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roohuh · 1 year

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I Want to Show You Something

Ominis x MC

Part 12 of the Obliviate Series

Summary: Ominis takes you on an adventure to give you a surprise.

Warnings: 18+ adult content

“I want to show you something” Ominis leans in close to your ear at the breakfast table. You had been slightly avoiding him after your detention with his older brother. It was not that you did not want to tell him you just knew he would worry and you were afraid he would not let you pursue getting your memories back this way. Shuddering at the sensation of Ominis breath on your neck you reply a soft,

“Yes?”

“ You will have to skip your morning classes. Are you feeling adventurous?” Flashing a smile, you blush as your eyes dart to Ominis. Sebastian who is sat across from you throws a roll at the back of Ominis head.

“No dirty talk at the table!” Hands flying into the air you scoot away on the bench.

“That is not what we were doing!” You defend

“Don’t be stupid Sebastian.” Ominis says cooly, picking up the roll off the floor. Standing he offerirs you an arm.

“Shall we?” Swiping a muffin as you take his arm you let Ominis lead you out of the great hall. The two of you quietly walk out to the viaduct courtyard. When he stops you look around bewildered.

“What is it you need to show me?”

“Close your eyes and take my hands.” You obey the orders.

“Ready?” He whispers in your ear. Before you can reply you feel an immense pressure around you from all sides. Everything goes black as you feel as if you are being sucked into a hole located in your stomach. Then a soft morning breeze perfumed with wild flowers. Opening your eyes you suck in a sharp breath. You are standing in front of a large beautiful old building on top of a cliff overlooking a rocky coast line. The building is sturdy but very neglected most of the roof being caved in long ago. Behind you are gravestones covered in wildflowers. You stand breathless for a moment taking in the lovely place. Ominis smiles at you listening intently to your amazement.

“How did you learn to Apparate? Where are we?” Gripping Ominis hands which you still had not released, you batter him with questions.

“This summer Sebastian and I worked for a farmer in Fieldcroft. I did not tell you about it so that I could surprise you.”

“Color me surprised! You worked for a farmer!” You laugh attempting to picture Ominis up to his elbows in dirt.

“I quite enjoyed the work I will have you know and it was much more rewarding knowing what I was working towards.”

“And what were you working towards?”

“This.” He smiles. Confused you look around as you breathe,

“What?”

“I bought this house… for you.” Eyes going wide you stare at Ominis. The lack of response causes him to panic.

“I’m sorry it was presumptuous of me. I…” you cut him off,

“It’s perfect.” Eyes lighting up he takes your face and kisses you.

“Just wait until Sebastian and I get this place fixed up.” He says guiding you around the building. Leading you down some stone steps Ominis shows you an ancient astronomy table. Animatedly he points out all of his plans around the property. He shows you a small stone building which is detached from the main house where you can keep your vivariums. Then he leads you to a patch he has cleared where he thought you would like to plant a garden. He trips over one of the many chickens who had taken up residence there.

“We will have to make a pen for this lot.” You giggle helping him back to his feet. As you walk into the main building Ominis calls your attention to where he and Sebastian had started at some mason work.

“How did you ever find this place?” You marvel

“We found it together.” He chuckles.

“We did? How?”

“You were following a treasure map when it started to pour buckets of rain on us so we took shelter under what was left of the roof. That was the first night we… Well, it was the first night we spent together.” You wander round the room trying to picture that night. Your eyes land on Ominis. He is leaned against the wall a content smile resting on his lips. You note how different he now looks from your regained memory of your first meeting. He looks like a man now, towering over you with bored shoulders and an easy smile reserved just for you. You blush picturing that easy smile in an intimate moment. Hesitantly you turn to Ominis and ask

“What was it like?” Ominis crosses the room taking you in an embrace he kisses your forehead and whispers.

“It was perfect.”

“Perfect is a high bar.” You mumble. His hands gently explore your curves.

“You are perfect.” His low voice rasps on your ear. He draws you into a passionate kiss and you start to lose yourself in the heat of the moment. Hands gently tug at your shirt untucking it from your waistline. His cold fingers caress your soft skin, sending a jolt of energy through your body. He chuckles at your movement and kisses your neck. The contact causes a small moan to escape your lips. Then a pang of guilt hits you in the chest. Trying to ignore it you press into Ominis embrace but quickly give up and sit on the floor. Breathlessly you whisper his name.

“I am sorry I did not mean to press myself upon you.” He apologizes sitting next to you. You shake your head

“No it’s not that. I just have to tell you something.”

“And it could not wait?”

“I remember meeting you.”

“What? That’s tremendous! When did you remember?” He grabs you by the shoulders in excitement. You feel small wishing you had just told him right away. After recounting your denentention with his elder brother; trying your best to downplay the event you watch Ominis icy expression. The silence is deafening as you wait for his response.

