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stars-a-n-d-scars · 4 years ago

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10 Days of Summer - Chapter 2

Hey guys! Here is chapter two!!! As always, constructive criticism is welcome, homophobic bitching is not. I love you!!

***

Sirius had always been an early riser. There was just something about the way the sun shot pink and orange daggers to shatter the impenetrable frost of the night that drew him. Soothed him. He couldn’t count how many mornings he had spent on the roof of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, observing a world rarely seen. Keeping the company of the moon, she who shone her light for unseeing eyes, as she slipped from dark’s cruel grasp and was liberated, to finally rest. Watching as, one by one, the stars faded into nothingness and the great eastern orb returned to claim the sky for its own. And so, it will likely come as no surprise that when we rejoin our protagonist, he is partaking in the same activity as he had every morning for the last 12 years.

The sun had a peculiar way of setting the world on fire. It was never loud or obnoxious. It didn’t burst into the sky in a shower of confetti and yell of its presence for all to hear. It seeped over the horizon, inch by inch, so that even the most attentive of onlookers could never pinpoint the exact moment that night turned to day. Sirius sat perched on the roof of the Potter’s, watching smoke from his cigarette unfurling in that inexplicable, mesmerizing way that it does. But one can only sit alone on a roof for so long before one’s mind starts to wander. In Sirius’ case, it found its way to the boy sleeping on the sofa downstairs.

He had always been drawn by Remus. From the moment they’d met, something about that awkward, scar-ridden 11-year-old had caught his eye. Maybe it was the way his timid hands had quivered when they shook hands for the first time, or the way his eyes gleamed with a type of gold that a thousand goblins couldn’t conjure. Ever since that moment, he always wanted to be around him. To be close to him. It was impossible to explain, but Sirius was under a spell that not even the most powerful wizard in the world could break.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a window creaking open. He turned around and was shocked by the sight of Remus climbing through the attic window and out onto the roof of the Potter house.

“Morning.” Remus’ morning voice never failed to take Sirius’ breath away. Simultaneously gravelly and soft, it enveloped him in what could only be described as comfort.

“Hey”, Sirius said, and it was frankly impressive how many voice cracks he managed to fit into that one, short word. Clearing his throat, the smitten boy persisted; “I thought you were afraid of heights?”

Nice one Sirius. Make him think you see him as a wimp. That’ll get him to fall in love with you.

Sirius internally cursed himself for his insensitivity, fully expecting Remus to turn right back around and go back inside out of anger. It was to his surprise, therefore, that Remus smiled and settled down next to him.

“I was. But these last few transformations… I don’t know. Every time the wolf rips me apart, I feel like I’m going to die. And so, after I changed back the last time, I decided that I wouldn’t waste whatever time I have left being scared of things that don’t matter. Because there is no way to know which full moon is going to be my last.” A heavy silence settled over the boys. As the weight of Remus’ confession sank in, Sirius found himself on the edge of tears. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t help thinking about how he would survive if Remus did die. If, one day, the blood on the floor of the shrieking shack would become too much, and they would all drown in its repercussions.

Wordlessly, Remus reached over and took hold of Sirius’ cigarette. Their fingers brushed only for a second, but it felt like forever and was over too soon. A shiver ran down Sirius’ spine at the feeling of Remus’ cold finger on his. His finger, surprisingly unmarred compared to the rest of his body, seemed to set every nerve in Sirius’ body in fire. That simple act of proximity was enough to set his heart beating at a rate that, frankly, shouldn’t be allowed.

When Remus withdrew his fingers, the cigarette perched between them, Sirius was left tingling in the small but infinite point of contact, and he vowed never to wash that hand again, lest he lose the shimmering ecstasy that the tingling brought. The situation was not improved by Remus’ decision to bring the cigarette to his lips, placing his mouth exactly where Sirius’ had been only seconds before. He took a long, languid drag from the joint, his beautiful lips perfectly shaping to exhale the smoke. Sirius marveled at how this boy could make even an act as simple as taking a puff from a cigarette seem like the most sensual, lascivious experience of his life. Sirius’ mind was flooded with obscene thoughts of what he wanted to do to those lips, what he wanted them to do to him. He felt dizzy at the thought (although that might have also had something to do with the sudden lack of blood in his head; it seemed to have decided that it was needed elsewhere).

The stillness was shattered by a hacking cough.

“Merlin, what the fuck is in this thing?” Remus exclaimed through another shuddering cough.

“It’s only a cigarette”, Sirius answered, confused.

Remus laughed. “I know that, dipshit. But why? What the fuck are you doing out here at bloody six in the morning smoking this cheap shit? Here.”

Sirius watched in bewilderment as Remus reached into his sweater pocket and withdrew a long, hand rolled joint.

“What is it?”, he asked stupidly.

Once again, he found himself blessed by the presence of Remus’ gorgeous laugh. “It’s weed. Marijuana. It’s a muggle drug.”

Sirius was skeptical. “And it’s better than cigarettes?”

“Way better. Here.”

Before Sirius had a chance to say anything, Remus was bringing the joint up to Sirius’ lips. Startled, Sirius instinctively parted them, and let the rough paper of the tip slide in. Then, Remus’ fingers skimmed his lower lip, and he was paralyzed. His mind was plunged into a world of haze, where his lip and Remus’ fingers existed alone. Where all the unsaid words were unimportant, and all that mattered was that Remus was touching him.

But something inside him realized the sheer impossibility of that dream and brought him back to reality. A reality where Remus would never love him back, because why would he? Why would an ethereal creature like Remus Lupin, with all his intangible beauty, pay any attention to a bratty pureblood who couldn’t even tell the difference between a mandrake and a spinach leaf?

Well, Sirius concluded, if this is the closest I ever get to him, I may as well make the most of it.

Sirius sighed, leaning into Remus’ touch. Memorizing the sensation of cold fingers on his skin. But Remus drew back. Sirius supposed he must have angered him with his display of intimacy, because a red flush was creeping up his neck and highlighting his cheeks.

Drawing back, Sirius cleared his throat, which was not an easy feat, due to the joint now in his mouth. When he was satisfied that an ordinary level of awkwardness had been restored between them, he lit his joint. Almost immediately, he felt a wave of relaxation wash over him. It was amazing, the sensation of every muscle in his body loosening, becoming calm. The tension was gone from his shoulders, and he couldn’t even remember why he had been worried about this in the first place. He had never felt anything better.

He felt a tug on the spliff and opened his mouth so it could slide out, the paper sticking to his lips. It was Remus, of course. He took it into those elegant, beautiful fingers and took a puff, closing his eyes as the glorious smoke entered his system. After a couple of seconds, he exhaled again, the smoke rippling through his voluptuous lips and ascending to join the clouds in their endless dance of mesmerising shapeshifting.

The rest of the morning was spent that way, sharing that slice of euphoria, tucked away on a rooftop in a tiny corner of a tiny island in a huge, huge world.

***

The sun was dipping into the west now, and James and Peter had long since engaged themselves in a fierce game of monopoly. Surprisingly, Peter was doing very well. Although James would later claim that he “let Peter win”, it was clear to see that he was severely frustrated by his lack of success. Although, his agitation might have had something to do with his anticipation of the next day; the girls had agreed to come over in the morning and stay for a couple of nights. Inevitably, James had spent many hours fretting over what to say when Lily arrived, before finally agreeing to partake in a game of monopoly to settle his nerves. Clearly, this hadn’t helped. To their merit, Remus and Sirius had abstained from the activity, aware that an apprehensive James and board games were never a good combination. They had instead elected to watch, which proved to be a far more enjoyable pastime.

“That’s it!”, James exclaimed, throwing his money down on the table. “I don’t get this dumb muggle game. I’m going for a walk.” He pushed back his chair with an unpleasant screech and stormed out the front door, leaving a bewildered Peter in his wake. They didn’t have long to revel in the absence of James’ intense leg-jiggling, however. The door had barely swung close before it was wrenched open again, and James came thundering back in, unchanged, except for the fact that he was now soaking wet.

Fuming, he mumbles something about “s’raining”, and sloshed his way up the stairs. A distant door slammed, and the house was quiet once more.

“Well”, Sirius clapped his hands together. “I’m starving. Dinner?”

Peter perked up at the mention of sustenance but was quickly shot down by Remus’ next statement.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we can’t exactly walk to town in this weather. And the muggle delivery place won’t come out here in the rain.”

But Sirius was unperturbed. “Well I’ll cook something! Peter, why don’t you go make the guest rooms up for the girls, and Remus and I will whip something up for tea.”

Peter quickly scampered upstairs, not one to pass up an opportunity to clean a bedroom (it was one of his many unappreciated blessings; the need for cleanliness).

Left alone now, Sirius turned to Remus. Just being close to him was enough to set his heart racing, but he pushed that down.

Not right now. We’re just cooking. Just two friends, making dinner for their other two, less sophisticated friends.

However, he found himself unsure of how to proceed. So, as a demonstration of his ever-present sophistication, he decided to go with the most refined of communicative methods: finger guns.

Immediately regretting the decision, he dropped his arms to his side and cleared his throat for what was probably nearing the millionth time that day. “Shall we?” Remus nodded.

The Potters’ kitchen was sprawling with innumerable cupboards and drawers, all immaculately designed and painted to create a blend of antique styles and modern methods. There were 3 ovens, and a number of industrial fridges, including a blast-freezer. A mini fridge sat on the bench, containing sodas of all flavours and, further back, expensive alcohols. To Sirius, who had grown up in the dingy prison of Grimmauld Place, it was heaven.

He walked over to the industrial fridge and started pulling out ingredients, ideas flooding his mind. Although he would never admit it, cooking was one of Sirius’ guilty pleasures. The thought of so many elements, things that are seemingly useless of bland, coming together to form a gastronomical masterpiece was something that he enjoyed immensely. Within minutes, he was working away at a bouillabaisse, the pastry for a quiche already in the oven, and an ice-cream mixture chilling in the fridge.

Remus was watching in amazement from his perch on the island bench, a cold raspberry soda in his hand.

“Where did you learn to cook?” he asked, unable to tear his eyes from the mesmerizing bubbling of the bouillabaisse.

Sirius blushed. “Andy taught me, actually. After she moved in with Ted. I would go and visit her every Saturday and help out around the house when Ted was out working.”

Remus was well aware of Sirius’ feelings about Ted Tonks. Although he had not approved of him initially, believing strongly that Andromeda was worthy of someone better, he had seen how passionately he cared for his family, and grown to like the stumpy little man.

“She says she learned from Ted’s mother, who was a chef in France before the Depression. She said that Andy had a knack for it, and so taught her everything she knew. Since no one in the ministry would take her in fear of her parents getting mad, she decided to do everything she can at home, taking care of the house and of little Nymphadora.”

“Oh yeah, how is she going? God, she must be going on a year now!” Remus asked, remembering the pictures Sirius had shown him of his baby cousin when she was born.

“She’s doing good. It really is a breath of fresh air, seeing that even in the midst of the oncoming war, there is still such innocence and good in the world. But at the same time, I’m terrified that she might have to grow up in a world governed by Voldemort.” His voice shook on that last sentence, his throat swelling painfully as tears sprung to his eyes. He tried to blink them back, unwilling to let Remus see that side of him, but they knew each other too well. With two quick strides, Remus was across the room, enveloping him in a hug.

Sirius sank into it, letting himself be consumed by the warmth or Remus. By that comforting smell of nutmeg and tea, coupled with chocolate and books. The brush of leather jacket on woolen sweater, the feeling of heads on shoulders and hands on backs. And he knew that, as long as this boy was in the world, everything would always be okay.

***

After dinner, the boys had opted to take their dessert into the living room and watch a movie. Remus had suggested Titanic, and James had protested for all of 5 seconds before remembering that Rose bore a slight resemblance to one Lily Evans and supporting the idea wholeheartedly. But now the movie had ended, and the boys found themselves, yet again, in limbo between waking and sleeping. At some point during the movie, Remus had moved over to snuggle next to Sirius, and it hadn’t taken long before they were sprawled out on the sofa, Remus’ head on Sirius’ chest. Sirius had tried no to think anything of it, justifying that Remus was tired and probably didn’t even know what he was doing. But a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but hope.

Remus opened his eyes and looked out the window into the dark garden. The night sky was speckled with a tapestry of a thousand stars, each one so small, yet burning with a fire so intense it could consume everything they held dear in less than a second. There was no moon in the sky that night.

Then Remus turned his head to look up at Sirius, his golden eyes meeting grey ones.

“It’s stopped raining”, he said.

Sirius looked up, and saw that the skies had, in fact, cleared.

Glancing down again, he went to reply, but was cut short by the sight before him. Remus was asleep, safe in his best friend’s arms. And so, Sirius spoke his answer for the unlistening ears of the night.

“Yeah. Yeah it has.”

***

I hope you liked it!! It is up on ao3 as well, and the next chapter will be coming soon! Please reblog is you liked it, I’m smol and would love more people to see it. thankyou!!

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shinjukuspiritcommittee · 4 years ago

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Top 20 2021

My Favorites (updated)

Hello my readers, it’s been a while since I just posted something not related to a headcanon and I am doing one right now. I just wanted to take a bit of a break to just get SOMETHING on here on my days off work. Plus I’m just trying to find my groove when it comes to writing again so hopefully this helps me just get back into the mood of making a post more often lol. I wanted to revisit this topic for a while just because we’ve had a lot more events and a lot more alts in the game were added. And I know for a fact LifeWonders reads these posts in some capacity because I have meme’d an AR into the game with my top picks from the last list I did for Christmas 2019. No I didn’t. I’m just joking around and I know LifeWonders doesn’t read this.

Anyways rather than just make up a list on the spot like last year I decided to use the Housamo Sortmaker (Link: https://club.housamo.xyz/sortmaker/ ) to try and make a list that’s more revealing to what I was thinking at the time. Since I talked about 20 characters ish last time I’m just gonna read from my 20th place to my 1st place spots and try to justify whatever I was thinking at the time. Anyways-

20: Marchosias and Susan: This one was a surprise for me if I’m being honest but I’m just gonna blame the fact on Shukou’s recent involvement with LifeWonders in the form of Live A Hero and how Ryekie and Mokdai live in my headspace rent free whenever I think about the characters in that game. Maybe we can see about getting some LAH headcanons since that’s a LifeWonders property too). So out of all the characters Shukou drew for Housamo why did I pick Marchosias? Easy, it’s been 4 years and this poor man has yet to receive a proper alt or any kind of skin for that matter and I think that it’s a crime. Sure he’s not my favorite but he’s definitely grown on me because he’s just a gentle dad kind of character and his design has grown on me over the years. I just hope he doesn’t get left behind since he has a lot of really interesting and potential things to look forward to in the future given how the main story has unfolded.

19: Shiva/Algernon: The helmet heads are together because DAI XT quickly became my favorite artist for Fire Emblem Heroes and I really just like their designs. DAI XT just knows how to draw robots, armor and muscles well. Also Chapter 11 with Shiva you can read into some interesting perspectives. I don’t want to spoil any of the untranslated content for anyone who’s waiting for the official english translation. But if you are curious Roureem has a blogspot where he posts summaries of the newly released events.

Link: https://housamosummaries.blogspot.com/

18: Cthugha: I love this goober so much. He’d constantly try to act super sentai just trying say good morning everyday. He may not be very bright but that just adds to his charm and honestly I enjoy how he always tries to play the hero in a lot of scenarios because it’s refreshing when they implement him after a bunch of heavy hitting story stuff. I’m not gonna spoil too much about it but I will say he’s more than welcome after everything Chapter 10 and 11 put the reader through.

17: Mineaki: I’ve made a post about him being one of my least favorites way back when I first started this blog and let me just say how times have changed and I’ve learned the value of not judging a book by it’s cover. I still think there’s something a bit off about Kowmei’s style for his characters, but Mineaki has definitely grown on me. He’s a caring instructor who does watch out for his students even if it’s not always in the most direct way possible. Not to get into too many spoilers he’s got a lot of intrigue around him as well and I am curious to see his role get expanded down the line.

16: Ded: Housamo is the reason I really like christmas. The Christmas stories despite following a similar structure to each other do tend to be my favorite stories. Ded himself is also just another good dad character. He’s also two guys for the price of one, so I mean… you know… you’ve got the forever ask your other dad situation. There wasn’t much thought put into this choice I just like santa as a concept because I think the outfits are cute, it’s always nice to get something for people you care about on Christmas and Ded is the perfect embodiment of both sides to Christmas.

15: Shinya: Everyone we need to manifest buff Shinya for 2021, this is not a drill. This is legitimate. We must make Taromati’s and my wish come true. To be more serious again he’s just a sweet and gentle character. He’s also drawn by my favorite Housamo artist. Their characters always just look so naturally good. I’m just surprised he hasn’t gotten much of an alt given he’s perfect material for Valentine’s day. He’s just a soft boy and I would love for him to be in more things because I just enjoy seeing him.

14: Jacob: I have to be honest Jacob is on here because every time I look at him he just gets more handsome to me. I wasn’t all that impressed with his introduction and we don’t know much about his background but I’ve just been drawn to him more and more. Maybe it’s just because he’s drawn by GomTang? I just like looking at him and I can’t help it. To speak a bit less crass he’s another gentleman kind of guy and those are always nice.

13: Shennong: Yeah I like the doc a lot. Firstly, I’m a huge sucker for big bulls and Shennong fits the bill. The white fur really adds to his appeal visually and the purple horns give off a bit of an unnatural appearance. Shen feels like someone who’s been touch starved and alone for a long time given how he acts as a character and when we actually hug him I just lost it. He always has others well being on his mind so he’s not afraid to jump in and help, or give a much needed lecture about when you need to take better care of yourself. He just comes across as very well balanced overall.

12: Heracles: I won’t lie- at first he didn’t interest me much. He looked incredibly plain when among the rest of the cast and he seemed like the typical “bait” character since the banner had Echo, Barguest, Gyumao and Snow. But after reading the translation for Valentine Time Slip I was taken aback at how much of a gentle giant he turned out to be and I just really liked his interactions with the others in that event. And honestly his special quest from that year was one of the more unique ones given the slower pace and more romantic vibe it had. After the event warmed my heart I did a complete 180 and I just knew I really liked him.

11. Yasuyori: Before I start praising him I feel I have to justify why he didn’t quite make top 10 and it will have some mild Chapter 10 spoilers. To be as vague as possible his resolution just didn’t vibe with me at the end of Chapter 10. Like it wasn’t a bad resolution and it was the right choice to make but in my opinion there really wasn’t a moment I felt was clear where he made a choice for himself. Everything just sort of happened around him and it felt like he didn’t really do much to improve his situation. To an extent I kind of see that being the idea given his origins and the story he’s based on and there is some semblance of him coming to terms with himself alongside his isolation being portrayed pretty well, but I just wasn’t satisfied with it as much as I would like to be. With that out of the way, oh my god I just want this boy to never stop smiling and I just want to give him hugs constantly please he just deserves to be happy!!! Yasuyori is a character who’s got a lot of baggage and he’s just trying to find ways to properly cope with his trauma and not repeat past mistakes and I just really like that idea. His role in Xmas 2020 (sorry I just forgot the name of that event, but its when he gets his alt) was a much better representation for his character in my eyes. I’m not gonna spoil anything like I keep saying but he isn’t one to disappoint in future appearances and I just hope this lovable lug keeps getting the support he deserves.

10: Hephaestus: A spicy way to start the latter half of the list. I just want to give this lad a hug and tell him he is worthy of love. But at the same time he is a little shit… and I love that. I can’t fully explain why I grow a paternal instinct in me seeing this grown man sob about his mother but I just do. I want to keep him safe and give him all the affection he wants. Though I am aware a lot of Hephaestus’s interest in his parental figure is… questionable. I am just gonna say I would accept his love for what it is and he just wants approval.

