#looking back now its easy to think i overreacted a bit. but holy shit being a teenager fucking sucks
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anyone else learn about the nuclear arms race and mutually assured destruction at an impressionable young age, had an existential crisis about how we almost ended all life on the planet in thermonuclear hellfire and made it uninhabitable for thousands of years multiple times because of political differences, and we still have enough warheads on earth to destroy it a hundred times over sitting in the hands of insane megalomaniac politicians who could just end it all with a press of a button and never fully recovered since?
#hahhahaahhahahaa#im fine :-)#in high school i had a bad case of 'no hope for this world' disease which was real hard to parse out from the major depressive disorder#it got real bleak! not gonna lie!#its hard to care about your math homework when youre convinced the world is going to fucking end bc we live under the rule of insane people#looking back now its easy to think i overreacted a bit. but holy shit being a teenager fucking sucks#you cant do anything about how bad the world sucks. all u can do is sit there and look at the news and get fucking depressed#cant vote. cant protest. cant articulate how i feel bc my brain is still growing and i have a math test tmrw.#its like. i just wanted a fucking break.#i didn't want to kill myself. i didnt necessarily want to die. i just wanted a break. bc everything fucking SUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!#god im so glad im not a fucking teenager anymore. wow this derailed a bit. hi. im okay now pls dont worry about me#personal#but yeah i still have nightmares now and then about nuclear war. shits scary as hell#and then u look at all the fucked up shit happening around the world and its hard not to lose hope for humanity :|#i want to like humans but unfortunately a lot of us seem to fucking suck. hopefully its not the majority#im doing waayyyyy better as an adult but damn its hard sometimes :/
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alright here’s ma thoughts on that flick I mentioned
we hatewatched a*my of the dead because we were CONVINCED “zombies in las vegas” would be an impossible concept to screw up, but in so assuming we obviously invoked a holy wager with the universe and got reminded, once again, that hoping for improvement from someone who’s dependably put out bad art is never a wise choice 😐
but we were honestly kinda roped in by the marketing??? and expected a goofy fast-paced flick with the odd traditional undead metaphor thrown in, framing some sort of relationship drama maybe or hell even nothing at all! we’d have taken pure indulgent storytelling, idk italian job with zombies in las vegas, I don’t know fucking anything but??? whatever this was???? spoilers below for it is time for One Of My Rants
I mean the main reason I really want to write all this and complain. this film here probably has the most unappealing cinematography I have ever experienced in my life and that is saying something. who the fuck signed off on that CONSTANT shallow-ass depth of field that imprisons your eyeline and turns every shot into bokeh paste???? and I mean every shot almost!!!! I promise if you think I am overreacting just throw a dart at the seek bar and watch twenty seconds from wherever it lands. it is horrifying to look at. at least it gave my girlfriend a good visual shorthand for what it’s like when I lose my glasses
why was sean spicer in this movie. did they pay him to be here. was sean spicer paid hollywood money for his scene in this film because fuck everyone who was involved in that decision
the legitimately baffling hints at the extraterrestrial origins of the infection that went absolutely nowhere and had no dramatic or plot-level bearing. we love to see the franchise sprouts fellas
yet another big budget waste of everything hiroyuki sanada has to offer. and bautista too I guess? I like him but man was this an odd career move
what was the crux of his conflict/resolution with his daughter btw. I understand it was rooted in miscommunication over their forms of grief irt mom but uhh… it was all rather clunky and didn’t land for me. I tried I really tried to buy in but something was wrong fundamentally with the groundwork there, it did not click and their catharsis felt unearned. I know there’s massive amounts of tragic baggage being projected there from the author so I’m not slapping any judgment down really;
but again it would be an easy thing to wave off if they just had a vibrant cast of lovable simpletons with good chemistry and the kinetic sense of plotting the trailers promised (and this premise never discounts good drama, either). but instead it was just two and a half (!) hours of meandering into situations the filmmaking instincts had no idea how to flow in and out of
to wit. I know talking about “bad pacing” is associated with armchair bullshit but consider the example of the scene were dieter does an out of nowhere little dance after childishly screaming but then still-killing a zombie, with the film framing this as a micro character triumph, and not a second later the bg soundtrack instantly fades into an orchestral score dramatizing a nearby mcguffin reveal, completely 180 degreeing the tone without a semblance of deft insert shot stitching or even I dont know a fucking jump cut maybe. now imagine this whiplash for 2.5 hrs uninterrupted
I will keep complaining about the length yeah because this was not a story requiring this much real estate to be told. Uhh in my humble and personal opinion, of course
[man sees zombie tiger] “this is crossing the line!” you can in fact write dialogue that is not utter nonsense that falls apart once you drill down its single fickle layer of referential meta winking. what line are you talking about. you have rules in this insane situation you’re in? total nitpick moment I know but it got burned in my brain for some reason. like a microcosm of the mismanaged dramatic instincts paired with weird writing that dots this movie. I am sure the director calls this either satire or genre deconstruction. I am SO sure
tumblr domino meme that goes from “dude getting sucked off while driving” to “entire las vegas literally nuked”
tig notaro is always great to see but once you know she’s been filmed as a separate greenscreen plate months after photography wrapped - cause she had to apparently replace some abusive asshole but that’s a whole other pig not worth fucking - it becomes impossible to unsee her odd detachment from everyone else in the movie lmao. it doesn’t really “ruin” anything on its lonesome but it is hard to unsee
why. was. sean. spicer. in. this. movie
a very simple key ingredient missing from fully turning lip service sympathy for main uruk hai dude into actual empathy that would generate meaningful conflict with hero family would be to spend a bit more time articulating what he internally wanted the most. because he was obviously trying to do something here with pointed agenda. a family, to have kids, build a caste system, save his wife’s head, return to his planet??? all of these could represent the bigger context in his psychology that spurred his vengeance but none of them are dramatically emphasized long enough for you to cheer him on. I’m not asking too much I promise. Articulating interiority of a mute character is pretty doable with deft cinema language, just gotta linger and hold a shot here and there for a few seconds, frame as his POV, donezo. I know this is also one of those like. “who cares” moments but the movie does, very evidently so, in making this guy an actual character. you can kinda piece it together and create a framework of sympathy for him, sure, but then again he ultimately becomes a foil to be killed and not defeated, so. Ehh whatever
quarantine zone stuff was not a wildly childish covid allegory quarantine zone stuff was not a wildly childish covid allegory quarantine zone stuff was n
the rooftop helicopter fakout at the end was such an ass-backwards, manufactured moment of what could be a simple setup/payoff it just pissed me off??? you gain nothing by giving sad dad five seconds of pointless crisis that flips right back to previous status quo ANYWAY, except for a weaksauce waste of runtime, which could be used instead to get inside notaro’s head and actually SHOW the remorse form as she took off, literally maybe even a frown playing on her face as she’s headed for safety right before we cut back to drax and the kid. just a simple-ass, minimal, momentary setup for what is the most basic filmmaking trick of creating macro catharsis moments. Just???? g o d if you can’t even land that shit why are you even doing any of this
that lil run final pam did was very very charming and super choreographed in a way that was the tiiiniest bit overdone
the whole intro with the simul-backstories and posing with family photos was just… oddly motivated. what was the goal? “here’s what we’re fighting for” vignettes? why? it’s not a functional setup in that vein. what was all that
also I am sorry if this is insensitive but the reasons most characters end up articulating to justify going back into the hell that destroyed their lives makes them sound seriously insane
I dont like complaining about CGI (honestly) but so much of it in modern movies can achieve higher fidelity if the animation is simply subdued. Do not overengineer and over-apply 2D cell methodologies and kinematics to each tiny twitch and movement in a hyper 3D model and I promise you. it will look a thousand times more natural. look at thanos in those last two movies. your rendering and detail are absolutely perfect with the tiger you just have to let stuff sit instead of constantly simulating swaying hair strands and firing off all facial muscles at once. great moment at one point where makeup zombie horse and CG zombie tiger are both in one shot together and just by unnecessary amounts of movement alone you can tell who doesn’t belong. again; detail, rendering, compositing, lighting, all picture-perfect; but y’all just gotta let the animation breathe sometimes, and chill it out
plot holes don’t really matter to me but it was kinda funny how lilly decided not to mention the enormous wrinkle in intel pertaining to an actual territorial tribe of intelligent zombies that require human offerings to let you pass, just so that reveal could play out in real time through the joyous punishment of the cartoonishly misogynistic dude
total chad move for mister uruk hai and final pam to rule from a rusted swimming pool complex
the ending with vanderohe oh my god. with the. cash stacks at the airport register. and specifically them working in his favor. that is literally something you do to get arrested under suspicion of theft. it was almost played for laughs and I respect that. coulda been goofier. make these movies goofy ya dorks
anyway, weird, weird movie. bad marketing. message unclear (something something sins of the father???), baffling editing instincts, literal worst-looking cinematography I ever laid eyes upon. Confidently dying on that last hill
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Safi, No (a Witchlands fanfiction) - Chapter One
This chapter was written by @un-empressed
Summary:
On a rare occasion, Safi knew the answer in geography class. But when Merik Nihar spoke over her, she wasn't so happy. So her and Leopold devised a revenge plan to get back at him, and accidentally got everyone involved.
Vivia Nihar doesn't really have many friends, apart from Vaness. She's mostly focused on her studies - and what's wrong with that? But then she meets theriverstix online.
Aeduan and Iseult didn't mean to get involved in the revenge plan, but it was inevitable. But that's okay. They had each other to talk to.
Also posted on Ao3
Tags: @Iseultdetmidenzi
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Safiya fon Hasstrel didn't know what she had done to deserve such maltreatment. Not only was geography a disaster that morning, her best friend wasn't listening. Or rather, she was until she realised what Safi was talking about. Apparently she was immature for wanting the basic right of speaking. It wasn't her fault that she had an insufferable classmate, and it certainly wasn't her fault that he decided he could speak over her.
It wasn't like she enjoyed geography, but she actually knew the answer. That was a once in a million years occurrence and Merik Nihar ruined it. She didn't even know his name before he so rudely interrupted her.
She wouldn't even have bothered to ask someone - asshole from third row worked just as well for a name - but she was confronted by another classmate after geography. A very pissed off one at that. Safi knew Vaness by name, because everyone knew Vaness. They'd never talked before, though, so Safi didn't know what to expect.
She was definitely surprised when Vaness verbally attacked her. Well, it wasn't an attack, but what she said was just a pretentious way to say "Go fuck yourself" and they both knew it. Apparently Safi's huffing and whispering to her friends that she was going to kill Merik over "an idiotic thing that doesn't even matter" was making it hard for Vaness to take notes. And apparently calling her a "poor dear" was "condescending" and "rude".
Why had she never talked to Vaness before? She knew now. Caden laughed to her face after having overheard the disastrous conversation. Safi found that absolutely unnecessary. At least Zander and Lev laughed at her behind her back. Well, she didn't know for sure that they did, but she hoped that Levs's so-called reassurance of "I've hidden many bodies before, nobody ever misses the ones like him" was a joke.
"Saf, I'm sure he didn't mean to inconvenience you," Iz said, trying to be reasonable. Safi liked that about her best friend; she wasn't as reckless as Safi herself, but she was definitely easy to drag along to stupid adventures.
"You don't know him."
Iseult rolled her eyes. "Neither do you."
"Irrelevant."
Iseult sighed. She was about to say something else, probably about how it was actually relevant, but Corlant came. Safi wasn't sure what his deal was, only that someone ought to push him off that table he liked standing on to feel better than everyone else. But no, the school encouraged free speech, and Corlant claimed whatever absurd shit he said (Safi didn't bother enough to listen) had something to do with his religion.
Safi didn't know who or what he worshipped, but she personally found lunches without him causing a scene holy. Maybe she should start a religion that specifically opposed him. Or maybe she should take Lev up on that hiding a body offer.
"This is ridiculous," Iseult muttered. Safi personally would have yelled it so he could hear, but she already did and he didn't seem to care. Asshole.
Safi didn't even notice Leopold approaching their table until he sat down. And, he wasn't alone. "Girls, this is Aeduan. Aeduan, Safi and Iseult".
The name didn't sound familiar at all, but Safi had talked to the guy once. Well, it was barely a conversation. She asked for a pencil, and he spent five minutes mocking her for not bringing two. Just when she was about to tell him to fuck off, he handed her the damn pencil. Safi made a point of using it only when she lost the pencil Caden had lent her.
She never even returned the pencil. Maybe that made her an asshole, but she needed something to write with for the rest of the day, and he never even asked for it. How was she supposed to know it wasn't meant to be a gift?
Aeduan uttered out an uninterested greeting, hesitantly sitting next to Iseult. They shared commiserating looks as Safi told Leopold about her encounter with the world's biggest asshole that morning.
"Look! There he is, talking to his friends. I bet they're just as rude and inconsiderate-"
"Saf, those two literally mean the same thing," Iseult said. There was a slight difference, but Safi wasn't about to say that. Leopold was willing to hear her complaints, and she wasn't about to waste the potential this conversation had.
"And besides, you're overreacting. That's Ryber Fortiza over there, and she's pretty nice. I'm willing to bet the others are too. You took this way too personally."
Safi had talked to Ryber Fortiza once or twice, and she knew that Iseult was right. She wasn't going to say that out loud, though. Judging by the look on Iseult's face, her best friend didn't care at all. She went back to her probably dry conversation with Leopold's friend.
"Way too personally? It is personal!" Leopold said. Safi was glad that at least someone knew she wasn't overreacting.
"Thank you!"
Iseult rolled her eyes. She did it so much around the two, Safi wouldn't be surprised if her eyes fell out one day. And she had yet to hear about what Vaness said, even though Safi knew Iseult would agree with most things said.
Suddenly, she remembered something that made her groan. Leopold raised his eyebrows. "I have geography again tomorrow."
Leopold grinned. "Why the disappointment? It's your chance to get revenge."
Safi quite liked how that sounded. Even more than that she liked the fact that Iseult obviously didn't approve of the idea, if her face was to be trusted. She could've been making faces at what Aeduan was telling her, but that didn't seem likely. Leopold's friend seemed to have the same opinion. All the more reasons to do it.
Besides, Safi already had a few suggestions for the revenge plan herself.
Safi smiled, making Iseult shake her head. "What did you have in mind?"
[x]
"-And she kept staring at me the whole time, whispering something to her friends. I'm telling you, that girl is insane."