“Why did it take you so long to tell me?” His voice is quiet.

“I don’t know. I was worried you would be upset.” You mutter making an effort to keep your voice even. Scooting close he takes you in his lap and pressed his face into the back of your hair. You both sit there silently for a while as he breathes in your scent,

“The three years I’ve known you and your hair never fails to smell like lavender.”

“That so?” You giggle. Kissing the top of your head he murmurs

“I love you. Thank you for telling me this only works if we are honest with each other.” Turning around you bury your face into his chest.

“I love you too.” You confide to his tie. He jolts in excitement.

“Say it again” his voice is pleading.

“I love you.” You repeat. A soft kiss is planted on your shoulder.

“I love you.” You say again. The next kiss is on your neck.

“I love you.” This time hands move from your waist to your face and you are pulled into a deep hungry longing kiss.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Based on a place I found in the game. It’s so beautiful I can not help but want to live there.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x you #harry potter hogwarts game #ominis fluff #fanfic #sebastian sallow

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hazyange1s · 6 months

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Incendiary (S.S. x F!MC)

Chapter 6

Summary: Fresh off the Hogwarts Express, Sixth Year Raegan DesRosiers has her sights set on nothing more than making the Quidditch team and finally having time to focus on herself.

Of course, where's the fun in sticking to a plan?

Instead, she begins to uncover the origins of ancient magic, which puts her life and power at greater risk than ever. But Raegan has always been one to take the bull by the horns, determined to be an agent of the change she seeks.

Then along comes Sebastian Sallow: the one wild card she could never control.

Burdened by his own dark past and seeking a way back on the right path…and into the heart of his reluctant friend, he becomes entangled in Raegan’s mysteries once more without restraints or reservations, save for this: the suspicion that she’s keeping more than one harrowing secret.

Not that he doesn’t have a few of his own.

The two might just need to look into a mirror - to mend what is fractured before it entirely falls apart.

Chapter Synopsis: Raegan’s got a full plate and yet still finds herself feeling empty, seeking something to fill that hole - though she may get more than she’s bargained for, if Sebastian has anything to say about it.

Words: 4.6k

Rating: T (some ~scandalous~ inner ramblings from seb and adult language)

After posting solely on other sites since starting this story, I decided to add tumblr to the mix since I’ve been more active on here recently. This is kind of a preview, if you will - if you want to read the first five chapters head over to wattpad or ao3.

It was a good thing Raegan had favored the outdoors over the summer because, in the days that followed her visit to the Map Chamber, the only sunlight she saw was during Advanced Flying class - save for the times she chose to do her reading in the meadow Vivarium. If that even counted.

It took a mediocre twenty-four hours for Raegan to succumb to loneliness. Without Sebastian, Ominis, Diana, or any of the others sitting beside her, the only company she had was that of her phoenix.

(Never mind Soleil’s penchant for bringing her small rodents he’d caught in the tall grasses of the fields).

Of course, her isolation during such a busy time of year had everyone worrying all the more - Garreth had started to conveniently appear in the common room every time Raegan returned before bed, no doubt waiting up like a concerned mother to a rebellious teenager, and Natsai was less than subtle about sneaking glances at Raegan as she changed to inspect for any more cuts or bruises.

As much as she loved them all, for one of the first times in Raegan’s life, she was starting to appreciate having some time to herself.

Not that that time was proving to be very productive. Though Raegan and her friends had already scoured the library from top to bottom for any reference to ancient magic last year, Raegan took to resuming the search.

With little luck.

What was that thing people said about the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results?

Raegan was self-aware enough to know when she was in a rut and confident enough to know there was always a way out.

But that hope grew weaker and weaker with each discarded book and pounding headache from lack of sleep. As much as she knew her friends would be more than willing, she did not dare ask for help.

Even (and especially) from the one person Raegan knew would be the best for the job.

Gods, school just started, and already I need a vacation.

Luckily, a reprieve offered itself up by the end of their first week back at Hogwarts - delivered to her on a silver platter Friday evening.

Classes were over for the day, and instead of retreating into the solitude of her secret room, Raegan made her way down to the Quidditch pitch with the other hopeful Gryffindors. There was quite the crowd already assembled, hopefuls from every year clutching brooms both bought and borrowed and donning uniforms in varying states of wear.

The sixth years all seemed to converge in a semi-circle at the front of the pack; Garreth, Natty, Leander, Nellie, and Eric were all chattering excitedly by the time Raegan managed to find a spare uniform from the locker rooms.

“Ah, there she is!” Garreth beamed when he spotted Raegan approaching the group, pulling her into his side with an arm slung around her shoulder.