9. Shuten: I’ll be honest I have no proper reason for why I like Shuten so much. He’s just a cool and reliable guy. He just seems like a go with the flow kind of person most of the time and he’s a bit more direct than most of the characters which I always appreciate. Plus I have an unspoken bias for naop guys in Housamo.

8. Durga: While not number 1 on this list, I still really like Durga. She’s quirky but not to an annoying degree, she’s determined and definitely very confident in her own abilities. Her growing to be more sociable throughout her events is something I enjoy seeing because it really creates this sense of growth.

7. Kyuma: I get a lot of people don’t like Kowmei’s art but I really think we should look past it because Kyuma is one of the sweeter picks. He’s someone who just wants to prove himself for his own worth and not what David can provide, but David is part of him and it just creates the potential for a good arc. Plus this boy is unintentionally smooth and will just take your heart when possible. I honestly want to see Kyuma more in events because he’s honestly the jock that carries 3 of the 4 brain cells. He’s also the last one without an alt so I’m just hoping he gets one in 2021 because he really deserves one in my opinion. (Also fan art makes him really cute).

6. Tomte: Tomte is relatively new but honestly his event in 2019 really endeared me to him. I’m trying to be spoiler free because the best way to enjoy these stories is for yourselves but let me just say his arc in the event was really endearing to me and much more than I was expecting. His fan service is also incredibly hammy and I love it. Visually Tomte is one of my favorites, I love his multi colored hair and starlit pupils cuz it makes his otherwise more generic look have some flare. I knew I liked him out the box and when I read about him in the summaries and can’t wait to read the official translation for him. I was just very endeared.

5. Tetsuya: Tetsuya fucks. Moving on…

Jokes aside this one’s a bit simple. I have no shame in admitting I think he’s attractive and his whole resistance towards wanting a relationship is cute in a weird roundabout way. When he says no I just want it MORE. I just really like duo haired tsunderes.

4. Kengo: Kengo 3rd alt 2021. Please LifeWonders I need my favorite Summoner. He’s a bro and that’s what counts. Kengo has got your back, not afraid to rely on you, a very fun and dynamic guy. Sure he’s not that bright when it comes to making plans or any book smart, but there are times where he’s the best at being able to read the room or just understand what someone needs to hear even if it isn’t always what someone wants to hear. His bullheaded nature is actually one of his redeeming qualities because it’s nice to just not overcomplicate things and just understand what’s actually going on. Yes the early story didn’t do many favors for him but to me the events, especially the later ones, do much more work for his character. To me, at least.

3. Ashigara: Ashigara is best bear, and I will defend that stance in 2021. The main thing that draws me to Ashigara is that I can see a bit of myself in him. He gets very emotional when he gets left alone, he’s very loud when with his friends, has a tendency of speaking his mind- just someone who wears his heart on his sleeve. I also appreciate that in spite of the negative he isn’t someone who backs down when the going gets tough and in a few instances he’s able to hold his ground physically at least.

2. Wakan Tanka: Love at first sight. This ray of sunshine still persists as the number 1 husband, but number 2 character. Firstly I am a huge fan of the partial beast aesthetic. The buffalo ears and the horns are absolutely adorable. Secondly he’s a perfect body type; he’s not too muscular but not exactly flabby. Third he is just so positive and I love that. He’s someone I admire and wanna hug.

1. Taurus Mask: The more things change the more they stay the same. I’m still a big Taurus Mask fan for all the same reasons as last time. I just… relate to this boy. He is an incredibly shy boy who uses his public persona for confidence. Maybe I’m reading too much into it but it’s like we’re soul bros!

So yeah, my tastes haven’t changed in a year and a half.

#tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #Just Thoughts #qna #sfw

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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7. Leshen Indruck your choice of rating!

Here you go! I went with SFW

It’s old wisdom that humans fear that which they do not understand.

Indrid really hoped he would never learn the truth of that wisdom the hard way, but here he is. One misplaced attempt at aiding someone using his foresight and he’s been caught, blindfolded, and dumped in the middle of the vast Monongahela Forest.

He just wanted to help.

His foresight renders him less fearful than he’d otherwise be; he’ll be able to see threats coming and locate the resources he needs. If he takes his time, he might be able to use his visions to locate the nearest (friendly) village. And, like anyone who grew up near the woods, he knows how to hunt, fish, and forage. For someone who’s been left to die, he’s rather confident.

Still, it sting a little.

After a few moments of rightfully-earned self-pity, he buttons up his coat and starts the slow, halting journey towards safety.

Two days later, he’s pushing his way through branches and miserably pointing out to himself again and again that a town where everyone grew up with basic forest survival skills would exile one of their own somewhere that required high-level survival skills.

The topography and scenery is so disorienting that he may have better luck if he covered his eyes, spun around ten times, and chose his path from there. It’s a dense landscape of deep greens and browns with splashes of bright color that he’d no doubt enjoy were he not constantly snagging on branches or catching his toes on roots.

Worse, he’s had no luck catching food, and cannot for the life of him locate water. The fact it rained last night is the only reason he’s not dangerously dehydrated.

A sharp, high chirp draws his eye to the foot of a tree. Flapping sparsely feathered wings, a baby bird hops through the mud, her nest visible but unreachable. A meager meal, but a meal nonetheless.

Indrid scoops her into his palms, clambers into the lowest crook of the tree, and sets her back among her siblings.

His stomach chastises him the rest of the day, though the rest of his body rejoices when he finds a hollow in the base of a tree large enough for him to shelter within. From within the trunk, he spies vine sprawling across the ground, berries glinting in the light rain. Deep purple, meaning they’re Brambleberries.

The handful he shoves into his mouth brings tears to his eyes, even though they’re not the ripest. How else do you explain the bitterness chasing the sweetness down his throat.

Wait. Brambleberries don’t go purple until mid-summer. This is early spring. Which means those were-

“Chokeberries.” He curses himself, darting outside the tree once more, finger down his throat until his meal comes back up. Maybe he was fast enough.

His throat tightens in a prelude to closing. Sinking to his knees, gasping for air, he swears the ground vibrates with heavy steps. His eyes flutter close as he falls forward. As darkness slips over his eyes, he thinks it’s taking him a long time to hit the ground.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Bitter metal on his tongue.

“Nnnnf” Eyes still shut, he pushes at whatever is holding the spoon and it’s vile contents in his mouth.

“None of that. You’re gonna need two more doses of this before that Chokeberry is outta your system, and they were hard enough to get into you when you were passed out. Swallow.”

He swallows.

A large hand pats his head, “There we go. I know, shit’s gross, but if you were fool enough to eat those berries, might stun some sense into you.”

Indrid sits up, rubbing his eyes, “I was delirious with hunger, forgive me for not remembering the exact seasons of fruits. Did you heal me only to insult me or-” his visions flicker back full force, revealing his host before he opens his eyes. He scrambles back, but instead of a wall or an edge he just finds a vast expanse of bed.

Watching him with an amused set to his lips is a man three heads taller and much bulkier than Indrid, dark hair streaked with grey-green moss, eyes the dark green of pine needles, and nails like treebark. He crosses arms tattooed with green, gold, and bronze swirls, waiting for Indrid to collect himself.

“A Leshen.”

“Yep.”

“Are...are you going to eat me?”

“What? No, I’m not gonna fuckin eat you. I don’t know which of my kind chowed down on humans but if I ever find out I’m gonna give ‘im a piece of my mind. Ain’t great to have people thinkin I’m a man-eater when the worst I done is throw a tree at someone.”

“That is still very alarming.”

The Leshen shrugs “I’m a forest guardian; I’m gonna guard.”

Indrid studies him, wary, drawing the covers up his chest without noticing.

“Look” the Leshen sighs, “I ain’t tryin to scare you. Hell, made myself the smallest I can so I could be all comfortin. Noticed you in the woods earlier today and kept an eye on you, since humans-”

“Don’t often come here, yes, I am aware. I was extremely, forcibly exiled into your part of the woods.”

Green eyes blink, “Huh. Well, point is it didn’t seem right to leave you there to die, so I brought you here. Chokeberry is real easy to undo, assumin you got the right herbs.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say. His foresight tells him the Leshens promise of no harm is true, but there are so many timelines for what he could say and how his host could respond that he freezes.

“You’re welcome. You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“You oughta rest up more, Indrid. I’ll be back with the next dose in a bit.” His host steps out to the hall.

“Wait, do I, ah, get to know your name?”

“Duck.”

He snickers, replies to the raised eyebrow with, “Apologies, I expected something tree-related.”

Duck smiles, “It’s a nickname.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s your plan?” Duck asks from across the breakfast table. The morning found Indrid well enough to walk and to eat without feeling ill, so he’s been perching awkwardly on a chair that’s too big for him as the Leshen makes plates of toast and eggs that don't come from any bird Indrid is familiar with.

“I, ah, I don’t really have one other than ‘avoid going home’.”

“You were just gonna wander around until you found a village? I hate to tell you this, but there ain’t one for at least fifty miles, and I’m guessin that’s the one you came from. They must’ve used and enter to navigate here, because this part of the woods is hostile to travel by design.”

“Yours?” Indrid sips his tea, face to hide his distaste for its bitterness.

“Yep.” Duck slides a jar over to him, it’s copper lid revealing sugar cubes within, “Don’t much feel like runnin into humans every damn day, and it means that even as y’all sprawl out more and more, there are parts of this wood that stay wild.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but it does little to improve my situation. Unless…” he bites his lip.

“Unless?”

“Unless I could stay here. I’m not bad company, and I have some skills which could-”

“No” Duck shakes his head, “savin you is one thing, takin you on as a roommate is all whole other kettle of fish.”

“Ah. Right. Of course.” He sips his tea, reflection crestfallen. Maybe he’ll just finish this and then go back to sleep.

Duck sighs, expression one of someone who already regrets the offer he’s about to make, “You can stay here for a month. After that, I’ll get you as close to a safe village as I can, and you’re on your own. Deal?”

Indrid grins, appetite returning in full, “Deal.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Duck has a good guess as to what’s making all the scratching and clanging in his kitchen, but it’s still a surprise to see Indrid moving from counters to chairs doubling as stools to tend a pot that he can barely peer into.

The human’s gotten nimble over the last week and a half, thanks to his routine attempts to help Duck around the house. Everything is scaled to Duck’s smallest possible form, but that still leaves Indrid at a disadvantage.

He’d be more inclined to help him if it wasn’t so obvious that his help is a ploy to convince Duck to let him stay. Look, he feels bad for the guy, but humans don’t have a great track record with his kind and he generally likes his peace and quiet out in the woods. He also notices that, left to his own devices, Indrid is messy. The area around the couch he uses as a bed is strewn drawings and unfolded clothes that Duck conjured up. Which means this is about Ducks favor, not a commitment to household cleanliness.

That’s not to say having Indrid around has been unpleasant; the human is good company but also understands Ducks' need for space. He’s odd, and even though the foresight was the given reason, Duck suspects his fellow villagers would have found reason to exile him regardless. Indrid even said that living with Duck was the happiest he’d felt in some time. That wasn’t a ploy; Indrid is prone to saying unnerving statements without registering them. Thorns pricked Duck’s heart when he heard it and, that night, when Indrid fell asleep on the bed during their conversation about deer, he didn’t move him. Just brushed the white hair from his eyes and laid down a respectful distance away.

“Oh! We’re in the timeline when you’re early.” Indrid waves distractedly as he wrestles open a jar, “I checked on you during the day through my visions and it looked as though you got drenched, so I thought something warm was in order.”

He’s smiling, and Duck’s gaze lingers long enough to see there’s no trickery in it. Yeah, being a forest spirit means storms are refreshing more than freezing, but the one today was so relentless he felt like it was eroding him away.

“Thanks, Indrid. I’ll join you in a sec.”

The next morning, before he leaves he forms some nearby stumps into a proper step-stool, and transmogrifies the minerals of the earth into a solid set of human sized pots and pans.

-------------------------------------------

“I know you’re there, Duck. I may not have eyes in the trees, but I do have visions that tell me when someone is dithering about coming to speak with me.” Indrid smiles, checking the fishing pole he’s dug into the shore. He feels rather than hears Duck approach; in spite of his size, the Leshen moves through the woods more softly than a butterfly.

“Guess those visions do make you harder to spy on than the average human.”

“A not at all creepy statement.” Indrid teases, then tips over when Duck playfully shoves him.

“Shit, sorry.”

“It’s alright” he brushes off his arm, “the sand is nice and warm.” He picks up his sketchbook (stray pieces of paper sewn together) and pens (Duck turned flowers, fruit, leaves, and wood into them until Indrid had every color) and continues drawing. Half the reason he likes fishing is that he can draw futures (and for his own pleasure) while he does it. The other half is that he doesn’t want Duck to view him as a parasite in his home. Yes, for the first week, he did everything he could to demonstrate that he would make an excellent addition to the house made of twisting trunks and mossy floors.

Now, though, he just wants to enjoy his time with Duck, even if that means not tidying constantly or cooking every meal. He hopes Duck enjoys it too, regardless of whether he lets Indrid stay. The Leshen is lonely, even if it only comes through on those days when his voice is like the wind through a weather-beaten log. Indrid wishes he knew how to assuage it, but a month is not long enough to learn such things.

He’s slept in Duck’s bed these last three nights. It’s not purposeful, Duck is just so interesting to talk with and Indrid will lose sight of the time, will slump sideways and mumble that he ought to turn in, and then wake up in the early hours atop his host. It didn’t occur to him until this morning that Duck does that to keep Indrid from being uncomfortably squashed by his larger bedmate. And that Duck chooses to do that rather than carry Indrid to his own bed.

“Hey, uh, ‘Drid?” Duck’s voice brings him back to the riverside, “would you, uh, wanna come with me on my rounds sometimes? Might be some nice things to draw, and that foresight of yours could be real helpful with some of the stuff I need to keep an eye on.”

His host looks nervous until Indrid nods, “I would be honored.”

--------------------------------------------

Never has the folding of clothes made him so miserable. Yet still he tucks the garments into the large-but-manageable rucksack Duck gave him, placing his sketchpad safely between the layers of fabric.

“Weather oughta be good tomorrow.” His visions show Duck behind him, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s going to miss that voice, the way leaves rustle underneath the drawl.

“That’s good.” He pulls the ties on his rucksack, sets at the end of the couch but doesn’t turn around.

“I’d, uh, say you’re welcome to visit but, uh, well, you know how fuckin hard this place is to find.”

“Mmmm.” Indrid wants him to go, wants him to be brusque or happy, not awkwardly fond in a way that gives false hope of shared affection.

“‘Drid there’s, there’s somethin I wanna, that is I’m thinkin...aw, fuck it.”

Indrid yelps as arms nearly as big around as he is scoop him up. Duck’s lifted him to examine flowers or see over trees, but the hugging is new.

“Duck?” Carefully, he drapes his arms over his shoulders.

“Don’t go.”

“I don’t want to.” Duck always smells faintly of pine needles and green wood, and Indrid buries his face in his neck, inhaling in hopes of remembering it forever.

“Then stay. I changed my mind, ‘Drid, life is so much better with you around.”

“Okay” Indrid can’t get his voice above a whisper; this wasn’t in the timelines, which means Duck changed his mind at the literal last moment.

“Really? You wanna stay?” Duck shifts him back, Indrid functionally sitting on his forearm with his legs half wrapped around his chest.

The seer summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so closes his eyes before going in for a kiss. His lips find Duck’s cheek until a firm hand cups the back of his head, guiding their mouths together. At this size, their mouths are compatible even as Indrid remains pleasantly dwarfed. Duck breaks the kiss first but Indrid, hell-bent on making up for lost time, continues kissing his face until they’re both laughing.

Duck kisses his forehead, “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #monster march #reader requests #leshen

22 notes · View notes

aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

Storms

Ship: RFA + Minor Trio and GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,431 words total; about 700 per person

Premise: A rewrite of an old request I wrote back in 2017 (link here).

Author’s Note: These are less headcanons and more fics outlines lmao but hope you like this rewrite. I do considering I can barely stand reading the original, my writing has thankfully improved, and I hope it will continue to do so. I haven’t written in 2nd person in literal years (3rd person ftw) so I hope it doesn’t come off too strange.

Two notes. Firstly I’ve done my best to make the reader gender neutral. If you catch any gendered terms feel free to tell me so I can fix it. Secondly, I haven’t played Another Story yet, rip my broke ass, so if V and Saeran are a bit out of character, that’s definitely why. I’m working on it haha. In regards to V I simply know almost nothing about his route, and in regards to Saeran I’ve decided to ignore what I know about his route, mostly because this was hitting 4,000 words at that point and an in depth HC involving canonical thing would probably be about that length. Sorry this is so long and thus the final HCs a bit rushed. Thanks for putting up with me! Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link in reblog

Zen

Having a fear of thunderstorms was one of the most obnoxious fears on the planet sometimes. Especially when one is surround by 60 mph gusts of wind and the house one lives in feels like 80% glass.

This was the predicament you were left in when a series of storms passed through the first week you and Zen were officially dating. Oh joy.

Despite how in love you were with Zen, revealing one’s fears, especially when they seem vaguely irrational, is a difficult thing to do, so you teetered towards Option B

That being: Don’t tell anyone, keep calm, if you need to take a break go to the bathroom or say you forgot something in the bedroom. Okay? Okay.

However this flawless plan of attack lasted only about five minutes, and the first clap of thunder had you ready to bolt under the bed.

Zen, bless him, was utterly oblivious, listening to the backtrack of a song he was working on and occasionally making such benign comments as “that’s a lot of rain” or “wow that was loud”

Yeah. That was loud. Help me.

Eventually it got a bit… much, and you had to make your excuses about getting a book from the television/living room. Since it was in the “basement” part of the complex you’d figured that it’d be easier to hide out there. Just turn off all the lights, try to find earplugs, then count down the time until the storms were over.

Unfortunately the weather wasn’t adhering to this plan very well, how typical of it, as the storms were supposed to last until the early hours of the morning. And it wouldn’t exactly be unobtrusive to not eat.

So after ten minutes in the dark you went out to help Zen prepare dinner. At least no one needed to go to the grocery store. And today’s menu included Japchae, so always a treat! It was going to be okay, nothing was going to happen. It’s fine.

At least that’s what you told yourself until a particular bright flash of lightning streaked the sky and you promptly jumped and dropped the sweet potato noodles on the ground.

At this point Zen switched from oblivious to overly concerned. Say what you will about him but he was truly a sweetheart when he noticed something was wrong. As he helped you pick up the spilled noodles, assuring you that there was enough still in the package to use, he asked what was wrong

You explained that when you were little your grandparents had a house in a village in the countryside and one summer day lightning struck a powerline, causing it as well as two houses close to yours to burn down.

Zen responded with such concern. “Oh MC I’m so sorry to hear that! Was anyone hurt? No wonder you’re uncomfortable around storms now.”

“It was such a long time ago, and it’s so unlikely to happen again my lifetime… I don’t know why I’m still so afraid, it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. You don’t have to hide your fears around me sweetheart. There’s no shame in it.”

Unfortunately words usually cannot make fears go away, but safe to say you were touched. Picking up the rest of the noodles and disposing them you and Zen shared a sweet series of hugs, and maybe you wouldn’t continued down that route if the water hadn’t begun to boil and dinner was once more brought back into stark focus.

Afterwards you guys ate in front of the tv, turning on a random crappy show and making fun of the announcer.

You could still hear the thunder every once in a while, but Zen made sure you felt safe and happy, cuddling you, doing something to draw your attention to him at the beginning of each clap of thunder, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation, even about the most mundane of things.

Your fear still wasn’t gone, and you still weren’t excited for the rest of the week, but at least you had someone with you who truly cared and was actively trying to make you feel better. You knew Zen would always be there for you, and that knowledge would carry you through the most anxious of times, to the other side.

You truly loved him so much.

Yoosung

Sometimes you wished that you could disappear into something as easily as Yoosung did, both with his games and with his studying.

