimmed cake stand, each adorned with a black teapot filled with artificial flowers, covered with beautiful dark purple and black spider silk that glistened in the dim overhead lights. The whole bakery was completely pristine, aside from the spider webs placed collectively around the shop, in the corners, and under the tables.

Papyrus stood in front of the black counter at the back of the shop.

“What can I get for you today, Deary? The usual, I assume?” Papyrus nodded.

“Double it.” he said, as little purple spiders skittered across the metal racks of baked goods behind The monster woman.

“Can I get you anything more? A drink perhaps? How about I give you a discount? First drink for a hundred G?” Papyrus shook his head. Muffet had raised the price by 25%. Muffet flicked one of her thick black pigtails.

“Suit yourself. I assume you want this on your tab?” Papyrus nodded. Muffet rang him up. Three large dark purple puffball spiders skittered across the counter, a small black paper bag balanced on their backs. Papyrus took the bag off the backs of the spiders, nodded to Muffet, who giggled in response, and walked out. What a mysterious young man. He’s gone back to his old style.

You wake with a start. Where am- oh. Right. You look down at yourself. Someone has rapped you in a tattered grey blanket. Something is off though. A… smell. A musty smell hangs in the air around you. Is it the blanket? You hold it to your nose. Nope. Then you see the sweater you were leaning on. Yup. definitely that. It smells kind of like mildew, and mothballs. You look around the room. All is the same, except that the heater is gone, the fire has almost gone out, and a plate of something sits on the ‘tourture box’, along with a scrap of paper. Papyrus is gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks to my co-writer @puddlesilver for collaborating with me on this fic.

And @greenheartart for the art that inspired this whole thing.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter thank you for reading.

#@puddlesilver #writing collab #keziha writes #rus #sf!papyrus #sf!sans #black #blackberry #x reader #sf papyrus x reader #a storm of a hunt

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hetacon · 5 years ago

Text

The Depths I Would Go To

Word Count: 3,500

Pairings: Prinxiety, Background Logicality

Warning: Swearing, joking threats of murder, social commentary on homophobia (as well as light transphobia), alcohol consumption and drunk shenanigans, crying, faking one’s death, light sexual jokes, kissing and all that gushy stuff

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Summary: He knew he was stuck. He definitely was deeply in love, as if his very being had always been destined to belong under Virgil’s complete control.

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A silvery song shifted Roman’s attention to one of the caves bordering the ocean as he walked along the cliffsides.

He couldn’t help himself from walking towards it and climbing down the side of the cliffs to drop down into the cave that held the source.

He heard a gasp, two frantic splashes, and a sigh.

“Great, you scared them, Roman, you idiot,” he muttered to himself.

“They’re always jumpy,” the owner of the song called out.

“And you aren’t?”

“I could easily kill you if I so wished and even if I can’t, I would be useless to you, no matter how much you think I would be worth the trouble.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Roman asked, walking further into the cave, starting to see a soft glow coming from deep in the pool. He kneeled down by the pool of water, staring at the figure.

“So sure that I’m of no value? Well, look at me, tell me if I pose any benefit,” the voice laughed and a bioluminescent mermaid rose back up from the water, blinking up at Roman.

The two stared at each other for a moment.

“You’re beautiful,” Roman muttered out, noticing as the mermaid’s cheeks lit up. Roman cracked a smile at that. “I’m Roman.”

“Virgil,” the mermaid muttered.

Roman held out his hand and Virgil hissed, his pupils dilating, spikes thrusting out from his spine in a quick second.

“Woah Jesus, it’s a handshake!!” Roman yelled out and Virgil’s expressions softened.

“That is a declaration of war. Clearly you have no knowledge of mermaids,” Virgil huffed, taking a deep breath as the spikes were hidden away once again. “You’re more stupid than I thought,” he mused, smirking even more as Roman pouted.

“Well then how can I not be stupid if you’re clearly more intelligent than I?” Roman asked, leaning against the wall lining the pool of water.

“Meet me here tomorrow night. Come alone or I can’t ensure I’ll let you make it out alive.”

Roman nodded and smiled, watching as the glowing creature splashed into the water.

As promised, Roman came alone the following night, holding out a lantern as he squinted in the fog. He heard the faint sounds of the song again and ducked into the cave, blowing out the lantern as soon as he saw Virgil’s glow.

“You know, that’s a pretty song you’re singing,” he spoke up and prominently heard a huff soon after. He chuckled as he sat next to the pool.

“What is it with you and flattering me? Aren’t there societal rules against that in the human world?”

“Mm? What do you mean?” Roman asked, resting his chin on his hand.

Virgil started to swim lazy circles around the pool. “You know, about how those of the same gender cannot compliment one another? I mean, you aren’t even allowed to have courtships with anyone but your opposites, or at least, those perceived to be. It’s all a bit stupid if you think about it.”

“Well, people court to produce offspring.”

“Can’t anyone do that?”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Not humans, no. Why? Can you do that?”

“Yes, it works regardless of gender,” Virgil nodded, looking up at Roman who was nodding along.

“What else can you tell me?”

“What would you like to know?”

That sparked hours of conversation and the two were content to stay there. Roman was listening intently to a lesson on greeting etiquette currently and was nodding along.

“So handshakes are a declaration of war because of the webbing?” Roman asked, in the middle of an explanation.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, it’s basically like saying you’re going to rip the webbing off their hand, which is part of our bodies. So it would hurt,” he mused with a roll of his eyes, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

“No, really? Never would’ve guessed!” Roman joked, flinging his arms out dramatically, smiling proudly as Virgil let out a snort.

“Do you ever do anything that’s not royally embarrassing or dramatic?” Virgil asked.

“Well I am royalty after all, why wouldn’t I do everything royally?” Roman replied back, strolling away from the pool of water casually.

“Woah woah woah, your snootiness, get your butt back here!”

“Hm? Yes?” Roman hummed out, turning back around.

“The hell do you mean you’re royalty and then turn away like this conversation is over!?” Virgil yelled, slapping his hands down into the water around him.

“It’s not a big deal, I’m definitely more interested in your life than you should be of mine.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at Roman who sat back down in front of him.

They both kind of stared at each other for a moment.

“Well?” Virgil asked.

“What?” Roman questioned back with a teasing smile.

“Spill!”

Roman couldn’t help but laugh at his impatience and started telling Virgil the most interesting parts. Eventually though, the cave started to brighten up slowly but surely and Virgil saw the sun start to peek out from over the horizon. Roman glanced back too and sighed, getting up.

“I suppose it’s time for me to take my leave then, wouldn’t you say?” Roman asked, looking down to Virgil whom only nodded, casting his gaze down.

The prince waited for his aquatic companion to say anything but when he wasn’t given something to reply to, he nodded to himself and started to exit the cave.

“Will you come back soon?”

He turned back to see Virgil giving him the most hopeful little puppy face he’d ever seen and a grin spread across his own face.

“As you wish, my scaly one,” he hummed, bowing. He noticed that Virgil visibly lit up at his answer and decided not to comment on his cheeks shining brighter than the rest of him in that moment.

Months passed by and Roman would spend a large majority of his nights out in the caves. He learned lots of things about the world Virgil came from, about Virgil himself too. He got to meet Virgil’s friends at one point, Logan and Patton. They were nice but Roman definitely loved Virgil the most of the group.

Virgil was absolutely gorgeous, Roman knew that, but something just drew him to the mermaid beyond that. His voice was something completely enchanting all on its own. He learned fairly early on that Virgil was a siren and yet Virgil never demonstrated that ability, even when they met. He just liked to sing but to Roman, that voice was purely magic all on its own. He knew he was stuck. He definitely was deeply in love, as if his very being had always been destined to belong under Virgil’s complete control.

It was only a matter of time before Virgil found out about Roman’s affections and it so happened to be because of a huge celebration that the kingdom held in the early part of May.

Normally the climb down to the cave was an easy feat as Roman has mastered it months ago. However, he had scraped up his hands as he stumbled down the rocky surface, before he finally reached the entrance. Humming echoed around the cave walls and Roman giggled, hurrying over.

“Virgil!” he called out loudly, laughing as the mermaid in question was startled, spikes coming out from his spine in a split second before they settled down at the realization.

“Roman, Jesus Christ, you can’t just scare me like that,” he grumbled, turning around. He jumped a little as Roman was nose to nose with him, the prince grinning from ear to ear. “What’s up?”

“I just missed you so much and you’re..” Roman trailed off, staring into Virgil’s eyes. He giggled to himself before continuing on a completely different subject. “Your eyes are two different colors, they’re magnificent. Everything about you is magnificent~”

Virgil looked at him weirdly for a moment.

“Oh my god, are you drunk?”

“Maybe a teeny bit but it’s ok because I’m allowed to! Everyone is allowed to! Do you want me to get you some? I can go get you some, I might be a while though! Man, climbing down the cliff is hard, how do I do it every day?” he babbled to himself.

“Roman, calm down, you’re not even speaking coherently,” Virgil muttered, turning around to start swimming around the pool.

Roman panicked and tried to follow after Virgil. The next thing Virgil knew, there was a loud splash behind him and Roman had fallen in.

“Shit!”

Virgil was quick in yanking Roman up for him to breath, sighing in relief that Roman was still awake, blinking in utter bewilderment at him before smiling. Virgil stared back with wide eyes as Roman leaned in close, Roman’s lips inches away from his and Roman’s face illuminated with purple light as Virgil’s cheeks grew hot.

“Absolutely gorgeous, it’s so beautiful when you blush just for me,” Roman muttered out softly, his eyes looking down to Virgil’s lips. “So wonderful and stunning. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I first laid my eyes on you. I want to kiss you Virgil, I want to kiss those pretty little lips of yours~”

Virgil barely managed to resist, knowing Roman was too drunk right now to know what he was really doing. Even if Virgil did want to give in and close the distance, he wanted Roman to be present and alert.

“You know, sometimes I wonder if I could date you. I would bring you flowers and food and lots of pretty things I find that remind me of you because you deserve a good boyfriend. Or girlfriend. You can call me a girl if you want, I can be a girlfriend too!”

Virgil laughed, shushing him. “Shh sh, calm down. I love you as a man, you’re fine.”

“You love me? Oooooo, you love me, that’s so embarrassing!” Roman cooed out.

“Yeah, I love you Roman. You won’t even remember this but I do love you,” Virgil said with a soft smile.

“Can I kiss you?”

“If you remember when you wake up, you may kiss me Roman,” Virgil sighed out, rolling his eyes.

“Mmmmmmm... Ok, fineeeeee,” Roman whined out. And with that, Roman was out like a light.

Very early the next morning, just as the sun was starting to rise, Roman jolted up to see the cave surrounding him as he laid next to the pool. He looked around to see his cloak draped over his body, the rest of his clothing and his hair still damp though. He heard water moving around in the pool and he was face to face with Virgil.

“Hey,” he whispered quietly to the mermaid into front of him.

“Hey,” said mermaid whispered back.

Roman scooted over, looking down at Virgil. Virgil looked back before Roman put two fingers under Virgil’s chin, lifting him up to lock their lips firmly together. Virgil was quick to melt into the brief kiss, only to jump as Roman had fallen in once again.

Virgil laughed loudly as Roman breached the surface, only calming down as Roman pulled Virgil close once more, kissing him again. Virgil didn’t think there’d ever be a time where he wouldn’t melt, tangling his hands into Roman’s hair as pinks and oranges lit up the cave, Roman deepening the kiss.

It was only a few weeks after they kissed for the first time that Roman was sitting by the cave, just watching Virgil swim around and talking to his hearts content. He was currently recounting a story of how Patton got stung by a jellyfish that Roman was only half following.

“I mean, he was in pain but I did warn him about it. Logan was glaring at me the entire time, it was kinda funny you know?” Virgil chuckled. When he didn’t hear anything, he stopped swimming and looked over to see Roman staring blankly at his hands. He swam over to the edge of the pool and hoisted himself up, his head resting on his shoulder. “Ro?” he asked gently.

Roman snapped back to attention. “Ah, sorry, jellyfish, Patton, funny, continue!” he laughed awkwardly, quirking a faked grin.

“Roman, I may not be that gushy but you know you can tell me if something’s going on, right?” Virgil sighed, frowning.

With a light, tired huff, Roman scooted over to be in front of his significant other. He reached out, cupping Virgil’s cheek with his hand, watching as the mermaid melted into it with a warm smile.

“I’ve been set up for an arranged marriage, Vee,” he admitted, noticing the shock in the mermaid’s eyes as Virgil looked up to him.

“How come?”

“An alliance with another kingdom. They have a princess of eligible standing that’s around my age and so they... my parents want to marry me off within a month. They told me this morning. I just..” Roman paused, closing his eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered out, tears slipping down his cheeks as he looked Virgil in the eye.