The story didn't get reactions Merik Nihar was hoping for from his friends. Ryber pretended she didn't even hear him, and Cam just rolled his eyes. Merik was pretty sure Tanzi wasn't even listening. That didn't hurt him, because she was Ryber's friend. Stix was asking if 'he was done yet' after every word. That didn't hurt either, because she was like that. At least Kullen was on his side.
He smiled, and Merik didn't know what to expect from his best friend. Kullen often heard what he wanted to hear instead of what was being said. "Maybe she likes you! And, you've never talked about this girl before. Why would you even look at her if you didn't like her?"
Kullen was not on his side.
"It wasn't like that!" Merik said, trying desperately to seem like he was telling the truth. Which he was, of course. Kullen just caught him completely unaware.
Stix grinned. "Oh really?" Merik knew she didn't share Kullen's delusion. She just took every single chance to make him uncomfortable.
Cam and Ryber looked at each other across the table, seemingly not surprised at all that the conversation was taking that turn. Tanzi was too busy copying Ryber's homework to listen.
"Really! The teacher called on her and I knew the answer, so I might have possibly answered instead of her. I wanted to see her reaction but she was just glaring at me and I'm pretty sure I heard her friend say something about hiding a body." Merik realised that the story in its entirety made him look the slightest bit bad, but being perceived as rude was better than Kullen getting ideas.
"Can we blame them, though?" Stix asked. She just raised her hands in mock surrender when Ryber shot her a look. "I'm just saying."
"You did speak over her," Cam reasoned.
Ryber sighed. "That really was rude. No one likes people who do that."
Merik was willing to admit that it wasn't his best moment, but it was really not that big of a deal. Sure, his classmate might be pissed for a while, but that wasn't his problem. His only problem was Kullen, who was grinning at him from across the table.
"You could still like her. Maybe you inconvenienced her just so she would talk to you - that seems like the kind of 'I'm bad at admitting my feelings' thing you would do and call flirting if it succeeded," Kullen said, making Stix laugh.
Well, now Merik was offended. He did nothing to deserve the unjust treatment. Even Ryber was against him, and she rarely cared enough to pick a side. Merik needed to start hanging out with Tanzi; She never listened to him, which meant she couldn't mock him for every single thing like the traitors he once called friends.
Besides, Vivia insulting him 24/7 was enough. He didn't need his friends and his sister to have anything in common. He wasn't sure anyone except Kullen even knew he had a sister. Good.
Vivia preferred solitude, but Merik knew that if Ryber found out, she'd make him ask her to join them. That would likely result in either of the three catastrophes he'd rather avoid:
1. Vivia thinks he's making fun of her for eating alone and yells at him.
2. Very awkward lunches because Vivia yelled at him when he didn't tell her what time it was fast enough.
3. Vivia finds out about Kullen's theory and tells the girl.
The last one might have been a bit of a far stretch if it was anyone else. Vivia, however, wanted nothing more than to ruin her brother's life. The amount of love was mutual.
And, she was definitely the kind of person capable of figuring out someone's name and all social media usernames just from a vague description. Merik dreaded of the day Kullen and Vivia talked alone, without him there to filter his best friend. That would be a disaster. For him, that is. For Vivia, it would be a way to accomplish her mission in life.
"Ryber, control your boyfriend," Merik said.
Ryber just rolled her eyes, which Merik found rather rude. It wasn't like he was the one terrorising Kullen, it was the other way around!
"Look, it's not Ry's fault you were stupid enough to mention it to Kullen of all people," Stix said. Merik didn't know if that was supposed to be an insult to him or to Kullen.
"Mention what? I'm not in love with some girl whose name I don't even know!"
Stix sighed. "You don't have to be for Kullen to think you are. You should know that by now. He only sees what he wants to see." Cam nodded in agreement.
"Look, are you on my side or are you not?"
"I'm not necessarily on your side, I'm just not on Merik's." Kullen nodded, as if that was a completely reasonable answer.
Merik blamed his trust issues on his friend group, which consisted of Kullen, Cam, Stix, Ryber and occasionally Tanzi. All people who tolerated him but didn't dread to tell him when he did or said something stupid. Except Stix, but Merik doubted that she actually hated him. Either way, she, too, was never going to meet Vivia if Merik was to ask. He usually wasn't when it came to his sister and what she did, but he had to hope that Vivia wouldn't want to do anything with a friend of his.
"That's ridiculous. You hate me for no reason."
"Ridiculous? That's it, you've lost your Stix privileges. It's Stacia for you from now on." Merik fought the urge to tell her that what she just said was ridiculous as well. People lost their 'Stix privileges' at least three times a day.
Ryber rolled her eyes, silently listening to the exchange. She occasionally whispered something to Tanzi, who was still doing her homework.
"Thank you very much for doing as I said and controlling your boyfriend," Merik said. He was getting fed up of everyone being against him for a simple mistake.
"You're welcome," Ryber said, turning to help Tanzi read something. Even Ryber, who was usually the responsible one, was seemingly tired of him. Merik was starting to think he had done something wrong.
Kullen probably noticed that Merik wasn't fighting back, because he sighed and said: "Look, Merik, we're only making fun of you because you don't see that what you did was wrong. Just... Try to be nicer to the geography classmate."
It seemed nice enough, and, even though Merik hated to admit it, it was good advice. But Kullen wasn't done. "And then, when you're a couple, Stix and I will pretend we're your siblings and tell her made-up, embarrassing information."
Ryber took one look at the three of them and sighed. "That might not work."
"Cousins, then."
Ryber rolled her eyes. "That still won't work. Just say you're his friends."
"But no one ever takes the friends seriously!" Stix whined.
"No one should take the two of you seriously."
"Bold of you to assume they won't make all of us do it," Cam said.
"See? Cam gets it!"
Sometimes Merik really hated his friends.
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Read Chapter Two here
#the witchlands#the witchlands fanfiction#modern au#truthwitch#windwitch#sightwitch#bloodwitch#susan dennard#iseult det midenzi#aeduan#merik nihar#vivia nihar#stacia sotar#stix#cam#ryber fortiza#safiya fon hasstrel#kullen ikray#vaness#tanzi#leopold fon cartorra#leopold fon airport#caden#lev#zander#safi no#safi no chapter one
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Part four.
Sorry if this is sloppily written, It was really late when I wrote this and I was just all over the place at that time lol.
TW: Angst, nightmares, big fluff, the usual. LOTS of Sastiel content this time.
Sam had finally fallen asleep.
It was 3:11 a.m.
He had finally fallen asleep after staring at the clock on the wall as it ticked slowly, reminding him that he’s wasting all these seconds in life just to exist.
But as he did fall asleep, he also fell back into the sea of worries just waiting to drown him in his sorrows.
…
It was like fire coursing through his veins.
Sam finally made it to the surface, but now it was an ocean, and he was in the middle of it. There was a horrible storm overhead, and the waves tossed him and pushed him under and he choked, struggling to keep breathing.
There was no land for miles. Rain poured down hard and cold, and the clouds rumbled and flashed above him. Sam was pushed back under, the water filling his lungs but he wasn’t dying. He was in immense pain, and the water did nothing to help it.
He screamed for Dean, and then Cas. Then Jack. and then someone, anyone who could hear. He yelled until his voice went raw and hoarse, and he could yell no longer. He was enraged, he was terrified and he was exhausted.
Sam scrabbled at the waves desperately, clawing and flailing furiously. He tried so hard, but all it did was drag him down deeper.
He began to lose strength, and he began to freeze. He coughed and sputtered and cried out, but it was no use. He was in the middle of the ocean, stranded, freezing and dying.
He was dying.
Either it was hypothermia or his body began to shut down altogether, because he could feel his arms and legs going completely numb, and soon, he could not move his feet. Then his legs gave out.
He was staying above water only by his arms, which were losing the ability to function as well. Thunder rumbled above Sam like a freight train, and he knew it would be the last sound he heard before his final breath took over.
But not yet.
Sam was still fighting. His fingers were completely paralyzed, along with his legs and feet.
Soon, it reached all the way to his elbows, and he could not move at all.
But not yet!
Even as he was sinking, Sam held his breath and shut his eyes tight. He would make it until he could not possibly make it any longer.
Sam tried so hard, but he simply couldn’t hold it for as long as he’d liked.
But.. Now it was time.
Sam let himself breathe in, he let himself drown in the deep, dark water.
And as he slipped away into darkness, he watched the fish scatter away as he sunk. He heard nothing but the sound of thunder rumbling overhead. He felt his heart stop beating in his frozen chest, for one final time.
…
Sam jolted awake, his eyes streaming and burning. He breathed heavily and his throat was raw and dry, as if he’d been screaming all night.
He sat up, feeling dizzy and hot. He looked beside him, as if someone would be there, waiting for him. He sighed, closing his eyes.
It was just a dream, of course.
He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his face with his sleeve. He sat on the bed for a second longer before getting up for some water.
And as he poured it, he looked to the motel door.
A short walk wouldn’t hurt, right?
Sam took a sip of his water (hoping it wouldn’t go to his lungs instead, which it didn’t) and poured the rest out. He grabbed his coat, slipping it on over his black tee. He considered changing out of his long gray pajama pants, but then decided against it. He’d just be out for a little bit, who would be awake at this hour anyway?
He slid into his tennis shoes and grabbed the keycard, unlocking the door and creeping out. He shut it quietly behind him and wandered down the sidewalk.
Sam took a deep breath, no water included, and jammed his hands into his pockets. He sniffed; the air was cold when he breathed in. It was cold season, but Sam was sure he would be fine. His teeth chattered just a bit, but he didn’t mind, as long as he wasn’t drenched in ocean water. Or any kind of water, for that matter.
He looked up at the stars, and how they twinkled effortlessly.
I wish it were that easy. Lucky stars.
And as he watched the stars, he thought of Castiel. He smiled softly as he began to feel warm and fuzzy inside. His face grew red just thinking about him. Or maybe it was just the cold. Am I getting sick?
His mind began to wander as he wandered in reality, traveling endlessly through the maze of thoughts coming and going. But, even now, Sam’s mind was like a traffic jam. Sometimes he thought all at once, sometimes he didn’t think at all. And when he didn’t think at all, he made bad decisions.
In one lane, his thoughts and emotions were racing past. In the other, his other thoughts and emotions stayed stuck, because there had been an accident up ahead.
The accidents were his conflicts. Like when he was seeing Lucifer, all he could think about was Lucifer and when he would get out of this mess. Like you do in a traffic jam. All you think about is what’s happening up the road and if you’ll ever get out of it.
Sam kept walking, kept thinking. The world was quiet, listening. He felt weak and achy, and his hands were clammy and trembling. But he overlooked it. I’m not sick.
And once Sam reached a dead end, he turned around and began walking back.
He wondered what he’d do if Cas ever found out. About his feelings, that is. Dean knew, Jack sort of knew, hell, even Jody knew. And Sam knew he was being obvious. He just didn’t want to say anything.
Because the night Jess died, Sam promised her and himself that he would never fall in love again, for her sake.
As he rounded the corner back to the parking lot, Sam thought back to the night she died. The scene of her on the ceiling replayed in his mind, and he felt his breath hitch. He shivered.
Sam didn’t care if he looked like shit right now. He didn’t care that he sounded pathetic, and he didn’t care that he heard the sound of angel wings flapping behind him.
Wait, angel wings?
Sam turned around, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.
“Sam? What are you doing up this late?” Cas asked as he walked towards the Winchester. Sam stuttered a bit.
“I-I just.. Had another weird dream. Decided to take a walk, get some air.” he said, now caring a lot that he looked like shit. He fixed his hair behind his ear and blushed. “Sorry,” he laughed a little. Cas smiled softly.
“It’s alright, don’t apologize,” he said. Cas thought about telling Sam he was cute, but decided against it, because he knew it would make it awkward. But then he made a face.
Suddenly, Cas’ hands were on Sam’s cheeks, and he blushed.
“C-Cas, what are you-”
“You’re very hot, Sam.”
Sam flushed redder. “Uh, w-what?” he sputtered.
Cas blinked as he put his hands down. “Is that not the term?” he asked, but then realized what he had just said sounded like something else. Now, Castiel was blushing too. “Oh. I-I meant it as in temperature. My bad.”
Way to not make it awkward, Castiel. Great job.
Sam was still processing, but nodded. The angel thought for a second before speaking again. “We should go inside. You need some water, and you need to cool down,” he said, and grabbed Sam’s hand. They appeared in the kitchen area, and when they landed, Sam stumbled like earlier, feeling dizzy. He gripped Cas’ shoulder to steady himself.
The angel looked to the lamp on the table and switched it on, its light illuminating the room enough to where he could see, but was dim enough not to wake Dean and Jack.
“Can’t you just heal me?” Sam asked, sitting down as Cas poured him another cup of water and set it down in front of him. “No, I can only heal physical injuries, not fevers. Now drink your water,” he said, grabbing and dampening three paper towels.
I’m not sick, dammit!
Sam reluctantly did as told, and rolled his eyes as Castiel placed two on his wrists and one on his forehead. “That should reduce your temperature,” he said, taking a seat beside him. There was a long pause. Neither of them said a word, until Cas finally broke.
“Sam, you’re not alright,” he said. “Even Jack knows that.”
Sam looked at him, agitated. “Yes, I am, Cas. If this is about last night, I was drunk. I had no idea what I was saying,” he lied. “Just stop worrying about me. I’m fine, really-”
“No, you are not. You’re so stressed that you’re running a fever, Sam.”
“I’m not running a fever, you’re just overreacting,” Sam said, but immediately felt sorry. Castiel blinked. “Sorry,” the Winchester muttered.
There was silence, but then the angel said quietly, “You can’t lie to me, Sam.”
And Sam stared at the angel for a moment, a mix of emotions crossing his face. He wanted to tell Castiel everything, not just that he was stressed. He wanted to spill all of his thoughts and emotions right here, right now. But he couldn't. It would be too weird, and he didn’t want Cas to think he was a whiny sissy.
But as he thought this, Cas seemed to hear. He placed a hand softly onto Sam’s, as he did the other night, and looked him in the eye. Holy Chuck, Sam hated when he looked at him like that.
“Sammy, listen to me. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me how you feel. You need to vent at some point, it’s unhealthy for humans to keep to themselves too much.”
And at that point, Sammy broke down.