Yoosung was in his first year of veterinarian medical school and, having just passed the first series of exams, had invited you over to the apartment he was leasing, for an evening of games, television, and overall hanging out. It would’ve been more of a date, but the weather was impressively stormy and, much to your relief, it was decided that staying inside was the better option.

Yoosung was loading up a game on the tv and you were checking to see what remained in the fridge, when a bolt of lightning raced across the sky; suddenly you became aware of just how very high up apartment buildings tended to be, and, much like usual, the logical part of your brain repeating Googled information about lightning rods was replaced by a static of anxiety floating around in your brain.

Returning to the TV room you nervously picked up the controller, hoping that Yoosung wouldn’t notice. Not that you didn’t trust him to understand, indeed you’d hardly met anyone as understanding as Yoosung, but it was more that years of being told “it’s just rain” had kinda gotten to your system.

The first half an hour or so was alright, the quiet mental notes you were taking told you that the storm was still far enough away, although there was no doubt it was getting closer; something reinforced by your, hopefully, discreet checking of the weather app.

When the storm arrived, oh boy did it arrive.

The winds felt unbearable, screaming terribly, rattling the windowpanes with fast, stinging rain, so much so the outside looked less like the outside and more like the middle of a whirlpool. A whirlpool that occasionally set itself on fire, the lightning dispersed by the odd shadows of the rain.

At this point all pretense fell out the window.

“MC?” Yoosung looked over as you’d dropped the remote and drawn your legs up to your chest, burying your face in your knees, all thoughts blocked out. “MC.” Yoosung said a little louder, putting his own remote down on the coffee table and scooting over to where you were sitting on the couch. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, something vaguely uncomfortable considering the position you both were sitting in, but still a welcome presence, a bit of comfort making its way past your wall of fear.

“Not a huge fan of thunderstorms I see.” He said when the storm had calmed down a bit. You let out a shaky sort of laugh. Understatement of the century, wouldn’t you think?

“I have an idea!” Yoosung ran out of the room, leaving you to curl yourself up again, until he came back, a pair of headphones in hand.

“These are the best noise cancelling headphones I own, and they cost a fortune so they’d better work.” He placed them over your ears, and immediately you noticed how muffled the sound became. Evidently it must’ve shown on your face, because Yoosung smiled even wider, nodding gently before picking up his remote again.

As the storm continued so did the gaming. At some point you guys ended up thrown about the couch, cuddling each other, and occasionally knocking elbows when the gaming got intense. When things were finally over you two lay there a little longer, although you’d taken the headphones off.

“Thank you.” You whispered, content.

“For what?” Yoosung smiled. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”

“Not all boyfriends.” You countered “You’re special. The best boyfriend one could ask for.”

And you meant it.

Jaehee

I imagine both you and Jaehee not being huge fans of thunderstorms. They frightened you, and to Jaehee the volume gave her a headache, not to mention the fact you were both living in a cheap apartment on the ground floor while the coffee shop’s purchase was still new; and the whole structure had this obnoxious habit of vibrating with both the lightning and thunder, leaving everything a bit discombobulated and very unpleasant.

The coffee shop wasn’t much better really, open as it was, the whole front being 85% glass and only 15% brick.

So when you both checked your phones and saw that storms were on their way it was all about planning.

Since you couldn’t afford to close the shop for the week you instead put a large display in the windows, putting up cardboard trees, birds, and whatever else would block most of the view.

You went through the store, making sure everything unnecessary was unplugged.

Really it was probably a bit overkill, or at least Jumin and Seven certainly thought it was, but hey better safe than sorry.

The apartment was given the same treatment, blinds and shutters were closed, toasters and charging cords were unplugged, and Aspirin and earplugs were stocked up.

The week of the storms was really incredibly unpleasant, with you two sneaking in hugs and kisses whenever the line of customers was small, squeezing each other’s hands when a particularly bright streak of lightning flashed, or when the thunder seemed to become unbearable.

No dawdling home this week, much to the chagrin of both of you, who’d taking to park exploring and other such mundane things that both you and Jaehee had missed out on, her due to work and you due to being shut up in Rika’s apartment for eleven days.

Nevertheless neither of you were particularly keen to venture out in the middle of a storm, so instead you two headed home, a night’s worth of musicals and cuddling ahead of you.

Dinner was spent in front of the tv, although usually you two usually made a point to eat at the dining table it was in the most windowed room in the house and thus not meant to be.

Zen’s beautiful tenor might not have been enough to completely drown out the storms, but it was certainly a help, not to mention the large doses of cuddles you were giving one another.

But really the best part about it was just being able to talk freely about your fears, you both having the reference that those who don’t suffer with what’s widely considered an irrational fear in modern times don’t understand.

And that was really what kept it together for you two. You’ll always be there for one another, you’ll always understand one another.

Eventually the clock struck the hour and you both realized that not only would there be work tomorrow, but musicals can’t much be enjoyed when you’re only paying half attention.

You got ready for bed, both making a final sweep for plugged in appliances that might burn out if there should be an energy surge.

Right before you two drifted off to sleep you gave Jaehee a small kiss. “What was that for?” She whispered. Everything was so beautifully comfortable, so cozy and intimate, and your happiness in that moment overpowered all fear.

“I just love you, I love you so much.” You replied. Jaehee blushed, but returned the kiss.

“I love you too. Forever.”

Jumin

It’s not that you hid it from him because you were embarrassed, well at least that wasn’t the main reason. It was more Jumin’s habit of blowing everything out of proportion, to the point of hindrance. That was really what you were afraid of, you just needed calm, need comfort, not yoga or whatever was to be the cure. And not that Jumin couldn’t or wouldn’t give you comfort, but the likelihood of him giving you calm was maybe a bit more debatable.

So you tried to keep it hidden, mentioned nothing of it on your way out the door in the morning, avoiding the topic in the messenger, even when Seven started to go on and on about windspeed – did the bastard know something?

Things seemed to be going… okay? I mean they weren’t great, you were constantly pushing down the urge to hide in a closet or something, but hey Jumin wasn’t aware yet. Success?

The trip home was certainly unpleasant, and the text that your husband was working late again certainly didn’t seem promising, but hey there’d be Elizabeth, and the bedroom had amazing blackout curtains. So, yeah, it’d be fineeee.

At least it would be if the damn penthouse didn’t have windows for walls. Something that certainly wasn’t normal or part of the regular plan.

Nor was it really possible to take a nap with the thunder so loud and your thoughts running high, really it’d probably be better on the lower floors if you weren’t so sure of people being there.

At this point the plan became less of “don’t let Jumin know, play it cool” to “survive whatever the cost”, which yes perhaps was also an overreaction on your part, but you knew damn well that all rationality had long fled, and you weren’t about to go chasing after it, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Rationality was also what had you go into a google wormhole about terrifying lightning related accident. Need one say more?

So you picked up a perhaps a bit disgruntled Elizabeth the 3rd, and buried yourself under the covers, stroking her fur at regulated intervals, trying desperately to pay attention to the video you’d loaded on your phone, to less than perfect success.

You wouldn’t say that you were dozing when Jumin came home, it was more like you were so deep in your fears that you really didn’t have room to pay attention to anything else.

“MC?” Jumin was instantly alert when you didn’t run to greet him at the door, something that had really become tradition between the two of you. Him being also a bit of a worrier – and a bit being perhaps a gracious way of saying it, lovely though it can be – his first thoughts were that you’d hit your head and passed out somewhere, but the fact that Elizabeth had also not come to greet him clued him in that you two were most likely holed up somewhere, perhaps napping, as had happened a few times before.

His surprise then when you turned out to be in bed, distinctly not unconscious or asleep, holding onto Elizabeth like a vice, was really immense.

“Darling, is something wrong?” You knew he meant something rather more akin to “Something is definitely wrong and I’m very worried and hope you tell me, if not I might become a horrendous paranoiac and never stop bugging you but I also want to be polite about it.”

You folded quite quickly, deciding that it really wasn’t worth it, you were in such a state, and the anxiety was still in complete control of your brain, excuses weren’t about to be made.

In a moment Jumin had enveloped you in a hug, which you were glad to accept, discreetly kicking his phone away hoping that he’d not notice it and get it in his head to send for a meditative trainer or some such thing, since that wasn’t what you were looking for, at least not at the moment.

Thankfully though he seemed more focused on your wellbeing, asking you to talk through your anxiety, gently drawing circles on your back in an attempt to get rid of excess tension. It felt good to be able to release your stream of consciousness, even if it was a bit embarrassing. Every time you started feeling a bit overwhelming you’d insert an apology here and there but Jumin would simply shake his head and assure you it was fine

“After all, you were so patient and understanding when I went through a crisis of consciousness, when all my emotions were suddenly flooding my mind. You listened to me then, the least I can do is listen to you now.”

After you’d exhausted your thoughts and you two had laid there a bit, cuddled together, basking in each other’s presence, you two went to the kitchen, where Jumin insisted he’d make dinner himself.

You weren’t happy to be in the windowed room again, but one flick of a discreet switch and they were suddenly shuttered closed.

“You can do that?!”

“Of course?”

“Ugh, the idle rich.” You shook your head and Jumin feigned horror. This act went on throughout dinnertime, another thing to help soothe your nerves, as well as Elizabeth, who was being awfully nice, curled up in your lap.

Every clap of thunder and Jumin would hold your hand or give you a kiss or hug, again trying to distract you.

Afterwards it was watching trashy soap operas – really you couldn’t understand why Jumin adored these shows so much, he really did secretly have a flare for the dramatics – and more cuddling.

As the night got later and you got sleepier you realized that, though the anxiety wasn’t completely gone, you really were quite content.

“Ah, I wouldn’t mind this every time it stormed.”

Jumin chuckled at that. “Why not? Anything to make you comfortable and happy.”

“You’re going to spoil me terribly you know.”

“Again, why not? Comfort isn’t spoiling someone, and if it was I’d spoil you rotten. You deserve the universe, I’m just giving what I can.”

And really the comfort he gave you was worth five universes at that moment, but wasn’t he always worth that much?

Saeyoung

Saeyoung’s reaction to your fear would probably initially be teasing.

Not because he thought it was funny, more his brain still found sincerity a hard thing to grapple with, and he found his knee jerking reaction be to try and make fun, enough fun for you to forget about everything.

You knew this of course, had long ago learned his patterns, his mannerisms and habits, and initially you tried to play along with it, after all the only reason he knew you were afraid of thunderstorms was because he’d caught you running into the closet on the CCTV in Rika’s apartment. If it weren’t for that you would’ve been perfectly happy with him never finding out. Surely you could humor him a bit.

Well anxiety has a funny way of sharpening one’s nerves, and by the sixth joke you were ready to pull your hair out, both from Saeyoung and from the storm.

“Hey Saeyoung? I really do appreciate what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, but I… I don’t think this is going to be the way to sort it out.”

“Oh… I see.” Saeyoung faltered. Saeran, who was also not a fan and was thus gaming, probably with the volume at unhealthy rates, still managed to snort out a “I could’ve told you that.” Saeyoung shook his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry MC… I, uhm. Yeah…” For a moment you both sat on his horrifically battered couch, the tension rising. Saeyoung screwed his face up in thought, before launching himself towards you, wrapping you up in a huge hug.

“I.. Saeyoung-?”

“Cuddles are a miracle cure.” He said, kissing you on the forehead. “They’ll chase away the storms, just you wait, and in the meantime, how about you teach me how to make something other than sandwiches.”

“I know you know how to cook.” You pointed out, at least happier with this approach, but Saeyoung shook his head.

“I forgot. I can now only make ham sandwiches, and that is truly a sad fate. Won’t you help me? Oh cook in shining armor.”

You rolled your eyes at that “Isn’t being the hero more of your route?” But agreed to make something with him.

Saeyoung really put everything into the “I forgot act”, and you soon found yourself distracted by his antics, peeling onions with a vegetable peeler, “accidentally” getting flour in your hair, tackling you with hugs and kisses the minute thunder or lightning even attempted an interruption. You found yourself either laughing or breathless from his attention, and when your anxiety was too difficult to ignore you allowed Seven to wrap you in a hug as you buried your head in his shoulder, his arms acting as a barrier for the sound.

Dinner took a horrendously long time to cook, something Saeran was sure to point out, but it really did help. As you two were cleaning up dishes Saeyoung paused for a moment.

“Being a hero really isn’t my thing you know.”

“Huh?” You’d sorta forgotten the earlier conversation amidst all the antics.

“You saved me MC, from myself, my own destruction. The least I could is chase away a few thunderstorms. I’d do anything to make you happy. So, I hope that you can be happy.

“What a silly thing to say.” You said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m already so very happy, so incredibly glad to have you in my life. Indeed, if this isn’t happiness then there is no such thing.”

He really was your hero, your knight in peculiar armor. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

V/Jihyun Kim

V hated thunderstorms. Although he’d agreed to get his vision fixed, the date of the surgery was still some months off, and in the meantime every storm sent him in disarray, the sudden loudness of the thunder a disconcerting reminder of his own vulnerability, the fact that if even one thing in his life shifted he was likely to run right into it.

Being someone who had such a visceral hate, he was quick to become aware of your anxiety as well. It was something he just picked up on, before you had the chance to even think about hiding it from him.

“I see I’m not the only one who hates when it storms.”

You weren’t really surprised by his fear, he’d made it quite clear how he disliked to be reminded of the vulnerability that came from being blind, his eyes were already an ever present reminder of his past, a reminder of the feelings that had rotted inside him, which were so difficult to reconcile with.

So during the storms he ended up focusing most of his nervous energy on you, preferring that to morbid thoughts about the path his life had taken.

Coincidentally you tended to have the same reaction, and thus stormy days, though far from pleasant, became a semi-pleasant ritual, full of affection and comfort.

You pointed out the lightning and counted the miles out loud for him, something that helped him ground himself in the world, feel a little more in control of the situation, and in return he kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling you how your fears weren’t silly, how much it mattered to him that you were happy, and all the things you’d do together when the storms passed.

Sometimes you two turned on a podcast, or a video whose audio V had heard multiple times before, another exercise in familiarity that helped comfort you two. He also didn’t mind whether you kept the lights on or turned them off, only wishing to keep at least one window open, to keep track of the storm’s progress.

He also was in the habit of singing or humming at random intervals, his voice kept you in the moment, rather than in an endless loop of “what ifs”.

By the end of the storm you two were often exhausted, which is why they so often ended with you two tangled together, already half asleep.

One such time you were about to sleep, only barely awake to nod when V said the storm had passed.

“Jihyun,” you mumbled, hearing a hum in return. “I love you.”

V smiled, hearing that from you always felt like a moment of rejuvenation, of sudden clarity.

Kissing your forehead he hugged you a little tighter.

“I love you too.”

Saeran

Saeran loved storms. Loved the sheer, raw, uninhibited power they exuded, the proof of how natural ruled above all.

You knew that. You also knew that storms were, in fact, the bane of your existence, and that you’re rather die than sit up and watch them with him.

But you also didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to be a source of unhappiness in his life, so when Saeran eagerly looked out the window and called out “MC! It’s thundering!” You reluctantly dragged yourself over to watch with him.

At first it was alright if you focused on him more than on the outside, the awe and glee he took in watching the rain was endearing, the happiness marked so clearly and without inhibition. It was something that almost took your breath away in how beautiful it was, the joy of somehow who’d had so little of it.

Then the first clap of thunder arrived and you’d nearly sprained your wrist, slipping on the counter and banging your arm.

Saeran’s attention was immediately turned away from the thunderstorm and he looked at you curiously.

“Are you alright MC?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just, I’m fine.” You didn’t want him to know. It made him so happy, how could you ever take away from that, holding you bruised elbow you excused yourself to the bathroom for a moment, saying you needed make sure nothing was serious.

Of course that excuses could only last for so long, but the bathroom seemed such a comfort compared to the windowed rooms, and you lost track of all sense of time or space, curled up in a ball, leaning against the cold wall, the linoleum tiling keeping you grounded.

Eventually however it came to an end, and there was a short knock before Saeran turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Something wrong?” He asked, immediately realizing the answer to that question after looking at your position. Kneeling down to face you he cupped your cheek. “Thunderstorms?”

You nodded, despite yourself. You really didn’t want to take this from him. But he didn’t seem to have felt like anything was taken, instead kissing you on the forehead and opening his arms for you to envelope yourself in them, something you did gratefully.

He held you, rocking you slightly, whispering random bits of words, random pieces of song, anything to keep your anxiety lower. Nudging the door shut once more you two stayed there for a while, and you finally felt yourself calm down.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“For what?” His tone was that of genuine confusion.

“For taking away watching thunderstorms from you. I don’t want to take anything away from you of course, I really don’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh MC…” Saeran peppered your face with kisses. “You haven’t taken anything away from me. I can still watch the thunderstorms, can still love them. Your fear isn’t something to be ashamed of, we all fear things in our lives, all have things we’d rather throw aside. I’m always here for you, always. It’s something I chose, and would choose over and over again. And that choice doesn’t mean I cannot chose to love thunderstorms, or watch them. It just means I have to make sure you’re comfortable as well. Besides, I wouldn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable, not if I could do something about it. So don’t talk like that anymore, okay?”

You nodded, feeling reassured and slightly sheepish. He really was too good for words.

You two stayed in the bathroom until it became too uncomfortable, when you moved to the bed. It was a lovely evening, the storms having mellowed into a gentle rain.

Wrapped in Saeran’s arms you suddenly felt such a rush of emotions overcome you, contentment, bashfulness, love. Especially love.

You loved Saeran so much. And you always would.

Vanderwood

You’d really rather not tell Vanderwood.

You two were the cynics of the group, sarcastic, unfazed, or rather you hid your general emotions to the larger group in a swath of wit and humor. You really didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid of what was essentially a fear that had outlived its purpose.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Vanderwood with your true feelings, indeed sometimes you felt as if Vanderwood was the only person you could trust with your true feelings, a sentiment they had reciprocated multiple times.

It was moreso you already knew how much people saw your fear as overreacting. Didn’t need your partner to join the bandwagon of slight bafflement and bemusement, even if they couldn’t help themselves.

So there you were, sitting on the couch, storm on full display, trying not to dig your head into the side of the lazyboy as Vanderwood sat typing away on their computer.

Unfortunately the storm grew more and more violent, and you quickly grew more and more uncomfortable, your plans of nonchalance having really taken a critical hit.

Before you could think of a proper excuse to go into the bedroom closet and have a bit of a scream a huge clap of thunder shook the complex and the book you’d held in your hands plummeted to the ground.

Vanderwood immediately got up and shut the blinds. “I forgot you don’t like storms.” They said, closing the last of the blinds before turning around to your startled face.

“You know I don’t like thunderstorms?!”

“Was I not supposed to?” They looked vaguely confused, and not a bit amused.

“No.” You buried your hands in your palms.

“No I was or no I wasn’t?”

“You weren’t.” You groaned. “It’s embaraassing.”

“Why should it be embarrassing? Look, MC.” They walked over to you, taking your hands in theirs. “There are a lot of embarrassing things people are in life. Of which I’m at least half of them. I cannot say a lot of things with great confidence, but I can say this. You aren’t the least bit embarrassing for having an incredibly common and practical fear.”

“A fear that should’ve died out with the invention of bricks.” You muttered.

“Perhaps. But we both know that’s not how it works.” They replied. “So don’t feel the need to hide something like that. Okay?”

You nodded and Vanderwood smiled, before giving you a hug, something which you gladly reciprocated.

It was a quiet evening, one of easy cooking and laughing at miscellaneous videos, of making fun of spy shows and swapping stories.

In the end you probably shouldn’t’ve been so surprised.

Vanderwood was an amazing partner, caring, funny, observant, loving.

Perhaps it was okay to have such a fear around them. And if it was okay with Vanderwood than everyone else would have to suck it up, because really two people’s opinions mattered to you on the fact, yours and theirs. And in this instance you’d found yourselves completely in accord.