“Hey hey, it’s gonna be fine ok?” Virgil told him, pulling the prince down for a kiss. Roman sighed into it, kissing back softly. “We’ll figure something out, I promise.”

“I want to be with you and yet I cannot bring myself to put you in harm’s way by revealing my affections for you. I certainly can’t seeing as they’d accuse me of being sinful, just for loving a man such as myself. And if they knew of you, gosh, you’d probably be captured and sold on the spot and I just-! I couldn’t-! Oh gosh, Virgil, they can’t take you away from me!” Roman sobbed out, hugging on to Virgil tightly.

For a while, Virgil just held on to Roman, carding his hand through the prince’s hair as Roman continued to cry. Once he had stopped though, Virgil requested that Roman lift him up and soon he was seated in Roman’s lap. He did his best to wipe away the tears.

“You’re the most precious of things to me, I cannot part from you, Virgil...” Roman muttered, kissing the mermaid’s hair.

“What if... What if you part with the rest of the precious things you have?”

Roman sniffled and looked over. “What do you mean?”

“Would you be willing to leave the castle to stay with me?” Virgil asked him.

“Yes, of course but how could I..?”

“Fake your death.”

“What?”

Virgil smiled. “Fake your own death. We’ll figure out a day, make plans for when to meet, and once that day comes, you come here and jump into the ocean. I’ll meet you and once anyone who’d follow you has left, presuming you’re dead, I turn you into a mermaid like me. You can live with me, I’ll get Patton and Logan to help, and you get to stay with me,” he explained, kissing Roman’s cheek.

Roman thought for a moment. “You can really do that?”

“Mhm, you just have to be sure that’s what you’d want to do.”

“Why? Does the transformation only work if it’s what my heart truly desires?”

“What? No! I’m not gonna turn you into a mermaid if I don’t have your total confidence that that’s what you want you chucklehead!” Virgil scolded and dipped his tail into the pool, flicking it up to soak Roman in water.

Roman coughed and spit water into Virgil’s face. “Rude,” he huffed, glaring at his boyfriend.

Virgil merely laughed.

A date had been set, everything was all figured out, Roman knew that. But he was worried about this meeting. A few days before this was going to happen, Patton requested that Roman meet with him and Logan. He walked through the caves, seeing the two mermaids waiting patiently for him, the only glow coming from a sea lantern Logan was holding in his hands.

“Patton, Logan,” Roman said with a nod, sitting at the edge of the pool in front of them.

Patton went over and held out his hands, nodding back when Roman put his hands in Patton’s own. “Roman, I assume you know what I wanted to talk to you about?” he asked gently, looking up at the prince.

“I assume it’s about me faking my death to be with Virgil,” he said calmly, looking back down to Patton.

“Yes. I trust you but I need to make sure you know just what you’re doing. You can’t return home after this and you can’t break Virgil’s heart if you’re not completely sure about this decision. He’s precious and oh so special to me and Lo, I don’t want a human to be his undoing. We already have a hard enough time trusting them and this could hurt him badly,” Patton told him sternly.

“I know Pat, I promise you that I’m sure about this. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t love Virgil with all my heart. He has mine for all eternity and I want to be with him more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”

Patton nodded. “Good, I’m glad to hear that. And if you ever break that promise, you will be receiving a handshake from me within seconds,” he growled, yanking Roman down to look him in the eye.

“Yes Patton, I will willingly take your hand should I destroy Virgil’s trust in me. You have my word,” Roman responded in a level tone and Patton squealed happily, hugging Roman tight.

“Alright alright, now that that’s taken care of,” Patton hummed, pulling back. “You said you had something important to tell Roman, right Lo?” he asked, looking back to his partner.

Logan nodded. “Use protection, Virgil would freak out about having guppies,” he said flatly.

“Logan!!!” Patton hissed.

Logan only smiled slightly to himself, amused as Roman laughed heartily.

The day finally came.

This was happening.

Roman wasn’t exactly having doubts, he never would. This was just a lot to process at the moment. His entire life was going to change as soon as Virgil turned him. Logan and Patton were on standby should anything happen and he saw Virgil off in the distance.

This was happening.

He walked over to the cliffside to look out over the ocean.

“Your highness, be careful of the edge,” one of his guards warned and Roman turned to the two guards with a smile, nodding.

Roman was hesitating. The idea was terrifying. He knelt down to look down at the waters, dangerously close to the ledge.

Do it.

Just do it, Roman, it’ll be ok.

He looked over to see Virgil who had moved over to just about where he’d be falling in and saw the worried expression of his boyfriend. Roman nodded to reaffirm him that he was still going to do it and as soon as Virgil smiled brightly, Roman knew this was it. His love was waiting for him and all fear left his mind at that one gut-twisting smile.

He fell over, letting out a loud shriek just as planned. He smiled as soon as he plunged into the waters.

Everything happened at once really. One of the guards tried to come after him which took a bit due to needing to take off the armor, at which point, Roman had already started to sink down into the water. Just as soon as his guard hit the surface of the water, Virgil was grabbing onto him, hissing loudly at the guard. Roman started to kick and struggle against Virgil’s hold as he was dragged down faster. He heard Virgil start to sing and he felt his lungs burning. His guard resurfaced for air but Virgil had taken him well away by the time the guard got back underwater.

Virgil swam up above Roman and smiled that warm perfect little smile again. Roman felt alright as Virgil’s lips were on his and he tangled a hand in Virgil’s hair, deepening the kiss.

The pain went away from his lungs as gills grew on the sides of his neck and at his hips. Webbing grew between his fingers. Before he knew it, a solid tail replaced his legs and he ripped off his torn clothes, now fully transformed just as Virgil, Patton, and Logan.

Virgil pulled away with a grin but kept his nose nuzzled to Roman’s.

“Welcome home Roman,” he breathed out gently.

“It’s good to finally be home,” Roman said with a smile, dipping Virgil down for another kiss.

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A/N: I spent way too long on this. Please let me know what you think. This took entirely too long-

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Taglist: @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @ambersky0319

#sanders sides #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #background logicality #stan writing

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minidigidestined · 5 years ago

Text

Lost in Love 1/3

A three part digi//mon g/t vore series about my Digidestined OC/sona, Charissa, and her experiences and thoughts with being eaten by her three significant others--her primary partner and husband Jazz (another Digidestined), and her two secondary partners Beelstarrmon and Voltaboutamon. Lots of polyamorous fluff, soft safe vore and sweetness. Will likely do a little series of blurbs with her and Jazz’s digi///mon teammates vore shenanigans too, I just wanted to write up some romance~

Part one focuses on Charissa and Voltaboutamon--in this story, they have only very recently began their relationship, and are still navigating the awkwardness of a new love and the tangled web of the enemies to friends to lovers past they share. After Charissa struggles with sensory overload and the resulting shutdown, Voltaboutamon comforts her in a shrunken state, and considers what her two longer-term significant others have (obnoxiously) told him about her vore fixation.... He decides to try and comfort her in a new way, exploring her very strange form of intimacy.

NSFW DNI.

In his hands, I am small and pliable. The pad of his thumb, black and tough as onyx, presses softly against the plushness of my cheek. I melt into him and sigh, softly.

I am home.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” Voltaboutamon looks down at me, the shy indigo blush on his cheeks radiating warmth. “Do I just.... Put you in?”

I smile, stimming nervously with the scrunchie on my wrist. “Ye--ah, I g--uess. You just, um, uh, um tre--at me like you wo--uld would any other f---ood. Except che--w--ing.” I am happy, but the words are forced and almost painful--after a shutdown, speaking always is.

“You don’t need to make yourself talk.” His narrow eyes seem to edge into slits. “I… I want to make you feel better. You don’t need to force yourself for me, Charissa. I am always prepared to accommodate you. I love you.”

I almost open my mouth to force out more, but stop. Jazz, Beelstarrmon and Voltaboutamon are the greatest partners I could’ve ever hoped to love--and I found myself frustrated with the disservice both to them and myself whenever I tried to shift myself to try and please them, like I had with so many others. With so many abusers. It was okay to be me. It was safe to be me. With the three of them, I could love freely.

No pretending. No masking. No suffering. Only truth.

I smiled and nodded. Two taps for thanks, and a squeeze of his fingers for love.

The wraith-like Digimon smiled, his eyes softening. “And you will be safe?”

I nodded again, pointing to the small oxygen mask at my hip. I slumped against his needle like fingers, lightheaded from the butterflies fluttering about in my stomach.

After my surrogate father, Grandracmon, shrunk me down for my own comfort, both Voltaboutamon and I retreated to his quarters for privacy and silence. For not one second did he (nor my father, the kindest beast in existence might I add) judge my desire to be small, and instead he looked down at me as if I was the greatest treasure his hands had ever held.

For awhile, we lay in silence, my darling removing his chest plating so that I could curl up on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. A steady rhythm, safe and powerful, even through the leathery armor-like chitin that covered him from clavicles to toes, cool and textured against my own skin. Two of his arms tucked behind his head, relaxed, one over his stomach and the last’s palm cupping me gently.

I was always small, a mere 5’5 to his 12’, but at 5 inches tall, he was now truly massive to me. Even after removing his intimidating armor and mask and the extra bulk of his hat and headscarf, his presence still felt absolutely massive. And yet, despite what a cruel figure the digimon struck, he felt as safe and secure as any home I could have ever imagined. Better than anything I could imagine, in fact.

So when my dear one looked down at me and whispered, with nothing but a soft red light from the lamp in the corner lighting the space around us, if I would like him to eat me, I felt my own heart skip a beat. Pretty sure I felt his do the same.

Voltaboutamon had never really been interested in the whole vore thing, and after we began dating only a few weeks ago, it was one of the hardest discussions to have with him, perhaps even moreso than our rocky history of hate-filled enemies to reluctant friends to hopelessly yearning. Explaining the intricacies of affection, intimacy, trust, safety and closeness involved in vore for me was terrifying, and having to share that with someone who had been shut off from closeness and emotional intimacy for so long? I figured he would never be comfortable with it beyond some light teasing and letting me lay on his belly.

And now here we were, both blushing, flustered and awkward.

His stomach growled, a low rumble beneath me, and the butterflies surged with a vengeance. I loved him so much, so deeply, and just wanted to find myself in the world of his body, his physical self, the very essence of Voltaboutamon. After everything we had endured, the trauma of our pasts, the struggle of our present and the serenity of the new love we had found, all I ever wanted was to get lost in him. Right now, literally.

“And you trust me? You feel safe?” He was nervous, maybe even more than I was.

I smiled gently. One long, deep squeeze. Always.

He nodded, clearing his throat. “Well. I am hungry. I was busy earlier today and forgot to eat so… Yes. Here we go then. Vore.”

He picked me up with two long, claw tipped fingers, squeezing into the softness of my plump frame. He lifted me up and I felt myself go a bit dizzy with vertigo, until I looked down and saw his mouth yawn open.

Poppy-red eyes gazed up at me, gauging my reaction. Voltaboutamon’s face was narrow and framed with long locks of wavy snow-white hair, his features all hard as flint. His full lips opened wide, lavender skin giving way to a bright pink mouth and pearly teeth. A set of long fangs, his teeth all just a little bit sharper than normal--likely the Myotismon data--and his tongue long and flat and waiting.

I swallowed hard, goosebumps popping up along my arms as I fixated on the strands and bubbles of saliva framing his maw, leading all the way back into the beckoning tunnel of his throat.

He lowered me in gently, and I almost laughed at the severe juxtaposition of how differently he placed me in comparison to my other dear ones. His soft, thoughtful handling a contrast to the greedy but assured stuffing-in that Jazz and Beelstarrmon would begin eating me with. I suppose it makes sense, gluttons as they are and gourmet as he is. I almost giggle thinking about the shenanigans and contrasts of our love-filled little quad, but I’m broken from my ruminations when he places me right atop his tongue.

Instantly the butterflies surge, a swarm of nerves and exhilaration twisting up my insides. His tongue undulates beneath me, his sharp teeth framing the outside world. Before I know it the digimon’s mouth closes, the last shreds of light glinting off his fangs and threads of drool before I’m shrouded in darkness.

I squish my fingers against the slick flesh of my darling’s tongue, gasping as it presses me against the roof of his mouth and then to the inside of his cheek. I’ve been eaten so many times before, by friends and lovers, and yet I still find myself growing pink and amazed and feeling so very very small, and I can’t help but just close my eyes and smile.

His breath is hot and smells of tart undiluted cranberry juice, and I recall the mug he left on the kitchen counter. It rushes over me as he carefully shifts me around the slimy cavern, his teeth gently scraping at my skin and saliva coating me like a second skin. I press my hands against his flesh, tracing veins with my fingertips and slipping around at his mercy. A low hum builds in his throat and I blush, pleased that he seems to find me a tasty snack.