It started out as small tears, but then Castiel embraced him, and he began to sob quietly. He clung to the angel for dear life, apologizing and sniffling repeatedly. Castiel only shushed him, as if he was a child, petting his hair and whispering soft, reassuring words to him.
“I feel awful, Cas,” Sam breathed out. The angel only hugged him harder, feeling tears prick at the corners of his own eyes. “I know, I know. You’re okay, though. It will all be okay.”
“I-It’s so.. H-hard to keep this up,” he cried. Castiel nodded. “I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered.
This was not like Sam at all. This was a side of him that he never let show, only once to Dean, and that was when Jess died. He didn’t expect Sam to break so quickly around him, but Castiel sort of felt relieved knowing that. He hadn’t opened up properly in years, but he felt like he could trust Cas.
He knew he could trust Cas.
Once Sam had calmed down a bit, Castiel pulled away and looked into his red, puffy eyes again. They were glossy and sad, but there was a spark of relief somewhere in the hazel ocean.
Castiel wiped Sam’s tears away with his thumb, and Sam hiccuped. His hair was a mess, his face was red and his throat was scratchy. But Castiel didn’t care one bit.
“I’m s-so sorry, Cas, I-”
“It’s fine, Sam. It will dry,” he said, referring to his tear-soaked shoulder. The Winchester closed his eyes and leaned against Castiel, still sniffling and shaking. Cas held him, running his hand through Sam’s hair while he breathed.
“C-Cas?” Sam said hoarsely.
“Yes, Sam?”
“Can I ask you something?”
Castiel nodded.
“D-do you ever feel like.. Like you can’t breathe?” he asked, “L-like you’re drowning, but.. In your own fears?”
Castiel felt a pang in his grace. He was silent for a second.
“..Yes,” he started, “When I was in heaven, before I met all of you. I had so many responsibilities up there, and I felt stressed. It was very unlike an angel to be stressed about their duties, but I wasn’t created like the others.
“I was afraid of the other angels. I was afraid of how they would react when I told them that I felt that way,” he paused, taking a breath, “And so, I began to cause trouble.”
Sam looked down. “You were.. trying to get out of doing your job. Because you felt like you weren’t cut out for it,” he whispered. The angel nodded slowly.
There was silence for a while, and then Cas proceeded.
“Is that what you dreamt about on the way here? The drowning?”
Sam nodded reluctantly. “And before I went for a walk. The weird dream I said I had? It was worse. I went out so I could breathe.”
“You were drowning in water?”
“Yeah, the first dream was a lake. This one was an ocean, and the waves kept pushing me under. I-It was storming.”
“Oh,” Castiel said, but then Sam’s breath hitched again. He looked down, and there were tears forming in the Winchester’s eyes again. They were tired.
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to worry you-”
“Sam,” Cas said, pulling him closer, “It’s alright. Yes, I am worried, but it’s because I care about you. I love you, all of you. I’m supposed to worry.” he grabbed Sam’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Sam tried to squeeze back, but he was just too tired. He managed a small smile, though. A ‘thank you’.
Castiel felt the Winchester’s warm breath slow. He was still and quiet, but he sniffed from time to time.
The angel smiled, knowing Sam had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He fixed his hair, tucking it behind his ear, revealing his peaceful yet blotchy red face. He looked so weak at that moment, and it made Castiel’s grace shatter into pieces.
So, as carefully as he could, the angel took the paper towels off and disposed of them. His temperature had gone down a lot. He took Sam in his arms and carried him to the bed. He placed him down and fixed his hair one more time before leaning down and giving Sam a small peck on the temple.
He turned to go, but Sam still had a grip on his trench coat sleeve, and it didn’t look like he was letting go.
Cas smiled softly. Alright, then.
He climbed into the bed next to Sam, and he immediately felt warm and fuzzy inside.
Sam seemed to as well, for he smiled in his sleep and his grip loosened. He sighed in content as the angel held him close again. He felt safe, he felt loved.
He felt at home.
#AAAAaaaAAAaaa#Sastiel#sastiel fic#sam x castiel#castiel x sam#samstiel#castiel#sam winchester#sastiel angst#nightmares tw#part four#yaayy im exhausted#ahhh i love them#okay so#the next chapter/part/whatever will probably be delayed#i was going to post it by thursday#but now im not so sure when#because i think i milked my writing skills last night#aaand now i cant write for shit#so yeah#i might have it out by.. next tuesday? wednesday?#sometime next week#just be patient lol#i might post a couple of my tiny fics i make before school#including the sams sides#i think thats everything#im gonna go take a nap now#hope you enjoyed this part#im probably literally dying#oh yeah my sister has the flu so ive been shut up in my room all day trying not to catch it
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twisted // colby brock - chapter five
A/N: sorry this is bit late but HOLY SHIT DO THINGS CHANGE DURING THIS CHAPTER. I kinda love this chapter because you learn a lot in it. this story is so fun to write because your girl here loves a mystery. anyway lol let me know what you think of the story. I think I might start posting this story every week instead of every other week just because I KNOW after this chapter, yall will want the next one soon. I’ll see yall later ;)
description of the story
taglist: @absolute-randomness-forever , @far-to-many-bands , @itsmoony , @mellissalox
trigger warning: just overall creepy, cursing
word count: 1803
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Colby’s POV
“I can’t believe that mall was a bust.” Sam sighed, running a hang through his hair.
I nodded my head. “Yeah. I thought online people said there was no security. Maybe too many people kept breaking in.”
Sam smirked. “You mean people like us?”
“Ha ha,” I laughed sarcastically. “So, we still planning to leave tomorrow?”
“Yep. Once we get home and eat, we can pack up and be ready. Are we gonna tell Angel that we’re only going to a couple towns over to a different hotel until our plane leaves Tuesday?” He questioned, turning to me.
“I haven’t said anything to her, but I have a feeling she won’t mind. Ever since we filmed last night, I have this gut feeling something’s off about Smitty.” I shook my head, my eyes glaring at the road.
“I think you’re reading into him too much.” Sam disagreed.
“I mean think about it,” I glanced over at Sam, who’s eyes were on me still. “How did it just so happen he was able to come in just as we were hearing all the bangs? Isn’t that a little strange to you?”
“Yeah, I guess. But he’s harmless. If he was gonna do something to us, he would have done it by now.” Sam argued.
“I don’t know, Sam. Something isn’t right about him. That’s why we gotta leave and just stay somewhere else. Find another abandon place to explore and then get the fuck out of Washington on Tuesday.” I grunted.
“That’s the plan.” Sam paused, mumbling to himself as he looked out the window. “I didn’t know there was a cemetery in this town.”
I noticed. “Apparently…”
I gradually lowered the car’s speed, passing by the graveyard slowly. Most of the graves were kept up very well, the names being easy to see. Suddenly, we passed by one that made me abruptly stop the car and pull over.
“What’s wrong?” Sam yelled.
I jumped out of the car and ran over to the fence, hopping over it hastily. I could hear Sam following suit, calling out to me. I stopped at a grave, staring at it.
“Dude, what’s wrong? What are you looking at?” Sam turned his head to the headstone in front of us.
Agatha Smith
1969 – 1991
Loving Sister, Daughter, Friend
an angel has found its wings to go home
“Smitty had a sister?” I whispered.
“Who are you?”
We both turned around to see an old man with a shovel in his hand. He was wearing overalls and gardener gloves.
Sam cleared his throat. “Um, we’re… tourist. We’re here for the-”
“Smith Bed and Breakfast. I know, I know. There’s no other reason to come here really. What’s your names?” The man questioned, gazing at the both of us.
“I’m Sam and he’s Colby.” Sam introduced.
The man nodded. “I’m John. Who’s grave are you looking at?”
We moved to the side lightly, showing him. He stepped closer.
A smile almost came to his lips. “Aggie… she really was an angel in this here town.”
“What did she die of? Do you know?” I jumped in.
“I know everything about this town. I’ve lived here my whole life and have buried most of the people here, including her.” He hissed, stumbling slightly.
Sam and I glanced at each other. “How did she die?”
“She was killed in a car crash. Her father was in the car with her. He was the only one that survived.” John admitted, walking away from us.
“What happened to her father? Where is he?” Sam and I followed him.
“According to Smitty, a couple years after she died, he left. He couldn’t handle the grief of losing his daughter. He never returned. He would be about 86 right now, so God knows if he’s alive.” John informed.
“Can you tell us more about Smitty? And the town maybe?” I chimed in again.
John stopped abruptly. “What would you like to know?”
I needed to ask something simple. I didn’t want him getting angry and leaving us unanswered. “Why does Deb bring food to him all the time?”
“She loves him like a son. She was never able to have children of her own. And Aggie used to work at the diner when it first opened.” John chuckled, continuing. “From what I heard Aggie told Deb to watch over Smitty and make sure he was okay. Smitty doesn’t leave his property. Ever.”
“What’s Smitty’s real name?” Sam blurted out.
John paused, and then spoke. “I don’t think I know. He’s always gone by Smitty, even when he was a kid. The only person that called him by his real name was his sister. I think George would know it.”
“George?” We both asked.
“The Sheriff. He usually hangs out at the diner during his dinner break.” John motioned with his hand.
I remembered the police officer, lightly tapping Sam. “We saw him when we first came here. Why would he know it?”
“He used to date Aggie and was with her the night before she died. Afterwards, he shut himself off from the world, and never went back to that house. Didn’t even go to her funeral.” John muttered.
“Does he hate Smitty?” Sam questioned, his face full of worry.
John stared at us. No emotion on his face… almost like he was looking through us.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought Smitty was the reason for Aggie’s death.”
~ / / ~
After our conversation with John, we drove off, quickly pulling up to the looming Victorian house in the forest.
I turned off the car. “Dude. Before we go in, I need to be honest with you.”
“What is it?” Sam mumbled.
I exhaled. “I think we need to leave tonight.”
“Colby, I think you’re-” Sam started.
I cut him off. “I don’t care if I’m overreacting. All the shit John told us and you still don’t believe something’s off about Smitty?”
Sam sighed. “Maybe the reason why he’s so weird is because he lost his sister and father when he was young. That would make you act strange around people too.”
I groaned. “But think about it, Sam: John told us that Smitty never leaves the house. Where the fuck did he go last night when we filmed?”
“He said he went to the diner.” Sam uttered unsure.
“Like hell he did!” I exclaimed. “He stayed here, probably in the basement and fucked around with us. I mean, the Ouija board said the letter A was talking to us. Who do you think is that?”
“…Aggie.” He whispered.
“Exactly. Maybe we really talked to her spirit, who the fuck knows. But I don’t want to stay around to find out, that’s for fucking sure.” I hissed, my anxiety reaching its peak.
“Alright. We’ll leave tonight.” He agreed.
We exited the car and went into the house. I could hear rustling coming from the kitchen. We walked in to find Smitty heating up Deb’s stew.
“Oh, hey guys! How are you?” Smitty grinned.
“We’re good, Smitty. Um, we wanted to talk to you about us checking out. We actually have to leave tonight.” I stated.
His face dropped, a dramatic frown coming to his lips. “Oh no. Is something wrong?”
“Yeah. Uhm, family emergency back home. Sam’s girlfriend Kat broke her leg and we need to fly home tonight.” I lied.
Sam nodded his head. “Uh, yeah. She’s in a lot of pain and misses me-all of us, a lot.”
“That’s terrible. Well, I wish her a speedy recovery.” Smitty replied calmly.
“Thank you.” Sam muttered.
Smitty clapped his hands, smiling again. “Before you guys go, why don’t you have some dinner? Angel and I were gonna have some right before you came in.”
“I don’t think we should.” I spoke.
Smitty waved his hand at us, chuckling. “Oh relax. It’s gonna take an hour to get to the airport anyway, you might as well eat before you go.”
I held back my eye roll. “Alright. But we’ll have to eat fast.”
“Hey, no problems here.” Smitty shook his head.
Sam and I went and sat down. I pulled out my phone and texted Angel.
Colby: come down stairs and eat. we have a lot to tell you and we need to leave ASAP.
Smitty came out to the kitchen with two bowls and placed them in front of us. We nodded a ‘thank you’ at him.
“I’ll go upstairs and get Angel, let her know you guys are here.” He said, almost giddy.
Before I could tell him about my text, he left. I turned to Sam. “Does he seem a bit weirder than usual?”
“Yeah. He seems a little too happy. Maybe he knows something’s up.” Sam noted, his voice hushed.
I sighed, aggravated. “Fuck. Let’s just eat fast and go upstairs to pack.”
We sat there taking bites of the soup rapidly. A couple bites in, a bitter taste rose up in my mouth.
I held back a gag. “Does this taste funny to you?”
Sam shook his head. “No.”
I shrugged and ate a couple more bites. Smitty came back into the room, somehow still smiling.
“Angel said she’s just finishing up my book and she’ll be coming shortly.” He informed.
I nodded my head. Taking a couple more bites, I finally looked up at Sam. He was swaying back and forth ever so slightly, and his eyes were glazed over. He looked out of it.
Sam tried to focus his eyes on me as he talked. “I.. don’t feel sooo good. I think I’m gonn-”
Smitty caught Sam before he could fall out of his chair. “Woah there Sam. You okay? Why don’t I help you?”
“Sam? Are you alright?” I asked as Smitty pulled Sam from his chair.
“He’s fine. Just a bit…” Suddenly, Smitty let go of Sam, his body slamming onto the floor. “…tired.”
“Sam!” I jumped up, only to lose my balance. My legs felt like jello, almost completely numb. I crawled over to him. “Sam? Sam, what’s wrong?”
I stared down at Sam, turning him over with all of my strength. His eyes were shut tight. He was out cold. Everything around me started to slow down and blur, like I was plastered. I could barely keep my body upright. My energy was draining.
“Angel?! Angel…” I tried to yell out. My voice barely left my throat.
“She can’t hear you.” Smitty stated, his voice was dark.
“What the fuckk did you dooo?” I slurred up at Smitty. My eyes could barely stay open.
He smirked, turning his head to the side. He leaned down, “Don’t worry. Angel will be fine. I’ll take care of her.”
I felt my arms give out and my eyes roll back into my head, darkness overtaking me.
<< CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 6 >>
#sam and colby#colby brock#sam golbach#colby brock fanfic#colby brock fanfiction#colby brock x oc#colby brock story#colby brock fic#colby brock angst#twisted
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You've seen that video of that guy who just got his wisdom teeth out and he's like... crying that he's got a wife and a dog and a sister? I can just imagine Newt being loopy for whatever reason and just crying from the sheer joy of being married to Hermann and the Kaiju being defeated.
i have wanted a prompt like this for so long.....
“Will he be alright?” Hermann says.
The nurse--likely noting Hermann’s none-too-subtle fretting, the way he’s been twisting the head of his cane over and over in his hands--gives Hermann a polite smile and touches his shoulder. “Dr. Geiszler is completely fine,” he says. “The anesthesia will wear off in a few hours, and you can take him home at the end of the week.”
The end of the week. Five more days. Five more days without Newton; five more nights of Hermann alone in their bed, clutching Newton’s pillow, bundled up in Newton’s sweatshirts, and imagining his poor husband holed up in the hospital without proper meals and, more importantly, without Hermann by his side. Hermann pets Newton’s hair (tangled, and in need of a wash) back from his forehead gently. Newton does not stir. “Not any sooner?” Hermann says.
“The end of the week,” the nurse repeats firmly, and he leaves them be.
Hermann scoots his chair in closer to Newton’s side and reaches out and tucks Newton’s hand under his own. “I’ll take you home very soon,” he says, and rubs his thumb comfortingly over Newton’s knuckles (not that Newton can feel it). “You can pick out whatever you’d like for dinner. And watch whatever movie you’d like, too.” Hermann may, perhaps, be somewhat overreacting--Newton’s only had his appendix removed after all, he’s not dying, and it hasn’t even been a full day since Hermann drove him to the hospital in a frenzy--but he’s frankly of the opinion that he has every right to overreact. Or be melodramatic, as Newton might say. He misses Newton, damn it, and the staff refuses to let Hermann stay overnight.
This time, Newton stirs, blinking back to reality sleepily. “Hi?” he says. His voice is faint, and cracked with disuse, and his eyes are strangely dazed and unfocused, but he’s the loveliest sight Hermann’s seen all day.
“Oh, darling,” Hermann coos, slipping his hand up to cup Newton’s cheek and unable to stop himself from coddling his poor husband, “dear boy, how are you feeling?”
“Uh,” Newton says. “Fine, I think?” He turns his unsteady gaze on the rest of the room. “Shit, am I in the hospital?”
“Yes,” Hermann says. “Appendicitis.” He doesn’t say much more; he doubts Newton will remember waking up in the middle of the night and scaring Hermann half to death with his tears and sharp gasps of pain, but Hermann doesn’t exactly fancy reliving it. He brushes Newton’s hair back once more. “Do you hurt anywhere?”
“Nah,” Newton says. He squints at Hermann. “Do you know where my glasses are?” Hermann pulls them out of his front pocket--they forgot them last night in their mutual haste to get to the hospital, so Hermann went back for them today--and hands them over wordlessly. Newton slips them on. “Cool,” Newton says. He gives Hermann a very strange look. His eyes aren’t any less unfocused.
“Er, are you hungry?” Hermann says. “Thirsty?” He holds out the large plastic cup of water the nurse brought in earlier, curled pink straw and all (the sort of thing that would make Newton smile), but Newton does not take it.
“Nah,” Newton repeats. He shuts his eyes again, and Hermann assumes he’s gone back to sleep before he suddenly mumbles, “You’re really familiar.”
The nurse warned Hermann earlier that the after-effects of the anesthesia might make Newton a bit loopy, a bit forgetful (but all only temporary), so Hermann doesn’t descend into full-blown panic and start slamming the call button for the nurse as he might’ve otherwise. He forces a laugh instead. “I certainly hope I’m familiar.”
“What d’you mean?” Newton says. He cracks an eyelid, and then breaks into a wide smile. “Oh! You look like Hermann.”
“Hermann?”
“Hermann’s my penpal,” Newton says. “He’s great. Total dork. Love him. Can I have some water, actually?” Hermann nods, and hands Newton the cup; Newton sucks down half of it in one go. “And cute, too,” Newton adds.
“Me or your penpal?” Hermann says, struggling not to smile.
“Easy, tiger,” Newton slurs, and then, “‘S hot.” He starts to kick off his blanket, and Hermann stops him.
“No,” he scolds, and takes over dragging the blanket off Newton carefully himself. Once he’s folded it over itself neatly at the foot of the bed, he smooths a hand down Newton’s chest, over his rumpled hospital gown. “Don’t strain yourself, darling.”
Newton’s eyebrows jump. “Who’re you again?” he says.
Hermann leans in and brushes his lips over Newton’s temple. He may as well reveal the whole truth to Newton, now. “Hermann,” he says, “your husband.”
Several emotions cross Newton’s face at once. It’s fairly amusing. “Hermann?” he says. “Like--”
“Mm-hmm,” Hermann says. He squeezes Newton’s hand.
To his surprise, Newton’s eyes immediately well up with tears. “We’re married?” he says. “Wow. Holy shit.”
Hermann laughs, a bit bewildered. “Is that a bad thing?”
Newton shakes his head, crying harder. “What, uh, what about the kaiju?”
“Quite taken care of,” Hermann says.
Newton rubs at his eyes and sniffles. “That’s so great. Wow.” He pats at Hermann’s arm clumsily. “Can I kiss you?”
Hermann obliges, of course. After Newton gets his kiss--chaste and brief and gentle--he allows Hermann to tuck the blanket back around him. “Rest,” Hermann says, and gives him one last kiss for good measure. Newton’s eyelids flicker shut again. “Only a few more days and you’ll be home.” And Hermann won’t be alone in that great big bed anymore and clinging to Newton’s clothing like a toddler with its blanket.
“Home with my husband,” Newton says, slurring his words again. “Ha. Awesome.”
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Enjambment (chivalry au)
A/N: it’s the first not-main-story story!!!! wrote this while tryna figure out how to get from point a to point b, and it doesn’t really fit in with the story’s Flow, so it’s gonna be its own lil part! it’s also got a little bit more character building for the Playwright and the Artist, if anyone wanted that lm a o — they’re good bois, they’re just. really bad at being good bois.
also i kNOW chapter 11 came out like, last night, but ,. ., ., .. . ive had this sitting ready for literally a week ., ,. ,.. sorry for bombarding y’all with this au :’’D
WARNINGS: self-deprecation, self-hate, touch starved, threats, cursing/swearing, destruction of property, destruction of art (ewe)
Words: 2085
AO3 link to this story; AO3 link to chivalry’s main plot
MASTERPOST! <-- i dont think this story is understandable without reading the other parts, hence im plugging it so much ; v; i’m sorry y’all ilu <3
chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil
general tag: @jemthebookworm
hope you enjoy!! <3 <3 <3
The Playwright didn’t like admitting he was wrong. He often wasn’t. Having the position of an omniscient narrator meant he got to be right a lot, which was one of Roman’s favorite things.
But his argument with the Artist may not have been one of those “right” things. The Playwright leaned on the table, twirling a pencil absentmindedly as he contemplated. He wasn’t entirely wrong, no. The Artist had to keep in mind the safety of the other Sides. If anything happened to any of them, Thomas would be hurt, and Roman would riot. Every bit of him, except for…. The Playwright winced. On the other hand, this in-fighting was exactly what they should be countering. Sure, everyone disagreed and that was the purpose of this dismantling, but the Playwright was above these squabbles. Should be above them, figuratively, because in physical space, he very much was above them.
Apologizing would be the logical thing to do.
He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t enjoy entering the medieval town, didn’t like going deeper into the Imagination, but it seemed he would traverse there more often.
The sound of a paper flipping caught his attention. His eyes shot open as he looked around the room. No one was there.
But he’d definitely heard movement. The Playwright swallowed down his fear. “Hello?” he called out.
Nothing. None of the costumes had moved, none of the shoes or benches or any of his paperwork.
Wait, no, there was something. The Playwright moved a few scraps to the side and picked up an envelope. This hadn’t been there before.
Cordial invitation of Roman ‘Playwright’ Sanders to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.
The Playwright’s eyes widened. Oh, fuck.
He tore the envelope open and read its contents.
The Artist wept.
He ran his hand along the ruined canvas — ruined by his hand, torn open with his own knife and dirtied with his tears — and pressed it fast to his chest.
Why was he so mean? Why did it hurt so much, for his creations to be picked at like vultures and a carcass? Wasn’t that the point, wasn’t that how artists improved?
Ah, who was he kidding. He wasn’t a real artist at all. Just a name he’d selected when they first started this game.
The Artist was so wrapped up in his lamentations that he didn’t hear the soft sound of paper falling onto the floor beside him.
He shouted again, cradling the broken mess of canvas and wooden frames. All good artists got second opinions. No one was safe from criticism, and there was always room for improvement! He should know this, he DID know that, it was reasonable. But hearing it from the others always made him so anxious—
He sniffed, wiping his face with the paw of his sweatshirt. If he was falling apart this bad, it must mean he was losing this challenge thing. But thinking of anxiety and then, well, Anxiety, Virgil…. the Artist wished he’d gotten to meet the two, too. Like every other bit, he did love them.
The sound of debris being scattered, then a surprised yelp. The Artist sighed, curling up tighter. God fucking damnit.
“What—I’ve—Artist?!” the Playwright asked.
The Artist was sat against the wall, cradling a bundle of broken paintings to his chest, previously white sweater dirtied with layers upon layers of paint. All around him, every painting that has previously been neatly stacked in the room was torn to shreds. Broken pieces of wood and canvases halved were strewn around the room in piles, or one thick pile, with only a small circle of ground around the Artist. Sketchbooks were torn, even the drawing tablet was — okay, the Playwright wasn’t going to look at that and think of the physical monetary price, because none of this was real. Holy shit, the Artist had put a hole into the wall of his house. There was a hole? He’d punched a hole into the wall? Good heavens.
The Playwright, in an effort to not damage any of his art, accidentally appeared on top of one of the piles. He fell over, landing on his butt amongst the shreds, and looked around wildly.
“What happened?” he asked once he caught sight of the Artist’s frozen figure in the corner, still since he arrived, “Did Dragon—”
“They weren’t good enough, so I tore them up,” the Artist whispered into his own folded arms.
The Playwright’s brow pinched in worry. That had happened only a few times before, where a single work had been so terrible that the Artist ripped it to shreds in anger, but he’d never done….this. And he especially wouldn’t have done this, since he had numerous pieces he wanted to show the other Sides.
He drew in a breath as his mind filled in the gap.
“Oh, Artist, what did they say?” the Playwright whispered, pushing himself up and slowly making his way closer.
“Nothing. Get away.”
He grit his teeth. The Artist was going to be difficult, wasn’t he? Now, now, it wasn’t a good time to lose his temper. He came with a job to do, and he wasn’t cruel enough to leave the Artist to be upset alone. And he needed his help. This was purely logical.
He wanted to laugh. Being logical was so taxing; how did Logan do it all the time?
“Artist. I’m not leaving,” the Playwright sat in front of him, “I take it that Logic and Morality didn’t take well to your paintings?”
He glanced up at the Playwright, quick enough to now show an expression but slow enough that the Playwright caught a glimpse of his tearstained eyes.
“They–They said my art’s unfinished. Logic did.”
The Playwright frowned. “Wait. That’s it?”
The Artist curled up more, and the Playwright gently put a hand on his forearm. “Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it judgy. I just….that’s something you’ve complained about, too.”
To that, the Artist shot him a small glare. When the Playwright put it like that, then the Artist’s reaction seemed childish. “Yeah, but,” he sighed, “I didn’t want them to say anything about it.”
“Then why didn’t you warn them about it?” the Playwright asked, confused.
“Look, I don’t–I don’t know!” the Artist tossed the painting he was cradling aside and ran his hands through his hair, “It all happened so fast, and Padre was getting mad at me for not letting Child stay here. It—they both got upset at me, and they interrupted my painting, and Padre kept hugging me and it felt weird.”
The Playwright exhaled. He put a mental pin on the hugging thing — a similar thing had happened to him the other day, and he would have to talk to the others about what may be occurring — and then scooted closer again, sitting beside the Artist.
“Seeing as I wasn’t there, I cannot speak to what your argument may have been about. But I know that Logic and Morality wouldn’t have wanted to intentionally harm us.”
“How do you know, Pencil pusher?” the Artist hissed, though his words held an emptiness that betrayed his disbelief.
“Because they wouldn’t. They’re calloused, but they wouldn’t hurt us. Maybe Prince.”
The Artist snorted. “You really hate that guy.”
The Playwright smiled. Good. He cleared his throat and threw up his hands in the Prince’s signature style. “Hoo hoo, look at me, I’m a Disney Prince and I like singing songs and being an idiot!” he said, mockingly emphasizing a mispronunciation of “Disney.”
That got the Artist to laugh, shoving the Playwright gently. “Hey, hey, Disney’s cool! I’ll defend Disney to the death,” he rubbed the back of his neck.
The tension returned, but only slightly. The Playwright didn’t want to push him, but he was a little impatient for the Artist to pull himself together. His feet gently tapped against the ground in a small, familiar tune.
After what seemed like ages, the Artist let out a breath.
“....I did….overreact. A little,” he said. “The knife was too much.”
“A lot. Wait, did you say knife?”
“Yeah. I, um, I lost it a little.” He rubbed the back of his head again, looking up at the Playwright. “Thank you for sitting with me.”
The Playwright smiled. Wonderful. He patted the Artist’s arm comfortingly. “If I cannot comfort myself, then what am I doing?”
They both shared a small chuckle at that. It was easy to forget that they were two parts of a much more cohesive whole.
It was also easy to forget that the Playwright had something else he wanted to ask. He clapped, sitting upright and startling the Artist.
“Sorry,” he put his hands up, eyes blazing with new worry, “I actually came to ask something else — did you get invited to the party?”
The Artist’s brow furrowed. “The….party? No?”
“Oh, come, you must have,” the Playwright looked around.
The same envelope he’d received prior was sitting beside the Artist, on top of some of the ruined paintings. He picked it up and found two more envelopes beneath. “Great Ben Jonson, you got Logic and Morality’s invitations, too,” the Playwright flipped through the three cards and handed the one addressed to the Artist, to the Artist. “You must not have noticed it earlier. I got a letter similar, this morning. From Dragon.”
“From Dragon? Fuck, how’d he find us?” the Artist read the front and flipped it over again, tearing it open.