“Was just telling Eric and Nellie how you’re about to give them a run for their money. In fact …how about we make it interesting? Who’s betting?”

Last week, Raegan likely wouldn’t have thought twice about the casual gesture, or the way his eyes caught the light when they met hers. After the incident in Potions…well she had started to pay extra attention to the little things she'd previously dismissed.

Like how he was always finding some excuse to touch her, or that he was constantly singing her praises, or the spots of color in Garreth’s freckled cheeks that only seemed to bloom in her presence.

Raegan wasn’t clueless. But she was prone to a healthy dose of denial now and then, apparently.

“I’ll take that bet.” Raegan said, a smile creeping onto her lips.

Soon enough, Garreth’s pockets were clinking with silver and bronze coins, and a debate had broken out amongst the group - catalyzed by Leander’s refusal to bet on Eric, which snowballed into a fantastic display of masculine indignation.

Thankfully, the shrill shriek of a whistle cut through the din, and every Gryffindor in attendance went silent to face their Captain.

Raegan, who fancied herself a purveyor of fine taste, could not see what all the hype was about. Isaac Cooper was relatively handsome; with a mop of golden curls and tan skin, but he wasn’t anything special . Though considering how much Ominis raved about missing Quidditch games, she supposed it likely wasn’t just his looks that got people going.

“Welcome newcomers, and welcome back to our returning members. Right. This year, we’re starting fresh. Everybody gets a clean slate, got that?”

Several scoffs and murmurs of disbelief echoed amongst who Raegan assumed to be the existing teammates.

“Those of you who were on the team two years ago will get priority, but that doesn’t mean you won't be replaced.” Isaac said evenly, gaze taking a moment to settle on each student as he addressed the crowd.

“We will rotate positions every ten minutes, so make sure you put your best foot forward. That being said: I’m sure we’re all anxious to get to dinner, so first up is…”

Isaac began rattling off a list of names - Garreth and Natty were the only ones of real note. It left Raegan’s mind to wander as she sized up the other hopefuls - most of them hardly able to walk upright without difficulty on a good day.

Most of them knew it, too, and had shown up anyway.

Every Gryffindor loved a bit of glory.

“Hey,” Garreth nudged her shoulder, strapping on elbow pads as he spoke. “Better get him out of here before Isaac gets wind of a spy and goes ballistic.”

He answered her questioning glance with a vague gesture of his gloved hand towards the entrance, where indeed a spy had arrived clad in green and silver.

“My guess is he’s here for a good luck kiss.” Garreth taunted.

There was something behind his eyes even with that flippant demeanor - a question.

”Well, I don’t need luck, so he made the trip for nothing.” Raegan said half-heartedly, watching Sebastian’s figure approach them casually.

“However, I will give you one before I kick him out.”

Garreth’s brows shot to the clouds, but he had little time to bring himself back to Earth before Raegan leaned forward and bestowed a peck on his heated cheek, popping up on the balls of her feet to reach.

“ Brilliant… ” Garreth mumbled when she’d pulled away to give him an indulgent smile. “Er - I mean, thanks. Definitely feeling lucky now.”

Raegan's snort of amusement made him quick to add, “Not like that! I meant to say… Oh, Merlin’s beard, you’re a menace!”

”I’ve been called worse.”

With one final, lilting “ Break a leg !” over her shoulder, Raegan walked off, shaking her head upon making the discovery that blushing might very well be contagious.

Maybe a relationship was out of the question given the current state of her affairs, but what was the harm in a little flirting between friends to test the waters?

And speaking of flirty friends…

Sebastian met her near the wide entrance to the pitch, the bravado-soaked grin he often donned present, though his eyes didn't possess their usual accompanying crinkle.

"My favorite Gryffindor.” He greeted her, arms crossing over his chest as he relaxed against the wooden post. “Don’t worry, I come in peace. Just wanted to wish you luck in tryouts - though I’m sure you’ll outfly them all.”

Flattery. One of his favorite tactics.

From the pocket of his breeches, Sebastian produced a single, vibrantly green clover which boasted not three, but four leaves.

“Just in case.”

“Where did you even find this?” Raegan moved automatically to pluck the stem from his fingers, studying it in the sunlight. “Transfigured, is it?”

"Found it myself. Suppose I'm quite talented at finding rare things."

His eyes darted to her hair; the copper strands knotted in a loose braid down her back, and tucked the clover securely behind her ear.

Why she didn't immediately rip out and incinerate the damn thing was a mystery, but she found it nearly impossible to do much besides hold her breath until he’d restored the space between them.

She was trying not to remember the smell of pine and candy and smoke.

"Is that all you came here for?" Raegan cleared her throat, glancing back as the whoosh of several brooms taking flight created a light breeze.