I found myself pushed to the back of his mouth, going lightheaded with both happiness and an unbidden anxiety--like the top of a roller coaster drop--as the tips of my toes slipped past the entrance of his throat. His uvula tickled the top of my twin buns as he swallowed thickly, unaccustomed to such a large morself, not that my girth likely helped much. His gulp pulled me down instantaneously, and then peristalsis got to work. He swallowed and gulped again, clearly straining to get me down.

The powerful muscles pulled me down eagerly, the soft flesh crushing and massaging against me as it effortlessly took me further into Voltaboutamon. I felt his fingertip press against the bulge I must’ve made in his slender neck, following me as I trailed deeper into him. I heard the rush of his breath from his lungs, his relief once I started falling down his throat smoothly, and he no longer had to swallow powerfully.

I enjoyed the trip down, my oxygen mask providing me air during my smothering descent, the pressure providing me sensory stimulation and relaxation in the best possible way. Utter bliss.

It wasn’t long before Voltaboutamon’s throat opened up into his stomach though, and I yelped as I was deposited into the much more roomy cavern. I slipped right in and slid down into a fetal position, shifting about to get comfortable. The sludgy chyme and the unmistakable tang of cranberry juice sloshed around me, his belly grumbling loudly upon my arrival. The muscular walls flexed and kneaded gently, like a hug. The darkness and heat was utterly smothering, and while the smell wasn’t delightful, it was reassuring in some strange way.

His heart beat thunderously somewhere above me, and the hum of his digicore was a barely noticeable constant thrumming. His lungs translated in and out, in and out seamlessly, a low gurgle from lower in his guts sounding out every now and then. His stomach continued its kneading and soft growling, and I felt all my muscles loosen and relax.

“Are you alright, Charissa?” I was jostled a bit as he must’ve leaned down, trying to get as close as he could. “I feel ridiculous talking to my stomach…” A pressure from outside pushed against me, kind and gentle as ever. Voltaboutamon rubbed his belly, and I eagerly pressed back and into the sweet touch, rubbing my hands tenderly along his stomach walls in thanks.

“I love you, dear.” His voice blended in with the cacophony of sounds, the symphony of his body. “You were...a, ah, good meal. A nice little bite. Morsel. You melt in my mouth. ….Ah. Fuck. Yep.” He went quiet, and I could almost see the frustrated look on his face. I giggled sweetly as we both continued our rubbing. He had the spirit, and my heart swelled with pure adoration.

I let myself melt into him indeed, leaning back into the undulating stomach walls and letting the heat encompass me. Right now, Voltaboutamon was my entire world, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I relaxed into him, his body keeping me enshrouded and hidden like a treasure chest, and I felt my eyelids grow heavy.

I began to daydream about whenever he’d spit me back up, and we’d return to Jazz and Beelstarrmon--oh, how they’d tease him relentlessly, and how he’d pout and huff and give out halfhearted threats. We would all laugh,and they would all pull me close, and I would be even more surrounded by love than I was right now. Maybe I could slip into Jazz’s gut before bed, or Beelstarrmon could have me for breakfast. Maybe we’d all just lay together and play board games and talk until the suns came up and the Digital World came to life.

The pain of today slipped away, melting away in Voltaboutamon’s belly as easily as any food. Just as my muscles relaxed my mind did too, the overwhelming sensation of sensory overload from earlier suffering giving way to peace. This was what vore was to me--each experience with each person I loved, each friend, each pred and even accompanying prey friends was always different--but at the core it was the inexplicable, even moreso unexplainable, sense of safety, closeness and belonging.

My eyelids fluttered closed, breathing growing even. I felt so lucky to be loved like this, to be held like this. Down someone’s throat, below their heart, in the soothing darkness of their belly was my home.

“I love you, Voltaboutamon.” I whispered softly to the world around me. I would tell him to his face, accompanied by a kiss on the nose, whenever I reemerged. For now, I sunk down with a sigh and let myself fade into sleep.

#extreme cuddling #soft vore #endo #endosoma #safe vore #g/t vore #my writing #my post #digi///mon

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unwilling-survivor · 5 years ago

Note

11, 14, 13, 37, 47 - Smut dialogue

SMUT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

11) “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.” 14) “Do you think you deserve to be punished?” 13) “Touch yourself for me.” 37) “Did I say you could stop?” 47) “You deserve a reward for being so good today, what would you like it to be?”

((This got... very long. Like... 3200 words long. Whoops ^^; TW for blood play, dubcon?, and general Entity!Samuel shenanigans.))

“I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you...”

Sam practically jumped out of her skin, every hair on her body standing on end. It haunted her at this point, that voice, memories full of blood and pain and terrifying euphoria. She whirled toward it, eyes wide and shoulders stiff, stumbling away a few steps. Him. That… thing. Not Samuel. The twisted inverse.

He’d seen that? She hadn’t even done anything! She’d just been hiding in the locker, she hadn’t expected someone else to join. She hadn’t asked them to put their hands on her, and she wouldn’t have. And all over was certainly an exaggeration.

But maybe he could see into her head… Maybe he knew the thoughts and images that had paraded there, how she’d wanted more contact, more affection, more attention. She hadn’t said a single word to her teammate, just waited with them, her touch-starved mind imagining, but… he knew. He’d been right to carve the label into her skin, a spot that was suddenly tingling. Slut. He knew she wanted, and she wanted so much.

“...We’ll see how cute you look later, when I get you home.”

Her hand lifted to her mouth, stifling her own whimper, brows pulling together. That wasn’t fair. She’d been so good this trial. She’d done her work, she’d helped her teammates, she’d run when she was supposed to run, and jumped when she was supposed to jump. A model survivor. ...Maybe. Her teammate had found her, on accident, when running from a killer. A killer she could’ve distracted to give them a chance to escape. There was always more she could do.

The self-doubt rooted itself in her mind, even as the entity disappeared again, leaving her to finish her trial. The doubts themselves tripped her up, her performance suffering for it, but at least she tried to do better, even if she ended up doing worse.

She ended the trial on the hook. It was something she dreaded. She knew how this went: all of her soul, scraped out of her chest, leaving just the smallest piece left to replenish itself, leaving her ringingly hollow and apathetic for hours afterward.

Except this time, it was different. Slightly.

“Sammy, how kind of you to join me.”

It wasn’t a choice, sits on the tip of her tongue, but she seals her words behind closed teeth. He probably already knows that. That’s probably why she’s here.

Here being… somewhere else. Not the vast emptiness of the void - the place she only ever half-remembers in the wake of a sacrifice - and not the campfire. Somewhere else. The fog.

“Such a trial for you, today.”

She feels constantly uneasy. Unsure if she should speak or remain silent. He gagged her, in the past. She’s not sure if speaking will invite that treatment again. She’s stuck in her head, thinking about it, worrying about it, analyzing why she’s here and what she can do to leave.

“How do you think you performed?”

It feels like a trick question. She’s crawling with self-doubt, after his appearance in-trial. She could’ve done better. She could’ve done much better than she did, could’ve been more altruistic, more clever, could’ve taken more risks and made more saves and done more.

The entity takes a step closer and Sam almost jumps, feet shuffling back slightly as his lips split into a sharp grin. She feels the ghost of faded bruises and not-yet-faded scars. The word carved into her belly tickles, sending unwanted sensation to nestle between her thighs. Bastard. Monster. Whatever he did to her, it wasn’t normal. Whatever he does to her, still. Still pulling his little strings, plucking here and there in his web of manipulation.

“It is a very simple query, my dear.”

His voice alone gets to her. That twisted echo under the words; all overwhelmingly other in comparison to who that body used to be. Her skin is crawling, making her twitch and squirm. He takes a step closer, and her eyes fall to his feet, unable to look him in the face.

“Did you play the game, Sammy?”

Why does he make her doubt so much? She thought she did - she was sure she did - but now, her resolve feels liquid. She uneasily takes a step back, unable to answer.

“Did you do your best?”

Another step forward, another shuffle back.

Is honesty the best policy here? She feels like it might be. She can imagine his fingers digging into fresh cuts, reminding her do not lie to me, pet.

After a moment of hesitation, she shakes her head.

She can feel his pleased smile, even if she isn’t looking at him. He takes another step forward, she takes another back. Her ankles hit string. Turning her head to look, her stomach flip-flops anxiously; red string, more red string. A spiderweb strung up between trees, interwoven with fog.

“Do you think you deserve to be punished?”

His voice is too close, and when Sam turns back to look, he’s mere inches away. He radiates power and control and sheer malevolence. A curiosity for destruction and pain. Not a drop of humanity in him.

She whimpers quietly, stumbling back again, the string vibrating against her back with her movements. Her body is already lighting up in all the wrong ways, every impulse that’s been rewired backwards.

Dark brows lift expectantly, and Sam knows she has to say something.

“...Yes?” she breathes, almost pleading. If she accepts it, maybe, it will be quick. Perhaps penitence will yield mercy.

His head cocks slightly. Is he… pleased? Maybe? Or amused?

When his hand lifts, Sam flinches back, catching herself on the web before she can fall. String catches between her fingers, bouncing slightly, unsteady, but keeping her upright as she holds on tight. It won’t keep her stable, but it will keep her on her feet. But was she ever really stable to begin with?

Undeterred by her movement, the entity cups her cheek with that mockery of affection, and her eyes shut tight.

Touch.

It means so much to her, and it’s not fair that he’s perverted that, that he’s corrupted it with whatever fucked up ability he has.

“But what is the appropriate punishment for such behavior, hm?”

The hand on her cheek trails down, brushing past her jaw, down the side of her neck…

An uncontrollable shudder goes through her, the effect of such close proximity to the source of intoxicating nightmares. Her mouth waters. Her body heats. He’s leaving a trail of ruin in the wake of his touch.

He pauses, lifting his hand away for a moment, and Sam risks opening her eyes, only to bounce back against the web again as she yelps at the sudden appearance of a familiar knife. Her motions do her no favors, the tip biting into her skin briefly before the entity pulls it away slightly. Strings start to weave over her grasping hands, keeping them out of the way.

“You will keep your volume to a reasonable level, please. As much as I enjoy your lovely array of sounds, do try to hold your tongue, pet. You know what will happen if you do not.”

Her whole body is on fire as the knife slices down the front of her clothes, just as it did before, and tears spring into her eyes as much from frustration as panic. Right down through the first M of SAMMY where it’s carved into her chest, nicking the front clasp of her bra, but this time not cutting skin nearly as much. He’s changed the angle. Like maybe he’s not just trying to slice her open.

He doesn’t cut through her shorts, but he does pause, hooking his finger through a belt loop and tugging them down slightly to admire the SLUT scarred under the waistband.

“Such excellent craftsmanship; how nice to see you still hold the title.”

She’s flushing a brilliant pink as the tip of the knife teases across scarred skin, threatening to cut but not quite doing so, and her thighs press together anxiously. She can’t help it. Something about him, the air around him, clicks something in her brain. Her toes curl and her breathing is labored, eyes going dark even as she whines quietly. This wasn’t supposed to go this way.

She wants it. She wants to be touched, and toyed with, and granted pleasure. Craves it.

And she hates that. Hates him. Wants him.

It’s miserable.

And she can feel his eyes on her, drinking in that misery, that desire, that shame— feasting on it.

The strings have crept and wound and worked their way to hold her against the web. Not so restrictive as rope, but still keeping her there, keeping her upright. Probably stronger than they look.

When the entity leans in closer, she feels the force of that aura like a heatwave, biting her lip, fixing her eyes on his collarbone to avoid his gaze as her body calls out for him. The knife is gone, though she doesn’t realize that until she feels an empty hand on her bare arm. She jerks in surprise as two fingers hook under her waistband, back arching and pushing her hips toward him as he pops open the button of her shorts.

“My, such an eager whore.”

The strings fall away from her arm as his touch glides past them, grasping onto her wrist. She’s confused, and aroused, and embarrassed, and isn’t quite sure what’s happening, even as he lifts her fingers to his mouth.

It feels backward, like he’s taking her job from her - and then Sam is hit with the mortification of finding it her job - when he wraps his lips around two of her fingers, tongue sliding between them briefly as he smiles. Heat is pooling in her belly, throbbing between her legs as his other hand tugs down the denim around her hips.

She needs so much. Hungry for attention. Squirming like a fly in his web.

The subtle sucking at her fingers has her breath shallow and another soft whimper hummed from her lips before he lets her go, and she still feels wet skin tingling. Whatever he is, that isn’t normal. Some kind of drug, or pheromone, or something in that saliva, some kind of mental and physical stimulation.

“Touch yourself for me.”

The order alone makes her draw in a short breath, and heat rushes to her head again. ...And… other areas.