“I don’t know. Perhaps he just sent it to the location of whoever said Logic’s name last night. I also don’t know how he got backstage to deliver mine,” the Playwright read over his shoulder, “I honestly came here hoping to find the other Sides. We need to warn them.”
“We do? About what?” the Artist shot him a frown, but the Playwright just gestured to the paper, so he read the invitation.
His eyes scanned through it once. His body slowly tense as he realized what was being asked, and he flipped it over, checking all around the letter and the envelope that there wasn’t more.
“This,” the Artist reread the letter once more before lowering it and staring, stricken, at the Playwright, “This is a fucked up joke, right? Like, it’s gotta be a joke. Dragon’s Disney pranking us, without friends.”
“I don’t want to hazard that,” the Playwright stood up and motioned for the Artist to get up, “We need to find the others and warn them. If Logic and Morality’s invitations are here, then they must not know, and it’s a safe bet that if they don’t know, then Anxiety and Deceit don’t know, either.”
The Artist pushed himself up, rolling his sleeves up and wiping his face slowly. “He wouldn’t hurt them,” he mumbled. “Why’s he mentioning Prince, too?”
“I don’t know. And after what he did to Damsel?” The Artist rolled his eyes as the Playwright continued, “I don’t think Dragon would hesitate to hurt them, and he’s using the concept of Prince as bait.”
Goddamnit, he was probably right. The Artist rubbed his eyes and fixed his glasses. “Alright. I just,” God, he was hideous. “Should I change?”
The Playwright squinted. “Have you not left your house since this all started?”
“No,” the Artist looked at him like he was stupid, “Why would I?”
Alright. Alright, this was a predicament. The Playwright blew out a lot of air, eyebrows raising as he tried to figure out, in the most concise way, he could tell the Artist that he wanted to throttle him. His attire was absolutely not correct for the setting that they’d established, and he couldn’t fathom WHY the Artist wanted to parade around a medieval town looking like THAT.
No, you know what? It was fine. Sleep was walking around in a leather jacket, it’s FINE. Perhaps the Playwright was the only one who cared about the sanctity of the setting.
Meanwhile, the Artist looked around and waved his hand. The torn paintings all disappeared, leaving the room empty, looking larger than ever. The hole in the wall faded away, establishing itself as a solid wall once more. He looked down at his outfit and simply wiped it, the paint stains all disappearing as his hand passed over them, revealing a creamy-white color once more.
“That’s good enough,” the Playwright snapped, grabbing a fist of his shirt and tugging him forward, “Come on.”
#chivalry au#roman#roman sanders#ts roman#ts fanfic#sanders sides au#this is truly a sanders au lmasdlkghasldfkj#sanders sides#my fic#fic#now i get to do all the designs for the next part oh hell yes#i love designin fancy#its always s O FUN C ASLDKFHASLKDSHASLKDHASHLDKJSFF
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Fitting In - David Dobrik
Blurb- Rylee has been good friends with Zane for a while, but she’s never been around the vlog squad before. Rylee has been a bit hesitant about meeting everybody, mainly because she a huge fan and is really nervous about meeting them. After Zane’s constant begging, she finally gives in and go to hang out with everybody, no cameras this time though. Will she fall for a certain fluffy haired goofball?
A/N- This is my first fanfic so bare with me, I’ll get the hang of it. Enjoy!
Chapter One
“Come on, pleeeeeaaaassssseeeee? If I ask enough times you have to say yes. Please please pleeeeaaassseeeee?”
You rolled your eyes as Zane kept on about coming with him to meet his friends. It’s not that you don’t want to meet them, but they’re youtube stars, and you’re...well...not. You’re nervous. Zane is your best friend. He also happens to be a part of the vlog squad on youtube, a group of people that film with the one and only David Dobrik. Who wouldn’t be nervous about meeting them? Zane has been bugging you for the past three months, and you’re getting tired of it.
“They all want to meet you ‘cause I talk about you all the time! You’ll fit right in and it’ll be so much fun Rylee!” He’s giving me puppy dog eyes now. Seriously, I am done with this.
“Fine.”
“You can even be in the vlogs! And- wait. What?”
“I said fine. I’ll go with you and meet your friends.” I sighed. I knew I would give in eventually.
Zane jumped off the couch, “Seriously?! Hell yes baby get ready ‘cause we leavin’ right fucking now!” He runs off to his room and barges back into the room jingling his keys. I get up and trudge out to his car. At least he’ll shut up about it now. But fuck. I am so nervous. I may be friends with Zane but I’m a huge fan of everybody in the vlog squad.
“I’m gonna make a fool of myself tonight.” I said fidgeting with my fingers.
Zane laughed, “How? You’ll probably be the most put-together person there, honestly.”
“I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll find some way to embarrass myself.”
“I promise you can’t do anything worse than anybody else, Ry. You’ll be fine.”
*time skip to the house*
Zane and I finally pulled up to the house and wow. This place is amazing. We got out of the car and walked up to the door. I looked at Zane; he could tell I was nervous now.
He placed his hand on my shoulder, “You’re overreacting, as usual. Just be yourself. You’re awesome and they’re gonna love you. Chill Rylee.”
‘Yeah, chill Rylee.” I repeated in my head and took a deep breath. Zane opened the door and I followed him inside. Everybody was chilling in the living room: Jonah, Todd, Jeff, Natalie, Corrina, Erin, Carly, Heath, Jason, and David. They all look up as we enter the room. Heath gets up to hug me; we’re friends already as well.
“Holy shit you actually got her to come this time.” He laughs as he lets go of me and turns to face the group, “This is Rylee, Rylee, this is everybody.” Erin snorts, “That’s not a very in depth intro,” she gets up and gives me a small hug, “I’m Erin, its nice to meet you. Zane has told us a lot about you.”
“All good things I hope.” I chuckle. Todd and Jeff wave from their seats, “You’re really pretty.” Todd says nonchalantly. Zane grabs ahold of me, “Don’t even think about it. Either of you. Not. Happening.” I push him off of me and wave at the boys and the girls as well. David gets up from his chair, “Hi, I’m David.” he holds out his hand and I take it, “Rylee. Nice to finally meet you all.” He smiles before returning to his seat. I sit down between Zane and Heath. Everybody starts talking away, including me. It was actually easy to talk to everybody, and my nervousness soon faded away.
Zane puts his hands on my shoulders, “She’s making so much progress! I am so proud of her!” I scoffed, “It’s not like I wasn’t gonna talk to them. I was shy. I’m not anymore. Let it go moron.” Everybody laughed.
“Hey,” Carly started, “You seem pretty cool, but we only know what Zane has told us about you.”
“And honestly I’m sure that’s not accurate.” Corrina added.
David spoke up next, “Well, why don’t we play twenty questions? We could get to know you some more.”
A chorus of “yeah’s” filled the room. I shrugged, “Alright. What do ya wanna know?”
Jeff raised his hand, “Are you single?”
“Ain’t happening.” Heath and Zane stated. I rolled my eyes, “Yes, I’m single.”
“How old are you?” Carly asked.
“Just turned twenty-two this year.” I replied.
“What’s your favorite color?” Jonah piped up. Jason started laughing, “That’s the lamest question you could’ve asked are you kidding me?”
I shook my head, “Shut up Jason. Jonah, my favorite color is black.”
The night went on as twenty questions seemed to turn into my life story. Most of the questions have been very basic up until Todd asked how long I had been friends with Zane and Heath.
I thought for a moment, “Um, its been like, what, a year or so?” I looked at both of them, them nodding in agreement. “Yeah a little more than a year.” Heath added.
“How did you become friends with these idiots?” David asked; this being his first question to you since suggesting the game.
I laughed, “Well. We were at a club one night. I was with my friends and those two were there together. My friends and I were dancing and having fun, then these two knocked me and two of my friends down to the floor. Spilled their drinks all over us and everything. We were pretty pissed at first. Then-”
“At first? I would’ve been pissed the whole night AND kicked their asses. You’re telling me you forgave them right then and there?” Jeff interrupted.
“Don’t interrupt me and you’d know why we forgave them.” Todd laughed and hit Jeff on the shoulder as I continued my story.
“Anyways, I helped my friends get up and we turn to cuss these assholes out, and we see that one of their glasses shattered and both of them had really bad cuts on their hands. Bleeding really bad too, it was really gross.” I chuckled and went on, “Even though it was their fault, we felt bad, so we helped them into my friend’s car and went to my house to treat them in a more calm setting.”
David spoke up, “What? You guys were just like, ‘You’re bleeding! Here, you don’t know us but come in our car and we’ll help you!”
I shrugged, “I mean more or less, yeah.”
David shook his head and looked at Heath and Zane, “And you two just went with it? They could’ve been murderers!” He laughed.
Zane threw his hands up in defense, “Hey we were drunk and pretty girls were offering to take us home.” “Yeah,” Heath joined in, “Were we supposed to say no?” Everybody laughed.
“Okay, so now that we’ve established these two are way too trusting with strangers and Rylee is more than happy to welcome strangers from the club to her home, continue.” He gestures to me, shooting me a goofy grin.
Shaking my head I recount the rest of that night: patching the boys up, Zane breaking my coffee table, and both of them drunkenly passing out on my floor before my friends and I could even get their names.
“We reacquainted ourselves the next morning when everybody was sober. Cut to my friends and I realizing it was Zane and Heath and having a fangirl moment, before finally cussing them out for basically running us over at the club.”
Zane and Heath both wrap their arms around me, “And we’ve been friends with our knight in shining armor ever since!” Zane exclaimed.
The rest of the night went smoothly, Heath broke out the alcohol, so everybody started drinking. Well, everyone minus myself, David, and Erin. I eventually found some time to slip out of the house for some much needed fresh air. I shut the door behind me and put my back against the wall. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I’m having fun, but it was getting a little crazy in there. I moved to take a seat on the steps and looked up at the stars. Being out at night alone like this always calms me down. Its so peaceful and relaxing.
I heard the door open and close quietly behind me, but I didn’t look back to see who it was.
“Too bad I don’t have my camera with me, they’re getting crazy in there.”
I laughed. Even if I couldn’t tell by his voice I would definitely know by that sentence alone that its David.
He walked up and sat down next to me on the steps, “Why’d you come out here?”
“I was getting a bit overwhelmed in there. Just wanted a bit of alone time.” I looked over at him, leaning back on my hands.
He looked back at me, “Oh I’m sorry. I can leave if you want. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
I shook my head, “No David, you’re fine. I meant like I just wanted some peace and quiet. I take it that’s why you’re here?”
He ran a hand through his hair, laughing, “Yeah a little. I also noticed you were missing so I came to find you.”
“Why?” I mentally smacked myself. Why did I ask that? That’s so weird to ask oh my god Rylee what is wrong with you?
He tilted his head, “You’re our new guest and you went missing within the first two hours of meeting us. I was afraid we scared you off.” We both laughed at that.
I smiled, “Nah. It’ll take more than that to scare me off.”
“I do have a flamethrower.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Would that scare you?”
“If you were holding it? Probably.”
“Hey, I’m responsible.”
“You’re a rich twenty-two year old with a tesla, ferrari, and a flamethrower. Somehow that combination doesn’t scream ‘responsible’ to me. No offense.”
He laughed for a minute, “You might have a point.”
Things were quiet for a few minutes. It wasn’t awkward silence. It was comfortable. I liked it. Suddenly, David broke it, “So, what made you finally agree to come with Zane tonight?”
I thought for a moment, “Well, I honestly just got annoyed of him pestering me so much. It was really important to him for whatever reason. So I caved.”
He looked at me for a moment, as if trying to figure me out, “Why were you so against meeting us in the first place? We aren’t that bad, are we?” He let out a soft chuckle.
I shook my head, “No no, no. You guys are awesome. Amazing. I’ve been a fan forever.” I looked out towards the road, “I was just nervous is all. It’s weird when you’re not famous and meeting people who are. You think you are just gonna seem lame. And I’m for sure lame as hell, and you guys are so awesome and crazy and I just didn’t want to seem like Zane’s boring friend.”
He didn’t respond right away so I looked over at him. He was just looking at me.
“What?”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Excuse me?” I stood up and crossed my arms, looking down at him. He started laughing.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. But you aren’t boring, Rylee. You fit right in with us.”
I smiled. David is a bigger sweetheart than I anticipated him to be. He returned my smile and stood up, “We should probably head back inside. They’ll notice we’ve been missing for a while soon.” I nodded in agreement and walked back inside, joining the chaos and my new friends.
#david#david dobrik#david dobrik fanfiction#david dobrik fanfic#dave#vlog sqaud#views podcast#youtube#fanfic#fanfiction#imagine#imagines#one shots#david dobrik imagines#david dobrik one shot#vlog squad imagine#vlog squad imagines#vlog squad fanfic#david dobrik x reader
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CHAPTER WARNINGS: Grinding, foot play, exploring, cock worship.
=Chapter 9
Once they had regained the familiar surroundings of the bus and were making their way through local streets toward the highway - Interstate 55 South, as he had confirmed for them - Weiss felt more like she could relax. Of course, Yang was still on cloud nine from the restaurant, and reconnecting with Blake. But she couldn't keep herself from remarking on that situation.
"So," she said as she deposited her boots in her room. "You and Blake seemed to pick up right where you left off."
Sitting herself down to unzip her own, Yang could only sigh contentedly. It was true; she was far happier with her former friend now a current friend, and for having been able to unload all her inner thoughts to someone other than her client or her sister.
"Yeah." She grinned, kicking the boots off under the table. "I'm just so glad to have her back in my life, y’know?"
"I'm sure you are." Sitting primly in a seat somewhat close to her bodyguard, she crossed her legs and bobbed her calf up and down anxiously. Hopefully, the anxiety was baseless, but she had to make sure – and could tease her along the way. "You seemed a lot more comfortable hugging her than you did with whatever we were doing under the table."
At last, Yang was beginning to click on to what she was saying. With a quick glance toward the driver's cabin, solely to make sure the door for it was closed, she looked back over with a slight blush emerging. "Well, uh… yeah. Hugging a friend isn’t exactly grabbing her and running off to the bathroom for a quickie."
"You sure that's all it was? Hugging an old friend?" Weiss's glance looked casual, but clearly she was sizing Yang up – trying to tell how she was reacting. Seeing the blush in her cheeks at mentioning her teasing in the restaurant discouraged her from being more mean than was necessary.