"Why are you always so suspicious of me?" Sebastian placed a hand over his heart as if mortally wounded.

"You're lucky I'm not blessing you with a kiss - though I see you've already got that handled."

Ah, so he did see that. Good.

"Be careful, is all I'm saying. People may start to think you two are..." He trailed off, the silence punctuated by an exaggerated raise of his brows.

Raegan couldn't let that one slide. "It's nobody's business who I'm courting; I've no real family to embarrass anyway, and I could give a damn what this lot thinks besides.

"Not that I'm courting anyone. Or planning to. So-"

Please, mouth, stop moving for once. She had to inhale greedily, having rushed it all out in one stuttered breath.

"Relax, don't have a fit." Sebastian shook his head. "I think it's sweet. I mean... you could do a lot worse than Garreth. Or a lot better, depending on your perspective."

What was that meant to be, reverse reverse psychology?

"I'm not involved with Garreth, for Merlin's sake." Her huffed sigh ruffled the stray hairs escaping from their plait.

An escape was exactly what she needed right now, if only to avoid the ridiculous dance they'd found themselves trapped in.

"Right. I know that."

Do you?

"Glad we've cleared that up, then. Now, unless you want to stand in as Cooper's personal Bludger, you'd better make yourself scarce." Raegan warned, brow arching high.

"Alright, I know when I'm not wanted. Best of luck again, Rae."

He strolled across the bridge, disappearing from sight before she had time to question the entire exchange.

Thankfully Raegan got through tryouts with all her bones intact, and with a spectacular performance (if she did say so herself) to boot - the likes of which had absolutely nothing to do with the four leaves wilting amongst her waves.

Just as she was heading back to the castle - disheveled and glistening with perspiration that demanded a bath - the voice of Lucan Brattleby carried over her shoulder.

"Raegan! Natsai! Garreth!" He jogged up to the trio, still panting from his tryout. "Great flying out there! To think we'll all be teammates soon, huh?

Anyway, I wanted to be the one to share: the first round of Crossed Wands is all set for Monday at 4. Assuming you ladies are still competing?"

"Of course, Lucan. Wouldn't miss it." Natty smiled at the fourth year.

"Yeah, count me in, too." Raegan chimed. "Might as well go for the Champion title two years in a row."

"That's the spirit! And it'll bring a huge crowd; everyone will be dying to watch one of the school's heroes compete." Lucan beamed.

The hero worship thing was sort of adorable - if not mildly disconcerting.

"And you'll be organizing the betting again, Garreth?"

"You bet your galleons I am." Garreth replied as the money he'd collected tinkled like bells in his pocket.

Those two should start a business, truly. They'd be richer than the Gaunts.

"Brilliant! Well, off to dinner. See you guys there!" Lucan gave them a jovial wave before joining his own friends.

"So, Raegan..." Garreth cleared his throat as they, too, exited the pitch with the summer-brown grass brushing their muddied boots.

"How are the potions helping?"

For the love of-

Natty shot a questioning look between her two friends, face screwing up in preparation for whatever distressing news she was about to receive.

"Potions? And helping...what?" She asked.

"Now you've done it," Raegan groaned after shooting Garreth a withering glare. "They're only to alleviate the headaches I've been getting lately. Perfectly safe; Gryffindor's honor.

"And they've been working just fine." She added spitefully.

Liar. She had to take at least three a day, and most of the time Raegan maintained the dull, throbbing ache that never went away.

"But why are you getting headaches?" Natsai probed as they walked, her eyes ignoring the path in favor of studying Raegan.

"Yes, why are you? You still haven't even told me, and I'm your bloody dealer." Garreth grunted.

"Beats me. Nurse Blainey said everything appears to be fine." She lied again.

Raegan hadn't dared to pay a visit to the matron since the last time she'd been forced to endure the hospital wing's melancholy. How many friends had she in those beds already? Natty, Sebastian, Diana... even Leander (Chomping Cabbage incident; don't ask).

Dreadful place.

"Well, there has to be something." Natty pressed gently.

"I'm fine, Natty, as I've assured you ceaselessly. Now please, can't we talk about this another time? I need to change my bet on Lucan after seeing that Seeking he pulled off."

———

A hot bath, several helpings of chicken, and more than one slice of apple tart later, Raegan was relieved to sink into the comforting embrace of her curtain-covered bed at last.

She tried to sleep for once. Really tried. There was even a good hour somewhere around two in the morning that she drifted off only to experience the usual rude awakening that doused her in sweat for the second time that day; sheets tangled around her legs like ropes.

Suddenly, the fire burning in the dorm's stove wasn't welcoming - it was suffocating.