She pauses, wondering if maybe she misheard, or…

But he steps away, watching her expectantly, and she suddenly realizes her position. The string may be keeping her up, but it’s allowed her arms free, apart from where her shoulders are wrapped into the web. She’s got two - trembling, fumbling - hands and a body that craves attention. If she just… pretends he’s not there…

Closing her eyes, her hand trails between her legs, fingers still glistening from the entity’s attentions, and the brush of wet on wet causes lips to part in a sharp inhale. Definitely something unnatural about that; how it sends her arousal higher and higher, making her hunger for more. Her other hand grips at her chest— going from nervous to eager to desperate in an instant.

Her breath is heavy, eyes closed, focusing on the wealth of sensations that have only been heightened by the entity’s gift.

It’s good. She’s the one in control, grinding against her own hand and rubbing just where she wants it, just how hard, backing off when necessary; she is the one in control, and it’s good.

In the silent, fog-dampened woods she can hear the wet sounds like a bell of shame, but she’s too taken in by it. Grinding, arching, writhing, rolling and twisting and playing with herself where she’s trussed up on the web, breath heavy and interspersed with short moaning whines.

She wants more, she’s hungry for it— she wants him, and she’s disgusted with herself, but she has hands and she can use them and she’ll take out all of that frustration on her own body and force her mind out of the way.

Pleasure. Just pleasure.

It doesn’t take long.

She can be brutal with herself, and she needed it so badly, and even if she’s slipping out of her usual over-analysis, she’s still dimly aware of her situation and wants it to be over. No matter how good it might feel, there’s still that psychological weight.

She knows her body well enough to find what works and push and push and push it. Her muscles seize up, breath caught in her throat and a throb off pressure in her head as she comes undone, choking on breath, chewing her lip, head thrown back. Her whole body is shaking in the aftermath, fingers still soothing a nipple for a moment as she heaves breath after breath, relying on the web itself to keep her standing. The release of tension is a blessing. Not a punishment.

But the feeling of his eyes on her, taking in her debauched figure, half-naked, wetness smeared over her hand and thighs, sweat making her sticky… Her skin burns. Her chin falls to her chest, crumpling.

Debased. By her own hands.

“Did I say you could stop?”

The noise she makes is unintelligible, her body practically convulsing for a second. A plea, though she’s not sure what for.

Lies, she knows exactly what for.

Don’t make me.

Except it’s not just ‘don’t make me.’

Don’t make me do it alone.

She almost sobs at that realization. How much she wants him. How she’ll settle for anything, if it comes with the right touch. Cut her again, just do it while thrusting into her. It’s all she wants. All she can think about. Whatever he’s made of, it’s intoxicating, and it’s taken up residence in her head, worked its way into her bloodstream. She’s addicted. It’s unnatural, this hunger that controls her in his presence.

“We have more to go, my dear. Another.”

She can’t bring herself to look at him, not when she knows the burning of those black and gold eyes. She just breathes. A moment. Takes a second to collect herself, to ready herself. “...Please…”

He doesn’t ask please, what? Doesn’t prompt her to continue, and doesn’t scold her for her hesitation. He doesn’t need to. Because he knows she’ll do it anyway.

He broke her with pain before, now he’s simply reinforcing that he has her obedience, testing her submission, and he must know how much easier it is for her to follow orders of this variety. Working his way up. If he can get her to do this to herself for his amusement, surely that can escalate. How long before there’s a knife in her hand and she makes no attempt to turn it on him? How long before he doesn’t have to be the one slicing her flesh, til she’ll do it of her own accord; some twisted offering to the entity.

The silence is oppressive when she can feel his will hanging in the air.

A shiver rolls through her and she whimpers softly. Her hands return to their task again, gentler this time, having to start slower.

It goes on.

He touches her once. Just once. The web weaves its red string around her again, keeping her arms away, and the knife retraces the letters on her stomach. Shrieking, sobbing, she bites her lip harder than intended, wincing and hanging her head as blood slowly drools from her mouth.

Thin fingers trace the freshly opened scars, lifting to wipe at the blood rolling down her chest, and he tastes the liquid like it’s honey, humming his satisfaction. In a fluid move, half-curious, he drags freshly licked fingers down her body again, drawing a bloody line down her torso before slipping into her.

One touch. A couple short pumps of blood-stained fingers, the brush of his thumb, and she’s screaming release again, buckling with the force of it, arms wrenched by string as the web keeps her on her feet.

But that’s the end, at least. Blood trickling over the curves of her body as he steps away again, the slick of too many orgasms running down her thighs, soaking into half-removed clothing. Broken and sated and stinging, aching, shivering.

She thinks she might hear the echo of her scream still ricocheting through the trees. Every inch of her trembles, exhausted.

“You deserve a reward for being so good today.”

Wh… what?

“What would you like it to be?”

Sam’s brows pull together, raising her head just enough to look at him, eyes stinging. She looks utterly distraught. Betrayed and confused, and so open with every trace of emotion, every wall so carefully built to hide behind having been torn down by subtle words and ripping claws.

Good? But… but this had been a punishment. Hadn’t it? She’d… she’d done poorly, and had to be punished for it. ...Right?

“What?” Her voice is barely a croak, throat raw from every noise that had been pulled from her.

“An obedient slut deserves her reward.”

She’s quiet, just staring, unable to grasp the situation entirely. She wants rest, she wants to sleep, she wants to heal. She doesn’t know what’s acceptable, what might draw the wrong kind of response.

It can’t mean anything good that, after all she’s been through, the first thing that comes to mind is still how much she aches for deeper penetration. She can’t take it, she doesn’t - and shouldn’t - want it— especially not from him.

Shaking her head, she tries to find words. “Let me go.”

His head cocks again, that inhuman curiosity.

“Heal the wounds, and clean me up, and let me go.”

He takes a step closer again, and she flinches, sensing that aura pulling at her again, filling her exhausted body with a hollow want. “You are sure that is what you would like?”

No. She’s not sure of anything, not around him. He’s the embodiment of doubt, and she had plenty of that before he ever showed up. “Yes,” she whispers, avoiding looking at him.

Her eyes snap shut as fingers brush her face again, and her jaw clenches, forcing herself not to change her mind.

A hand flattens against the word carved into her skin, and she sucks in a pained breath at the burning sensation as fire closes the wound. She can tell it’s not quite right. Like individual burning sutures instead of the all-covering gauze that usually comes with her own healing abilities. Like too much movement will make them split again. A temporary fix.

The hand on her cheek strokes gently, lips grazing her temple. “We will see each other again soon, my dear.” Everything in her writhes in trepidation. “...Mind you behave yourself.”

#the-inquisitive-journalist #prompt fill #rated M for mori #dead dove do not read #samswers is a pun and i'm not proud of it #dead by daylight #dbd rp #dead by daylight rp #dbd

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puddlesilver · 5 years ago

Text

A Storm of a Hunt Part 4

Previous Next: https://puddlesilver.tumblr.com/post/640386160890413056/a-storm-of-a-hunt-part-5

“Leaving so soon?” Sans asked, not looking up from his plate. Papyrus grunted an affirmative.

“Go to your post. It’s already well past morning. However, that’s no surprise. You’re a worthless sentry. If you weren’t my brother I would have gotten rid of you long ago.”

“‘Kay.” Papyrus muttered.

Papyrus stood in front of the black counter at the back of the shop.

“What can I get for you today, Deary? The usual, I assume?” Papyrus nodded.

“Double it.” he said, as little purple spiders skittered across the metal racks of baked goods behind The monster woman.

You wake with a start. Where am- oh. Right. You look down at yourself. Someone has rapped you in a tattered grey blanket. Something is off though. A… smell. A musty smell hangs in the air around you. Is it the blanket? You hold it to your nose. Nope. Then you see the sweater you were leaning on. Yup. definitely that. It smells kind of like mildew, and mothballs. You look around the room. All is the same, except that the heater is gone, the fire has almost gone out, and a plate of something sits on the ‘torture box’, along with a scrap of paper. Papyrus is gone.

Corighter: Keziha-Chan

Inspiration: Greenheartart

Go check them out!

#Puddlesilver #Keziha-chan #story #A storm of a hunt

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imhereforbvcky · 6 years ago

Text

Wide Awake

Summary: When you get yourself into trouble with the law, you call on an ex-something for help. (Tony x reader)

Prompt/Request: “I couldn’t sleep, and I know you’re practically nocturnal, so I thought you’d answer.”

Warnings: None! Just swearing and shenanigans

Word Count: 2118

Author’s Note: Okay this is my first attempt at Tony for more than a scene. He is difficult to write. So complex and it’s difficult to maintain that much sass. I’m not convinced I got it right, but here we are. Feedback and constructive criticism welcome.

“Uh hi Tony,” you stammered into the recording, holding the heavy plastic phone to your ear. What year was it, anyway? Why was this phone so damn ancient? “It’s me. I couldn’t sleep, and I know you’re practically nocturnal, so I thought you’d answer.” The MP at the door scowled at you and you shifted on your chair. The metal scraped across the concrete floor. “Actually that’s not true. I could really use your help.”

You hung up when the recording informed you the message would be delivered. The MP stepped forward and took the phone.

“Hey! Where are you taking that?! He’ll call back!”

The man in full military fatigues turned back with a sigh. You wondered if anyone could be more frustrated with their job. It made you a little pleased. If you had to be dragged in here to this intentionally uncomfortable rat cage of a room, your captors could be a little uncomfortable too.

“We don’t allow treason suspects unrestricted phone access.”

You rolled your eyes. “Light treason. It was light! And accidental!”

He didn’t react in the slightest as he turned with the phone under his arm and headed back out the heavy steel door. Your head fell back between your shoulders when you heard the low clank of the lock.

It was no secret that Tony had an inexorably active mind. No one would be surprised to find him up at odd hours tinkering in his lab. He had a whole floor for it.

Nowadays though, it wasn’t curiosity that kept him up, kept him working. Tony carried more than his fair share of trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms. He’d come a long way toward channeling them into more constructive directions, and this – the late night tinkering – was one of them.

Instead of a drink to blur the pain or a drug to ease his mind, he focused on something else. But it wasn’t just that his mind was engaged. There was something comforting and familiar about working with his hands. It gave him control in a way nothing else could.

Sometimes his mind was a runaway train. But here, in the lab, with his hands on steel and iron, surrounded by the things he himself had created, he could slow it all down.

No one would have been surprised to find him in the lab at 1:30 in the morning. But not everyone knew him well enough to recognize it as his own brand of therapy. Most people didn’t bother to. The perils of celebrity.

“A call for you, sir,” FRIDAY’s soft accent called through the blaring music of the lab.

Tony frowned. His attention hardly shifted from the delicately balanced wiring he held against the glowing soldering iron with long foceps. FRIDAY allowed only a very small handful of callers through when he was in the lab, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to even that short list just now.

“Busy,” he ordered, tongue poking out involuntarily as he concentrated on the precarious task.

“It’s collect, sir. Department of Homeland Security.”

“Then I’m very busy.”

The AI played the recorded message and Tony froze. It had been years since he’d heard that voice. Another lifetime. The soldering iron slowly sank to the lead table and his eyes drifted to the dark emptiness ahead of him through the floor to ceiling windows.

It had been hours. Hours on hours. Time was meaningless to you, generally. You were smart and quick but scattered. Your conscious unfurled like a tangle of Christmas lights. Just when you think you’re on the right track it takes a sharp angle and gets caught in a knot, a new puzzle, a new challenge. You were always losing track of time.

But here, in this gray room with it’s steel grey table and steel grey chairs and black Styrofoam ceiling, time seemed to unravel entirely. With no external stimulation you drifted down the web until you couldn’t follow the tangle any further. The energy itched beneath your skin until you jumped up from the seat and paced. Then you stretched. Then you lay on the floor and thought some more.

It had been years since your last contact with Tony Stark. But you knew he’d be there when you really needed him. You tried to convince yourself that was true as the time passed in its slow winding way.

Finally, when it seemed you’d been there so long you’d half convinced yourself you could dissolve your own atoms and melt into the floor at any moment… The clatter of the lock turning in the empty room rang as loud as a freight train.

The MP stood at the door, the same bored expression, but this time, he stood to the side, holding it open.

“Morning, Nurse Ratched!” you called, letting your head fall back to the floor after catching a glimpse of his rolling eyes.

“Now that’s just rude.”

Your eyes snapped open, and a grin dragged across your lips at the sound of his voice.

“I have 3 PhDs,” Tony frowned, gliding into the room. “That’s Dr. Ratched to you.”

“No,” you drew out the word as you curled to your feet. “You, darling, are my knight in red shining armor!”

He didn’t speak, but the smile on his lips drew out the series of wrinkles at his eyes and you knew you’d called the right person. Rolling his eyes playfully, he jerked his head toward the open door, beckoning you to get moving.

You did, but not before stopping to throw your arms over his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Sweet and spicy cologne tickled your nose, an expensive cocktail, no doubt.

“It’s good to see you, Tony.”