"Why, someone getting jealous?" Even though she began to smirk when she looked back to the diva again, she saw that her expression was unchanged. She wasn't impressed. At all. Yang felt her confidence draining away once again as she hunched her shoulders. "C’mon, Weiss, we haven't seen each other for four whole years. Of course I was happy to see her again!"
"Well, you didn't have to hug her for so long." Even Weiss heard the petulance in her own voice that time; tossing her head, she sighed and said, "I'm glad you got back in contact. But it did make me wonder why you started the 'teasing war' right in front of her if you didn't want to keep it going."
"Y'really wanna know why I gave up so easy?" she asked, yet again double-checking the driver's door. Of course it wouldn't open within the space of a few seconds while they were barrelling down the interstate, but even so, this was now more than press coverage that was on the line. If the driver caught them discussing such things, there was nothing stopping him relaying it to Weiss's father – Yang's boss’s boss.
Once assured of their safety, she looked over again, an obvious redness to her cheeks. "Because I knew if I didn’t cut you off somehow, I wasn’t gonna be able to stand up to leave…"
That was the second time she had glanced toward the door to the driver's area. Lowering her voice, Weiss leaned in and said in a perfectly even tone, "You know, he can't walk right back here while he's driving the damn bus. But… we can lock the door if it'll make you more comfortable. I totally understand."
Yang laughed lightly at that comment. "It's not so much me mentioning it that's the problem, it's if he suspects we're fucking. Which, I know we're not, but locking the door isn't exactly gonna deflect a rumour, y'know?"
"That is true…" Her smile was lopsided, shy. Uncertain. "Do I really wake… him up that easily? I was just reacting to you grabbing my rear end, not trying to… to create a problem for you or anything."
Gradually, that confidence was beginning to come back. Even if she was obviously blushing. Pushing her chair up closer toward Weiss, she casually leaned in, resting her elbow on the table, head on her hand.
"I think you know how easy you wake him up, considering it only took what, two minutes of you on my lap?"
Pursing her lips, she turned a bit more toward Yang as she crossed her arms over her chest. An idea was coming to mind; a stupid one, but it was worth a shot. It would hurt so little if she turned out to be mistaken. "Really? It takes that little, does it?"
Then she raised the leg that was already crossed over the other until her toes were lightly brushing Yang's outer thigh. First steps; testing the waters.
Beginning to blush once more, Yang stared downward in mild shock at this developement. Said area of her leg was exposed, thanks to the shorts, so she felt the smoothness of her skin easily. Why was this feeling so good already? With a foot, of all things! Yang’s hands clasped the sides of the chair, as if bracing herself for what was to happen.
"Well… it depends who I'm with, too."
Seeing that it was actually working, Weiss smirked even more. "It being me makes that much difference?"
Slowly, her ankle raised over that thigh so her toes could tease the opposite one – on its inside. That easily, the first signs were showing; Yang's breath was starting to become shaky as she looked on, trying not to overreact. Unconsciously, she found her legs were also beginning to part, giving her more of an advantage, should she want to seize it.
As she felt the heat beginning to gather below, she swallowed, muttering under her breath, "It definitely does."
"This isn't as bad, though, is it?" Weiss asked as she continued to pet along the firm muscle, feeling soft, creamy flesh give so easily under her touch. "I mean, it's just my foot; nothing important."
But sure enough, as time progressed, it was starting to become more and more visible. And as one particular stroke upward went that bit further than the rest, Yang found herself beginning to shuffle her hips side to side. Although she was trying to make it less noticeable, it was having the opposite effect.
At long last, given that Weiss kept glancing at where she was petting to make sure she didn't accidentally scratch Yang or anything, she noticed the growing condition and raised an eyebrow at her. "Or… do you have a thing?"
“N-no, come on,” she laughed nervously, trying to play it cool. “Not me.”
“Somebody says otherwise,” Weiss purred, poking it very gently with her big toe. “Look how huge it’s getting.”
Tensing her grip in the chair, and curling her own toes against the rug, Yang was clearly trying to hold out for longer. But her temptress was simply too naturally adept! So much for taking this steady and playing safe. All she wanted to do was return the favour, take Weiss to the bedroom and show her what it was like to be teased… but that had to come on her own terms. Yang was playing it safe, allowing Weiss to call the shots on how far to go. After all, she was the virgin.
But that didn't mean she couldn't try and tempt her back. Perhaps one confession could start it. "This is only… semi…"
"Semi what?" Then she caught on, and her eyes went back to the shorts. "That's y-you at only, um… 'half-mast'?! Wow. I am impressed." Her cheeks pinkened slightly, even if they were nowhere near as red as Yang's. Then she licked her lips and pushed her foot over until it was just barely half an inch from the "semi" itself. "So… can I?"
This was the stage they were at last time: Weiss exploring. Sure, it was with her foot this time, but it was still the time when Yang managed to screw everything up by making assumptions. Not this time.
Parting her legs that bit further, she gave a small nod, half-closing her eyes and awaiting her fate.
So Weiss did something she had never expected to do in her life, whether it be for a man or for a special type of woman: pressed her sole gently against a budding erection. Even though it wasn't with her hand, which would have been a much better judge of sensation but also a lot more forward of her, she could still feel how rigid it was, appreciate the cylindrical shape of the shaft. Her toes curled gently against the tip, and though she couldn't feel any fine details she could at least figure out where it ended. Her heel pushed into the buoyant sack very slightly, but she made sure not to grind any harder; allegedly, it was highly sensitive and should not be injured.
The sound that followed was one Weiss had heard most clearly when she was last sat on Yang's lap, grinding against the erection without her knowledge: a low, ill-restrained moan. And this was just Weiss's foot grinding against her! By instinct, she found her hips beginning to move forward, grinding the foot against her ever-growing sex as it became even firmer. Already, she was able to feel herself getting close to full strength. It really wouldn't be long at all.
Weiss found herself gulping when she could literally feel the cock hardening, and could feel Yang thrusting against her. It was turning her on. Having her damn foot dry-humped was actually pushing her buttons, crazy as that was!
"You like that?" she breathed nervously. "Well… there's more where that came from." Then, hoping she wasn't making a mistake, she lifted her other leg and trapped Yang's near-hard anatomy between both feet, pressing in just enough to give her something to thrust against.
"Holy shit…" Yang managed to mutter. Once more came the moaning as more pressure was added, and Yang had to firmly plant her feet on the ground to begin to thrust back against the soft-yet-firm resistence. She didn't just like it. Against all odds, even though it was such an unexpected part of Weiss’s body, she loved it.
But such a love was only going to test their limits further. Even if it would be unintentional. She felt Weiss's toes curl on occasion with each thrust, and one such time, they managed to hook the top of her waistband. And alongside that, the pressure was moving the garment of her underwear against her. Finally, on one thrust when Weiss's toes pushed the band down that little bit, Yang's eyes suddenly snapped open wide when she felt something slip.
The very tip of 'him' had gotten loose.
Weiss noticed right around the time Yang did; she had been concentrating on the area so intently that she instantly noticed a small, reddish head peeking over the edge of the black waistband. They had both stopped their movements as it dawned on them what this meant: not everything was theoretical, or concealed, anymore.
"O-oh," Weiss finally breathed. "Well… there 'he' is."
Yang's hands left the sides of the chair, and went straight to cover her face instead. Along with the obvious arousal, she could only feel embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," she muttered, shuffling her hips again in some attempt to try and move her shorts back up.
"No, no," she breathed, touching the very tip with the same big toe she had poked her with before. "You're fine – it's… it's f-fine." Though she heard the nerves in her own voice, so she cleared her throat as she caressed down its entire length, most of it through the fabric. "Well… that is, I have been curious about seeing more…"
Although she didn't show her face, there was a quiet squeak when she felt her touching the head. Her own toes simply curled into the ground, somehow trying to blot out all the sensations that were all coming at once.
"N-no fair…"
Paying attention to every last involuntary reaction, Weiss finally lowered her feet and scooted forward until she was sitting right between Yang's knees, close but not too close. Her hands fell to laying gently on the tops of her bodyguard's thighs.
"Yang… are you sure you're okay with this? Because you're obviously turned on, but you also seem like you wanna throw up."
Finally, Yang was able to slow her breathing down, calming herself to a point when she could think. After all, that was extremely difficult when she had two teasing tootsies in her lap! When she was finally calm, she was able to uncover her face again, slowly looking up to the blue eyes that were gauging her reaction.
"I know… God, I'm sorry," she began, allowing one of her hands to fall on top of Weiss's, where she held it gently. "It's… been awhile for me. A-and it might seem weird, but you're the first woman I've done anything like this with while being… while being Yang."
"Oh… oh, that's right, you… didn't you say you've had a boyfriend before? Not before Blake, just before now." She was starting to ramble; into that, it was getting harder and harder for her to keep her eyes from drifting down to that tantalising little head. Even though she had never come into contact with one before, somehow it still called out to her. Made her want to test things.
"Yeah… a couple of flings here and there. Nothing major league." Just as it was becoming difficult for Yang to think, as well. Weiss was so close to her, and had been teasing so much. All she could think about was returning the favour. At least showing her something.
"Hey, Weiss?" she asked, finally gathering the bravery to ask. "What about you? You're making me feel this good… don't you want me to, I dunno… clear your pipes, too?"
"NO!"
That single word fell like a lead weight in the middle of the room. After she heard how firm it sounded, how loud and unyielding, Weiss cleared her throat and scooted forward, sliding the hand that wasn't under Yang's a little bit further up.
"Wh-what I mean is… I wasn't through with you yet. Wasn't through getting to know you."
"O-Oh." Although the idea of letting Weiss have her way was appealing, Yang couldn't help but feel sorry for Weiss. She really was nervous about all this, or still questioning. But either way, she was to keep to her unspoken rule, allowing Weiss to take charge. And with that in mind, she sat back fully in the chair. "You’re the boss, I guess. Just be gentle."
Almost as if she were in a dream, the pop star felt herself falling to her knees in front of Yang where she sat in the chair; it wasn't something she had ever expected. Even in her wildest, half-afraid daydreams that she had allowed herself to imagine - most of them involving Neptune, though she would never admit that - she had only pictured kissing, or lying next to someone on a bed. Not kneeling in front of someone with their most intimate anatomy inches from her face…
The thick, hot erection was just on the other side of Yang's black shorts, and the head of it was visible. She desired to touch, to tease, but she had gone for the goal too fast before; Yang had done the same a moment later. Both of them went too fast, and they regretted it. Now, she was determined to take things slow. Therefore, she simply gazed up at Yang from her new position below her, panting anxiously.
‘No way…’ It was all Yang could think to herself as Weiss positioned herself so closely. She knew exactly what was probably going to happen, considering the fact that Weiss's lips and the small escaping head were right on the same level.
Everything was moving so fast, and yet… it felt right. Crazy, but right. To gesture her approval, she nodded, half-closing her eyes as she watched each movement.
By the time Weiss leaned in, she was trembling, but she forced herself to keep going. There was no turning back now. Her lips pushed into the thickness through the shorts first; it was safer, easier. Yet even that made her feel like she was committing the highest form of sin. Her heart beat faster, everything between her hips was tingling- but she couldn't think about that. All she could think about was the warmth pressing up against her mouth, then up against the side of her face when she turned her head just slightly enough that her nose was to one side. Why did she like this? Why did she love the feeling of Yang's cock up against her face?
Right away, the bruiser’s violet eyes shot wide open again. Her petite client had her ways of surprising her, endlessly doing more to push herself beyond what Yang thought possible. Even if it was just a kiss, just resting her cheeks against fabric, it spoke volumes. A couple of days ago, she would have done no such thing.
"Mmm," Weiss heard herself moan against the presence, pushing her face from side to side slightly. Feeling it move. Even though she was still privately reeling at the fact that Yang actually had this in her pants, she was definitely less hesitant to come into contact with it now.
Which she showed a second later, when she slowly leaned up, kissing up its length until she was at the waistband. Then, steeling herself to weather the storm no matter how good or bad it turned out to be, she pressed her lips directly against the exposed pink head of the cock.
And Yang could only find her eyes completely falling shut. Unable to help herself, she quivered again the instant Weiss's lips touched the head. Even if it was for the briefest time, it was more than enough to coax another moan from her. One hand came to pet the top of Weiss's hair instead, softly stroking it as she made her movements on her.
The diva's body seized when she felt the hand on her head, but once it began to pet her she relaxed into it, closing her eyes for a moment. Why did that feel so good? No one really did that for her so it wasn't a sensation she was used to or anything.
Then she leaned in and kissed the head again. So salty and soft - and there was a strong aroma rising from the pliant surface that pleased her, even if she didn't quite understand why. A lot was confusing her today.
"Weiss…" she breathed ever so quietly, continuing to softly pet her hair as she kept kissing the most sensitive part of her sex. Was Weiss aware that was what it was as she kissed? It seemed like it from the attention she was giving.
Her spare hand went to her waistband. Although she made no effort to tug her shorts down just yet, she did toy with the idea. But would it make Weiss run a mile if she did?
When she pulled back from the kiss and saw Yang's hand on her waistband, she knew what she was thinking – and was thinking the same thing herself. Maybe she had run long enough. Hooking her own fingers on the other side, they began to slide them down together.
And then there it was. The majority of the shaft had freed itself from her underwear, which was now only covering the sensitive sack and the base. The thrusting against the feet had certainly brought it to its full length, along with all the kissing and teasing. Just as Weiss saw in their brief encounter, it was of a good size – average, she expected, since it didn’t seem particularly large or small. And it was aesthetically pleasing enough, as those things went. There was little wonder she didn't want to change her body if it was this beautiful.
All the while, the blush never moved from Yang’s face, nor did she open her eyes. There was a slight shame on her features, on herself for letting Weiss see her in this way. Would she decide she hated it? That she was a monstrosity, after all?
Weiss's fingers landed on its surface, testing the sensation and delighting in being able to do something like this with little-to-no judgement for her actions. It was so huge, so firm and strange! It wasn't as if she'd never seen one before, but the instances had usually been in a textbook, or her one annoying cousin who flashed her when they were small, just to see what she would do. This was her first in-person contact with an erect, adult phallus, and she was fascinated.