#so... fucking... long #I'm so tired #was gonna write request tonight but I have to sleep #hope people like this at all lolol #if not might cry #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger headcanons #fanfiction #headcanons #my writing #rewrite

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downwiththeficness · 4 years ago

Text

A Need So Great-Chapter 18

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~2,000

Warnings: Oral M!receiving

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape @revolution-starter @autumnleaves1991-blog @jedi-mando @buckysalefty @anaeve

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 19, 20, 21

Eva was laying in bed at Horacio’s house, reading a novel she’d picked up at the corner store, switching between it and the English to Spanish dictionary as she tried to translate. Though her skills had definitely improved, she still found herself flipping through the pages of the dictionary in frustration as she came across and entire sentence that she couldn’t quite understand. It was slow going, but without having to go into the office every day, Eva had the time.

The door opened and shut loudly, startling her. Quietly, she set her book aside and slid off the bed, padding as softly as she could through the bedroom door and down the hall. Keeping herself against the wall, she peered around the corner. At this point, she couldn’t be too careful.

Horacio was leaning against the counter next to the refrigerator, an ice pack on his hand. Concerned, Eva rounded the corner, hands already coming up to pull his hand to her chest. She lifted the pack, hissing when she saw that it was bruised, cut in a few places.

“What the fuck happened?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he really didn’t want to get into it. Eva tugged just a bit on his arm, lifting her brows. She expected him to answer her.

“We found a man who Vanessa had been paying off to keep tabs on your whereabouts outside of work,” he explained in a moderate tone, “He didn’t want to talk. We worked on him a bit. When he did talk, we knew we had to run a little recon on your apartment. There was a guy waiting for you inside.”

Eva stared for several seconds, then her eyes dropped down to the hand she was holding, “Was he…?”

“Yes.”

“Did you…?”

“Yes.”

She felt the air go out of her, “That’s good.”

“That’s not good, Eva,” he countered, tapping his first finger under her chin to get her to look at him, “It means that we were right. There are more coming.”

For the first time in a really long while, Eva hated being right.

She thought about it for a minute, “Did Vanessa pay him out?”

He shrugged, “I’m waiting for a call to confirm.”

More waiting. All she had been doing since she got let go was wait. It was for the best, but Eva chafed at the inaction.

“What happens if we have confirmation?”

“I give the information to Javi and let him add it to our file, which is growing by the moment.”

Needing a change in subject, Eva lifted the ice pack, gauging the damage, “Does it hurt?”

He lifted one shoulder, “A little.”

Mouth curling into a smile, she asked, “Was this the guy who wouldn’t talk, or the guy who wanted to kill me?”

There was a beat of silence, then, “The guy who wanted to kill you.”

That was more telling than him taking on this mission to track down an endless line of people who were under Myra’s thumb. Eva lifted his hand and tenderly kissed one of the bruised knuckles.

“I’m a little sad that I didn’t get to watch,” she admitted, lifting her eyes back to his face.

His brows drew together, “Its not a pretty sight.”

“Big Guy, you uppercut a guy unconscious before we even started dating,” Eva drawled, pulling him from the counter and leading him to the couch where she sat him down and crawled into his lap. “I can definitively say that violence isn’t going to scare me.”

Casting her a strange look, Horacio wrapped an arm around her middle and pulled her in to rest against his chest. He pushed her hair over her shoulder, nosing over her skin and inhaling. Eva sighed, little tingles of awareness coursing over her body everywhere they made contact. He’d beaten a man, and then killed another, tonight—all in an effort to keep her alive. It stunned her how casually he talked about it. It stunned her more how proud she was that he was willing to go so far for her sake.

Holding his jaw with both hands, Eva ran her thumbs over his cheekbones, her expression soft. Shifting forward, she peppered his face with little kisses, her heart warming at his bemused chuckle. She kept going, laughing when he tried to pull back, only to be stopped by the couch cushion. Eva pressed her advantage, kissing everywhere she could reach, laughing even more as his face scrunched despite the dimple revealing smile stretched wide over his lips.

He gripped her underneath her chin, tilting her head down so that he could give her a proper kiss, a chaste press of his mouth to hers. Then another, longer kiss, his tongue darting out to swipe over her lower lip. Eva gripped his biceps for balance and took a third kiss, deeper and harder than the last. It felt like no time at all before they were making out on the couch like teenagers, the ice pack thrown on to the carpet with a wet plop.

His arms held her tight, one hand drifting up and under her sleep shirt to knead her breast, thumb circling over the nipple. Eva could hear the desperation in her own moan, even as it rolled out of her throat. He mouthed down her neck to her collarbone, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin.

The phone rang and Eva jumped. Horacio pulled back, kissing her soundly on the mouth before leaning over and picking the receiver out of the cradle, holding it to his ear. He continued to hold her as he spoke, a muted voice responding over the line. His fingers drifted lazily over the naked skin of her thigh, circling.

Eva widened her stance, letting more of her weight rest on his hips, on the growing erection in his forest green slacks. Holding his gaze, she gave him the smallest circling movement, just a little bit of friction to stimulate the both of them. The hand on her thigh tightened just a fraction in warning, but his eyes were warm and aroused. Green. Light.

Running her hands over his chest, she rocked forward and up, using the motion to lay a kiss on his cheek, far more innocent that the kisses she was giving him not a minute before. She could feel his breath on her neck and shoulder, faster than normal. His voice was entirely too calm when he spoke next. That needed work.

Adjusting her stance, Eva dropped one foot, then the other to the ground and let her body slide down his until she was kneeling on the floor between his legs. He watched her go, looking torn between censuring her and letting her do as she pleased.

Massaging his thighs, Eva got comfortable, eyes flicking upwards to gauge his expression. His mouth was parted, eyes dark and focused. The hand over the phone by his ear was clenched, the other laying flat against the couch cushion.

Hands tracing up to his stomach, Eva felt for his heartbeat, a quick pulse in his chest, belying body language that could conceivably be described as calm. That was progress. Eva laid her cheek against his thigh, keeping as much eye contact as she could. She placed one hand on the opposite knee, pushing very slightly. Obediently, he let his legs fall further open.

Pursing her lips to keep the smile away, Eva rubbed her cheek up his thigh until she reached the bulge beneath his fly. She exhaled, letting him feel the heat from her breath. Then, she tilted her head and, meeting his eyes, licked him from base to tip. He inhaled, nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed and gaze hot. She did it again, putting a little bit more pressure on him with her tongue.

For a few minutes, that’s all she did, until the fabric of his pants was wet and he was pulsing with every touch. Reaching up, she slipped his belt through the buckle, nimble fingers flicking open the button and carefully lowering the fly.

She looked up, fingers tucked into his waistband, just to make sure he was okay. Breathing uneven, he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and lifted his hips in invitation. The conversation continued, though Horacio more than once had to cover the mouthpiece of the phone when she drew him into her mouth, tongue extending to get at as much of him as she could. His moan was strained as he worked to keep it inside.

Eva pushed her hands up his chest, the material of his uniform and undershirt catching on her wrists and drawing upwards to reveal the thick trunk of his torso. She lifted her mouth, letting his cock fall to his stomach for a moment as she took him in. Chest heaving, red in his cheeks, pants pulled down just past the bend of his ass—Eva had to bite her tongue to keep the moan of want inside.

Sucking him back into her mouth, Eva pumped him with one hand, the other slipping down to cradle his sack. The thighs on either side of her tightened a little bit more with every down stroke, and she could feel the tension in his hips as he worked to keep them still. He was only a little bit successful, they rolled up to meet her, keeping time with her rhythm.

Above her, his voice cracked. She looked up. His eyes were closed, the hand on the couch pushing hard into the cushion. His responses to whoever he was talking to were short and sharp. In her hands, he hardened further, and she could feel his sack drawing up against his body. Eva sped up.

Grabbing her shoulder for purchase, Horacio pressed a bit into her movement, trying to slow her down. She gripped his hand, slotting her fingers between his and setting it on the couch very deliberately. Eva could taste the pre-come that was leaking from his tip, knew that he was getting dangerously close. From above, he ended the conversation with a terse goodbye, slamming the phone down into the cradle with a sharp moan.

“Eva,” he breathed, finally letting his lungs take in the air they needed. “Eva, come here.”

He tried to pull her up, but she caught that hand and pushed it into the couch as well. Without use of her own hands, it took more concentration to keep her body over him, to keep licking and sucking and tonguing him. In her grip, his hands flexed, but remained where she put them. Fingers entwined with his, Eva breathed through her nose, hollowing her cheeks.

Groaning, his hips jerked upwards, nearly gagging her. Eva had to let go of one of her hands to keep him steady in her mouth. The added sensation of her fist bobbing in time with her mouth pushed a pained grunt from his chest, a rumbling growl following. The hand she still held tightened.

“Fuck, fuck,” he spit, and then she could feel the initial pulse of his orgasm.

She swallowed down what she could, a bit dripping down his length and between her fingers. She used the extra lubrication to continue pumping him until he was spent. Pulling off, Eva sat back on her heels and took him in.

Horacio was sweating a bit, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Eyes closed, mouth open, head tilted back. Beautiful man. Eva smiled and pushed up so that she could sink into the couch next to him. He pulled his pants back up over his hips, but left them open. Then, he flung an arm over her, head lolling to the side to look at her.

“I think I needed that,” he said. His brows quirked a little, “Maybe not while I was on the phone with Javier trying to discuss bank statements.”

Eva laughed, “Do you think he knew?”

“I don’t care,” he replied, cupping her cheek and kissing her. He stood, pulling her with him, “Come on, I need a shower and I want you with me.”

#narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #A Need So Great

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greenninjagal-blog · 5 years ago

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Deja Vu pt3

Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait! Finally got the next chapter out! If you missed the first chapter you can find it [here], and if you need a refresher from the last chapter its right [here!]

Summary: Remus has the ability to see the future. Its not always a good thing, but he’s just starting to realize how bad of a thing it can be.

Words: 9670

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Remus is twenty one and he knows that something is wrong with him.

He isn’t sure what words there are to describe exactly what’s wrong with him-- it’s more instinctual than physical. More of a looming dread over his shoulder no one else can see, a whisper in his ear no one else can hear, a scent in the air no one else can smell. It’s something that showed up not too long ago, and he hasn’t been able to shake.

“What’s it like?” Remus asks, with his feet tossed up on the other half of the booth seat and his arms crossed behind his head. The waitress is long gone and so are his pancakes, although the pools of syrup up remain like a bloody battlefield.

“Come again?” Dee asks from where he’s stationed, using the face of a college kid they noted in a gas station two states over. Remus doesn’t necessarily hate this one-- not that he really ever hates any of them-- but this one is definitely an improvement: scattered freckles, sun bleached hair, and long lashes that make his face so soft. Remus likes the innocence of the look, and so did their waitress because she had given them a sly little discount when Dee batted his eyelashes at her.

It makes something stir in Remus, it makes him laugh. Because pretty little Mykayla from Nowhere, Wherever, USA is never going to be privy to the sight of Dee’s beautiful scales. She might think she’s worth something now, worth a kiss, a wink, and a phone number, but she is not, and never will be, worth the glimmering truth that Dee’s obscuring.

And somehow, Remus is.

“Your thingy-ma-jig,” Remus says vaguely, because he knows if he keeps dancing around the topic Dee will look up from that phone of his and give him a brief flash of those very real blue-grey eyes, the ones that he was born with the ones he doesn’t show anyone else. “The thing!”

He doesn’t answer for a moment-- too busy tapping on his phone, making a search, responding to an email, sending a text message to 911, hiring a hitman to take Remus out. It's fun to watch his eyes slide across the screen, hardening and softening with the news, his lips twitching up and down with his responses.

(“I do so have a poker face!” Dee had said weeks ago, “A very good one-- stop laughing! Remus! I do!”)

“Clearer, Remus,” Dee says eventually, reaching blindly to grab his last piece of bacon. Remus is tempted for a moment to shove his empty plate forward, shove it into the place where Dee was grabbing--

---”Remus why?” Dee asks with an irritated huff as he pulls back his syrup covered hand. “Was that necessary?”

“As necessary as the Earth spinning around the sun!”---

---”Remus why?” Dee asks with an irritated huff as he pulls back his syrup covered hand. “Was that necessary?”

“As necessary as the Earth spinning around the sun!”---

But in the end he lets Dee go without. And Remus shakes off the uneasy feeling that appears in his gut suddenly.

Dee bites into the bacon and swipes his screen.

“Deeeeee!” Remus whines pushing himself suddenly onto the table and tossing his feet back to the ground where they completely coincidentally jolt Dee’s legs. “Pay attention to me!”

“I don’t remember becoming a mother to a needy three-year-old,” Dee says, but, but, but! He flicks his eyes up to meet Remus’s and for just a second they turn that foggy blue and his teeth sharpen just enough in his smile. “Allow me just a moment more, my dear. Business, business.”

“You never do any fun business. It's all “let’s pay taxes” and “sign paperwork”!” Remus protests, running the side of his boot down Dee’s calf.

“But taxes are so much fun, Remus!” Dee says with fake enthusiasm, “Look at how much fun I’m having with Kyle, my Certified Tax Expert!”

“It's not as much fun as you could be having with me right now on this table.”

Dee’s expression is somewhere between unimpressed and disbelief, as if after all this time of travelling around with Remus, he still can’t believe that Remus has the audacity to just shout out things like that in public. Remus thinks it's very sexy of him, of both of them.

“We are in public,” Dee says, flicking his tongue around his teeth, those sharp little fangs piercing his facade of a mundane college student.

“I don’t hear you denying it, Double Dee!” Remus counters, and taps his boot over Dee’s perfectly polished dress shoes.

The Shapeshifter gives him a considering look and clicks his phone to the locked screen. Remus feels each second tick by with a thrill in his chest that has no right to be there. Dee’s gaze is a weight of its own, a smothering blanket, a crushing boulder, a lethal threat that promises regret if Remus is the first to look away. His lips are soft and pink and so very kissable.

Remus wonders ideally if Dee knows how kissable he is.

Its seemed dumb that Dee wouldn’t know. Remus has seen him speak French fluent enough to talk his way into an extravagant affluent party while drunk off his ass, seen him do ten step multiplication processes in his head while he was counting up his stolen cash, seen him plot an escape route from a couple dozen locations while evading the police without even having to change his appearance at all. Dee is so smart, that Remus can’t possibly believe that he isn’t completely aware of how nice his lips would feel on Remus’ own--

--He tastes like french toast, like eggs, like syrup. But that’s the only thing sweet about him: the moment Remus gets lost in the kiss, the moment that Dee gets over his shock, the moment that he starts actively kissing back, Dee takes control. His fangs prick and pull and Remus tastes blood. Dee’s hands cup either side of his face and draw him over the table, pulling him straight into the plate of syrup but neither of them pay much attention at all.

“Hey!” That pesky annoying little waitress yells, “Hey!” And Remus flips her the bird for her troubles--

--He tastes like french toast, like eggs, like syrup. But the only thing sweet about him is the way he tastes: the moment Remus gets lost in the kiss, the moment that Dee gets over his shock, the moment that he starts actively kissing back, Dee takes control. His fangs prick and pull and Remus tastes blood. Dee’s hands cup either side of his face and draw him over the table, pulling him straight into the plate of syrup but neither of them pay much attention at all.

“Hey!” That pesky annoying little waitress yells, “Hey!” And Remus flips her the bird for her troubles--

Remus blinks twice, and then another time. He swears for a moment there’s blood in the back of his throat, swears for a moment that he’s still in the future, swears for a moment that he couldn’t turn off his power the way he’s always been able to.

But that’s ridiculous right?

Right?

“-ink, Remus?” Dee says.

Remus focuses back on his partner-- business partner, whom he has never, ever kissed before-- and notes the way that the other is looking at him. Its his “unreadable” face. The one that is supposed to block everyone from knowing exactly what he’s thinking. His poker face.

But Remus has died for him a countless number of times and vise versa. There’s nothing unreadable about him when Remus has seen him bleed out, seen him get shot, seen him get run over, and beaten, and strangled.

“You spaced out for a moment, dear,” He says, although his face reads “Are we in danger? Where is the danger? I will protect you from that danger.”

“Oh it's nothing!” Remus says, like his heart hadn’t just jumped into his throat, “Let’s just say your future self was very busy.”

“Was he now,” Dee hums. “Lucky him, then.”

“You could be that lucky too, DeeDee!” Remus offers, “If you stopped doing all that business nonsense.”

It wouldn’t take much for one of these futures to come true, even the most outrageous one where they get arrested and leave the whole state running with just the clothes on their backs and the smiles on their faces. It wouldn’t take much for Remus to dramatically change the course of their day, their week, their lives.

Its almost silly. In a fun way.

They could spend the rest of their lives together and Remus doesn’t think it would ever stop being silly.

“Alright,” Dee says with a playful sigh, “alright. I hear you, my lovely Soothsayer.” He folds his hands and gives Remus his undivided attention. “What does the future bring us?”

Its theatrical, and Remus likes it as much as he hates it. After all, Roman was theatrical too, and Roman had ruined Remus with just a handful of words. Who was to stop history from repeating itself now? Who was to stop Dee from one day waking up and realizing he didn’t need Remus draping over his shoulder, or nudging him during meals, or begging for attention? Who was to stop the great, mystical deity out there from playing another cruel joke on Remus?

“The future,” Remus sings, “brings us one very important question! What does it feel like to do your thing?”

“My thing?” Dee repeats, tilting his head. “You mean…?” His eyes flash between blue-grey, green, brown and yellow, before settling to a caramel that he hadn’t had before.

Remus nods cupping his cheek in his hand. It's kinda weird. Shouldn’t this have been a question he’d asked weeks ago? Before they left the Basilisk Casino, before they hijacked that car, before they blew through all those gas stations, the small shopping centers, the banks after hours, the jewelers--??

Dee taps a hand on the table. “I suppose it's….much like changing clothes? I can’t imagine another metaphor to explain it.”

Remus imagines Dee taking off the skin he’s wearing like it's a onesie, unzipping the folds of the flesh from the crook of his collarbone and then dragging it straight down the middle of his chest like some sort of skin stealing alien. Dee, stationary, levels him with a look that suggests he knows exactly what Remus was imagining without him saying a word.

“I mean,” The man says, and huffs, “It's like wearing a familiar T-shirt, or a favorite pair of pants. Some feel better than others-- I personally prefer male presenting human forms and while I can play the part of other genders and animals, it's like wearing a shirt that’s too small, or too tight, or I don’t know!” Dee squints at Remus, “Why? Are you planning something?”

“Are you nervous?”

“With you?” Dee says, leaning forward and, oh.

The light hits him just right, just through the windows, turning him into a ridiculous renaissance painting of glowing pale skin, pink kissable lips, and mysterious eyes. He looks surreal all of a sudden, sticking out of the backdrop of this IHOP restaurant like he was photoshopped into the scene: impossible to miss, impossible to look away from.

Dee smiles, “How could I ever be nervous with you, Remus?”

Remus doesn’t know he’s holding his own breath until Dee stands up and gathers his jacket and his phone and Remus’s lungs cry for mercy.

“Come along, Pythia,” Dee says, “We have things to do.”

“Pythia?” Remus repeats, “Gonna bury me alive, Nero?” He jumps up like the thought excites him. Maybe it does.

Maybe something is actually wrong with him and it's not just a feeling.

Dee makes a face, “And get dirt under my nails?” He flourishes his hands as if to ward off the very thought. “Besides, I would undoubtedly miss your company.”

Remus has no reason to feel as touched as he does. Its such a dumb little thing to say-- Dee isn’t even looking at him as he says it, probably isn’t thinking about it anymore than he’s thinking about the smile he’s tossing over his shoulder at that waitress as they leave or the way he’s holding the door open for Remus they go. It means less than nothing to him.

It means everything to Remus.

It feels like a kick to the chest, like a punch to the gut, like a car running him over and leaving him for dead in the middle of the street. Remus can’t breathe and its the most glorious feeling to ever have graced him.