There remained enough sense in her half-awake state to pull a robe over the nightgown that clung to her like a second skin. Raegan all but stumbled into the stairwell with little regard for her roommates' peaceful slumber (she owed them all magical earplugs for Christmas at this point).

The journey to the Undercroft was no peaceful stroll. Shadows peeked around corners and snuck up to whisper unintelligible secrets; forcing the nightmares back to the surface like a photo in a dark room.

Well. If she wouldn't be afforded the luxury of sleep, at least she could be somewhat productive.

Upon exiting the elevator, Raegan crossed the room in search of the loose (well, it hadn't been before she'd pried it free) brick at the far wall, sliding it from its slot as the sweat on her body chilled.

Reaching in, her hands felt blindly for-

Ah.

Isidora's journal entries were still rolled and tied together just as Raegan had left them last year. Diana wanted to destroy them upon discovering San's memory, but Raegan possessed the foresight to smuggle them away, just in case. They'd both thoroughly pored over the documents already, searching for any possibility of a code the former Professor may have used, or certain letters made darker, or...

Perhaps the girls read too many mystery novels together.

It proved to be a useless endeavor, anyway, as the entries were plain as day - and frustratingly brief to boot.

What scholars thought of insanity was beginning to seem suspiciously close to her reality.

As Raegan rubbed a hand over her foggy eyes, the words on the centuries-old pages gradually came into focus. She read until her eyes might as well have been bleeding and burned with the urge to blink, and every letter was combed through at least three times over until her impatience reached a boiling point.

“'I've left them a trail to follow’ ...well, what bloody good is that trail if it has a dead end?!" Raegan growled.

She took to pacing the length of the open space with the letters crumpled in a white-knuckled fist.

"Useless. Damned stupid , bloody Isi-"

The heat was the first sign that she was about to have what Ominis would call "an episode". Following its building warmth in her palm was the burst of flame, its sudden orange-yellow glow bringing tears to her eyes.

"Fuck! Oh, now I've done it."

Raegan dropped the parchments immediately, letting them flutter to the ground before she stomped out the fire with feet she now realized to be bare.

But it hadn't been necessary: they were the same wrinkled, faded beige they'd always been without a speck of black. Both brows knotting together, Raegan stooped to examine the unchanged pages - only to remark that there was a difference, after all. Words had appeared in veins of liquid gold, written in an even messier scrawl on the back of each page.

I've never been so happy to be a hothead in my life.

"Isidora, I take it back." She breathed.

The excitement was short-lived; becoming frustration once more when she looked closer to discover that it was a language she couldn't fully comprehend.

Scottish Gaelic, to be sure. An ancient-looking form at that, complete with several runes she had only come across once or twice and never taken the time to decipher.

The clang of the elevator jolted her to attention, and Raegan made haste to stuff the journals back into their hiding spot - but not quite fast enough.

She had barely finished shoving the stone back when Sebastian's voice rang out.

"Raegan? What are you doing here?"

He was better at finding her than the Ministry was at hunting down underage wizards using magic on vacation, and it was beginning to become uncanny. Possibly a bit unsettling.

"Er...I couldn't sleep. Just needed a change of scenery." Raegan cleared her throat as she turned slowly to face the music.

"So you thought an underground lair would be a good place for fresh air?" He chuckled, eyes wandering to the wall behind her. It appeared he had been in a similar state, considering the mussed hair and the sweater he'd thrown on over a pair of loose trousers.

"Hiding something, are we?"

He didn't miss a thing. Couldn't he be just a bit less observant?

" No ."

There was a moment of silence that rapidly escalated to a standoff. Neither of them broke eye contact for a long moment, waiting for the other to break-

Sebastian drew his wand, the brick sliding out of the wall before the pages flew into his hand with a simple "Accio".

"Give those back, you thief!" Raegan lunged for the Slytherin, reaching desperately, her chest pressed to his as she raised on her tiptoes precariously and swatted at Sebastian as though in the midst of a game of Quidditch.

He seemed endlessly amused; judging by the easy smirk tugging on his lips when he met her eyes. Still holding the precious documents high above his head - too high for her to reach.

"Mmm, don't think so." Sebastian chirped victoriously. "Let's see what you're keeping from me, shall we?"

He twisted away expertly, unfurling the papers with dramatic flair before she could dart around to grab them.

"Isidora's journals..." He thought aloud. "But why all the secrecy? I bloody found them with you-"

Before he could steal another moment to further investigate the shimmering ink, Raegan snatched them away at last with a hiss.

"Why can't you keep that big nose where it belongs?" She chided.

"What is that?" He went on, undeterred by her annoyance - likely, he was just used to working around it by now. "That writing...it wasn't there before, was it?"

"Very perceptive."