But when she looked up to ask Yang if she could do more, she saw the expression. The embarrassment, the self-awareness that she wasn't quite "normal" - and that she was exposed in front of someone she liked. A tiny pinprick of panic exploded in her chest, but she forced that down. She might not know how to handle a lot of things, but this was something for which she instinctively had a plan.
"It's so pretty," she breathed directly onto the skin of the cock, kissing the underside of the shaft this time.
This time, Yang tried to bite her lip in order to suppress the moan that came forth from her. Weiss had now kissed the shaft itself and the head. She somehow could guess where this was going, that Weiss was going to push her limits, kiss more of it. Maybe even take it into her mouth…
That was a sensation she couldn't even remember feeling. The only person in her dating history who had ever let their mouth be in contact with that part of her anatomy was Blake, and that was far before their break up. She barely knew what to even do in the situation, other than try and calm herself down. Which she did, slowly letting her legs ease apart further to give more access, forcing air into her lungs and letting it out gradually enough so that her extremities tingled.
The encouragement - bodily, if not with words - did surprise the anxious pop star quite a bit. Yang really seemed to like it when she touched it, and the kisses even more. She'd heard of a couple of things that a girl could do for a guy in this position… and even though Yang wasn't a guy, those were her best frame of reference. But what if they weren't true?
Only one way to find out. Very slowly, her fingers began to drift up and down the sides of the entire length, not pressing in terribly hard but testing the sensation for both of them.
Finally allowing her eyes to flutter open again was a mistake. Now she could see everything that was happening firsthand: Weiss's hand steadily moving up and down her length, the ripples of pleasure flowing through her body as she did so, and her gorgeous face a mere inch away. How did she figure this out so quickly?
"Hmmhh…" she moaned out through her nostrils, watching each and every movement Weiss made. She really was enjoying this more than she wanted to admit.
"That's… good?" she whispered softly as she began to make surer movements, feeling how hot the flesh was, how it seemed to grow yet more heated and rigid with her stroking. "Are… you sure? I've never done this before - well, obviously I haven't, I've never had a boyfriend. N-not that you're a boy! I didn't mean it like that!"
Yang grimaced. It was hard to think rationally with a hand around her cock, even if it wasn't pumping hard. But yet again came the comments to do with boys – exactly what she was scared to hear. Bringing a hand on top of hers to stop her pumping any further for a second, she fixed her with a level gaze.
"J-just, uh, please… don't compare me to boys. Okay?"
Before, Weiss had only winced when she heard her own words. Now she looked frightened, chagrined. Horrified. "I… I didn't mean… I was only talking about where I might have seen one before, or touched, and the only place I could have was…" Gulping, she kissed the back of Yang's hand, and hard. "I'm sorry. Yang, I- I really am."
Now she had regained her breath, she allowed herself to smile again, letting her thumb gently brush the top of Weiss's hand. "It's okay… not that big a deal. You’re doing fine." And then she leaned back again, pushing herself up against Weiss's hand. "But if you want more advice… it’s not gonna break. You can get a little… rougher. Add some pressure."
"More…" After thinking about that for an instant, letting her fear of having made a mistake fade a little at a time, she wrapped all of her fingers around it more tightly - as if she were grasping a microphone. "Like this?" Her hand dragged up and down it once, experimenting.
And instantly Yang was unwinding again, head lolling back. "Muuuuuch better…" She couldn't help it. By instinct, she found her hips pushing forwards into the hand, trying to push more of herself into Weiss's hand, seeking more friction. Biting her lip once again, she let out yet another satisfied moan upon feeling Weiss's hand pumping the shaft.
Both of Weiss's blue eyes went round as dinner plates at the sight before her; Yang was literally thrusting into her hand as if it were a bodily orifice to be entered! Was this what it would be like if they…
No, that thought couldn't be contemplated. Too far, too soon. Instead, she simply concentrated on stroking her new lover, finding a rhythm in which her hand could move so that it didn't feel awkward to either of them. It was two parts letting Yang do as she wished, and one part moving her hand very slightly in the opposite direction the cock was moving at that moment. Not exactly rocket science, but there was an art to their cooperation.
Once they got their rhythm, the rest fell into place easily. They found their harmony that was making Yang's pleasure build more and more, forcing out more moans from her mouth. When one particular thrust had her moan out a little too loudly, she had to quickly bring her hand back up to cover her mouth, taking a quick gaze over at the door to check once again. It didn't budge.
And after a few minutes of this movement, she had to fight the urge to close her legs back in, feeling the knotting in her stomach. "I-I…" She was trying to mutter, but it was too much. All of it was too much – and way too soon. Was she really about to burst?
The hand trailing up and down the inside of Yang's thigh halted, even if the other kept up its continual stroking. "Yeah, baby?" Weiss breathed, testing the sound of that term on her tongue. It seemed to fit the situation, even if it didn't sound entirely natural coming out of her mouth. "You okay? You like me doing this for you?"
"I'm… shit, I'm gonna….!"
But her words arrived too late. Only a few seconds later, Yang found herself bringing her legs back in, her body shuddering as she gasped rather loudly, arcing her back in pure pleasure. She’d never felt that good in her life.
Then came the more shameful aspect of her anatomy. In Weiss's hand, her length began to throb harshly, and the end expelled a hefty amount of sticky white seed – some of which landed back into Yang's stomach, some landing on Weiss's hand. A small amount fired upward so hard it landed on Weiss's cheek. An unfortunate consequence of Yang being unable to tell her in time.
"A-AH!" Weiss's head snapped back in complete and total surprise, but she managed to maintain her grip as Yang finished. Even though yes, she technically knew that this was the eventual result for pleasuring someone with such an organ, it wasn't a result she had personal experience with. And to have it shoot up at her face that way! Part of her was turned on by having seen it happen, but mostly, she was quite weirded out by this whole ordeal.
"Oh my GOD…" Coming down from her orgasm at last, Yang finally noticed where some of the seed hit, and knew it had hit Weiss in the face by her reaction.
“Oh no!” First thing was first, she grabbed a tissue from the nearby box, wiping off the top of her head before she could tuck it back into her underwear and her shorts, and then grabbed a couple more. One for her, one for Weiss. "I am so sorry!” she told her shyly, leaning forward to try and see where exactly it landed.
"No, it's… no. You're fine. That was… just what happens when you…" She wasn't moving, and was trembling like a leaf. "When you do what we just did. Um… out of curiosity, what exactly did we just do?"
"We… um…" Moving Weiss's hair out of the way so she could get to her cheek properly, she gently wiped away the white fluid with great care. She then moved on to the small amount that had landed on her hand. "You… got me off."
"I did?" Then a nervous smile started spreading across her face. "I did. Hey, that's a good thing, right? I got you off on the first try!"
"Shhh!" With the unused hand, she covered Weiss's mouth, yet again gazing toward the door. Even though the obvious red in her cheeks would give anything away easily, and her giddy smile that went along with it. "Yeah… you definitely choked my chicken, alright. That was… wow."
"And you… you got on my face," she added softly, brushing a hand over the spot where the blonde's essence had graced her moments ago. The hand trembled, as did her bottom lip. "Is it really horrible of me to say that… I didn't mind? Because I feel like that means I'm some kind of kinky freak, but seriously, it wasn't bad or gross at all, and… and I…"
"It's not that weird." Grasping one more tissue, she wiped away the last bit of seed from her stomach, soon tossing all three into the small bin by the door. Then as she tucked herself away again, she whispered, "But you… what?"
"It was kinda hot!" After blurting out the truth, she buried her face in her hands and fell onto her side, blushing furiously. "Don't look at me!"
It wasn't at all the response she expected. Since her transition, she was used to people cringing at the thought, or even looking away while it happened. This was the first time anyone actually described what happened as appealing. "Really? Hot?!"
"Yes," Weiss sighed, still hiding her face. "And I'm still kind of offended that it happened, because it seems so… degrading, in a way. But thinking about the proof of you getting off being right there on my face… I don't know! It's weird, right? Really weird - I'm certifiably bonkers!"
"It's actually… flattering." Now Yang was looking away, trying to hide the obvious shame in her face. Someone like her, a girl with a penis, surely shouldn't find this such a good thing to hear. "You wanna hear something weird?" she asked, managing to just look back. "You're actually the first person to do that since Blake…"
That prompted Weiss to look up from her position on the floor – and she saw Yang averting her eyes. "Really? Oh… I guess when you were dating guys, they wouldn't want to do that, huh?" Then she sat up slightly, legs still out to one side. "Did, um… okay, again I'm really sorry about terminology and such. But did they, like, actually get your dick off? Or did they just get off themselves and leave you high and dry?"
Yang tucked the few stray strands of hair behind her ear, then began scratching the back of her head nervously. "Sometimes I would go to town on myself. Y'know, while we were screwing… but on the times I didn't, they'd leave me to finish myself. Which is kinda rude, I know. Some guys are just jerks."
"Probably made them feel gay," Weiss sighed in disgust at the thought of them. "Which isn't really fair, since it's just… you know, a thing. Which is not who you are. And how dare they finish and not help you finish, that's just too unfair!"
Yang could only roll her eyes, smiling at how cute Weiss’s indignation was. "Life's unfair sometimes. That's why I try not to be the unfair one. Speaking of which…"
Getting out of her chair, Yang sat herself down by Weiss's side. Making sure to look into the orbs of blue, she rested one of her hands on top of Weiss's thigh, slowly running it up and down. Maybe she wasn't ready for anything direct, but she could at least try little things to test her feeling.
"Oh," Weiss breathed nervously as Yang began petting her. "It's… you said 'unfair', and now - OH." Her face was as red as it had been when she admitted she didn't hate the feeling of Yang's juices on her face. "W-well, if- well."
"You can tell me to stop, at any time," she reassured, continuing the gradual movements up and down her thigh, letting her other hand rest on the opposite one to mirror the motions. She never once shifted her gaze. "And I won't go any further until you give me the green light. All you, boss."
However, though this reassurance didn't scare her off, it did seem to make her blush worse. The tingling that had started during her servicing of Yang's flesh redoubled, and she slowly clenched her thighs together, even though she didn't stop Yang from caressing her skin.
Gradually, Yang's hands were drifting to her inner thighs instead, brushing back and forth over the soft flesh. She hoped it would get her used to what was to come, that she would be curious to what more would feel like. To test it even more, one particular stroke was starting to push her skirt upward a little.
"Is this okay?" she whispered.
Licking her lips, Weiss glanced down at Yang's hands briefly, then shut her eyes again. She was shaking so badly, but she knew she didn't hate the feeling of Yang teasing her. In fact, it was fantastic! But it also frightened her, even if she wasn't frightened of Yang specifically.
"I… I think…"
With that slight encouragement, Yang brushed her hand even further up, gently pushing her skirt upward even more to stroke the top of her inner thighs. She didn't turn her eyes that way yet, assuming it would only scare Weiss if she did. But she never stopped. If anything, she wanted to add more.
"Do you want to kiss me?" she asked, thinking it would help ease her nerves.
"I think I… I really need…" Swallowing, she took a few quick, shallow breaths before squeezing her eyes shut and squeaking, "I th-think I need to use the restroom!"
Then poor, inexperienced Weiss Schnee was up and tearing through the bus, slamming the door to the lavatory closed behind her.
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Just For The Night
Prompt 15 of the Sumigakure 2017 Event
Pairings: hints of Tobirama/Kagami
Rating: T for language
Summary: Kagami decides to backpack across Fire Country after completing his degree. It’s definitely an eye-opening experience.
Kagami hitched his backpack higher and glanced nervously between the eerie hostel in the middle of nowhere and the directions Torifu wrote in his near illegible scrawl. Why, oh why, did he wait so long for the next leg of his journey? It’s so creepy here at night and he’s pretty sure something crawled out of the swamp behind him.
Backpacking across Fire Country is looking to be my worst decision yet, Kagami thought, shivering. He squeaked when something large squelched behind him and darted for the door, frantically jiggling the handle and throwing himself through. He sagged against the door, heart pounding.
I should have listen to Danzo and his stupid statistics! he wailed internally. Not that he ever listened to Danzo when he started another paranoid rant about various death and grievous bodily harm statistics but the point remains—
“Are you alright?” A smooth voice cut across his internal panic.
Kagami looked over at the check-in desk and promptly lost whatever he was about to say, whatever panic he was previously feeling, and his heart for good measure.
Leaning— no, lounging on the desk was the hottest man Kagami had ever seen. Just, the hottest, okay? Hotter than Fire Country’s annual forest fires, even.
He was tall, evident even though he was bent over. White hair— hair like starlight, Kagami thought dreamily, with eyes like heart’s blood and tattoos like streaks of passion. And he smirked like he was somehow aware that Kagami’s besotted inner English Major nerd was waxing lyrical about him.
“Are you alright?” Angel From The Heavens Bedecked In Black asked again.
Kagami closed his mouth and, well, he intended to walk gracefully to the desk but just kind of…shambled over instead. Somehow, all the feeling had left his legs. And his arms. And the rest of his body too. He transcended the material plane from hotness overload.
“Uh,” He coughed awkwardly, voice embarrassingly high at first, “yes?”
Angel From The Heavens Bedecked In Black quirked a brow in amusement, twirling a pen in those long, elegant fingers that gave Kagami thoughts. “Are you asking me, or telling me?”
“Yes?” Kagami said, before flushing and saying more decisively, “Yes. I’m— I’m alright.”
“Excellent,” he said, and that smile was all pearly teeth. Kagami hastily suppressed a whimper. “Are you checking in? It’s a bit busy tonight but we do have some rooms available.” He leaned forward and his smile turned conspiratory. “I’ve been told our accommodations are to die for.”
Oh gods. A hot man was smirking at him like they were sharing secrets. Be cool Kagami, be cool.
“Uh, single bed. Overnight. Please?” Kagami managed. What are words? What are sentences? What is coherency in the face of perfection? Oh gods, he’s an English Major with a fancy degree and everything! He should be better than this!
“Name?” Those elegant fingers stop twirling their pen and come to rest on a ledger. There was a bit of brown ink spotting the corner it seems.
“Uchiha Kagami.” This was easy, he could do this, the routine of checking into hostels and motels was one he had down pat by now.
Angel Bedecked In Black hummed appreciatively, like it wasn’t destroying the structural integrity of Kagami’s knees. “It means reflection, right?” He looked up from the ledger through his lashes. “It suits you. You have very expressive eyes.”