Because Dee…Dee wants him here.

And no one has ever really wanted Roman’s messed up, drugged up, annoying little brother.

(“I don’t need you.”)

Roman had been quite clear about that.

Dee slides into the driver’s seat of the car they had bought. He likes to drive, likes to be in control, and Remus likes lying down in the passenger seat and talking about whatever while they quibble over the radio station and drive without a destination in mind.

“Where are we going?” Remus asks--

--Dee’s scales make an appearance, glittering in all that in green and great and glorious. “You reminded me of clothes.” He said, “And I think it's about time you stopped dressing like you’re living from a Goodwill Bin.”

“Goodwill?” Remus pretends to be offended, “I was going for dumpster.”--

Dee’s scales make an appearance, glittering in all that in green and great and glorious. “You reminded me of clothes.” He said, “And I think it's about time you stopped dressing like you’re from living a Goodwill Bin.”

“Goodwill?” Remus pretends to be offended, pretends to be completely fine, pretends like that didn’t happen, “I was going for dumpster.”

And where everyone else would crinkle their noses and look away, Dee throws back his head and laughs that wonderful angelic laugh of his. It's hypnotizing to hear: a siren’s song that will surely end up in his death one day. But the sound of it, ringing so freely in the air, is enough to wash away every other thought that Remus is having.

There’s something wrong with Remus, but he can hardly focus on that when Dee is right beside him.

They drive into town, or out of town, or somewhere. Remus doesn’t pay that much attention. Once Dee turns on the radio and focuses on not crashing the car, the uneasy feeling comes back.

Remus thinks is a bit like a snake wriggling around, twisting and turning as it tries to consume itself before Remus’s stomach acids consume it. When Dee takes a particularly sharp turn the snake wraps itself up to Remus’s lungs and plays his ribcage like a xylophone. And wouldn’t that be a sight to see?

They’re in the car for about forty five minutes, and Remus feels each and every one of them. His armpits itch, his legs keep chafing against each other, his foot can’t stay put. His phone opens for him to play any one of the fifty billion games he has on it and yet he only stares at the clock ticking, tapping the screen whenever it threatens to sleep.

They’re in the car for forty five minutes before Dee sighs, reaches forward, and turns down the radio.

“I know we have an agreement,” Dee starts which makes Remus want to lean over and turn the music back up--

--and Remus does because, because, because. He doesn’t check the future. He doesn’t think about it. He really should know better.

Dee’s shoulders drop and he looks away from the road just quick enough to be absolutely offended that Remus actually did that. He turns it back down and slaps Remus’s hand away when he goes to turn it back up.

The car jerks and before Remus knows what is going on-- oh fuck Remus doens’t think that he’s ever thought that before-- before he can get a grasp of what is happening, Dee is pulling along the shoulder and then parks.

“Remus,” Dee says, squeezing the steering wheel.

“Something wrong?” Remus says as innocently as he can, which is pretty innocently considering he took lessons from fucking Roman at one point. “I was just enjoying your delightful music choice!”

“You hate classical,” Dee points out. “Which means that you are avoiding--”

Remus turns the dial so loud he feels the fucking air vibrate with the crescendo of violins. “SORRY WHAT WAS THAT?”

Dee glares at him and then, with all the clever, stupid, unfairness of a master manipulator, Dee’s ears fold right into his head. Which of course leaves Remus in a car with music so loud it’s liable to break his own eardrums and Dee staring at him.

Stubbornness is a learned trait. Remus has always had a backbone of steel; it was necessary when he had to explain again and again and again and again that he could see the future and Roman please lets not take that back walking path through the forest to get home. Why? Oh uh, because uh…. It was necessary when he had to harass his mother into wearing smaller heels and his dad into wearing a seat belt while driving. It was necessary when he cared so much about them and the doctors said that it was just an unfortunate case of extreme paranoia with lifelike hallucinations.

Stubbornness is something that Remus has had in spades since the moment that he was seventeen and eleven minutes younger than Roman and he still cared about it. It’s what kept him moving, kept him living, kept him from going back.

Stubbornness lasts him all of fifteen seconds before he caves and turns the music back down with only a slight ringing in his ears.

Dee waits until Remus shift back in his seat before replacing his stupid, dumb ears and letting go of the steering wheel. “Remus,” He says.

“You’re a little fucker, aren't you,” Remus says, staring out the window. “It's not fair that you can just slurp your ears into your body.”

“Slurp?” Dee sounds mildly disgusted at his word choice.

Remus doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t.

Dee rubs the side of his face as if the scales that aren’t visible are itching. “Look Remus,” He says--

---”I know we made that promise, that day after we met that we’d keep this strictly professional.” Dee sounds particularly sour about it, like it wasn’t something that had happened months ago, like they weren’t allowed to change their minds ever, like words of the past met anything to a man like Remus who quite literally lived in the future. “I know we said that feelings are off the table for discussions, but I don’t…”

He hesitates like he’s hoping Remus will speak up and say whatever he’s hinting at.

Remus doesn’t.

Dee huffs, “I’m just...You mean a lot to me, okay Remus. This?” He motions between them, “us? We’re an investment. You’ve been acting--”

“An investment?” Remus repeats, and suddenly his blood is racing in his head and his vision narrows, “You mean like...the fucking bank? What? Like you’re putting money into this and you expect some big payout in the end?” Remus twists to motion to the suitcases in the backseat, “And this isn’t it?”

“That’s not--”

“Or is your investment your goddamn time, Dee?” Remus isn’t sure where the words are coming from, where the anger is coming from, where this conversation is going. “When this doesn’t end up how you want, are you gonna cut your losses? Are you gonna regret this? All of this?”

“Remus!” Dee snaps, “Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“You aren’t denying them!”

“Why do I need to deny them?” He shoots back, “Obviously, they are--”

Remus unbuckles and kicks his door open.

“Remus!”

“Fuck Off!” Remus storms away from the car, their car, Dee’s car. He’s vaguely aware that Dee is shouting after him, words and empty curses and nothing that Remus wants to hear when the air itself feels abrasive on his skin, like he’d somehow become allergic to the oxygen, like he needs to tear his own skin off and find a new one to wear.

He gets all of another six steps before suddenly Dee is there, grabbing his hand, and Remus reacts as violently as he can: by turning into the tug on his hand and curling his fingers into a fist and introducing Dee’s so-kissable face to his knuckles. Dee lets him go.

And Remus doesn’t feel a single bit better.

Because now he’s punched Dee and the air is still corroding his skin and his anger is boiling in his chest and that bad feeling(™) hasn’t gone away. Dee’s nose is bleeding the same way that Remus’s does after he looks at too many futures, looks for too long, looks and sees himself killing his brother.

Dee hisses in pain, holding his hands over his mouth, under his nose, and breathes through the agony that is Shifting When He’s Got Noticeable Injuries.

“Remus.” Dee says, between labored breaths.

It's the same way that his mother who just wanted him to shut up said his name, the same way his dad who just wanted him to calm down said it and the same way Roman who just wanted him to be normal said it and the kids at school who just wanted him to go away said it and the doctors who just wanted him to be curable said it. It's the same way that seventeen-year-old Remus said his own name to his reflection in the gas station bathroom shaking from head to toe after he saw himself get hit by a car for the first time.

“Remus,” Dee says, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Remus doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure he can if he’d tried.

Blood drips between his hands and hits the gravel of the shoulder with bright red and warm colors.

“Every day with you is a payout,” Dee says, “Yeah, I’ll be the first to say the money is nice, but getting to see you smile? Getting to hear your voice first thing in the morning? Getting to go on long car trips and watching you try to read a map, getting to see you get excited over things I don’t even understand, getting to laugh when you say something completely inappropriate in a public setting with no remorse or hesitation? Remus, I---”

“Don’t say you love me,” Remus says, strangled “Because you don’t. You can’t.”

“There is not a single person on this planet who gets to tell me what I can and can’t do!” Dee spits. “I didn’t intend to fall in love with you Remus! But you don’t get to tell me what my feelings are!”

Remus can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and his skin is on fire and his chest is alight with something. Can he still call it anger when he wants to run as far as he can?

Dee inhales, holds, two, three, four, five seconds, and the exhales for twice as long. “Fine,” He says. “Fine, whatever, you’re right. I lied. I hate you and I’m going to kill you some time soon and stash your body in a dumpster for some opposums to eat.” He turns away, “Just...fucking….tell me if something is wrong, will you? That’s all I want.”----

---“I know we made that promise, that day after we met that we’d keep this strictly professional.” Dee sounds particularly sour about it, like it wasn’t something that had happened months ago, like they weren’t allowed to change their minds ever, like words of the past met anything to a man like Remus who quite literally lived in the future. “I know--”

“Tell you when things are wrong,” Remus says, dismissively. “Got it.”

Dee straightens, frowning like the words he didn’t get to say left a bad taste. Remus thinks that it can’t be any worse than the blood his future self got to choke on.

“We’re good!” Remus says, “Peachy, even! Flawless! Marvelous! Solid!”

Dee reaches over and opens the glove box by Remus’s knees. “I’m sure we are.” He says with just enough doubt that Remus knows he hasn’t gotten away with anything. Can Remus feel guilty for something that hasn’t even happened? Something that isn’t going to happen?

Dee hands him a travel pack of tissues that Remus doesn’t remember buying. Remus frowns at them.

“For your nosebleed, Remus,” Dee says.

And oh, Remus hadn’t even noticed. Isn’t that weird? The back of his entire mouth tastes like blood and eggs and syrup and there’s scarlet dripping down his front so easily that Remus’s stomach clenches. How does he keep forgetting how much he hates that color?

There’s something wrong with Remus and this might be proof of that.

“Promise me?” Dee asks. “I know you’ve been acting off, Re. But I trust you. If it's something I’m doing, promise me you’ll tell me?”

Remus twists the tissues between his fingers, feeling his atoms buzz under his skin, like a bunch of bees trying to escape while that snake in his chest breaks his ribcage xylophone. “Cross my heart and hope to die, Dee.”

Dee nods, satisfied. He puts his hands back on the steering wheel. “Not too soon, I hope.” He offers a bit of his fang in a smile, “Shopping is always more fun with you, Dearest.”

Remus’s heart doesn’t twist. It doesn’t.

That feeling over his shoulder lessens a little.

Remus is twenty one, and there’s something wrong with him. He just doesn’t realize the extent of it yet.

Shopping with Dee is fun.

A few weeks back Dee had insisted on taking him shopping the first time, and replaced his suitcase of thrift clothes with straight-off-the-line silks, several flannels, and smart looking button ups. Remus kept every outfit just to humor the other; He actually rotated through three half cut shirts of various colors that all read “THOT” and showed off his belly.

It made Dee crazy, but it also wasn’t like Dee was telling him to stop. Especially not when the warmer weather meant Remus broke out his jean shorts and fishnets.

The shapeshifter liked to think he was sly, clever, and subtle, but Remus had spent far too many futures exchanging saliva with him to be fooled. Dee was a biter and Remus hadn’t been aware he was into that until he felt those fucking fangs of the first time (and every time after that).

The only thing that Dee had bought him that he actually wore was the black leather jacket. It was nice. Remus remembers looking at one similar back when he was seventeen and still so stupid and his mom had saw him eyeing it and put her foot down.

“Absolutely not, Remus,” she had said, “You’d look like a delinquent!”

Sometimes he thinks about stopping by a payphone and telling her exactly what he had done with his life. He’d tell her all about where he went after he realized that none of them cared to listen to him, he’d tell her how he was rich, how he got that money, how he was always just one criminal act away from being caught and arrested and Mom, isn’t that so much worse than just looking like a delinquent?

“I guess you should have just bought me that jacket,” Remus would laugh into the receiver, as his mother has a heart attack on the other end, to which the ambulance would get there just in time to help her with.

It wouldn’t feel as satisfying as he thought it would, so he’d asked Dee if they could rob a jewelry store/ bank/ high-end boutique/celebrity mansion instead. And Dee loves it when Remus is the one bullheading a heist. His blue-grey eyes light up and his hands dance in the air when he throws out suggestions.

So shopping with Dee is great.

They have about two bags a piece when they blow through another high price shopping center despite the bits of blood on Remus’s chest, paying with cash that they liberated from a couple of vaults in a bank at least a state ago. The cashiers in two of the places are extra super nice to them, and the third place offers a personal assistant to help them although Dee chuckles at them and brushes his hand against the small of Remus’s back.

“If you pick out at least one shirt,” Dee says, while picking through a series of smart looking ties, “We can go look at wedding rings.”---

---“To get married? Or to fence?” Remus says leaning back against another display, “Or do you not have a preference?”---

---“To get married? Or to fence?” Remus says plucking a black tie with a yellow snake from the shapeshifter’s hands and using it to hook it around Dee until their chests are pressed together. “Or do you not have a preference?”---

Remus blinks, hesitating for a moment more than he means to. “To get married? Or to fence?” He watches as Dee hooks the yellow snake tie back on the rack. “I think I have a preference.”

Dee glances back at him. His gaze is narrowed, but Remus picks up the snake tie up again and holds it out for him. Dee takes it back and puts away the others that he had been looking at.

“I was intending to fence them,” Dee admits, with just a bit of a flush, “Though, getting married...is that something we should be considering at this stage in our lives?”

Remus tries not to think about corroding skin, or blood on gravel, or words that Dee hasn’t said and doesn’t mean.

“Any shirt?” Remus asks, because changing the topic is easier than answering.

“It has to fit and it has to look presentable.” Dee says.

Remus makes a face, and Dee pokes him in the cheek. “Honestly, darling,” He says, in a southern accent that Remus is sure he’s pulled out for fun at this point, “That’s just the bare minimum. I’ve decided to start small.”

Remus tries to keep the sour look off his face, but from the way that Dee bites the inside of his cheek he knows how he did.

“These clothes suck,” Remus tells him, and it's most definitely a whine. “Dee, you can literally turn into a dragon. Why would you want to wear clothes like these when you can be a dragon?”

“It's the aesthetic, my dear. Rich clothes mean a rich person, and I do so very much enjoy looking- and being- richer than others.”

“But you could be a dragon.” Remus repeats, because really, is Dee just not hearing him? “You could be rich and be a hundred feet long with giant wings and sharp teeth and just step on people who annoy us. A Dragon!”

Dee laughs like someone who is rich and can be a fire breathing dragon at any moment and yet still chooses to wear shirts with collars. Remus thinks it would be sexy of him-- well, actually, it is sexy of him. Dee is sexy. He’d been knew.

Remus flutters over the shirts, all of them looking more uncomfortable than the last. Honestly, Remus doesn’t know why he wasn’t fine in his own outfit. What, do rich people not know everyone had legs and midriffs underneath their clothes?

Remus picks out an offending neon green shirt in a box that comes with a fancy tie and whatever. It makes his own eyes hurt to look at it so he throws it at Dee.

“This is not your size,” Dee says.

“I’m starting to think that you’re trying to get me to pick out my funeral outfit.”

“And you want to be buried in this?”

Remus grabs his chest, “Don’t be ridiculous Dee! Why would I want to be wearing clothes at my own wake? Are you trying to take the “fun” out of “funeral”?”

“And if I am?” Dee says without really missing a beat. So maybe that’s why Remus likes him so much. Because after months and months of searching for that one phrase, the one comment, the one statement that's too much, he still hasn’t found it.

Dee should have run away by now-- Remus knows this fact, the way he knows the fifty million futures are going to end up. Dee should have run after they robbed that casino, after Remus chose to get them driven out of Oklahoma for funsies, after Remus wouldn’t stop making suggestive comments about the two of them. Dee should have run and never looked back.

You know, like every other person in Remus’s life.

But no matter which future he enacts, no matter how many he looks at, no matter what he does.

There’s always Dee. There’s always blood on the gravel. There’s always those words.

That he doesn’t mean, can’t mean, won’t mean.

Remus is twenty one and whatever it is between them is wrong, despite how much he really wants it.

“If you are then you should get me a wedding ring,” Remus says tugging at a button on another shirt, pulling it loose, and imagining eating, because choking to death is easier than any other thought he’s having.

“Oh?” Dee plucks the button from his hand before he can put it in his mouth and tosses it across the store, like the good person he is. “And why would that be?”

Remus pouts. “Gotta marry me for the life insurance, Jekyll and Lies!”

Dee’s lips quirk, up and down, like a worm wriggling under a blazing sun. He pulls on his poker face, and Remus reads between the lines as him being frustrated.

“Oh?” Dee says between gritted teeth, “Is that the only reason?”

“Wha--??”

Dee throws the offending green shirt back on the rack and grabs Remus by the forearm. Before he can get out another very confused word Dee is dragging him towards the store entrance without an item to buy. The employees blink at them, but Dee bulldozes his way back out of the door with a warpath that would surely put Alexander the Great to shame--

---The Jewelry Store flings into view a cute little shop with barely anyone nearby and windows with dark backdrops and glittering jewels that probably would cost them most of the fortune they’ve amassed together.

Remus’s heart jumps to his throat, out of his throat, it lands on his tongue and he chews his way through it as Dee drags him towards the shop.--

---The Jewelry Store flings into view, a cute little shop with barely anyone nearby and windows with dark backdrops and glittering jewels that probably would cost them most of the fortune they’ve amassed together.

Remus’s heart jumps to his throat, out of his throat, it lands on his tongue and he chews his way through it as Dee drags him towards the shop. The doors are clear glass and the handles are sleek black, but Remus isn’t looking at them as much as looking around them at the curious bystanders who follow them with their eyes--

Remus’s heart jumps to his throat, out of his throat, it lands on his tongue and he chews his way through it as Dee drags him towards the shop. The doors are clear glass and the handles are sleek black, but Remus isn’t looking at them as much as looking inside where there are two jewelry store employees pressed against the back wall and a guy pointing a gun at them and a kid, a kid flourishing his hands out--

Remus’s heart jumps to his throat, out of his throat, it lands on his tongue and he chews his way through it as Dee drags him towards the shop.

“Dee!”

But Dee isn’t listening, because, because, because, because---

“Dee!” Remus yells anyway.

But Dee isn’t listening for some stupid reason and the Jewelry Store flings into view, a cute little shop with barely anyone nearby and windows with dark backdrops and glittering jewels that probably would cost them most of the fortune they’ve amassed together.

Remus’s heart jumps to his throat, out of his throat, it lands on his tongue and he chews his way through it as Dee grabs the steel black handles of the glass doors and yanks them open.

Remus shoves his entire weight sideways, sprawling over Dee, hitting the floor heavily, slamming his chin to the ground, and biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood. “FIRE!”

The glass doors shatter over them, raining twinkling stars over Remus’s back and a violent, furious explosion. Heat seers into them, over them, punching through them both like a physical blow to their bodies. The air burns, too hot to breathe, too hot to see through, too hot.

A body flies over them, probably, maybe, definitely, and slammed wetly against the internal decorative plant beds that have been all over the mall so far. Flames lick off the body, paralleling the godawful screaming of the man. The crowd, the other shoppers, the unsuspecting normal people panic. They scream. They cry. They run.

And yet all Remus can see is Dee on the floor of the mall, eyes empty, mouth open, scales out and body devoured by flames. Gone gone gone gone--

“Remus!” Dee yells, because he’s not dead yet, because he hadn’t been burned alive, because Remus had changed the future. He’s alive.

His heartbeat is there, and Remus can feel it from where he’s pressed against Dee covering him entirely. His breathing is warm against Remus’s cheeks, his hands on Remus’s chest. His stolen appearance is still functioning.

He’s alive.

But for some reason Remus’s brain can’t get with the program.

He tastes ashes in his mouth, burning his lungs, and ripping through the dryness of his mouth. The air is hot, steaming, shimmering with the threat of more fire.

“Remus,” Dee is suddenly in front of him, cupping his cheeks so sweetly, blue-grey eyes boring into his, “Remus, are you okay?”

He’s not.

Remus is twenty one years old and he just watched Dee die again but this time it was unexpected and they weren’t even doing anything illegal and it just happened and he died and Remus is not okay.