His arm curled around your back and you felt the stubble from his jaw scratch at your shoulder as he pressed in close.

“It’s been a while.” The whisper of his breath tickled your skin and set a shiver prickling up your spine.

“You know these aren’t private rooms,” the MP deadpanned.

The snicker had burst past your lips before you could stop it.

“Who hurt you, Ratched? Why does happiness make you so angry?” So relieved to be free, and to see Tony, your stupid web of a brain, had charged full steam ahead.

As you reached to put a hand on the MP’s elbow, all mock sympathy and snark, Tony snapped out to pull you back with a firm grip on your wrist. The scowl from the officer was enough to have you biting back another giggle.

“Okay, no touching the Military Police,” Tony, instructed, rushing you through the door as another officer led the way out of the tunnel of hallways. “Let’s get you out of here without any new charges.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” he teased under his breath. He gave you a familiar squeeze as he guided you into the elevator with an arm still securely around your waist.

“For the record,” you argued, as was your wont. “I took myself… well not here. Where is here, anyway?”

“Disneyworld.”

You looked up at him with a frown and a sigh but he barely cracked even a hint of a smile.

“The Pentagon!” he finally shouted. “How in the hell did you land yourself on the brink of actual oblivion in the basement of the fucking Pentagon?!”

“Okay, relax. It was an ex—“

“If you say ‘It was an experiment,’ I will lock you up myself. Are you insane?” His warm brown eyes had turned hard and angry as they bore into you.

By now you’d left the elevator and you’d practically jogged to the front desk to keep up with his quick pace. His questioning stare never left you as he slammed his visitor badge down onto the counter and they handed you a plastic bag with your belongings.

“Um okay how about it was a… uh… test, then?”

“Oh for the love of…” He rolled his eyes and turned away from you briefly. “You know they could have killed you on sight, right? Like a carnival shooting game. The one with the ducks? What is that called. The one…--”

“Ducks? I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grinned up at him as you leaned into the heavy door and spun out into the warm summer air. The humid night closed around you like a comforting embrace compared to the icy bite of the rigid air conditioned building you’d just fled.

“Yeah, yeah, the one where you were a sitting duck, and they could have legally shot you! in the head!”

“Well that would have been an extremely rude way to greet a guest.”

“You could have been killed!” he shouted. Somehow his hands were around yours and he had pulled you close, eyes dancing back and forth over face, searching for you to recognize how serious this was. “You broke into the White House! They were gonna bury you in some basement cell until you were forgotten.”

“You worry too much, you know that?”

He blinked at you, frustrated, and afraid, and for once in his life, out of words.

This was always how your arguments progressed. There was nothing serious enough for you where Tony was all in, stakes so high he might snap.

You were like that one perfect summer: a light breath and a rash decision, laughter and risks. An exciting toy others always seemed to want to hold in their hands but not to keep. A pleasure but a liability.

When you met him, Tony had seemed a match for your spontaneity. But in the end, he worried. Too much, and constantly. He couldn’t stand to watch the destruction of your fire and you wouldn’t let yourself be dimmed.

“I… nobody’s ever accused me of that particular crime.”

“That’s because you don’t let people see you,” you offered a sad smile and stepped closer, closing the distance, the miles, the years that had separated you all this time. “But I still do.” Your forehead pressed to his and your eyes remained locked on his, warm and open and so wonderfully, comfortingly, familiar.

He sighed, relenting. Letting the argument go for now. There was no other way; there never was with you two.

A slow smirk pulled at your lips when he lifted his gaze back to your face.

“You wanna see how I did it?”

“No.” He was firm and he shook his head, moving yours with it, foreheads still pressed together. “Absolutely not.”

“Yeah you do,” you laughed, trying to nod against his rhythm.

“No!” he laughed but then growled your name as he dragged you down the stairs of the building by the elbow. Like you were kids, like he was scolding you for sneaking into the lab at MIT again. Like you were young and free, pushing boundaries and chasing dreams. Somewhere along the way, though he’d found his dreams and caught them.

You dug through the plastic bag, searching for the small piece of technology that had brought you here.

“You can’t,” he sighed, holding the car door open for you. “Terms of your release. A very strongly worded Cease And Desist.”

Your eyes went wide and you took one last look inside the bag.

“They took it.” The defeat in your voice was palpable.

“I’m sorry,” and he was. He knew too well what it was like to have your work seized and used in ways you would never know, intend, or approve. “It was the only way to guarantee your release.”

It ached like a part of your chest had been taken. Your work was your heart. It gave you purpose and direction and it was gone.

“You know you can’t just teleport inside the President’s bedroom,” he soothed, sweeping gentle hands over your arms and pulled you close. Tony gave the best hugs.

“Gross,” you mumbled against his chest, face scrunched into a grimace. “That’s the last place I want to be.”

“Where do you want to be?” he asked, stroking a hand over your hair. “Name it and we’ll go.”

You sighed and lifted your face, resting your chin on his chest. The cold metal of the arc reactor made you smile. Tony’s work would never be separated from him, he’d made sure of that. At least some of the good ones win.

“Cheeseburger,” you moaned. “I need a cheeseburger.”

A laugh rippled through his chest and shook your body. The sound was high and true; a real, genuine giggle. It pulled a grin to your lips.

He tipped his head down and kissed the tip of your nose. “Okay. I know a place.”

Will reblog with tags shortly

#tony x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony fanfic #tony imagine #tony stark fanfic #avengers imagine #avengers fanfic

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a-solitary-marshmallow · 5 years ago

Text

Probably Should Have Seen That Coming

Some cryptic-centric Side shenanigans, featuring Youtuber Roman!

Roman paused in his trekking to fish a pebble from his boot. As stylish as his footwear was, tall and gleaming with shiny buckles, they probably weren’t the best choice for venturing into the forest. But his viewers expected style, as he presented in all his videos, so he happily put up with the occasional annoyance. He recommenced his walk through the trees and lifted his camera up to his shoulder to get a good view of the golden autumn-hued forest around him.

“Goooood morning my lovely viewers! As you can probably tell, today is no makeup tutorial! We’re leaving the mascara at home, because I recently got wind of an exciting new place to explore. That’s right – I’m going on another adventure!” He swung the camera around to wink at the audience. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Roman stepped over a low-lying log and centered the camera on his face before continuing brightly, “As you all know, I’m currently holidaying in this quaint little town, and a few days ago a couple local children told me about a spooky mansion through the forest. Apparently no one goes there, and there’s plenty of ghost stories to go around! I wonder if I’ll find any princely souvenirs.” Roman scanned the horizon ahead, but the regularity of trees and bushes continued on as far as he could see. “So I thought I’d take you all for a little look! I’m heading north-west as we speak, and I should be coming across something… now!”

Nothing ahead. Well, he could edit it. Roman hummed to himself as he traversed piles of orange leaf litter and damp, crumbling logs. The air out here smelled like damp wood and earth after the rain, and Roman inhaled great breaths of it. Maybe it was his romantic side talking, but the air always smelled sweeter out in the countryside. He should holiday more often. It would make for exciting content, too – his viewers deserved only the best.

The ground turned harder under his feet, and Roman paused. He scraped away bits of leaf litter with his boot and found instead of loose earth, the packed dirt of a once-travelled path. His breathing quickened with excitement as he followed the path, occasionally trailing off it and having to find it again, searching through decades old covering of vegetation. His eyes were fixed on the ground, so he didn’t notice the structure looming until he was close enough to see its broken windows, shards of glass hanging from swollen frames like teeth in a broken maw. Roman let out a squeal of excitement and lifted his camera to give a good view of the ancient, sagging mansion.

“There it is! The kids I spoke to called it the Sanders estate. Gosh, it really does look like a ghost house.”

The building sprawled in what had once been a large clearing, now overtaken by trees and bushes and vines that crawled up the walls of the massive mansion. Only a few of the stained-glass windows were still intact – most of the others had cracked or shattered. The huge double doors groaned slightly agape, but there was a heavy chain and lock preventing them from opening fully.

Roman stepped forward, admiring the majesty of what had once been a fabulous structure. Through the vegetation clinging to the low wall around it, he could see hints of patterns in the stone. The windows that remained were stained in all colours in kaleidoscopic patterns that must have painted an inside floor like a rainbow, when the sun was at the right angle. Now it lay empty and alone, silent as the grave and half-swallowed by the forest it resided in.

“Wow.” Roman breathed. “I was half expecting it to be a joke! Come on, let’s go check it out.”

Roman rushed up the path and through the rusted remains of wrought-iron gate that now sagged on their hinges. In this little area that could have been a garden, flowers sprouted from every nook and cranny and littered the area, some almost choked by the approaching forest. Roman spun in a slow circle to take it all in, before inspecting the heavy chains on the door.

“Locked, huh? This is positively ancient. I wonder…” Balancing his camera in one hand, Roman pulled out his Swiss army knife and scraped at the rotted wood around it. It was old and water-logged, and it crumbled apart to reveal – ugh, termites. He brushed away their squirming white bodies and kept patiently working at the door. No wonder it was frail.

After some time, the chains were loose enough for Roman to pull them out of the doors and let them groan open. Light flooded in around his silhouette to pool across a dusty wooden floor, an ancient but expensive-looking antique coat stand and a dim entryway further inside. Roman let out another happy squeal.

“Okay! We stand at the threshold of the unknown. Let’s go make it known!”

He stepped forward onto groaning floors. A glimmer of light caught his eye, and Roman glanced up to where a positively marvelous chandelier dangled overhead – it was dusty and unlit and absolutely covered in spider webs, but even so its delicate metal curves and cut crystals gleamed.

Even more exciting sights waited for Roman the further he explored, using his phone screen for light. He was lucky this camera had a night-vision setting or his viewers would be seeing dark blurs with Roman’s commentary. He passed through a drawing room, a sitting room with rotted couches and silver serving trays bearing dusty glasses – and excitingly, a grand piano resting on a slight stage. Who had played this instrument, decades ago? It was covered in a thick layer of dust now. Roman brushed off the seat before sitting and holding his hands over the keys. Was it still in tune?

He pressed down on a key, and heard nothing. Roman frowned and tried another one. This one made sound, the note reverberating through the old house like birdsong. This place had acoustics, all right. Lifting the top of the piano revealed that the inner workings were all in place, but were half gummed-up with spider web and rot.

“Do you guys wanna hear a song?” Roman questioned his camera. “The ambiance is one-of-a-kind. Hang of a sec, I just have to find something to clean out these cobwebs with. I’m certainly not risking my manicure.”

Hmm, the kitchen aught to contain some tools he could use. From his copious study (binging Downton Abbey) the kitchen was most likely to be downstairs. Roman passed a grand staircase on his little adventure – but there was plenty of time to explore that later. From somewhere behind him there was a jarring bang – the top of the old piano must have fallen down. He hoped nothing was broken. That would really spoil the mood.

Roman finally located the kitchen and began fishing around for a large stick maybe, something lean he could use to get rid of webs.

He found what he was looking for in the form of a mostly-preserved soup ladle hanging up on the wall, and had just grabbed it when he heard a creak from above.

Roman froze.

“Did you guys hear that?” Wait, his viewers couldn’t respond, they hadn’t even seen the video yet. Roman held his breath and listened hard, but the sound didn’t come again, and he let out a sight. “Old houses and their creaks. Okay, back to the piano.”

As Roman crossed the threshold out of the kitchen, a faint tickle touched the top of his head. He reached up and found dust sifting from above him. That was weird. He shrugged it off and hurried back to the sitting room with his prize in hand.

“Okay! Now, let’s make some music.” Roman bounced up to the stage – and that was odd, he could have sworn he’d heard the lid slam shut, but it was still up where he’d left it. Maybe the wind had knocked something else over. Roman placed his camera down on the seat and leaned over to start extracting cobwebs from around the delicate workings of the instrument. A few tiny black spiders scurried away as he worked. He would have thought that they’d scatter, but they crawled over each other in their haste to disappear over the lid of the piano, like a mass of ants with one mission. Roman hummed curiously. He didn’t know that spiders were herd-animals. More dust trickle down and he waved it away from his face as he finished clearing away webs.

“Finally!” Roman sat back on the seat and turned to grin at the camera. “This is a little original piece I’ve been working on.”

He brought his hands down on the keys with a blast of sound, and behind him there was a strangled screech and a thump.

Roman jolted out of his chair. On the opposite side of the room there was a mass, and as he watched it twisted and scrabbled back into the darkness.

“Who’s there?” Roman’s voice crackled with panic. He grabbed his phone and turned its light on the shape, which let out a hiss. There were legs, too many legs, and as Roman stared those legs dug into the wall and the creature blurred up with the clicking of armoured limbs on wood. Roman tried to follow it with his light but it was so fast, scampering across the roof like a demented insect. Roman grabbed his camera and bolted.