Kagami could hear the last of his dignity wail its deathcry in the distance, and he didn’t care at all. He was too busy trying to swoon discreetly. Angel Bedecked In Black was hot and smart!
“I’m Tobirama,” the Angel introduced himself, “it’s nice to meet you.”
“N-nice to meet you too!” Kagami stuttered, “I like your name too!”
Oh hell, what did he just say. Oh hell, Tobirama was looking curious. Better commit, Kagami thought in despair, why did I do this to myself?
“It means the space between two doors, yeah?” Kagami drew on every inch of his fancy English degree for the bit of bullshit he was about to say. “It, um, it speaks of possibilities?” He winced at his own lame comment.
Instead of losing all interest, Tobirama looked intrigued.
“I’ve never thought of it that way before,” he said, shifting his weight onto his elbows, his chin on his knuckles, and peered at Kagami like he was something fascinating and unknown.
Kagami willed himself to stay cool.
It was all for naught when the front door opened and he jumped like a startled cat. He turned in reflex and squeaked in alarm as something big, blue, and gilled trudged into the lobby trailing pondweed.
Tobirama tsked irritably, “Really, Kisame? I just mopped these floors.”
“Sorry, Senju, was running a little late,” Kisame shrugged cheerfully. “‘Sides, I think it lends a certain aesthetic, you know?”
As the two fell to bickering Kagami was distracted as, unbidden, the image of Tobirama with a mop rose in his mind. Those elegant, strong hands firmly wrapped around the handle, shoulders flexing under that thin, black turtleneck, maybe even the sleeves rolled up to his elbows?
He squeaked again as a blue, gilled face suddenly loomed right in front of him, dispelling his happy fantasy.
“Hey, a newbie!” Big and blue— Kisame? — grinned and holy hell, those were sharp teeth! “Sorry about startling you out there, I guess it is kind of dark out,” He scratched his cheek sheepishly, looking so genuinely contrite Kagami automatically reached out to pat his shoulder before his brain caught up.
“It’s okay!” Kagami smiled weakly. “I might have overreacted anyway.”
“Nah, you should always treat suspicious things in the dark like threats to your life,” Kisame gave him a thumbs up and changed the subject while he was still gaping. “Hey, this cranky ass isn’t giving you a hard time is he?”
“I am perfectly capable of being civil, Kisame,” Tobirama growled, and wow, Kagami had no idea you could feel sounds with your spine before. This night was turning out to be very educational. “I’m running a successful hostel in case you missed it.”
“From lack of competition maybe!” Kisame laughed. “Certainly not your customer service, crankybutt!”
Tobirama narrowed his eyes, and at this point Kagami felt like he really needed to intervene before his Angel Bedecked In black became his Demon Bedecked In Black. He’s not sure that would be a deterrent actually.
“Tobirama’s been really nice to me, actually,” Kagami hastily interjected, “but, um, thanks for making sure I’m okay? Again, I mean.”
“Oho! Has he really?” Kisame looked disproportionately delighted at this information, Kagami felt. Then Kisame rocked back on his heels, still grinning, “I’m just gonna…leave you to your cutie then. Hope you survive the night, kid!”
“I’m twenty-three!” Kagami spluttered. Curse his babyface! And curse everyone who pointed it out. He sulked.
Kisame just winked at him and sauntered down the hall, whistling cheerfully.
“Ignore him, Kagami,” Tobirama patted his arm and his mind immediately blanked. “Kisame has a strange sense of humor.”
“Um, okay?” Kagami said helplessly, watching as Tobirama opened a drawer and pulled out a room key.
“Come on,” Tobirama said, laying a hand on the small of Kagami’s back. “Your room’s over here, just past the lounge.”
There was something strange about these hallways, Kagami noticed, faintly, under the hyperfocus on the hand on his spine, something strange that ate sound. He noticed this because the short hallway leading from the lobby to lounge— and how was this place even big enough for a lounge? It looked so tiny outside —was completely, creepily quiet while the lounge was raucous and loud as several people argued at the top of their lungs and someone was either slamming on a piano or something large and eldritch was moaning in pain.
Luckily for Kagami’s sanity it turned out to be a piano. Unluckily for Kagami’s sanity it was a fucking grim reaper doing it.
“Get away from that fucking piano, Hidan, my ears are bleeding! You’re paying to have them replaced you little shit!” A tall— man? —a tall man covered in stitches roared at the furious skeleton throwing a tantrum on the piano.
“SHUT IT, BITCH! YOUR SCIENCE-BORN ASS IS BLASPHEMY IN THE FACE OF JASHIN!” Hidan screeched, somehow, even though by all rights he shouldn’t even have vocal cords.
“You’re blasphemy in face of silence, un! Shut the fuck up!”
Was that…? Yes, it was. There was indeed a pretty, blonde someone huddled in the chandelier like their life depended on it.
Tobirama ushered Kagami to his other side and banged on the door until he had their attention. “There are other guests in the building, show some common courtesy and keep it down!” He hissed.
“Why don’t you tell it to him!” The tall, stitched man pointed at the cackling skeleton angrily.
“You were all making a racket, Kakuzu,” Tobirama said levelly. “Deidara, get off the chandelier, you’re going to get clay in the joints again.”
Hidan threw his scythe at Tobirama who didn’t even flinch when in buried itself in the doorway. Kagami yelped and ducked, then furiously tried to pretend he hadn’t
“Lord Jashin’s going to fuck you up in the afterlife, Senju!” He cackled.
“I wish him luck getting me there,” Tobirama sniffed.
Deidara flopped onto the ground, bending in ways that were distinctly inhuman before straightening up, “Hey, is that a newbie, un?”
“Uh, hi?” Kagami waved weakly over Tobirama’s shoulder.
Deidara grinned widely, and perhaps a bit manically. “We didn’t scare you off, did we?”
“No?” Kagami said uncertainly, glancing at Tobirama for comfort. He was in dire need of comfort because he’d left his happy zone in the last town he visited.
“That’s the spirit!” Deidara gave him victory salute, “Or, heh, the necromancer, rather,” he said with a sly glance in Tobirama’s direction.
Tobirama’s expression went flat.
“Kakuzu, control these idiots,” He ordered and Kakuzu immediately bristled.
“Like hell! I don’t have to listen to you!” He snarled.
Tobirama closed the lounge door with a ‘hmph!’ Yet more angry screaming was heard inside but it was muffled now.
“Does he really have to listen to you?” Kagami asked, edging a bit closer.
“Of course, he’s my cousin,” Tobirama said, instantly shifting from annoyed to soothing. “Parts of him,” he muttered, but that was just Kagami’s imagination, right? Right.
“Ah, here we are,” Tobirama directed them to an innocuous door right across and slightly down the hall from the lounge just like he said. An innocuous door that led to an innocuous room with an innocuous bed. Kagami’s knees went weak for reasons other than Tobirama.
“Thanks for escorting me, Tobirama,” Kagami turned to smile at him, “I’d have hated to get lost.”
Tobirama smiled back. “It was no hardship. I didn’t want the other guests to give you any trouble. Some of them are more unruly than others.”
Kagami chuckled weakly, “Oh, no worries. If anything happens I’ll just scream.”
“Not quite how I envisioned you screaming for me but I suppose needs must,” Tobirama tugged on a frozen Kagami’s curls with a teasing smirk. “I’ll see you in the morning Kagami.”
Kagami stared at the closed door, trying not to hyperventilate. This hostel, it was all too much for him. He scrambled for his phone and frantically dialled a familiar number.
“Shisui! Shisui, you will not believe this! I just met the hottest guy!”
Backpacking across Fire Country is looking to be his best decision yet.
#sumigakure#pandafleur#sumigakure halloween event 2017: prompt 15#Sumigakure Halloween Event 2017#rank: b#rated: t#submission
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Gathered Pages: 1
I didn’t expect the arc to end here. The next post will be a smaller post detaling my thoughts of this chapter, and theories for future chapters. I’ll tag interlude with “gathered pages” and then also another tag with “gathered pages #”. Hopefully thats an intuitive organization.
These words are my own for me alone and nothing I write here is meant to be binding.
Dear Diary
I am supposed to start with dear diary but daddy is very strict about what I say and how.
So who could this be? Honestly my money is on granny. We don’t know any other female characters that are important. Or male, to be fair. Everyone is still on the periphery.
I was very very very careful when I asked daddy if it would be a bad whupping or a regular whupping and he asked me if I remembered when I got whupped and peed pink.
D: Poor girl/granny if it is granny.
I bunched up into a ball and I shouted what daddy told me to shout if anyone every hurts me and I do not think I can get away. WITH THIS BLOOD SHED I PAY YOU FURFUR. EXACT MY REVENGE.
Holy shit. At that point this chick was probably like 7. I feel bad for her but this is a hilarious image. Is she awakened yet? Or will things like this workd even while awakened. She seems young to be awakened.
There was a knock on the door and then Pearl’s Mama came inside dressed in her sunday best. Daddy made tea and gave Pearl’s mama a cup and gave me a cup and made a cup for himself and they talked about everything except me and Pearl. He looked and sounded danjerous and so did she but in a diferent way.
So 2 different families that are feuding, and now Pearl attacked directly, and now they are negotiating so it doesn’t turn into open war.
Then Pearl’s mama asked about hair and he reached into his pocket and he pulled out all this blond hair tied into a knot in the middle and he put it over his knee.
And I guess the hair was a way to hurt Pearl and now that they have an agreement he gives it back as a sign of goodwill.
Even though Pearl and her family hit me with sticks I felt really bad because Pearl always loved her long hair. Even when braided it was long enough to touch her bottom. She won’t even look at me now and she acts scared.
GOOD.
It was only after that was over that daddy whupped me. It was almost as bad as being hit with the sticks because I was already sore. I peed pink after.
BAD.
After the bad dreams went away, I went back to sleeping in my own bed. Daddy had me pick a special object to me and sit naked in a circle while I read from a book.
Dang so I guess you can do this fairly early.
My mommy is away buying a book and she has been gone since winter and she should have come back by now.
I guess its a very powerful and dangerous book. Maybe she is actually getting research to write it?
I am going to go give my dad a hug now for letting me write this diary and then I am going to go talk to tricky things.
Yours,
Rose Thorburn
HA FUCKING CALLED IT. Also be careful young Rose...
Arsepint lives up to his name. The dirty rotten bastard.
Ha. Arse. Also I told you to be careful.
I told daddy, but he didn’t seem to understand. He gave me a pat on the head and told me to go read some more, so I would know good ways to use Arsepint.
Victoriasly yours,
I don’t think it was easy it took you three months. Also she is still very young wow and already capturing demons.
I wonder what a “good” way to use him is... probably not good.
Of course it was a ruse. I’ve been so on guard against trickster spirits and goblins, I’ve forgotten to keep my guard up around other humans. The book was taken, then turned over to the head office in quick order when the taker found out what it was.
Guess we will never know how she used Arsepint. Also oh no witchcraft in a religious school this will not go well.
If they trace this back to me and come to see me as the source of this great disappointment and a stain on their pride, the hate might be even greater than what the inquisitors might direct at me.
Above all else, I fret about my mother. She spends so much time and effort collecting her books, I worry about what might happen if I lose one.
So are inquisitors there to ensure humans don’t find out about magic? I wonder what they can do. And her mother is still alive at this point, collecting her books. Granny did have an impressive library.
I did not expect what I saw. They were doing things that proper boys and girls shouldn’t do until marriage. Herb with one of Minnie’s friends and Minnie with one of Herb’s friends, and another two friends pairing up nearby.
Me neither granny. Also you aren’t very proper either .
The Lord of Montreal reached out to me last night, communicating through my dreams. He has heard whisperings, as Lords do, and now I have a greater merchant spirit turned mortal turned god breathing down my neck. He would like for the book to be found, and will forgive me my error if I retrieve the book and ensure the ones who took it don’t pursue such things in the future.
What the fuck. What is in this book.
The police seem to think Herb and his friends as responsible. I was confused at first, but now I think it makes a kind of sense. Boys, a fraction too young to go to war. They intruded on a girl’s school, and they make for ready suspects when Minnie is hollowed out, left with only a vacant stare, unresponsive and unmoving but for the monotonous rocking of her body. Her body was untouched, but that doesn’t count for enough.
Thats awful. Dammit Rose now you are guilty of this and your Lord of Montreal is unhappy.
I expected the usual sort of punishment from my father.
I did not expect my mother, returned from a year-long trip, to meet me in front of the house.
Her first question was after my welfare. I told her I was well, but that the police might reach out to ask more questions, and that I might be asked to Montreal to attend court.
Her second question was about the Lord of Montreal. I assured her I left things on good terms.
Oh well that last bit is good but... everything is ominous.
I told him the truth. That I was given the responsibility too soon. Other families don’t let children have powers. I’m sixteen, but I’ve had powers for almost half of my life.
And then I swore. I swore I wouldn’t ever make my children go through this. I would let them lead lives untouched by all of this.
I mean true but oh no. You swore so now you couldn't tell your heirs anything about this you had to outlive them and give it to your grandchildren ugh. That is why. Glad that mystery is cleared up.
He teased me, a working of spirits to bring raindrops down from leaves overhead, and I retaliated by throwing down the clay doll I keep Arsepint inside, giving an order to attack. Something of an overreaction.
Oh so that is what she did. Pretty sweet deal for her. But yes overreaction for sure.
I had to order Arsepint away before he could kill my oldest servant, and Aimon closed the distance, and pressed the gun to my head. I spat in his face, he grabbed me by the hair, and we fought. I dug my fingernails into his bandages, he tried to throw me over the edge of grass so I might fall in the lake, and I pulled him after me.
Oh no. Is Aimon gonna die Because Rose sure doesn’t.
I look at him now, lying still beside me, and I think maybe Aimon was just as scared and frustrated as I was. A different kind of fear and frustration, but it was there.
Somewhere along the line, he decided to let me win. I ended up above him, pinning him.
He didn’t expect me to call Arsepint back, and have the lesser goblin bring me the dropped firearm.
Oh no.....
With a gun to his head, he refused to say uncle. To relent in the simplest, smallest way. I think that was when I realized we were the same. There was only us.
And Arsepint. But allowances must be made.
He kissed me, and I kissed him back.
Things went to natural places from there.
OH. Interesting.. Blake never did mention his grandfather. Though I am pretty sure Beilham is a coven that is still an enemy of Blake. Weird. I guess they had a falling out.
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