There’s something wrong. Everything is wrong.

His mouth opens but none of that comes out. He’s shaking.

Dee’s eyes harden on something beyond him, harden and darken and his mouth pulls into a sneer. “Breathe for me, Dear,” He says softly, “and forgive me. There’s a small task I have to do. I’ll be right back.”

He steps back, pulls back, and Remus’s head follows him on instinct. Remus is kneeling on the ground, although he definitely doesn’t remember getting here at all. Dee stands up, runs his fingers through Remus’s hair and then strolls directly towards the child and the man on fire.

There’s an elegance in his walk, Remus notes distantly. An elegance that makes him glide across the floor, flowing between panicking people, squaring his shoulders and tilting his chin up so he can look down at his opponent.

Opponent?

“Hey!” Dee yells sharply, cuttingly, loudly. He slices through the panic like a knife through warm butter, or a truck through a red light, or a bullet straight through flesh.

“Hey!” Dee yells, and suddenly everyone is looking at him as he rushes towards the burned man. “Just what the fuck do you think you are doing, brat?!”

The brat in question, the child who had been in the jewelry shop, the juvenile who had flourished his hands outward and made fire appear in the air, that kid stops where he’s standing. And oh god he’s wearing some sort of outfit-- its like Halloween came early! Black clothes, with an orange flame over his chest and an orange mask tied around his face like he’s some sort of superhero.

At the oldest? This kid might be twelve. And there’s no mask hiding that fact away.

“Official Hero business, sir!” The child says and Remus wants to laugh, thinks he laughs, does actually laugh. Because this is a joke isn’t it? An elaborate joke? There are people nearby who stopped in their panic when Dee stepped up, who are holding their breaths, who are looking at Remus like he’s finally lost it.

“Official hero--” Dee also thinks this is funny, and Remus knows because of the way his eyebrows quirk. “Where are your parents?” Without waiting for an answer Dee turns to a woman crouching nearby, “Are you his mother? This is so irresponsible!”

Flames flicker around the child as he stomps his foot, “Move out of the way, sir! I’m the official superhero of this city, Flamestrike!”

“What you are is a child,” Dee says sharply, before turning back to the woman, “Call an ambulance for this man will you? Those burns--”

“He’s a villain!” The kid cuts in, “He’s going to jail!”

“Will someone please go find his parents!” Dee yells. "Call an ambulance, and someone check to make sure he’s still breathing. And get me a clean sheet! We need to cover the burns with something that won’t leave anything in the wound!"

Remus sways where he is kneeling on the floor. Dee sweeps the area with a flourish of his hands, dismissing the child with just a word, throwing commands to the others nearby, and generally being amazing. It's a cold shut down, a cruel one.

But no one moves at his words, because they're all stupid and for some reason Remus is surprised about that again. Why does he put his faith in people again? Especially when he has the memory of Roman breathing down his neck most days?

But these people are looking between Dee, the adult, the very capable stranger, and this toddler like they’re waiting for some stage direction. Remus hates plays, has hated them for forever. It only had a little bit to do with the fact that Roman loved their highschool theatre program so much.

But the air smells like burned flesh and several plants in the decorative planters are still on fire and Remus’s chest still hurts from a lack of oxygen and there’s a man who's so crispy he doesn’t feel anything at all but can’t move a muscle lying over there-- a man whose life is in the balance and Dee is apparently the only one willing to take up that weight.

It's because of that Dee hisses out distastefully.

“Apologies,” Dee says, very unkindly, very dangerously. “Are we waiting for Christmas to come along? This is an emergency, not one of your soaps! Call an ambulance! Get me a sheet! And someone get over here and help me make sure his clothes aren’t stuck in the burns!”

“That man was robbing--” The child tries again.

“Oh, please, shut up!” Dee roars at him, “I could not give a single fuck what this man has done or not done! You are the one at fault here!”

If there was oxygen in the air before, it's gone now. Remus knows this from the sharp loud inhale by nearly a dozen frozen onlookers, from the way the child looks taken aback, from the way that Dee’s eyes flash blue grey and dangerous. The singes on his shirt, the soot on his face, make him look murderous in a way that Remus hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing before.

(Because he never gets mad at Remus, never that mad, never that angry. It doesn’t matter what buttons Remus pushes.)

“Did you think you were special?” Dee's tone starts like a bubbling brook and swiftly crashes over everyone who listens like a tsunami and drowns everyone who wasn’t prepared. “Did Mommy and Daddy tell you your power was one of a kind? Did your friends think it was so cool that you could make fireballs? Did you build a little secret lair in your treehouse?”

The kid takes a step back. Dee takes a step forward, wearing the face of a stranger who has probably never been this livid before in their life.

“What was it, Kid?” He asks, “You had a power and you decided that you know right and wrong, now? You wanted to play superhero so badly you forgot that life isn’t a silly little movie? Please enlighten me on why you have the right to just attack a handful of civilians! Because if it weren’t for my friend you’d be staring at two extra corpses!”

It's him, Remus realizes a second too late. It's him that Dee just mentioned as having saved their lives and it’s him who would have been dead alone with Dee if he hadn’t moved fast enough.

There’s movement, he notes a second later. There’s a woman who takes several hesitant steps forward, and dashes beyond Dee to the burned man. She drops her shopping bags and pulls out a phone, and does those things that Dee had commanded, with all the nervousness of someone trying improv for the first time.

“Thank you,” Dee says to her.

“If you’re…. If you’re helping that man, you’re a villain!” The kid stutters.

And like a shark when there’s blood in the water, Dee laughs. “Us?” He says, stepping in front of the brave woman to block her from the child’s view. “We’re not the ones who just tried to kill two innocent people, kid.”

“Its Flamestrike!” The kid stomps his foot, but he sounds so pitiful, Remus almost feels sorry for him. If it weren’t for the smell of burning flesh, the sight of marred skin, for the memory of a future that didn’t happen--

“I’m a hero,” The kid insists, stubborn in all the wrong ways.

Dee growls deep in his throat. “You are not a hero!”

“I am!”

“You don’t have control of your power. You don’t have control of your emotions. You’re the modern day Fires of Rome! You make one mistake and you set a whole building-- the whole city, on fire! You do not get the option of forgetting that there are normal people here!”

Dee looks past the kid to the jewelry store owner, worker, whoever, who is creeping by the shattered glass doors, squeezing an ornate silver cross in her hand. “Tell me, madam--” Dee’s voice is smooth and soothing like the surface of an icy river that promises an unkind demise if she lies to him, “--how much were the items he was attempting to steal?”

It takes a long suffering moment for her to answer. Remus’s breath hovers in his chest for all of it, clinging to the insides of his throat until his eyes itch. His knees grind into the ground, trying to steady him when the whole world feels like it's swaying.

“Several thousand,” she admits, and Dee almost laughs, but to be fair so does Remus.

“Several thousand!” He repeats to the kid in front of him, “A man’s life is several thousand to you? You would kill a man for several thousand? That’s less than the price of a car!”

“Wha--No!”

Dee waves to the man behind him, to the woman who was kneeling beside him, clutching a phone between her shoulder and her ear.

“But you did!” He says. “You did. You! The so-called Hero! Who attempted to extinguish a life over a couple thousand dollars that this man probably wouldn’t have been able to fence, and the store right here most likely had insurance over.

“It's time to face the music,” Dee says softer, sterner, and perhaps unkinder than it needed to be. “You are not a hero, kid.”

--- The child’s eyes glow brightly, burning red with a special type of hatred that Remus is sure only Dee can inspire in someone. He thrusts his hands forward, fingers spread as wide as they can go and lets out a furious screech.

“ITS FLAMESTRIKE!”

Flames explode out from his palms, shooting across the open area towards Dee who didn’t really expect a child to attempt a murder, towards the bystander who was calling that ambulance towards the man who had just tried to rob the jewelry store with a gun that still had the safety on.

And when the sweltering heat subsides, when the screams break, when light dies down and the bile in Remus’s mouth comes back up….all that’s left in the place of all three of them are ashes, flaming plants, and scorch marks on the floor.---

---Flames explode out from his palms, shooting across the open area towards Dee who didn’t really expect a child to attempt a murder, towards the bystander who was calling that ambulance towards the man who had just tried to rob the jewelry store with a gun that still had the safety on.

--And when the sweltering heat subsides, when the screams break, when light dies down and the bile in Remus’s mouth comes back up….all that’s left in the place of all three of them are ashes, flaming plants, and scorch marks on the floor.--

---And when the sweltering heat subsides, when the screams break, when light dies down and the bile in Remus’s mouth comes back up….all that’s left in the place of all three of them are ashes, flaming plants, and scorch marks on the flo--

“FLAMES!” Remus screams, because he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything from so far away. His heart hammers against his chest as the child’s eyes glow brightly, burning red with a special type of hatred that Remus is sure only Dee can inspire in someone.

The child thrusts his hands forward, fingers spread as wide as they can go and lets out a furious screech. “ITS FLAMESTRIKE!”

Flames explode out from his palms, shooting across the open area towards Dee, who hears Remus, who isn’t surprised, who sees the attack coming and faces it head on.

And Remus can’t breathe for a second as the sweltering heat sweeps through the open area, as the screams rise up again and light seers into his eyes with crackling, horrific popping noise. It's like popcorn, and all Remus can think of is the noise that the acids in the human stomach make when they’re boiled in an open fire.

The attack cuts off, the flames subside and the kid is left there shaking, screaming, eyes wide and horrified and--

“Oh my god,” The kid says softly. “That’s impossible….”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dee says, grinning with his fangs on display as he brushes off the last of the flames. His body had morphed into a humanoid dragon looking thing: fireproof wings, a spiky tail, and thick iridescent scales interlocking over his entire body, up his neck and covering half his face like a mockery of his true form, “Was that supposed to help prove your point or mine?”

Remus feels floaty. He feels like he’s watching a nightmare, but it's not one of his.

He feels bad. So bad. Wrong.

Terrible.

“You… you’ve got powers too,” The kid says, and he sounds excited about it. As if he had somehow missed the previous five minutes, the previous ninety seconds, the previous heartbeat where he tried to kill someone. “You’ve got powers and you're a bad guy!”

“Remus,” Dee calls from where he’s standing, with his wings arched up, so powerful, so dangerous, fucking beautiful, from where he’s using those wings to protect the one brave woman and the would-be robber. His tone is questioning, a version of vibrations that Remus has heard in a bazillion futures that never happened. Remus knows what he’s asking about without him needing to say it.

“Two minutes,” Remus offers, scarcely definable, scarcely English. And yet Dee just nods to acknowledge that Remus had been heard, that Remus had helped him, that Remus had done a good job.

“You’re a super villain!” The kid continues on, looking determined under his stupid dimestore mask.

“I do hope you’ll forgive me, Dear,” Dee says to Remus again, although he hasn’t looked away from the teacup-size nuisance that nearly flambeed him a moment ago, “I’m about to add assault on a minor to our long, wonderful list of crimes.”

Remus laughs. Because this is all weird and wrong and it's funny. Genuinely.

Or maybe he’s just finally lost it.

The child yells something, forming a glowing orange fireball in his fist, like this is some sort of bad anime where the heroes win. Dee doesn’t even humor him. The fight is over in seconds as the gorgeous green wings fly forward and send the winds of a hurricane directly at him.

Remus sees it in snapshots: The winds picking up the kid, the jewelry store worker diving out of the way, the glass shards from those doors swooping into the air, and that kid slamming backwards twenty feet or so, folding over one of the untouched jewelry cases with a cry of pain.

“Some free advice,” Dee says, because he’s a bastard, and Remus is definitely in love with him, “Don’t get back up.”

The next thing Remus knows is Dee is right next to him wearing the face of the waitress from that morning, helping him to his feet, taking most of his weight when Remus knees refuse to work. He’s soft, warm, gentle, familiar. The soot from the close calls is gone, leaving only a torn shirt and exposed skin.

He grabs their fallen, forgotten, abused bags from their shopping earlier, and leads them away from the mess, the chaos, the wrongness with one minute and five seconds to spare before the police show up on scene. Remus doesn’t really remember much after that. Somehow they make it through the questioning-- Remus suspects that Dee puts their waitress’s large chest to use-- somehow they make it back to their car. Somehow.

Dee leans him against the door as he struggles to find the keys somewhere between their various pockets. “Keep breathing, Re,” He says softly, but no less meaningfully, “We’re almost out.”

Remus blinks and blinks again and his entire stomach makes a lunge for his throat. He doubles over and hits the asphalt of the parking lot like there are cinder blocks tied around his neck. Everything from that morning comes back up: the eggs, the pancakes, the blood on the gravel--

Remus coughs on his inhale, gags on the effort to remain upright while his mouth tastes like the inside of his stomach.

Dee presses a hand between his shoulder blades that’s grounding and painful and exactly what Remus needs all at once. He shudders, shakes, and falls apart. And Dee just maneuvers him into the passenger seat before crawling over him to get to the drivers side.

“I’m sorry,” Dee says, as he starts the ignition and pulls through the parking spot to get out of this lot, to get away from this mall, to get as far as possible from this location. “You-- You tried to tell me something was wrong and I didn’t--I wasn’t-- Remus--”

Remus hugs his knees to his chest. “F-fuck!”

Dee frantically scours their cup holders and finally offers him the remains of blue slushie from yesterday. And Remus is grateful enough that he takes it, swishes it in his mouth, and spits it out the window for the person driving behind them to deal with.

“Fuck,” Remus says again because the back of his eye lids are still burned with the sight of scorch marks on the floor.

“Fuck,” Dee agrees, and presses the gas pedal to the floor. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Remus is twenty one years old. Everything feels wrong in him, around him, about him in ways he can’t explain yet.

He does not know that things are only going to get worse.

(Chapter Four)

#Deja vu AU #remus sanders #deceit sanders #Janus Sanders #remus has precognition #Blood #violence #burns #Remus is in love #And So is Deceit (Janus)#They are both such dorks #I love them #Demus #this was a lot more gay than I thought it was gonna be #twenty four pages of remus mostly freaking out #And wow....is that a hint at the reason this story is called deja vu?#whoa!

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aros001 · 3 years ago

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Read through light novel vol. 14. Random thoughts.

I haven't read/watch a lot of harem stories. My exposure is mainly from Rosario+Vampire, Negima, UQ Holder, and maybe Code Geass and Overlord (I'm not sure if I should count Konosuba). So my perspectives on how harems typically work in stories is a bit limited. That said, I do like how Naofumi's "harem" differs from the norm I'm aware of.

Most harem MCs: Has many girls after his heart/wang and is either oblivious to it, can't make up his mind as to who he actually likes, or doesn't have the time for love/booty.

Naofumi: "Will you people f**king leave me alone?!"

I just love the concept of Naofumi's "harem", where a second person who likes him romantically isn't even introduced until volume 10 and Naofumi is absolutely annoyed with every member who joins his "harem", save for Raphtalia.

I tend to forget Naofumi has a brother because it isn't brought up that much, even though I did like that backstory for Naofumi we got in vol. 1 regarding him. It does make me wonder how much time is passing in his old world vs. this new one. With the other three heroes, they died, so they don't really have lives they can go back to. But for Naofumi's parents and brother he could theoretically be missing for months or years by the time if or when he goes back. But back on topic, I do like him drawing parallels to his family and Sadeena's, how his brother compares and contrasts with her and her sister when it came to the pressure from the parents. I already like Sadeena but it was nice to see her and Naofumi actually getting to bond a little over something that was very personal to one of them, without romance or attraction being the main drive of their interaction like it usually is. Honestly, there were some nice parallels drawn between characters throughout. Naofumi's brother with Sadeena and her sister. Sadeena and Raphtalia's father with Shildina and the child emperor. Even a little bit with Raphtalia's status in Q'ten Lo with Naofumi's in Siltvelt. It's a good thing she's not staying too long or she might end up in a harem bath like he did (even though, given the difference between male and female biology, there wouldn't be much point in that. She'd get her selection of guys but can only get pregnant with one at a time).

I'll admit, most of this book I was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me, mainly because of Naofumi's comments throughout of how well the invasion was going and how stupid the enemy was being. I was waiting for it all to be some kind of trap or manipulation but...nope, their government really was just that bad and the victory was just that easy. On the one hand, it does make it feel like less of an earned victory, since they didn't have to fight too much to achieve it until the very end (and in that case it was mostly Sadeena and Raphtalia against technically the same single opponent), but on the other hand, in regards to the overall story, a comment from Naofumi does make an argument for why it works, comparing Q'ten Lo and its ruling class to Queen Melromarc. A respected ruler whom is very skilled at diplomacy and manages to work with or at least create truces with other countries, even those hostile to hers like Siltvelt, vs. the child emperor of a completely isolated country (save for some imports from Siltvelt) whom is placed on the throne far before he's ready and puppeted from behind the scenes by a very self-serving individual. There is certainly a very (unfortunately) real argument to be made as to why the latter would be already be on the verge of falling apart from such greed and sort-sighted actions. Wisdom and long-term planning vs. greed and short-term gains.

This is going to sound weird but Motoyasu #2 reminds me a little of Bakugo from My Hero Academia, in regards that they both fill a similar trope, where the character (a non-villain) is very unpleasant and easy to hate but you, the audience, do have to acknowledge, even begrudgingly, how good and skilled they are at what they do. He's a horrific perv and womanizer but his blacksmithing abilities are genuinely impressive, especially with how he handled that cursed blade from the Hydra and his explanation of life force applied to smithing. I don't think we've had another character quite like that yet in this story. The other three heroes were also unpleasant and easy to hate but after the first wave battle they never really showed anything the audience is forced to give them props for, at least in comparison to what Naofumi and party could already do. They were unpleasant and were useful only in what they could potentially be once they got their heads out of their asses, not for what they were currently. I imagine we'll get something similar to the trope with Trash at some point, as even the Queen herself talked about how brilliant a strategist he once was. Though Bakugo grew as a character as time went on and the unpleasant parts of his character slowly winded down. I'm not sure we'll see that with Motoyasu #2 and Trash. Trash is maybe more likely but he'll have more of a journey he'll have to go through after how unpleasant (and kind of unhinged) he's been.

The parts about Naofumi's character that I like the most have almost nothing to do with him being a hero. I love that he's a really good businessman, both of the good and shady parts of it, and that he's a really good cook, even when he's not adding life force to the dishes. For as much as he wants to go home, of the four heroes he'd be the one who'd have the easiest time settling down in the new world once the waves are gone, since being the Shield Hero just makes what he does a little easier and it's not absolutely essential to do it. He can use his shield to improve the quality of medicines or compound it for him but he still can make good medicine on his own.

Also that he can't stop basically adopting kids despite flatly denying that he is any sort of parental figure or that he should be seen as such.

"I'm not your mother!" He says as he wears an apron and cooks and dishes up delicious hot meals every day.

"I'm not your father!" He says as he teaches them confidence and toughens them up against those who'd ever try and hurt them again.

"I'm your owner! I'm a tyrant! A dictator! I'll make you work off every penny I've spent on you!" He says as he keeps them safely protected from the dangers of the world they can't yet handle and offers them a place of peace and security like they've never had before, taking the time out of his day to play with and entertain them when they ask him enough.

Naofumi collects son and daughter figures like Lilo and Steven Universe collect father and mother figures. No wonder Raphtalia and so many women like him. He's a business owner, can cook, never gets drunk, and is good with kids and animals (and threatened to feed a kid to an animal! That's double points right there).

That reminds me. I'm not sure how much time passes between when each group/generation of Holy Heroes is summoned but I'm curious when we'll meet (or if we've already met) a child/decedent of one of the previous heroes. A previous Shield Hero apparently really like his harems so I'm sure he must have sired at least a few children (unless the shield also offers protection against pregnancy (Condom Shield!)).