He shot from the sitting room and collided with a figure – one that was large and solid and furry, and let out a yowl as Roman slammed into it. He screamed and jolted away, only to trip and hit the floor, camera and phone skittering across the ground. The shape loomed above him – Roman could see glints of teeth, black claws, flattened ears and piercing blue eyes through the darkness. It leaned down towards him and Roman screeched and kicked out wildly, catching something soft. There was a pained yelp. Roman scrambled to his feet and bolted the other way. There was another exit from the sitting room, right? To the kitchen area. Roman gasped for breath as he tore a hallway, rebounding off the wall in his haste to turn a corner. Hissing sounded behind him.

Run. Run. Where was his camera? It didn’t matter, just run. Roman skidded into another room. In the dark, the furniture was too indistinct to identify. Where was the exit?

He recognised this area. Roman ran down a hallway – nope, wrong way – the other one, bolted through a sticky cloud of spider webs and finally, finally, there was the entrance way with its gleaming crystal chandelier and light spilling in through the door. Roman ran for it.

His feet hit dirt and he stumbled out into the blinding Autumn sunlight, wheezing for breath. The mansion behind him was eerily silent. But whatever it was that lived there was right there. Roman bit down on a sob and hurried down the path, back towards town. Where was the town anyway? South-east? His phone had acted as his compass.

Just as Roman was frantically trying to remember his navigational skills, there was a booming from above him. He lurched back with a shriek as a thing dropped down in front of him with a thud and the sweep of wings – big black wings, like fucking MOTHMAN. Roman didn’t see any more, because the world spun around him and, like the Disney princesses he idolized, he fainted dead away.

“-do with him?”

“We certainly can’t allow him to leave. He has seen us.”

“Come on, Lo. Maybe he’ll think it was a dream?”

“The recorded proof would beg to differ.”

“Oh, right. Did you see where it went? Maybe we can delete the footage.”

“I have it.” A third, gravelly voice mumbled. “Ugh, why did he have to come here? Or play that damn thing so loud?”

“You were startled, Virge. It’s not your fault he saw you.” The higher voice soothed. “Does anyone know how to work one of these recording devices?”

There was a long silence.

“I might try it.” The stiff voice said. There was some clicking and shuffling, a flap of sails or wings. The voice hummed in thought. “They have certainly developed these things. The last time I saw one, it was much larger. I wonder how they have compacted the design like this. I would like to keep this specimen for examination.”

“He’ll be looking for it.” The gravelly voice groaned. “We have to give it back – after we delete the footage, anyway.”

Roman yawned.

There was a startled skittering around him, which made him frown. His bed was cold, and dusty – why was he lying on top of the sheets, anyway? He felt around for his pillow and found a very large, ornate, and unfamiliar bedhead. This wasn’t his room. Which meant the voices weren’t his podcast.

Roman bolted upright. There was a hiss, a clatter and a crunch underfoot. He looked around frantically in the dim light – he was in what looked like an old bedroom, flopped on a four-poster bed with three indistinct shapes gathered around him, twitching and flinching back now that he was awake. His heart hammered in his chest.

“Well, that’s one way to do it.” The higher voice said. And now that Roman’s eyes were open, he could see the person it belonged to. A – not quite a person, wearing overalls with gleaming fangs and canine ears pricked in curiosity, eyes gleaming an inhuman blue. He lifted clawed hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, so-”

Roman screamed.

The other two figures – one tall and pale with huge black eyes and massive wings folded against his back, the other hunched over with way too many limbs twitching around him – jumped at the shriek. For the wolf-man’s credit, he didn’t appear startled. His ears lowered non-threateningly.

“Are you finished?”

Roman wanted to petulantly say ‘no’. But that probably wouldn’t get him anywhere, so he nodded quickly instead. The fanged monster beamed.

“Great! Sorry to startle you, kiddo. You can call me Patton.”

“What are you doing?” The spidery-creature hissed. “Don’t introduce yourself!”

“Well he looks scared!” Patton protested.

“Good!”

They continued to bicker, as Roman looked between them like a rather terrified tennis observer. The third creature cleared its throat with a flutter of wings – less like moth wings, he could see now, but thickly feathered, like those of a bird. An owl? His eyes were very large and very black as they observed Roman. He cleared his throat.

“Greetings. Since we are doing introductions, you may call me Logan.”

Roman let out a little frightened whine. The third creature – smaller than the other two, with dripping mandibles and a cluster of gleaming eyes and far too many spider-like legs, groaned.

“Ugh, whatever. I’m Virgil.”

“And you are?” Patton prompted. Roman curled up with his knees to his chest, dimly wondering if he was tripping. There were mushrooms in the forest, right? Could you get high without eating them? Maybe by breathing in enough spores? This place was mildewy enough for him to have breathed in lots of spores.

“Err – Roman.”

Patton grinned at him with very sharp teeth. “It’s nice to meet you, Roman.”

“I… wish I could say the same, but I must admit I’m… very confused.” Roman managed. Patton nodded sympathetically.

“You must be. I bet it’s strange waking up in a new place surrounded by strangers.”

“It is.” Roman agreed. The spider – Virgil – grumbled.

“Strange? It’s our house.”

At Roman’s stare, Logan elaborated, “We live in this mansion. You unknowingly trespassed in our home.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Roman said faintly. “I’ll just be on my way then. Did any of you gentlemen happened to see where I dropped my things?”

Logan glanced down at his feet, where a camera sat crumpled with a foot-shaped dent in the middle. Roman’s mouth dropped open.

“You startled me.” Logan defended, before turning. “Virgil, you found the recorder. Did you see the light source as well?”

“Um, I think so.” Virgil muttered. He backed away from the bed before turning to scurry away. Roman squeaked as all those limbs disappeared around the doorway.

“So, about that leaving.” Patton winced, and Roman began to have a very bad feeling. Patton’s eyes flung open wide. “Oh, it’s okay, no need for that face! You can go. I just need you to make a promise, first.”

“A promise?” Roman echoed. Patton nodded while Logan watched passively.

“Yeah. I need you to promise to not tell anyone about us. You can kind of see why we’re a big secret, right?”

Roman nodded frantically. “Yes, I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul. My lips are sealed.” To demonstrate, he pretended to zip up his lips and Patton’s ears lowered in confusion. Okay, maybe cool it with the gestures around a wolfman. “Your secret is safe with me.”

With a series of clicks, Virgil slunk back into the room, something clasped in his hands. Roman swung his legs over the side of the bed, and just managed to catch his phone as Virgil tossed it at him.

“Light’s off. I think it’s broken.” The monster mumbled. It didn’t look broken – at least, the screen wasn’t cracked. Roman frowned and clicked the on button, and the screen lit up. All three creatures jumped. That in turn made him jump.

“Er, no, not broken.” Roman said warily.

“How does it work?” Logan leaned in with a fascinated stare.

“I press the button?” Roman demonstrated, turning the screen off and on again. Logan looked mesmerized. “It’s my phone.”

“I thought phones were bigger.” Patton lifted his hands to demonstrate. “They’re connected to wires, and you can talk to people through them.”

“Well, yeah, old ones.” Roman felt like he was in a dream. “With the new ones you can still talk to people. And play games and stuff. Listen to music…”

“All of that from one tiny box?” Logan breathed. “If you have time, I would love to learn more about it. It has been… some time, since I ventured into the outside world.”

Well, this might as well happen. Roman unlocked his phone and scrolled between pages, showing Logan the clusters of apps. “So these are all the applications. They do different things.”

“Oh!” Patton jumped up with an excited yelp that made Roman jump. “I’ll get our guest something to eat. Oh this is so exciting.” He darted off as Roman began explaining touchscreens, and then Wi-Fi. After a few more questions, Roman found himself stumped.

“Uh – okay. How about I come back tomorrow with a PowerPoint?”

“I do not know what this ‘power point’ is, but I am intrigued.” Logan admitted. “Please do. It is wonderful to learn more of the outside world. Before you go, will you please show me what these ‘applications’ do? What is this colourful one?”

“Oh, it’s Candy Crush.”

Roman spent more time in that mansion than he would care to admit. After some scares with suddenly-blaring music that made Virgil cling to the ceiling, and almost an hour of playing with the voice-recorder app and Patton making all kinds of sounds Roman didn’t know he could make, he found he was almost… having fun. Like, yeah, everything was weird and kinda fucked-up, but if Roman was anything, he was adaptable. And brave. Handsome, too, and dashing, princely…

He was almost reluctant to go home. As he hesitated at the door Patton grinned at him, and Virgil sighed.

“Look, we’ll still be here tomorrow, flesh-mortal. Scram.”

“Come back soon!” Patton added brightly.

So Roman left.

He spent most of his evening doing research and putting together a power point – and then decided that if he was going to do this, he should do it right, and bought a huge bag of snack foods that those poor unfortunate souls hadn’t had the chance of tasting before. He dutifully kept his promise to keep the secret, but when he tried writing down the day’s events in his diary – his hand wouldn’t move. He tried to remember the names but they hovered just out of his grasp. Only when he gave up trying to write it did everything come back to him.

So, no talking or writing about it. That was probably for the best, to keep his strange new friends safe. Roman was already planning to extend his holiday. He wondered if Logan would be open to setting up an email account. Roman was just dying to introduce them to instagram.

#fic #writing #my writing #sanders sides #cryptids

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texanredrose · 8 years ago

Note

“this is totally awkward considering before this the only interactions we’ve ever had have been casual nods to each other in the hallway but there’s a huge fucking spider in my bath tub and you seem like the friendly neighbor type please help me” au (for Freezerburn of course) I can't wait to see what shenanigans you come up with!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAKA! Also, here, and I couldn’t fucking resist.

Weiss Schnee scowled down at the bath tub, caught between extreme annoyance and mild displeasure. Really, after the week she’d just endured, a nice bath to relax seemed like such a small thing to ask but, no, the universe simply had to conspire against her in such a downright devious manner. Standing there in her white fluffy robe tied at the waist, with her matching slippers and hair cascading over her shoulders, the woman had only two options: turn on the water and hope the eight legged interloper got flushed down the drain- highly unlikely, seeing as the little beast seemed quite content to stare her down from the side of the tub furthest from the spray, meaning it would be a battle in and of itself to get the water on it before it scrambled elsewhere- or leave the creature entirely alone. Neither seemed particularly appealing.

She had no opinion one way or another about spiders- provided it left her alone, she was perfectly content to let it hide in the corners, until she conducted her weekly cleaning and inevitably destroyed its web anyway- but the last thing she wanted to do was deal with one interrupting her bath when all she wanted to do was relax. Plus, the idea of it somehow getting the better of her and crawling up her arm… she shivered reflexively, more at the thought of an unwanted touch than some memory of the tactile sensation, and left the room, opting to scour the small living room of her apartment for suitable implements to rid her of the unwanted guest, leaving the bottle of red wine and single glass she’d brought with her on the vanity’s counter top. Surely she had some junk mail that would make ushering the blasted thing under the nozzle’s spray much easier, simply because she didn’t want the hassle of scraping the arachnid’s remains from the bottom of her shoes. Though the apartment itself was modest- edge of the city, middle class renters, a fair balance between her rich upbringing and her disdain for the same- her wardrobe did tend towards the expensive side, which meant she had to make a choice between potentially ruining a crummy ad for some nonexistent giveaway or her six hundred lien shoes, and that choice wasn’t a choice at all, really.

However, she must’ve recently shredded everything because not a single unimportant piece of paper remained to be found- which, honestly, she didn’t even bother keeping a catalog? A menu? Something?- which would’ve had her cursing her penchant for a clean living space had she not caught the familiar tread of heavy boots out in the hall.

Out of all her neighbors, the majority seemed to be the quiet, keep to themselves sort, much like her, but there always existed an exception. In this case, it was the chipper, gorgeous, muscular blonde who lived across the hall, always a tad too loud but generous and gregarious all the same, usually on the phone laughing or walking someone to or from her place. She must be some sort of manual laborer, considering her size and stature, often coming or going while wearing jeans and T shirts that seemed perpetually stained by dirt and just a sneeze away from ripping at the seams, and she kept strange hours in comparison, but she certainly didn’t come off as rude. Especially considering how many times they’d caught each other in lingering second glances; really, how one of them hadn’t said something by this point could only be explained by their differing schedules. Perhaps, on the days when the loneliness got the better of her, Weiss even considered going over and knocking, maybe inviting herself in for a chat or some other innocuous reason. They were idle fantasies of course- the most they’d ever actually exchanged aside from a polite nod was a greeting in passing- but, to be frank, she was a woman with needs and those biceps certainly beckoned to a few select portions of her imagination. Parts she would deny existed if asked, of course, and her sister seemed keen to know if there was anyone like that in her life, to which the answer was a perpetual and sometimes frustrating ‘no’, but certain things couldn’t be helped.