"I try." His eyes drifted over her, then - seemingly noting for the first time that her attire was less than proper; only the semi-sheer ivory nightdress to cover her freckled skin, which still glistened faintly with sweat in the torchlight.

Sebastian's POV

She looks like an angel.

Raegan in general was anything but the picture of heavenly virtue. On the contrary, her color palette was reminiscent of the hellfires they spoke of in Dante's Inferno: all flaming hair and clothes in varying shades of autumn leaves and obsidian.

Even her eyes... startlingly golden, save for the time he'd seen them glow a blinding red.

Yet now he couldn't help but wonder if heaven's gates might be guarded by this avenging angel standing before him; a vision of righteous vengeance in purest white.

It drove his thoughts somewhere downright sinful.

The way the length of her throat glowed with flush and a sheen of sweat sent him spiraling - the same throat he'd imagined running his tongue along in his wildest dreams.

He should have been commended for resisting the urge to let his eyes stray below the neckline of her dress, even with the generous curves outlined beneath that cursed garment still visible in his peripheral.

Abort mission. Abort, abort, abort...

"Would you like to paint a portrait? It'll last longer."

Oh, fuck.

"I-I wasn't staring. Sorry, just...mind was elsewhere." Sebastian fumbled, blinking several times to refocus on her face. Only her face.

Somehow, that turned out to be the greater of two evils.

"Yes; in the gutter, it seems." Raegan mused.

Why did she have to call him out like that? Why did she have to be so incredibly candid and exacting? Or was Sebastian simply more transparent than he'd initially thought?

Gods, now I'm sweating.

"You... you're trying to change the subject." Sebastian re-fortified his questionable resolve, squaring his shoulders and dismissing the pang in his gut as mere discomfort.

"So, have you read them? What do they say? Anything about-"

"I was about to before you came barging in."

"Can you even read Scots?"

He didn't doubt her intelligence when he knew perfectly well the girl was at least partially fluent in three languages - but there was a set to her jaw that told him she was frustrated about something.

"I can read...a bit of it." She amended. "A few words are similar to Irish, but some are entirely different."

Raegan straightened, avoiding his gaze to roll the papers back up pointedly.

"Doesn't matter. I can translate it in an hour at the library."

"You sure about that?" Sebastian saw his chance, and he was damn well going to take it. All week he'd sought out rather pitiful excuses to spend even a moment with her despite all evidence that she wanted next to nothing to do with him.

It was time to take matters more firmly into his hands.

"From the looks of it - before you tore it from my hands like a wild animal - that isn't the modern dialect. Might even be Early Scots..."

That ever-present air of distrust grated at his nerves while she cocked her head thoughtfully.

How could he resist an opportunity to unravel the mystery they'd never gotten to crack last year? Sebastian lived and breathed a good mystery, especially when it was someone else's so he could have a break from the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He supposed that was Raegan's burden now. The least he could do was help her ease it. Plus, a bit of research would be a better occupation for his thoughts, rather than everything else recently rotting away in the corners of his consciousness.

And if it meant a chance to make up for a few regrets in the process...

"Let me help. I can have them all translated by Monday." He asserted.

She's hesitating. Maybe-

"No, I don’t think so.”

Of course not.

Sebastian leaned to the side, crossing his arms and putting on his best "don't be ridiculous" expression that typically got the point across.

"Ignore your bloody pride for a moment. You obviously are dying to know what's on those pages, and I suspect you have enough on your plate without adding an extra task to the list."

"It's not pride , I just don't need your help when I can do it myself."

"I'm well aware you could do it, Raegan." His voice softened, fearing that any more of his usual flippancy would drive her heels further into the ground. "Just because you can doesn't mean you should have to.

"You needn't do everything on your own, you know."

That seemed to hit something - something deep, from the way her mouth turned down into a frown, and how he resented that sight; like the sun hiding behind clouds and turning down the world's vibrancy.

The last thing he expected to hear was, "I don't want anyone else to know."

Was that... did she-?

"Nobody?" He raised a brow skeptically. "Not even Diana?"

"Especially not Diana." Raegan sighed. "You know how she feels about Isidora, she doesn't even know I still have these."

Sebastian thought that keeping something from her best friend likely wasn't the best course of action, but he could hardly lecture her when he'd done the very same thing in the year past.

He was ready to say, " Why ?" Why , when she had barely deigned to look at him since stepping through the doors of the Great Hall or even lowered herself to have a conversation lasting longer than five minutes, was she suddenly willing to accept his help?

Not that he was complaining, of course.

"Alright. I can understand the need for discretion. I won't breathe a word of this." Sebastian nodded solemnly.

The pause that followed... Sebastian often wondered if she inserted them after he spoke purely for dramatic effect. Or, more likely, Raegan relished in making him suffer.

"And don't even think about copying them."