So...Makina. Bitch #3 or Kyo #2? I think either would fit, though I suppose Bitch #2 is just my nickname for Kyo and not one Naofumi ever gave him. Honestly, from just the short bit she was in the story, she kind of feels like if Kyo and Bitch had a baby.

...I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

I kind of love Ren and Rishia being exposition buddies, just exclaiming aloud all the techniques and magics that are happening during a fight.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/shieldbro/comments/fm85q5/read_through_light_novel_vol_14_random_thoughts/

#rising of the shield hero #random thoughts #reddit repost

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thejustmaiden · 4 years ago

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Fiction and Real Life Go Hand In Hand

This blog goes out to all those pro-Sessrin fans out there who refuse to acknowledge the very real effects fiction can have on our world and vice versa. I highly encourage other Inuyasha fans who defend/enable these shippers to read this, as well. I assure you, by no means are my intentions here to stir up trouble. Honestly, I just want some good healthy discourse for once if that’s not too much to ask. If you do decide to engage, please be mindful of that and treat others with respect and I will do the same in return. All in all, the goal of this blog is to exercise my right to speak out and be critical about content I believe to have very potentially detrimental repercussions. I ask that you not attack me or insult me simply for stating an opinion. Thank you!

It’s like the title says, meaning fiction does matter. Where do you think we get ideas for all the stories we tell? Where do we draw inspiration from in the first place?

Real life, that's where! And yes, always with a touch of imagination! Long story short: fiction matters because real life does.

Allow me to elaborate.

Shippers of the Sesshomaru x Rin (Sessrin) pairing say it's not fair of us to throw around serious accusations or use certain deragatory terms that suggest such awful acts like child grooming or pedophilia because of the harmful implications. One of their reasonings being that some people IRL have actually lived through these traumas, so we shouldn't dare to assume they're comparable since one is just fiction and the other is not. But this isn’t about which is worse than the other, because they’re both super problematic. All we’re literally doing is making a link between grooming in real life and grooming in fiction. They mirror each other. Same issue; different mediums. We’re not undermining any one’s past experiences with grooming or the like, nor are we prioritizing fiction to diminish real life abuse. They’re both awful in numerous ways and that’s all we’re trying to say. In fact, if anything we’re attempting to demonstrate just how crucial this correlation is between them. In order to protect past victims and prevent future ones, we must remain vigiliant of the content we consume, and yes, sometimes that means we have to challenge it too. Just because it’s widely-viewed does not make it widely-accepted or well-received. It is paramount that we educate ourselves on how to be more critical of some of the harmful tropes and images that are still way too prevalent in mainstream media. Sexualizing young and pre-pubescent girls is way more normalized than some of us even realize. It’s sad but true that Sessrin is just one of many examples. I know it feels like society has failed us in a lot of ways, but it’s never too late to re-evaluate and re-learn better and more improved ways of viewing and processing information presented to us.

Our mission: Let’s not show our kids that grooming or any other form of abuse are acceptable if they may ever come to experience or encounter it themselves. Be it the real world or on screen. Deal?

There have been a number of occasions where real life victims do speak up against the Sessrin ship and express how extremely uncomfortable it makes them feel by what it represents. The problem is that it’s becoming more evident now that many of their fans will dismiss anything purely on the basis that we pose a threat to their ship and nothing more. What it comes down to is they have no real leg to stand on and cannot possibly top any of what we have to say so instead they simply disregard it. Our inconvenient truths don't fit into their ideal *cough* OOC *cough* narrative so they just choose to be willfully ignorant. It conflicts with their fantasy, so rather than present a sound argument of their own, they flat-out reject it and offer no plausible back-up behind their reasoning besides "I don't interpret it that way." GUYS, CHILD GROOMING IS NOT UP FOR INTERPRETATION.

Just because you so desperately want your ship to come true does not mean you can up and decide to redefine a word so that it caters to your stance. Remind yourself that these are complex AND objective terms that we have no right to fiddle with to serve our own selfish purposes. This is why we can conclude that there's no debate about Sesshomaru's actions towards Rin embodying child grooming.

I apologize if any of my words are triggering by the way, so please feel free to take a break and return later if that’s more suitable for you. it's just really important that everyone in this fandom comprehends the extent in which Sessrin going canon is catastrophic. And no, I'm not exaggerating; I'm simply speaking the truth. Shippers justifying these horrible acts- yes, even in fiction- is usually due to the stubborn refusal to hear us out. No offense to anyone (just stating facts), but more times than not antis like myself feel as if we’re talking to a brick wall when we interact with Sessrin peeps. They go in circles and never expand on their perspectives.

Just a head’s up: THIS GETS LONG. Stick with me. :p

Just look at their take on the Inukag vs. Sessrin relationships for example. This isn't a question of age gaps, this is a question of physical/emotional compatibility. Inukag are the same age mentally wise regardless of one being demon and the other not, whereas Sessrin is not and never will be, and yes, even once she's an adult. The thing is we have debunked this time and time again, because they’re not the same and therefore not comparable, but for some reason these fans won’t drop it. Nothing has changed in their argument, yet they’re persistent in bringing it up. I choose to not go into more detail, since like I said, you can find it around everywhere. I just wanted to touch upon it briefly to prove a point. Maybe it will come up again later in my blog though!

Where was I earlier? Right, child grooming! Haven't you guys realized that what you’re doing is precisely what child groomers do to make excuses or deny any grooming took place at all? (FYI: I’m not accusing you of being child groomers yourselves.) “They reciprocated so the feelings are mutual" is a typical groomer response, but of course it varies. More often than not, victims of grooming aren't even aware they've been groomed until much later. That's how manipulative groomers are that they can legitmately convince you that maybe you're wrong in questioning their motives. Perhaps in the victim’s mind that because one huge indicator of grooming never actually took place it technically cannot constitute as grooming. They start to doubt themselves even though their intuition is telling them something’s off. They should just ignore it then since it can’t possibly be grooming if that one particular thing never happened, right? Wrong, grooming isn’t strictly this or strictly that. It's much more complicated and multi-faceted. This is why the “but Sesshomaru left Rin in the village” point upsets me greatly. HE WAS STILL INVOLVED IN HER LIFE, Y’ALL.

On top of that, are you aware that this is the exact same kind of predatory mindset pedophiles use to describe their infatuation with children? They'll say things like, "I don't see them as an adult and a child. I see them as two people with a soul connection." Okay no joke, I wish I was lying, but that is literally a point one pro-sessrin fan on here recently used to defend this ship. It both astounds me and terrifies me that they don't see the glaring similarities they share in common with actual pedos.

Alright, I want to quickly return to what I was saying earlier about fiction's impact on real life. (Sorry, I’m a bit of a scatterbrain!)

The characters and their worlds in our stories that we dream up and bring to life are nothing short of awe-inspiring and magnificent if we so choose them to be. If it wasn't for our imaginations, stories like Inuyasha would have never come to exist. Fiction provides us an amazing outlet where we are given the opportunity to express ourselves and explore its infinite creative possibilities.

But strip away all the demons and magical components of this show we all love so dearly and what are we left with?

At the very core, Inuyasha is a story that's very reminiscent of the human experience: love, camaraderie, a sense of purpose, and much more!

So perhaps we got a full-fledged dog demon like Sesshomaru, but does that necessarily mean we can't relate to him or understand him simply because dog demons don't exist in the real world? Well, I hope that's not how you view it or else you're missing the whole point of why humans create stories to begin with. We create them to make better sense of and thus connect with the world we live in. And when you really think about it, our stories are just a celebration of life- both our struggles and our triumphs. Now I'm no philosophy professor, but I'm pretty sure they'd say I hit that nail right smack on the head. ;)

All shitty jokes aside, the whole reason I’m mentioning this specific example in the first place is because this recently came up with another Sessrin supporter. That supporter tried to defend the ship by stating that we aren't allowed to use Sesshomaru as an example to judge by since his kind don't exist in the real world.

Now if it isn't evident already, this "it's just fiction" argument is a popular go-to stance many Sessrin fans will resort to once they've run out of ideas and are metaphorically backed into a corner. The funny/sad thing is that they seem to sincerely believe this is strong enough evidence to defend their ship with, but per usual, they fail to see how hypocritical that would be. I’ll clarify soon down below.

Seriously, since when did we decide that fantasy- or any story genre for that matter- stopped reflecting the real world we live in? I mean, we humans are the ones writing these stories. Our human influence is bound to make an impact in some capacity. In fact, we want it to!

Obviously none of us have ever met a dog demon like Sesshomaru, because how could we? Let me tell ya, this is gaslighting at its finest! This is a fictional story with fantasy elements, so of course there will be beings and creatures in their world that don't exist in our own. Does that somehow translate to the fact that nothing from the story of Inuyasha can be applied to our own personal stories or that there aren't meaningful messages to be taught and learned?

So on the flipside, if they're not screaming at us "it's just fiction" for the hundred billionth time, then they are, believe it or not, doing the reverse and comparing it to real world history. One instance of this is how they tell us we're making a big deal about something that isn't real, but go right ahead and use the history of feudal Japan to support Sesshomaru's decision to court (aka GROOM) a young girl because that's how it was done back then. And so, your point being?? It wasn't right then just because it was legal, and it's most certainly not right now. This is how all of their arguments go by the way, where you'll constantly witness a cherry-picking approach. It's agonizing to endure contradiction after contradiction in their arguments filled with nothing but holes in their logic.

I'd just like to add that if we're overreacting to this fictional ship like they love to say we are then technically so are they. They tell us things like "grow up" or "nobody is telling you to keep watching," yet fail to realize they're reacting just as fervently as we are but just on the opposing side of the same damn argument. I find it interesting how they're as invested in this show but pretend they aren't then STILL have the audacity to say it's only us who care this much!? So thank you Sessrin shippers for further proving our point that fiction is more than capable of affecting reality and the people- YES, US- who reside in it.

It's insane that people act like pedophiles and other creeps don't enjoy entertainment too like the rest of us. Believe it or not, they look just like you and me most of the time. Yes, that means they can easily pass as a “regular guy” if they so wished to. My question to you is how do you think pedophiles will take it when they discover others- underage fans more specifically- who dig the same kinda media they get off to? Maybe not in the exact same way, mind you, but there's a thin line between them when you really think about it. I mean, what other explanation is there for why literal pedos on the internet have been known to sneak into pro-sessrin group chats here on Tumblr before? (Thankfully, they were later kicked.) I know that for a fact! It's almost as if the universe is trying to tell them something they refuse to listen to elsewhere. Hhmmm I wonder what that may be.

I imagine it’s possibly one of the hardest things to admit out loud and to themselves, but I can almost guarantee you that most of these Sessrin shippers who are victims of CSA and who still see no issue with Sessrin must be living with some sort of unresolved trauma caused by the very abuse they claimed to have undergone. It's been proven that victims who do not seek or properly receive the help and treatment they need in order to address and live with a traumatic experience such as this are more likely to perpetuate that very same abuse themselves in some way, shape or form. What if in this case fiction is enough for them, but who's to say it won’t eventually manifest itself in other more dire and far-reaching ways? It's not like we haven't seen this vicious cycle before, and I can promise you that Sessrin won't be the last. LET'S STOP NORMALIZING & GLORIFYING THE ROMANTIZATION & SEXUALIZATION OF CHILDREN. Fictional example: Usagi Drop. Need I say more? Real world example: Woody Allen. Again, need I say more?

Bottom line is that Sessrin shippers don't want us to think too critically about this ship of theirs, because if we dig too deep then they're forced to face the very troubling implications this pairing really stands for. Of course they'll never admit to them, because instead they rather double down and grasp at the same old straws as long as it means their precious ship is protected at all costs. Screw everyone else if that's what it takes, because they'll threaten to burn down legit buildings in real life if that ensures Sessrin goes canon! (True story, this happened on Twitter.) They’ll taunt and bully anyone who disagrees. Even if all you literally say is that you don’t like the ship, they’ll gang up on you. Tell them about your past experience with being groomed? They’ll laugh in your face. I wish I was kidding, but I assure you I am not. And they say we're ridiculous and taking this way too seriously? Yeah...

The typical behavior of a Sessrin shipper demonstrates an overly aggressive front since they're usually on defense mode anyway. They only want to ship their sick ship in peace in other words. But just because neo-nazis have a right to spew their bigoted ideology, doesn't mean we don't got the right to punch them! Freedom of speech doesn't equate to freedom from consequences. And Sessrin shippers wonder why they got so many haters. Just sayin'.

Their presence on other platforms like Twitter and Reddit are some examples of how delusional and unstable some Sessrin fans are capable of becoming. Even recently, an anon here on Tumblr sent Richard Ian Cox (English VA for Inuyasha) a totally uncalled for ask telling him that "sessrin is love and there's nothing he can do about it." (That's not verbatim, but if you're interested I'll link you to it.) It appears they discovered that he didn't like Sessrin based on how he had been replying to asks, and just for that reason alone they thought they had the right to harass him. For simply stating his opinion, y'all. They didn't even have the decency to show their face either. Talk about immature and cowardly!

Just yesterday (or was it the day before?) a fanatic Sessrin user on Tumblr- who’s also been known for hateful remarks on Twitter but those tweets have of course been deleted since then- went out of their way to not only lurk in a group chat they don’t belong to on here but to then proceed to harass a few of us in there. They had the guts to take screenshots from that group chat, tag us in posts on their page regarding what they read in there, and without our knowledge or permission went ahead and actually blogged them?? I mean, who calls out people behind their backs while they're just minding their own business?? It worries me how unhinged and out of touch with reality some Sessriners are. Not all of them, but a whole lot of them.

It seems all they are doing is looking for trouble, as they just can't stand how much we hate this ship. So it's more than okay if they love on their ship but it's not okay if we don't and we should just keep our mouths shut. But since when do Sessrin fans have authority over our opinions? Even if they were officially canon, nothing is ever gonna change our opinion. Now when they actually do decide to participate in discourse with antis, you'll see them fishing for excuses to bow out. How they normally go about this is by fabricating a way to blame us antis for their exiting a conversation as if we're being the irrational ones here.

There’s no denying that some antis can also be overly blunt or aggressive (nobody is saying we’re perfect here), but speaking for myself, I know I would never make such nasty comments about other fans and their personal lives. And honestly? It would make me feel like shit talking bad about someone I don't actually know. Nah, I won't stoop to that level or give haters that satisfaction. I may not attack them as people, but that doesn't mean I can't attack some of their messed up ideas that threaten to distort how we should or shouldn’t perceive certain dangerous situations and events. Seeing as how for me this is more than just a matter of opinion- it's a moral responsibility and even an obligation.

I know it's difficult to remain civil when things get heated and people start taking things personally- yet more proof that fiction impacts our lives- but that's the only way any of us will ever have constructive discussions about serious topics like this. Unfortunately, Sessrin shippers, from what I can tell, are incapable of engaging in real discourse for the most part. They may be vocal but that doesn't mean they can pack a punch. I’d really love to be proven wrong someday.

Okay, moving on! If they're not involved in some big-time gaslighting then they're using their infamous strawman argument approach.

Sessrin fans’ sole purpose isn't really to defend their ship, per se, but rather to deflect and antagonize. They like to mislead in order to shift the focus/blame onto their opponent or something else that's not related so that they can stray from the main point.

Take the drama CD for example. It's officially NOT considered canon, right? But that hasn't stopped many fans from referencing it anyway so let’s too consider it for a moment. The point is that they use its "existence" whenever convenient then deny it or downplay it whenever it’s not. So on one hand, it's plain as day that they celebrate it as proof of a romantic future for Sessrin. But then later once we point out to them that Sesshomaru is essentially confessing to Rin that he will wait for her until she's of age, they'll brush it off and quickly add that they didn't interpret the scene that way and leave it at that. I mean how else would you interpret it? And if it's not a proposal of sorts then why exactly are you bouncing off the walls about it to begin with?? If that's all it means is nothing then why are we even talking about this?! You see what I mean here??! And somehow we're the crazy ones?

Let me to be frank with you. If you haven’t listened to it already, this proposal he offered her sounded like a declaration of love in a multitude of ways, which is wildly inappropriate since Rin was only 12 at the time. Signifying that Sesshomaru was/is indeed grooming her. Well, that is if you choose to recognize the drama CD. Nevertheless, whether you do or not, I personally hate that this non-canon satire is even associated with the Inuyasha name to begin with. Ugh.

Intentional or not, Sesshomaru made a deliberate decision in that moment to tell a little girl- and not just any little girl mind you but a girl he's taken in under his care for a good year- that he would wait for her if she so chooses once she's old enough.

The issue is that it isn’t only age of consent we’re concerned about regarding this pairing. What Sessriners fail to see is that this grown male authority- her vassal, her guardian, her adoptive father, or whatever you wanna refer to him as- is basically making a move on this girl he had in his company for quite some time. There's no sugarcoating that. Us antis call it how it is, and I'm sure as fucking day other people who don't watch the show would most certainly agree that the Sesshomaru/Rin bond is filial. Set aside those rose-tinted glasses of yours, and going by everything we’ve been delivered in the manga and parts of the anime (and NOT the drama cd), there are literally no hints that indicate a blossoming romance between this adult male demon and this small human girl he’s taken under his wing. You can imagine them all you want if it pleases you, but that doesn’t mean they’re there. Adult!Rin is a figment of your imagination, nothing more. The idolization of this pairing is pretty disturbing seeing as all we have to go off of in canon is Child!Rin. There have only ever been sweet and innocent moments passed between the two, which is why I’m positive that an unbiased viewer or an outsider would state their dynamic resembled something akin to a father-daugther relationship. I would bet a shit ton of money on that, believe you me!

Rin's inhibitions are low because children are naturally naive and don't know any better. Remember, she adores and trust this man with all her heart, so why would she think any of this so-called grooming is not normal behavior. (I only say “so-called grooming” because I don’t think Sesshomaru bringing her gifts in the village has to be a romantic thing.) Or how would she ever be able to understand that she’s being taken advantage of if she has no previous experience with it? Maybe if she was present for that time Inuyasha and the gang scolded Miroku when they had learned that years previous he had supposedly proposed to this young girl in the village they were visiting, then Rin would. And he didn’t even assist in helping raise her but look at how they reacted! How is this any different than Sesshomaru hooking up with Rin later? It’s actually worse in Sessrin's case. Do you honestly believe that Inuyasha and the others would take kindly to this?

It's not uncommon and considered harmless for young children to have crushes on adults, after all, but the adults in these scenarios should never resort to using and abusing the position of power they held or continue to hold over this child for any reason whatsoever.

What I'm trying to get across here is that no matter how you spin it, Sessrin can NEVER be deemed a morally acceptable pairing. Like ship what you want, we're not saying you can't ship Sessrin. What we're saying is this:

STOP referring to their bond as "pure" and not expect backlash for your grossly inaccurate statements. Just admit it's toxic, because it's extremely harmful to many viewers- and not just victims- to pretend and suggest otherwise.

Please remind yourself of the very real canon fact that Rin traveled with Sesshomaru and they established a bond all while she was just a girl. Oh, and he saved her life too many times to count, not to mention brought her back from the dead TWICE. This is why I don't care much for your counter argument "that dynamics can change over time," because although that's true, like with everything in life there must be standards we adhere to. Exceptions to rules, if you will. Our own basic morals demand it.

For instance, it’s normal that some childhood friends begin to like each other as more than friends years down the road. Nothing wrong with that, because that's a natural and healthy occurrence. Now you cannot apply this to an adult and a child for obvious reasons, but what you also cannot do is apply this to an adult who met and knew another adult while they were still just a child. Why? Well, because it'd be like betraying and perverting that former child's view of you. They were never your equal because your established dynamic resembles that of one an adult posesses with a child even once they've grown up. Think about it this way: it's in the same bracket of family members or family friends who've watched you grow up and mature into an adult. Then later just because they're all grown up, does that mean that those children "are not off bounds" - that's quoting a Sessrin shipper by the way- to these certain family members and family friends?