She could hear the opening and closing of the door across the hall and weighed her options. On the one hand, she wanted to relax, and taking care of the problem herself seemed like the quickest way to find herself up to her collarbone in bubbles with a nice glass of wine and a few scented candles. Nothing wrong with that picture at all. On the other, a bubble bath wasn’t the only way to unwind after a stressful week and she’d entertained the thought enough times that testing the waters might not be such a waste of time. A few choice images flashed through her mind- more than once, she’d thought she glimpsed washboard abs beneath a too-tight T-shirt- and those weren’t necessarily bad pictures, either. Plus, the woman seemed like no one she’d ever dated before, and all of those experiences were in, well, the past, so perhaps trying something a little new- someone a little different- would yield better results.

And wasn’t there a stereotype or two about a neighbor looking for assistance and giving a bit more in return?

“Well, what’s the worst that could happen?” She muttered, abandoning her search for a suitable spider scooping implement and heading towards her own door. It briefly occurred to her to change into something a bit more respectable- or anything, really- but she dismissed the idea out of hand, purely because she didn’t feel inclined to put that much effort into what could easily turn into a waste of her time. There remained the possibility that the blonde wouldn’t be to her tastes, at which point she would’ve gotten dressed again for nothing and put her relaxing bath even further away from fruition. Wearing only a bathrobe might give the wrong impression… but she was Weiss Schnee, a head executive at one of the most powerful corporations in Remnant. Drawing up a restraining order would take a breath, if that, and there were some gambles she was willing to take at this point to get some much needed release.

Poking her head out into the hallway confirmed it was empty- on Friday nights, most of the tenants either holed up in their apartments early or had already caught a taxi into the city, which meant she didn’t run too high a risk of being caught by anyone else. She quietly crossed across the hall, taking a moment to organize her thoughts before raising a fist and rapping her dainty knuckles on the door. This would likely result in nothing more than a few awkward minutes of having a stranger in her apartment but at least she could look her sister in the eye and say she made an attempt at filling the supposed void in her love life.

There was some shuffling from the other side of the door, perhaps a muttered curse, before the sound of the lock sliding back echoed in her ears. The door opened a moment later, revealing her neighbor, and she somehow hadn’t noticed the woman stood a full head taller than herself until she had to redirect her gaze up from a rather considerable bust barely contained by a black cutoff T-shirt with the words 'FIGHT ME OR BITE ME’ emblazoned in yellow to vibrant, smiling lilac eyes. Golden curls fell across her shoulders in an unruly fashion, as if the locks simply couldn’t be tamed, and the woman raised one arm to lean against the door frame without much of a care, completing the picture.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it.

“Hey there, neighbor.” For a moment, her gaze held steady before the blonde’s eyes darted down and back up, almost too fast for her to notice. Despite that, she had to admit it didn’t look like she was displeased by what she saw. “Weiss, right? Can I, uh, help you with anything?”

Weiss raised a brow, noting the other woman’s gaze dart away a second time, sensing a chance to break the cocky exterior and more than a little curious to see what was underneath. “Having trouble finding my eyes?”

“No! No, of course not,” the blonde said, laughing a little. “I just, ya know- it’s not often I have a beautiful woman on my doorstep in a bathrobe.”

She made a show of tugging the robe closed a little tighter, opting for a coy route. “Yes, well, it’s not often I have a pest in my bath tub, but I was hoping I could find someone willing to take care of the matter.” Weiss allowed her gaze to deviate slightly, noting the woman’s tight athletic shorts and muscled thighs, the hints of sweat and heat still rolling off the woman. She must’ve just returned from the gym or something similar. “Although I probably should know your name first, shouldn’t I?”

“Yang- Yang Xiao Long, at your service, and say no more.” The blonde reached for something inside her apartment, pulling out a newspaper from somewhere close and waving it with a cocky grin that refused to abate. “Come on, let’s go take care of this lil bugger.”

Funny, she didn’t really peg the woman as being the type to read a newspaper, but she supposed some people preferred the tactile sensation of paper between their fingers rather than sliding their fingers across a screen. Regardless, she turned on heel and led the way back to her apartment, pleased when she heard Yang fall into step behind her. If nothing else, at least her impression of the blonde being the helpful sort seemed spot on, and she hoped her other… thoughts proved as true as well.

They both entered her apartment, the door closing behind them with a resounding click as she slid the lock home out of habit. If it was noticed at all, the other woman made no mention, instead casting her gaze around with a low whistle. “Whoa. Sweet place you got.”

“It’s the same floor plan as yours.” She pointed out, needlessly leading the way towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, but I don’t have this sort of taste in interior decorating,” Yang replied, just a step or two behind. When she turned to throw a skeptical look over her shoulder, lilac eyes snapped up to meet hers, a light blush rising in tan cheeks. “Guess your partner couldn’t come help?”

“Partner?” She stopped to look back at her guest, a hand on the bathroom door and ready to push it open. “Whatever do you mean?”

“A boyfriend? Girlfriend, maybe?"The blonde didn’t stop, her steps slow and measured as she closed the distance between them. "Anything in between?”

“None, now that you mention it.” She tilted her head back so she could maintain eye contact even as she leaned back against the wood. “Single as they come.”

“Guess that makes us a matching pair,” Yang said, voice lowering just enough to sound a bit sultry. “Tell you what. After I take care of this little… problem of yours.” The inflection on that word brought a special little thrill shooting up her spine. “Maybe we could… talk?”

“Just talk?” She allowed a small smile to come to her lips, wondering if the woman would be so crass as to lay everything out plain and bare- and she wasn’t sure which outcome she hoped for, honestly.

“I like to start with the manageable things. We can always negotiate higher.” The blonde leaned down and, while she normally would resent being forced to confront her shorter stature like this, something in the gentle tilt of Yang’s head hinting that any reaction she gave would play right into the blonde’s hands. “I just finished a workout, ya know.”

What a workout it must’ve been, too, to maintain the sculpture of her arms, her abs, her thighs- but she brought her attention back to the friendly neighbor who had a chance to become something a little more. “I can see that, though I’m not sure what you’re proposing.”

“Well, I could use a shower. Yours, specifically.” Lightly, Yang reached out to pluck at the lapel of her robe, teasing while being entirely serious at the same time. “Before, after… during. Take your pick.”

“Enticing.” She smirked, pushing the door open. “I’ll take that into consideration as payment for services rendered. However, first…”

“Gotcha.” The blonde winked, brushing past Weiss- and brushing was putting it lightly, she could almost taste the salt lingering on the other woman’s skin with as close as she came- into the bathroom and rolling up the newspaper. “Let me just go render that service real quick.”

She took a moment to center herself before following, calming the stutter in her heartbeat that accompanied the close proximity. Although she might be running more on libido than sense at present, she couldn’t deny it seemed to be working; she had Yang’s interest and a need to unwind, and she hadn’t shared a shower with another person in a long while. It wouldn’t be quite as relaxing as a bath but now she had the idle curiosity in the back of her head about getting a massage from those strong looking hands, fingers pressing into her shoulders and moving lower. Then again, as she followed the other woman into the bathroom and caught sight of sculpted back muscles moving beneath the black fabric, maybe she could give one herself, if only to explore just how solid the blonde’s frame was.

Even if it amounted to nothing more than a one night stand, at least she’d have a little satisfaction. Or a lot.

“Okay, one dead bug, coming right up.” Yang grabbed the shower curtain and threw it open, the hand holding the rolled up newspaper raised and ready to strike. “Now, c'mere, you- NOPE!”

Faster than Weiss could’ve possibly imagined- given the woman’s size and her general understanding of the laws of physics- the blonde disappeared from in front of her in a rush, somehow jumping up onto the counter top and effectively plastering herself into the upper corner of the bathroom in the blink of an eye. It actually took her a moment to figure that much out, blinking in surprise until the stuttered breathing behind her brought blue eyes round to see the absolute panic in the other woman’s expression, lilac eyes wide and skin a bit paler than she thought would be normal for someone of Yang’s complexion.

“… what are you doing?”

“YOU DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT SPIDERS!” Of the many, many things she considered as a possible outcome of the night, being actually yelled at in this specific manner didn’t happen to be one of them.

Slowly raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, Weiss came to the obvious conclusion. “You’re arachnophobic.”

“IF THAT’S FANCY PEOPLE TALK FOR 'NOT FUCKING WITH SPIDERS’ THEN YES, ACTUALLY, I AM!”

Considering her luck that week, she simply couldn’t muster the ability to be surprised. With a sigh- because now any potentially flirtatious mood was well and truly killed- Weiss held out her hand towards the terrified woman. “Give me the newspaper.”

She didn’t miss the way the blonde’s hand trembled and, in retrospect, she probably should’ve been more specific with her initial request. Unrolling it, Weiss went over to the bath tub and carefully coaxed the offending spider onto the paper, being mindful to try and use her body to shield her guest from the unpleasantness. Personally, she didn’t understand how someone could be afraid of the creatures; she was no fan herself, true, but she couldn’t be mustered to actual fear by something smaller than a lien. Considering her day-to-day life consisted of board meetings and more money than most people could imagine, her fears revolved around being denied access to her laptop during a crisis, which probably spoke to how badly she needed to relax. However, as she neared the door, despite her best efforts, Yang flinched away, accidentally knocking into the bottle of wine on the counter top and sending it tumbling to the tile behind Weiss.

Thankfully, she neither lost the spider to the carpet below nor stepped on any glass as she quickly hopped out of the bathroom, mentally amending her list of fears to include sudden loud noises.

“Shit, s-sorry.” Although she couldn’t see the woman- Yang seemed rather content to remain affixed to the top corner of the ceiling- there was a genuine note of contrition in her voice.

Weiss simply sighed, opting to remain silent rather than loose some biting remark. Instead, she carried the spider out to the living room, opening a window to deposit the creature onto the brick siding of the building, which it all too happily latched onto when given the chance. Honestly, it probably spent the entirety of its time in the bath tub terrified of all the noise the humans made and wanted to be free of them as eagerly as the other way around. Maybe this time it would learn not to slip into people’s homes and make its presence known or risk a worse fate.

She stopped by the kitchen to collect a suitable towel to wipe up the spilled wine and a hand broom plus dustpan, absently thankful the damage hadn’t made it nearly as far as the carpeted hallway, and tried to imagine what it would take to coax her neighbor down from the counter top and usher her back to her apartment. At this rate, she’d be lucky if the water hadn’t been shut off, seeing as that was just about the last thing that could go wrong.

When she returned to the bathroom, Weiss found that at least one problem solved itself; the blonde had climbed down from her perch. Presently, she was kneeling just outside the red splotch still slipping across the tile, fingers picking out the larger chunks of glass. The red liquid was already beginning to stain her fingertips, gaze hidden from Weiss’ view, but she didn’t seem to be paying much mind as every shard was deposited into the still intact bottom of the bottle.

“You’re going to cut yourself,” she said, carefully lowering herself to her knees and setting aside her supplies for the moment, holding out one hand. “Give me what you have; I’ll dispose of it safely.”

“I-I’m really sorry.” Yang wouldn’t look at her directly, lavender eyes peeking up through blonde bangs, but she handed over the collected glass without protest.

“It’s fine.” Her tone was flat, more because her attention remained fixed on ensuring nothing stained the carpet than due to a lack of sincerity on the blonde’s part, and she stood without another word to throw away the broken glass. With that done, she returned once again, only to find the floor devoid of debris and wine, though one could pick out the lingering red stain that remained and wouldn’t come up without a vigorous scrubbing of the tile. Above it stood the blonde, holding the soiled towel and full dust pan while staring at the floor just in front of Weiss’ feet, a bright blush illuminating her cheeks.

“I really am sorry.” She muttered, gaze darting up a few times before falling further and staying there- and it was a bit unfair how much she looked like a guilty golden retriever in that moment, the typical extrovert cheer that typically filled her larger frame completely absent. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

“You were startled; it’s understandable.” Weiss motioned for the items in her hand. “I’ll take those and show you out.” That was a bit rude and she actually did internally wince at realizing that, but the blonde didn’t notice one way or the other, handing over the towel and dust pan without complaint. Although it did disappoint her that whatever idle fantasies she might’ve concocted now seemed about as plausible as pigs flying, the most she could do would be to continue on with her night as best she could. A nice, long soak would be the very least she could do to begin siphoning away the stress from the week, and perhaps tomorrow she could run out to the store and buy something as an apology for inadvertently giving the woman a fright. “Thank you for offering your assistance.”

“Yeah, uh… no problem.” They walked through the living room, stopping briefly so Weiss could throw the towel in the empty sink and drop the dust pan’s contents into the trash can. “I’m-”

“If you’re about to apologize again, don’t.” She walked over, flipping open the lock and twisting the knob. “It was an accident and, if anyone’s at fault, it’s me for putting you in that position.” Opening the door, Weiss mustered a small smile for the beleaguered blonde. “Please, forgive my intrusion upon your evening. It’s been a very long week.”