"I wasn't going to!" Sebastian protested, yet he had to smile a bit - three months was nothing compared to a lifetime, sure, but at eighteen it seemed to be a year. Despite their distance, she still knew him like he knew one of his favorite books by heart.

Anyway, there was no need to copy them. Reading the journals a couple of times over would be just as effective in preserving the information for himself.

“However, if we are going to be partners-“

”- More like distant associates, but…”

”I have one condition. Since I’m so generously offering my time.”

”- Which you volunteered to provide.”

Sebastian tried out that eye roll she was so fond of, and to his displeasure, it didn’t seem to have the same effect.

“One condition: that you study with me next week.”

A simple enough request. Raegan didn’t seem to agree with the way her lips curled back in obvious distaste, but after a moment she pursed them again.

“One hour.”

"Deal.” It was more than Sebastian had dared to hope for, honestly. “Now, go on, hand them over. You look exhausted, you should get some sleep."

Raegan scrunched her nose, irritated by his blunt observation. "My eye bags aren't nearly as bad as yours."

But she obliged, whipping the roll of parchment into his awaiting hand.

"Maybe not." Sebastian accepted the offering and delivered a light thwack with them to her pert nose. “You do pull it off, though."

Before she had time to answer with an angry huff or a scathing remark, Sebastian waved the pages in the air in a nonchalant farewell, catching her eye over his shoulder as if he couldn't help but steal every last look he was able.

"By the way! I’ve found Calming Draughts help with the night terrors. You should have Garreth make you some, in addition to whatever else he's been brewing up for you."

How lucky Sebastian was to see the mix of emotions playing across her face before the doors clanged shut and the darkness swallowed him up once again. Even her (admittedly adorable) scowl was insufficient in wiping the grin off his face that lit up the night; a ray of sunlight in a shadowy wood.

Bonus pic of the losers aka the part where Seb gets all up in her space with that dang clover:

#hogwarts legacy #harry potter #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy screenshots #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #garreth weasley #sebastian sallow screenshots #Hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x f!mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x oc

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nautilusopus · 2 years

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I posted 6,915 times in 2022

255 posts created (4%)

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My Top Posts in 2022:

75 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

nobody else is writing meta analysis for vivarium so i guess i have to do it

Vivarium is a 2019 horror film that the internet doesn’t seem to know what to think of. Most YouTube videos as per usual don’t wanna engage with it on anything more than an extremely literal surface level (hence the abundance of “VIVARIUM EXPLAINED” videos that just recap the plot to you as though you can’t see with your eyeballs that yes, he put on the nametag, that sure is what happened onscreen, yes I fucking get it the boy is like a cuckoo-esque brood parasite I GET IT) that ultimately devolve into speculative fanfiction about how effectively the aliens can take over the world. There are a few people here and there a little more willing to at least engage with what the movie has to say, and from there you get takes about how it’s about how the golden capitalist ideal of the suburban nuclear family is a banal hellscape, which I’d say is generally pretty accurate. Tom spends his entire time at Number 9 labouring, digging a hole while Gemma looks after the boy because he doesn’t know what else to possibly do with himself, an action that wears him down and ultimately costs him his life, and for all his trouble all he’s found is the body of the last guy who tried to labour his way out of this situation. All he’s done is created is a grave for his “offspring” to dump him into.

Like, as far as Capitalism Bad stories go this one’s pretty on-the-nose, and a lot of the people griping that the story was confusing are mostly the ones that seems to have missed this. (For an even longer tangent about how a lot of scifi stories aren’t going to make sense to you if you resist the very obvious thematic readings they’re giving you because you think things can’t be that deep I recommend Dan Olson’s excellent video on Annihilation.)

Occasionally, though, you get people also mentioning how it’s a little about animal rights, and even more especially about nature versus nurture. For the most part, Tom and Gemma are not kind to the boy. They (understandably) have nothing but contempt towards him. They openly discuss how creepy he is when he’s within earshot. At one point they try to lock him in the car to starve just to see if whoever comes to get his body can be forced to let them go, and they only back out on the plan when the fact that he looks and acts like a child in that moment gets to Gemma and she lets him out. Eventually, the boy grows into an emotionally distant young adult that locks Tom out of the house to die and doesn’t seem to give two shits about their suffering now that he’s bigger and stronger than his “parents”. Surely, we think, if Gemma and Tom had been kinder to him, he would have grown into a kinder adult, even if he was an alien? Are they not perpetuating this literal cycle of violence?

And with regard to the nature versus nurture reads, I actually directly disagree and find it at odds with the Capitalism Bad message, because my read is this:

No amount of kindness or understanding would have turned the boy into a good person, and acting like it would have is in fact part of the trap. Gemma and Tom would have wound up used up and dead either way, because thematically speaking, what the boy is there to do is to collect data.

