(no subject)

[waitingforsin]

suddenly naked meme .

rules .
✗ post your character
✗ tag to others
✗ you are now butt ass naked. have fun.

scenarios .

one. walked in on
oh, hey have you seen my-- never mind, I'll come back later.

two. changing
like walked in on, only part of you is naked and you're not fapping.

three. streaking
oh, you sexual deviant you. you just want to run around with your balls or your titties flapping in the wind.

four. skinny dipping
there's some water and there's you naked in the water.

five. nudist beach
because everyone wants to see everyone else naked.

six. shower
you're now taking a shower with someone.

seven. dream
you know that dream you had where you went to school naked? well like that, except you're doing your entire daily schedule buck ass nude.

eight. free for all
did I miss something? do you just want it to all hang out? whatever, pick your poison.

Comments

two

[a_perfect_end]

...I.

Was just leaving. Actually.

[Except he doesn't seem to be moving very fast.]

[ancillary]

[Presently, she had nothing in the way of attire save for a bra in one hand. Miranda startled only to furrow her brows and regard Clu with the same annoyance one would have for a cold draft, or discovering you were wearing a mix-matched pair of socks. ]

Then why are you moving away from the door?

[a_perfect_end]

[This could've gone better. Could've gone worse, too. The shrug was a little stiff, cold with surprise, but it warmed easily enough into a shake of his head--to clear it, others would have said.]

What, and leave it open? [Because it's closed, now, underscored with a soft hum of concern.] Exacerbates your current privacy risks.

...Besides, if you wanna get rid of me, all you really have to do is ask.

[ancillary]

If I wanted to get rid of you, you would have been a stain on the floor by now.

[ She laughed, dry and passive. The edge of her bed was close enough that she fell against it -- legs crossed at the ankles and hands in her lap. ]

Have you seen a woman naked, Clu? Ever?

[a_perfect_end]

[That. Quite literally knocked him for a loop.]

Well. I, uh--Well.

[Don't panic, don't blow it, come on; the lady asked you a question.

Except the answer was Look, Flynn's a solid 3.Bradley, and Sirens aren't any one woman, they're every hot girl he ever thought of, all at once--

And. No, when Clu got down to it, no, the answer was of course not, otherwise he'd be chill about it and they'd be laughing this off, right now.

Quietly: ]

You are unique in my experience, Ms. Lawson.

[ancillary]

Correction: I'm unique in anyone's experience.

[ Miranda's casual self-confidence rolled off her like the beads of sweat pooling on her neck and the small of her back. Her confidence and deliberate grace was all just an intrinsic part of her meant to inspire.

She patted the end of the bed next to her. ]

While you're hear you may as well make in worth our time. Come, sit.

[a_perfect_end]

...Accepted: fact.

[And if it had the ring of permissions to it, certain accesses granted, it should, by now. Now or never.

She moved like--water, or silk, with a smoothness near to microgravity. He didn't have to check the equation series to know her gestures were, kinetically, and aesthetically speaking...perfect.]

Absolutely.

[And, taking that hand, he sat.]

[ancillary]

[ Miranda's own assessment of this scenario were more biological and, objectively, flawed by definition. She was running half blind; his pupils didn't dilate, nor did he sweat, or have tells expected of a more 'natural' man. She could work with that.

She reasoned anything he came here expecting and, subconsciously in some hardware of his, wanted would come out on its own if she played a neutral field. ]

I'll take that as flattery.

[a_perfect_end]

I was kinda going all the way for a compliment. Anybody that would just flatter you doesn't know what they're doing.

[A headtilt and a grin to cover the feeling of disjunction, the idea that he must have missed something: was he in error? Come on; get with the program, Program.]

I'm ninety-eight point six-niner bar percent sure you've--probably heard a lot of people say they admired your intellect, at exactly this conversational juncture, right here.

[It's a nervous huff of air, too high and sharp for a laugh.]

But did any of them ever actually ask to see your research? I didn't walk in here expecting anything, but...

[He squeezes her hand, careful, hope and conviction flickering live-wire gold through his skin.]

I am flattered, and super glad you didn't kick me out.

[ancillary]

Or doesn't know what it is they want.

[ Miranda liked to sharpen her blunt force trauma approach to conversations such as these to a cutting finesse. Her fingers work into Clu's like a polarizing charge hitting a six. (Index and ring finger stroking the respective knuckle -- speak with your hands as much as you would your mouth) ]

Unless you wanted to fund the next Lazarus project, then I don't believe you only came here to swap notes on how I earn my keep with bringing the dead back to live.

[ Hands. White in the knuckles and flushed palms to squeeze with; look coy and grip like a vice. ]

Did you?

[a_perfect_end]

Well, I mean, not only--!

Those [it's a yelp, tenor-sharp] are not just for looks and I want, would really, really like--

[He's never, ever been able to stop talking, right when he definitely should. But if he's kissing her instead, then it works, soft and insistent.

Only her fingers go white over his, a rush of pressure and a flood of current due south under palms that have probably turned pink. Or that's him, radiating beneath her and trying not to think caught red-handed, way, way too late.]

Hah. [Holding in the shiver is a matter of supreme willpower and personal pride; licking his lips is just illustrative--not tension, not display, not to get another taste. Yeah, right.] No kidding?

We could make miracles, babe.