If you're still struggling to grasp this, I urge you to take a moment (or all the time you need!) to really put yourself in that child's shoes and self-reflect. Would you truly be alright with a family friend you haven't seen in years (but sorely missed because they used to occasionally babysit you) just someday coming back into your life and then very inappropriately flirting with you or even making sexual advances on you? (Sorry for the run-on!) Or even worse, can you picture this happening to one of your own children??! Seriously, ask yourself that and sit with that for a while and really take it all in. It’s not fun, I know, but if that’s what it takes to help you finally understand then please try and practice more ways to utilize your self-awareness in the future. It’s for everyone’s benefit, not only yours, I promise! You'll also find it makes it tremendously easier to empathize with others.

I got news for those fans who don’t view Sesshomaru as a father figure to Rin. The title we give him doesn’t hold as much weight as a lot of us are making it out to be. Let’s try to be neutral here and stick to the hard facts, shall we?

*Sesshomaru is an adult male authority whose protection Rin is under*

*It’s safe to assume that Rin has grown attached to him and maybe even looks up to him*

*They care about each other and the other's well-being*

*He has has played a crucial part in her supervision and care for a significant period of time (yes, even if it’s just passing a message along to Jaken)*

Not so random anecdote: In an Inuyasha episode I recently revisited, Sesshomaru had just rescued Rin from Kohaku who had been possessed by Naraku and was ordered to kill Rin. Anyway, at the end of their scene you can hear Jaken ask out loud, “what should we do for dinner, Lord Sesshomaru?” And that’s about the most domestic thing I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. They’re such a family dammit and nothing will ever change that!! <3

This is precisely why I could never in a million years view those past students of mine in a romantic light. I don't care how many years have passed, it's just not possible for me. Just the idea of pursuing a romantic and/or sexual relationship absolutely repels me.

Speaking as a former teacher, you don't need to be a parental figure who's around all the time in order to have great love and affection for a child. I would've done absolutely anything in my power to protect them even though they weren't my own. Then again, I did consider them my children in a way even if wasn't in a familial sense. Does that make my love for them any less unique? No, it's just different but not inferior. When you stop to think about, it really doesn't take as long as you may think to establish rapport with a person, particularly children. Connecting with a child is almost instant (but of course some are more receptive than others), and once you do make that special connection one can only make with a child, a strong and overwhelming need to guide and protect them kicks in almost automatically. The unconditional love an adult feels for a child is powerful and constant, and nothing should ever change that. As much as some of you really want to believe otherwise, that feeling doesn’t just go away because they turned 18. In your eyes, they’ll always be that kid.

I get it, sometimes when we escape into these fictional worlds of ours, it's difficult not to project our own wishes and desires onto certain characters. I don't blame fans for picturing themselves with Sesshomaru- I know I did haha- but never once did I self-insert myself as Rin. I know she's one of the biggest catalysts for his character growth- if not THE biggest- but how and why does that need to turn romantic? There are other antis who I have spoken with on this. They informed me that they used to live vicariously through Rin and ship them together, as well. As they got older, they later learned how weird and twisted this ship actually was. That's what's supposed to happen, y'all, you're supposed to grow out of that fixation.

Now take your mind out of the Inuyasha universe for a second and hypothetically (or not hypothetically if you have kids) answer me this: if and/or when you ever have a child, would you genuinely be comfortable with the idea of them dating and eventually marrying their father’s best friend who was also there to witness them grow up? Be honest please.

I highly doubt you would want that- or at least I hope not. You see, that's another MAJOR point I've made a few times already and yet you Sessrin shippers continue to avoid the question. It's pretty obvious it hasn't been rhetorical either. Ignorance is bliss?

Finally, I’d like to address one more point. It seems there is a HUGE misconception and I'd like to clear it up real quick. That is Sessrin shippers misinterpret one of the issues we have with this ship. They chalk up our complaints of Sessrin being canon (which is a LIE, nothing has been confirmed yet) to us just being salty because that somehow means our ships aren't or won’t be. I assure you, readers, other antis and I will attest that this ain't about dumb shipping wars, this is so much bigger than that!!!

I noticed recently that some Sessrin fans have even begun calling us Karens lolol like if anybody is a Karen it's them! This ain't about some mere difference in taste, this is very likely to have LONG-LASTING NEGATIVE EFFECTS. Sessrin going canon is a very harmful message to send viewers and children/teens especially. So if anything, it’s these shippers who are being the entitled ones here thinking that the fact we don’t support their ship is the worst thing in the world. NO, THE REAL PROBLEM IS CHILD GROOMING. GET OVER YOURSELF.

Out of nowhere, some of them even started assuming all us antis were white, which in their books is also equivalent to Karens or even white supremacists somehow?? Those aren't one in the same, but it's easy to make it appear that way when the US is currently tackling major systems of oppression and racial injustice. Because to them, all antis must be from over here. (Yes, I'm American. But no, I'm not white.) How else can anyone explain not shipping Sessrin, right?! Somehow they have it in their heads that ALL of Japan and surrounding places are super approving of this ship, and that everyone else isn’t because of their upbringing and “Western way of thinking.”

To give you an idea of what I mean, look back at what I talked about earlier with their incessant mention of Sessrin vs. Inukag. Because THIS is another popular example of how these shippers present their side and then ignore all the facts. Many fans have already proven how fucked up and inaccurate it is to label whole countries and cultures. It’s like they simply think mentioning it makes it count even though we’ve discredited their points over and over. Nah, you got to back it up with good reasons that support your side of the argument. That’s How To Have An Argument: 101. So at the end of the day, all they're actually achieving in doing is making dumb and entirely unrelated accusations based on nothing just to lead to deductions that are equally unfounded. Nothing at all is accomplished but more gaslighting and hurling of insults on their part = a complete waste of time for antis = an excuse for them to peace out early from the conversation & that’s what they wanted all along

We’ve reached the end (finally! sorry for all the rambling!), and I hope those of you who stayed till the end or read enough can take something positive out of this. As many Inuyasha fans are aware, there will be a livestream with the VAs for Sesshomaru and Rin coming out within the next few hours. We don’t have all the details yet, and afterwards we probably still won’t. I’m not just talking about Sessrin here but about the sequel in general. Whatever happens, please just remember to be kind to one another. If you don’t think you’re capable of doing that, then it’s best you vent and fume elsewhere. Easier said than done, I know, but just try. Throughout this blog, I admit there were moments where I got frustrated and took some jabs at Sessrin shippers. Please believe me when I say that I do not and would not ever wish any of you ill will.

Inuyasha was such a huge part of my childhood, and I’m not gonna lie, I’m anxious as hell that Sunrise will ruin one of the best things I loved about this show. So pardon me if my reactions are too visceral for your liking. haha Also, like the movies and the drama cd, this sequel is not in fact canon. Therefore, for those of you who disagree or who still plan to enjoy this new series, respect the fact that some of us fans will definitely “cancel” it if we feel that’s what we have to do to come to terms with it and move on. Fans have that right, after all. Why should we get on board with something if it’s so uncharacteristic of and unrecognizable from the original source material? If all this is some sort of cash grab of Sunrise’s doing, then count me out. I truly hope that this sequel turn outs being a lot more promising than a lot of us are expecting. I’m begging you, Sunrise, I wanna believe you’re better than this. Please and thank you!

By the way, if you’re interested, feel free to check out my two other blogs on this same subject. Click here and here. The last two screenshots do not come from something I’ve written myself. If you’d like to read more from where those came from, let me know and I’d be more than happy to send you the links. Okay, bye for now. Peace out and stay safe, everyone!

#inuyasha #hanyo no yashahime #anti sessrin #sesshomaru #rin

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tradeway2 · 3 years ago

Text

Session 2 17 Jul 2021

Ed and Matthew are being haylords (literally - they are baling hay), so we start a little late. Also Sophie is away, so someone else will be taking Hilda for her.

Mina has been building Gundams…

We make Nature checks to see if anyone of us remember what we are. Hilda does not make a check as she is still at 0HP. Ren, Marcus and Milo remember that ‘zombies’ are made with weird food; but we can’t be zombies because we know our names. We’re amnesiacs; we’re like characters from Neighbours. Not zombies. Pshhh.

Matthew has bestowed upon us some XP for the last fight, plus some extra for entertaining him so beautifully.

Cora thinks we should try to find a way to preserve our food a bit longer. From the feet up from now on?

We make Investigation checks. Milo notices that although the surrounding area contains weapons and spoiled food (mostly what we made), etc., there isn’t much in the way of bodies. He wants to know what size the food is; he thinks they must be from the same litter. They’re all about the same size; medium. (It goes: small, regular, large, goliath, god.) He looks at his friends; we look wounded, but there are no organs or anything hanging out. Some bandages wouldn’t hurt.

After the fight, we discovered our food was carrying some money. Between us, we scrabbled together 13 gp. We remember that money is useful, so we keep it. (Ren decides to invest his in cryptocurrency.) Hilda is the strongest, so we pile to money on her still unconscious form. We also find 7 gems, and 5 bottles, and a sphere.

Bingo asks if we mind him hanging around; he gets very excited when we tell him he’s welcome to chill with us. He’s excited to get to the horde as well. “Everyone’s friends there, it’s brilliant!” Cora decides it’s a bit like Burning Man. Leslie looks us all over; he does that old people thing when they nod along with the young folk. Let young folk be young folk.

Ed joins us, yay!

It turns out that Leslie has never been to Burning Man. Or the horde. I think? He doesn’t like being around big crowds; he prefers to spend time alone. Somewhere a bit greener. Does he mean over there? (Pointing). No, it turns out he arrived by boat. Hmm. Pilfer gets a sense of salt on the air, and the movement of a ship - for a fraction of a second, and then disappeared. He burps something disgusting; this is not strange to any of us.

Leslie comes from a place what is different to the place what we are standin’ on. ‘E’d love to go ‘ome. (For the sake of argument, and the fact that he can’t keep the accent straight from one week to the next, it’s decided that Leslie doesn’t keep his own accent but takes the one from whatever body he’s inhabiting. He’s gone from West Country to Brizzle. Or it might be the Chezzy Massive.)

This sphere that we found has a smooth surface, and weighs about a pound. Ren rolls a 17 Investigation. (Matthew asks me to roll a d4; “No reason.” Uh oh. I roll a 4. That’s either really good or really bad.) The sphere is made of glass.

Pilfer: “It’s a snow globe!”

DM: “… It’s opaque.”

Pilfer: “It’s not a snow globe!”

Ren blurts out, ‘Driftglobe!” It will light up as if the Daylight spell is cast. He can speak the command word in Friends and it will light up. It works once per day and recharges at dawn. It can also float.

Milo hears some food shout, a sort of sad, whiny sound, but then it’s gone.

What’s in the bottles? They’re glass, reasonably ornate, long necked, with a rich red fluid in them. Not sauce. Ren opens one and gives it a sniff. It smells like the best food in the world. Leslie advises against drinking it, however. Marcus asks him if he knows what it is; it’s a healing potion. Two seem to be in fancier bottles than the rest. We decide to give Hilda one of the fancy ones. (We now have two remaining RHPs.)

We distribute and take various potions, and then set about deciding what to do. Bingo panics when he realises he doesn’t actually know how to find the horde; Cora manages to calm him down, and earns herself Inspiration.

Leslie seems to have more of an idea of what to do and where he’s going, so we decide to go with him and work in a visit to the horde as and when we can. Bingo thinks we might be starting our own horde. Trendsetters!

Matthew does a sound effect and drowns himself out. “Who’s playing Metallica?” “You are!”

We carry on: The battlefield scenery continues for the better portion of the day. Does it bother us that we’re walking on a carpet of the dead? Well - that’s the thing. There’s not many bodies. Sometimes flying food comes and pecks at it, but when we grab at it, it nips out the way real quick. (We know what birds are, but we are aware that these aren’t birds. These are flying food. There’s a difference.) There are weapons on the ground, but not whole corpses. There are bits, sure, and we can hear friends shouting in the distance.

“I’m Bingo!”

“Can I be Bingo too?”

“Sure!”

(Interesting note - they are all Bingo, but they are all aware which Bingo is which.)

The sky begins to clear. The carnage appears to be thinning. There are fewer weapons, less spoiled food. We snack on what bits of food are still dragging themselves along the ground. Ren: “Mmm, trail mix.”

Cora asks Pilfer if he needs his parasol - he belatedly fumbles around for it. (Also DM has added a sketch book to Ren’s inventory for his lyrics and drawings. He knows it’s his, but he doesn’t know why he’s done all those hieroglyph, squiggly weirdness in between the pictures.)

Something hoves into view as the scenery improves:

Bingo: “I know why they do it - it’s for the freshness!”

Pilfer: “Has anyone got a tin opener?”

Ren: “It’s got its own tin opener strapped to the back of it, look.”

We see the canned food shake its head and draw its can opener as it approaches us. And we roll initiative…

The food goes first; it steps forward and prepares itself to be opened. (It holds an action.)

Milo goes next. He moves forward and tries the first of his two can openers, for a dirty 20 with his javelin. Yeah! He pierces the protective container; we will have to eat this meal today, it won’t keep now. The food pulls Milo's opener out of itself, and there is sauce on the end of it. Milo is delighted.

Cora moves forward, and holds an action, as do Hilda and Marcus. (Marcus makes an INT check to see if he’s noticed he has a quarterstaff yet; he has not.) Ren shambles forward as well, and does the same, holding up his second spear. "Kebab."

Pilfer hucks some cutlery at the food, once he’s within range. 19 to hit with his dagger-spoon. Spork? Ed: “I reckon you could do some serious damage with a spork.”

Leslie shambles up and holds back for now, but Bingo can’t contain himself. He uses all of his movement to get right up to the food, and its tin opener. This is not going to go well for Bingo, as he’s now the only one in range of the food. The food now attacks Bingo.

Ren: “Poor Bingo.”

Cora: “Bingo is about to get a lot shorter.”

Matthew finds the right button and hits Bingo with a 21 and a 22, for 11 slashing damage.

Pilfer: “… Bye, Bingo.”

Luckily the food misses its second attack, and Bingo is still up. He’s only cleaved a bit in twain; he’ll probably walk it off.

Cora has a go at tenderising the suit. She swings her mace, but misses. Milo moves up and uses another can opener - but 15 misses. “This food is tricksy.”

Hilda flings her hand axe but it bounces off the can. Marcus runs up and does a Slam but misses. Ren walks up to the food for an attack as well; he pokes it with his spear, two handed. 15 misses.

You know, food can sometimes be quite dangerous. We should have a rule where we can horde up and all attack together (as in, we can flank for advantage.)

Pilfer, having run out of cutlery, hucks a ‘smol hammer’ at the food as an improvised weapon. 21 hits! Right in the noggin! 1 point of damage, awww.

Leslie stays on the outskirts a bit, but he’s making his way round. Bingo’ll have a go. “He’s so excited!” 9 misses, though. He paws ineffectually at the can, frustrated. The food has a go back, but misses Bingo. The second one hits for 7 damage.

Matthew, clicking buttons: “ Poor… old… Bingo.”

We hear Bingo say, “Ow!” He looks poorly now.

Cora is up. Open this can! She has a try at grappling the food to the floor; she makes a STR check for 14. She does not grapple the food. Milo moves up to flank it with Marcus, and does a bite by making a Slam attack with his teeth. 4 Bludgeoning damage!

Hilda moves up but can’t get near the food, so she elbows Marcus and Ren in the back of the knees. Marcus attacks, now that he’s flanking with Milo, and manages a Slam for 6 bludgeoning damage. Yeah!

Ren shuffles around so he’s flanking with Cora, and has a stabby at the unprotected side - but sadly, even with advantage, he misses. His spear skitters across the surface of the can. Pilfer wishes to Slam him. “Slam to your heart’s content.” Sadly he’s so excited he slams the floor instead.

This is standard Friend tactics - surround and overwhelm - we don’t need to change a thing. Leslie has a go as well now. He misses.

Stuff is leaking from Bingo, but he’s still up and for the first time in his career with this new horde, he scores a 20 to hit for 2 bludgeoning damage. We all cheer.

Canned food does some sword work at Bingo, hits him, and Bingo goes down.

“NO BINGO NO!!!!!”

Bingo is not dead, because he’s significant enough to have a name, we are assured. Hooray! The food takes aim at Milo, but only rolls a nine. Phew!

It’s Cora’s turn. The canned food smells worried. She has another go at grappling it, but rolls a 7 - she uses her Inspiration and grapples it.

Milo has a dim memory of catching something like this that had pinchers, so he pokes between the plates with his javelin to get at the good stuff - and gets a Critical Poke! DM: “I’m not gonna lie to you guys, you needed that.”

Does Milo get any nice chewy bits out? He’s pushed his javelin right through the knee joint; he’s separated the bones in there, and it’s all just connected by meat now. If the food survives this, it will never be knight again. He now has a long career as a meme to look forward to.

This food is now much closer to being prepared now. Milo even gets Inspiration for such a wonderfully timed Nat 20. Hilda takes aim at his other knee, cackling all the while, and hits with a 24 for 6 bludgeoning.

Marcus aims a Slam at its head with 23 to hit for 7 damage; canned food is struggling but not down. The only thing holding it up is Cora’s grapple and the fact that we’re standing all around it. (Like when you pass out at a gig.)

Ren remembers food on a stick (hazy memories) and has another poke - and misses. He realises he’s been using the wrong end of his spear, so he turns it around for next time. DM, through tears of laughter, awards Inspiration.

Pilfer takes a swing and a miss.

Duncan, OOC: “Don’t stop me now…”

Ren realises he’s humming under his breath.

This food is smelling pretty ready now. Not perfect! But close. Bingo makes an Undeath save. a 19! Canned food struggles against Cora’s grapple, but fails. DM: “It is weary, and ready for eats.” Cora wants to start sucking the juice out of the eye holes. She makes an attack but a 14 misses; she used her Inspiration last round.

Milo takes aim at the armpit. DM: “Horrible little man! I love it!” He rolls two 8s, sadly.

Hilda has been cackling since last round, and takes aim at the same spot as last time. 21 hits, for 4 bludgeoning damage and with that the meal cracks open. Underneath the can is lots and lots of lovely freshly prepared food!

Pilfer retrieves his hammer and knife, and Hilda picks up her axe. Marcus stops shovelling food into his mouth for long enough to give Bingo a potion.

Milo wants to bend some metal into a sort of cup shape, and try saving some of the food for later. He can add “Some food in home made can” to his character sheet. Matthew adds that he must note: “Not airtight.”

We all get some treats! 116XP! As we consume our meal we find 8 more gp, some more gems. Marcus asks to keep the can's can opener, as he doesn’t have a weapon; Leslie nudges him and says he might have something on his back. Marcus turns around.

We also find two more RHPs, some fancy boots. We don’t know what they are, but Leslie suggests they might be worth taking along. Pilfer claims them, and the food’s hat. The head falls out; Ren starts digging around behind the jaw for the good bits. We also find a fancy stick! Milo knows what it is - and now he has Proficiency in Investigation rolls. He and Ren both know it’s a magic stick. Not just a stick, either - a staff. It’s got a snake’s head on it. He doesn’t know the exact nature of it, due to his own nature. Marcus picks up the tin opener/greatsword.

We have a nice sit down meal. Bingo is so delighted with us and our micro-horde, he’s starting to forget about looking for the main one.

We decide to devote another week to this, as we started late. We finish with a dream for Cora:

She knows she’s asleep. She is in a pretty setting of rolling meadows; she feels at peace. She knows that she knows more now, but can’t grasp what exactly that is. It is the height of summer. A bright red comet races across the sky, and it starts to rain. The sky grows dark, and she feels a sense of melancholy. The rain grows heavier. At a table in the middle of the meadow is an old man, gorging himself on food from silver plates. His eyes turn black, and he smiles. (A midget talks backwards and is gone.) The old man becomes a figure holding a sword and speaking gibberish. A mountain crumbles to dust. The figure advances. It grasps Cora by the throat -

And she wakes up.

#dnd #tradeway2 #campaign diary

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