“Uh, well, I…” When words seemed to fail her, Yang shuffled out, pausing once she was in the hallway to turn back. “Have a good night, Weiss.”

“You, too,” she replied before shutting the door, locking it and waiting for the woman’s heavy tread to trek across the hallway and the closing of another door before allowing herself a sigh.

Really, she shouldn’t have expected anything good to come from any endeavor she undertook this week. The past five days were hell, so why should tonight be any different?

On the bright side, at least she didn’t have to deal with the inevitable awkwardness that would come with attempting something like a casual relationship with her neighbor, and anything serious would be nigh impossible given their differing schedules. If her sister asked, she’d tell her the simple truth: she tried, it didn’t pan out, and she was better off alone.

At least she still had the bubble bath.

Much to her never-ending surprise, the bath went off without a hitch. Nigh scalding water quickly eased into her muscles and the lavender scent coaxed her troubles to the back of her mind as she lay in the water. All good things had to come to an end, unfortunately, and getting up and actually cleaning herself off when the water cooled came with a few muttered curses because of that, but she felt rather content when she emerged from the bathroom, once again clothed in her robe with a spare towel wrapped around her hair. She changed into her white silk pajamas, wanting nothing more than to brush out her hair and go to sleep. There was a thought to run out and find a bottle of wine, seeing as hers was sacrificed to the tile, but she dismissed it immediately; she’d had enough of dealing with the outside world at this point.

Instead, she would have to settle for a glass of cool water before bed. Weiss was halfway to the kitchen when she caught the sound of her neighbor’s heavy footfalls out in the hall again and she felt a pang of disappointment strike her chest. Their brief interaction earlier seemed like such a wasted opportunity; the blonde certainly seemed to be the sort to indulge in the sort of strictly physical, stress relieving arrangements that would fit into her hectic schedule. She doubted the woman would be inclined to accept another invitation, though seeing as-

Wait a minute. She heard Yang’s tread stop close by, but no opening of a door or the closing of one. Maybe it was someone else, though she honestly couldn’t recall any of their other neighbors making the same casual racket with their comings and goings.

Curiosity got the better of her and she padded to her own door, lifting up on her tip toes to peek through the peep hole. She could make out the blonde’s burly frame just outside her door but no knock came, no signal that she wanted Weiss’ attention. She was just… standing there.

“Oh, what the hell,” she said to herself, deciding that if there would be any awkwardness resulting from the fiasco earlier, she might as well handle it now. After staring down board members and visiting executives all week, this would be as simple as agreeing they never mention it again and go about their lives as they had before. Flipping the lock with a practiced motion of her wrist, Weiss pulled the door open, her gaze initially focused up into surprised lilac eyes before dropping back down as confusion surely splayed across her features.

During the intervening hours, the blonde saw fit to change from her gym clothes into a rather nice white button up with black slacks, those unruly locks tamed into some semblance of order by being woven in a thick braid, though she did have something of a cowlick poking up from the back that looked a bit too cute for words. In one hand, the woman held a box of chocolates- not the type one could easily find at the local grocery store, either, judging from the foreign label- and in the other, a bottle of wine, the same type that Yang had knocked off her counter top earlier, too. A stuffed animal was tucked under one arm but her attention got pulled away before she could discern exactly what type.

“Oh, uh, hey, Weiss.” The woman flashed a smile, almost immediately dropping her gaze as a blush lit up her cheeks. “I, uh, I was debating on whether or not to knock, 'cause I didn’t know if you’d be up, and I really don’t want to wreck your night any more than I already have-”

“Yang.” Recovering just enough to level a hard look at the taller woman, Weiss narrowed her eyes. “Why are you standing on my doorstep with a bottle of Gaja Barbaresco?”

“It’s the kind I broke, right?” Blonde brows pinched together. “I… don’t really know much about wines, but the labels are the same, but I think the year’s different?” A quick glance down at the offered bottle confirmed that, yes, that was indeed the case. “I wanted to replace yours. I know it’s late, 'cause it took a while to find-”

“That bottle is easily three hundred lien,” she said, trying very hard not to voice the 'how were you able to afford that’ lingering in the back of her mind.

“So? I’ll take a few extra shifts.” Yang shrugged, holding out the wine until she reluctantly accepted the bottle. Not that she didn’t appreciate the gesture but, really, the blonde didn’t have to go through the trouble. “That’s not the-”

“And the chocolates?”

“Oh, they’re white chocolates- I read somewhere that it’s the only kind that goes good with reds like this one.”

While she hadn’t originally planned on eating anything while drinking, she had to admit that finding something to pair with her chosen wine proved a bit more thoughtful than she might’ve expected. Once again, she found herself accepting the offering. “And the… bear?”

With both hands free, Yang had grabbed the stuffed animal from the crook of her arm, allowing the woman to see the little ears, brown eyes, and red writing across its stomach, 'Sorry’ spelled out in smooth cursive as it held its paws open wide. “Well, you said I couldn’t apologize again, so…”

“So, you got a bear to do it for you?” She raised a brow, expecting for some lame excuse to fall from the blonde’s lips the moment she faced resistance. It certainly seemed to be the de facto response with just about everyone else that week.

“I thought it was a bearable way to bend the rules,” Yang replied, a smile flashing across her lips and if it wasn’t for years of dealing with her ever unimpressed father, Weiss might’ve laughed. She briefly considering questioning the woman’s choice of jokes- or her sanity, really- but wasn’t provided the chance as the blonde’s features pinching into an expression of utmost seriousness. “Look, regardless of how we wanna look at earlier, it wasn’t how I wanted our first real interaction to go. I’ve… kinda been working the nerve to talk to you for the past month, but you always seemed really busy and I didn’t want to get in your way. Figured it wouldn’t be appreciated.” Despite the confident start, the woman reached up to rub the back of her neck in a self conscious gesture, obviously a little embarrassed in admitting that much, and it almost made Weiss wince. She suddenly understood with clarity why some might be motivated to provide an excuse or deflect, because she very nearly launched into an explanation regarding the difficult month, the weeks of dealing with stuffy morons and incompetents, but managed to hold it back only just. “Anyway, when you came over earlier, I honestly thought it was my lucky day; I figured you caught me, uh, looking a bit longer than I probably should’ve one too many times and decided to make the first move, that you made up an excuse to invite me over.” Yang winced and offered another shrug. “I really didn’t think you were being dead serious and I didn’t handle the whole situation very well.”

“I’m going to stop you there.” She held up a finger, keeping a tight grip on the wine bottle’s neck with the rest to ensure it didn’t drop. “You handled it as best you could, given the circumstances and I’m not holding that against you.” Her gaze darted between the bottle, box, and bear. “Plus, I’d say your thoughtfulness has more than made up for the incident earlier. Let’s put it behind us, shall we?”

Broad shoulders slumped as relief suffused the other woman’s frame, lilac eyes sparkling once more. “I think I can handle that.”

“Good.” Weiss smiled, moving so that the blonde could tuck the stuffed animal into the crook of her arm.

“Well, you look like you’re heading to bed so I guess I’ll see you later?” Yang took a step down the hallway, as if returning to her own apartment.

But…

“Excuse you? Do I look like an alcoholic?” She pinched her expression into one of mock indignation, waiting for the blonde’s eyes to widen in alarm before holding up the bottle. “I can’t possibly drink this whole bottle by myself.”

She pointedly ignored that she’d actually planned on doing just that with the previous bottle.

“Oh- uh, really?” The other woman seemed caught off guard at first but, after a moment to compose herself, regained that confidence from earlier in the day. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose, but I could certainly help you out.” Yang stepped back towards the doorway, a smirk on her lips. “And it seems like you’ve had a rough time at work so how about a movie to take your mind off it?”

Frankly, a movie wasn’t where her mind immediately went, but it would do for now. “Sounds perfect.”

She stepped back into her apartment, turning towards the kitchen as the blonde stepped through the doorway, the corners of her mouth lifting in a small grin as she heard the lock being engaged. Thoughtful and attentive… perhaps the whole spider fiasco would be well worth it after all.

Weiss couldn’t remember the title of the movie they found playing- something with pirate boats and explosions, of that much she was sure- and honestly stopped paying attention after the first few minutes, instead becoming engrossed in a quiet game of twenty questions. Surprisingly, Yang could be very soft spoken, in the right situation, and she’d steered clear of anything that could possibly lead back to Weiss’ work, instead opting for the somewhat bizarre, hypothetical sort. A few of them even made her laugh and she had to admit the constant headaches she’d experienced all throughout the week faded to the back of her mind the longer the conversation went. Weiss found out that the blonde did indeed work construction but also had a second job as a bike mechanic at her sister’s auto shop, that owned the yellow motorcycle currently covered by a tarp in preparation for better riding weather, and that she loved her family dearly. Apparently, part of the reason she’d been working up to talking to Weiss stemmed from an encouraging conversation she had with Ruby, who sounded like just a bit too much energy for the normally stoic business woman to deal with but endearing all the same.

Somehow- she couldn’t quite remember who asked the question- they’d touched on where they could possibly go from this point, either through Weiss’ lamenting the demands of her job draining away any chance for a long term relationship or Yang making an offhand remark about relationships in general. Much to her surprise, the blonde wasn’t looking for a flash-in-the-pan arrangement and didn’t seem deterred by a hectic schedule, making a quip or two about 'building foundations’ and the like, that nothing was ‘built in a day’, and she couldn’t even pretend that they didn’t make her laugh out loud more times than anything else in the past four months. Despite the rational part of her brain insisting that it was doomed to failure, she found herself thinking about putting those construction jokes to the test, see just how far they could go before it inevitably came crashing down around them. If she didn’t miss her guess, Yang was thinking the same thing.

They’d settled in to watch the movie after spending perhaps the first hour or so talking, though she couldn’t remember how it ended…

… actually, she didn’t remember it ending at all, or falling asleep.

Fluttering her eyes open, Weiss quickly covered her yawn with one hand and shifted, surprised when the solid warmth she was leaning against moved, too. “Yang?”

“Welcome back.” She looked up into soft lilac eyes, a gentle smile curling the woman’s lips. “You nodded off during the movie. Figured you needed the rest.”

With a hum, she debated righting herself; it would be the proper thing to do, of course, but those firm muscles were surprisingly comfortable to lean against and she could feel her body beckoning her to return to a peaceful slumber. “Do you want me to move?” She looked up at the silence that followed, slightly surprised to see the war raging in the other woman’s eyes as she bit her lip. “Be honest.”

“I want to say no, because you look really cute when you sleep and you probably need it.” Yang winced. “But my arm fell asleep two hours ago.” Chuckling, Weiss sat up, allowing the blonde to reclaim her arm and start working the pins-and-needles feeling from it. “Seriously, though, I should probably head home so you can get some more rest.”

Hardly in any position to argue, she nodded and the two stood, Weiss making her way to the door while Yang ensured the wine bottle- half full, funnily enough- found its way back to the kitchen, the clinking of glass in the sink preceding her appearance by the door. Weiss unlocked and opened it, a little sad to see the blonde go but very much ready to crawl into her bed and go back to sleep. “Good night, Yang. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, and feel free to drop by if you need anything other than spider removal.” They both laughed, a small pause following before the blonde added. “Good night, Weiss.”

She nodded and closed the door, fingers on the lock and ready to flick it but she hesitated. Would it be too forward to open the door and ask for a good night kiss? Even if it wasn’t planned, and they didn’t really do much, and she fell asleep during the movie, that was probably one of the best dates she’d ever been on and she was hard pressed to think of a better one off the top of her head. Unfortunately, she’d followed the standard dating protocol all those times and given her date a kiss at the end, even when she hadn’t really wanted to, so to go without now… perhaps she could think of it as a breakaway from the usual. Wasn’t that her initial rationale for going through the whole ordeal in the first place?

Before she could actually turn the lock, though, Yang’s voice came through the door. “Hey… Weiss?”

Raising a brow as a little grin curled her lips, she opened it again, only to quickly finger a knuckle under her chin tilting her head up a moment before lips pressed against her own. The contact was brief and gentle, demanding nothing of her and still leaving her room to pull away if she so desired, but she did manage to kick her brain into gear quick enough to return the pressure before it faded entirely.

The woman’s smile reached all the way to her lilac eyes. “Thanks for giving me a second chance.”

“Go get some sleep, you dolt,” she replied, though she couldn’t help returning the smile even as the blonde backed away. This time, when Weiss closed the door, she locked it and went straight to her bedroom. She thought she remembered Yang saying something about being off work this weekend for one reason or another.

Maybe tomorrow she could go over and ask for a cup of sugar.

... did you honestly expect me to play the cliche straight?

#Freezerburn #makas0ul

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