More under the cut, I have a lot of opinions about this.

The boy’s creepy alien gimmick is mimicry. It’s what the realtor (p clearly a member of the same species) does when trying to entice Tom and Gemma into Number 9. The realtor is better at saying context-appropriate things than the boy is, but still slips up every now and then, and even so his mannerisms aren’t quite right. At best, he sounds like he’s regurgitating a script (a bit more admissible given he’s trying to sell something). At worst, he parrots Gemma’s “no, not yet” back to her in exactly her voice. Everything he’s saying, it’s clear he’s going through motions without any real understanding of what those motions are, beyond, “This is the thing you say to sell a house.”

The boy is demonstrably worse at it. He’ll parrot entire conversations back to the people who had them regardless if it makes sense to do so. He rarely speaks in his own voice, instead chopping up various words he’s heard from both parents. He doesn’t seem to have much sense for what is and isn’t appropriate to mimic (to the point of Gemma quite transparently tricking him into revealing he’s an alien outright), much less what makes sense for him to mimic.

He develops this skill gradually over the course of the movie, gets a bit better at putting together sentences people can actually reply to. But even then, he doesn’t seem to engage with the context overall of the conversation. After aforementioned alien reveal, with Tom growing sicker by the day, Gemma begins to cry and back away in horror, and we get this exchange:

The boy: Are you [overwhelmed] again, Mother? Gemma: I am not your mother! The boy: Are you [overwhelmed]? Gemma: I want to go home. The boy: Silly mother. You are home!

There’s no real engagement with the actual conversation at hand. This is the kind of script a reply bot runs. It emulates emotion the same way it emulates everything else.

His nature is reflected by the surroundings: The identical miles of houses with framed pictures of those houses on their own walls, with no real understanding of what people do and don’t want in the aesthetics of a house. The food that looks correct, but has no flavour or nutritional value, eventually leading to not just Tom’s death, but eventually Gemma’s. The entire world, from the Number 9 house to the suburbs of Yonder in general with its fake clouds, to the boy and its interactions, are fake, hollow, and the kind of thing an alien with no real care for the real human experience beyond perpetuating the system’s own growth would create.

And at this point hopefully some of you have noticed, we’ve seen this exact behaviour pattern before.

i’m quoting the reply on that second one here by @dukeofankh because it’s extremely relevant to this entire thing:

I’m honestly reblogging this again because the more I stare at it, the more I feel like this is staggeringly relevant art.

Like, so much of modern capitalist marketing is the construction of these superficially personal narratives. Giving the sense, not only that the brand fits in with your identity, but that it is almost a sentient individual itself that has a personal relationship with you. Corporations have personalities. They want to be your friend, and the reason that the entire internet economy runs on the currency of data right now is that the only way to prop up the illusion that they care about you is by already having the information about you that real people would gain by paying attention

But the only way they can collect and sort all that data is with computers, without any actual humans involved past setting up the parameters and pressing “go.” And computers are fucking idiots.

Which leaves us here: this false, saccharine message of togetherness and community–community between you and your friends but more importantly between all of you and Facebook–stripped fucking bare by the fact that the cookie-cutter algorithm can’t tell the difference between friends supporting and caring about each other and Thanos with a dumptruck ass.

The boy is here to collect data, and he collects it and regurgitates it as though it all has equal relevance to the situation at hand.

He reacts with the same polite indifference to open contempt, genuine warmth and an attempt to bond with him, terror directed at him, and pleas for mercy from him. Later on when we get a glimpse of the “inner workings” of the house, we see the boy watching another set of parents rawdogging the shit out of each other, and applauding appreciatively with the same blank amusement as he applauds to everything else. He sees Gemma and Tom dancing to the music from their radio outside, trying to have one bright moment with one another despite the grim circumstances they’re in, and he immediately inserts himself into the moment with zero awareness that he isn’t wanted here (granted that’s also extremely a little kid thing to do lol).

Which leads to the fact that that isn’t to say he doesn’t have his moments of personality. He smiles at positive attention (as well as negative attention), he enjoys interaction. He throws a tantrum when he’s told he can’t watch fucked up alien meat television at 3 am and turns it right back on. About the only time we get a genuine reaction from him is when he gets locked in the car to starve.

But then, so do things like Alexa, or Siri, or Cortana. You can have little conversations with it. It can tell jokes. You can ask it the meaning of life and it’ll tell you 42. You can insult it and it’ll do an EPIC SNAPBACK OMG SO SASSY. The people who designed it want you to view it as a friend, even as it sits there and spies on you and integrates itself more and more into your life.

Gemma lets him out of the car because (also understandably) she can’t bring herself to kill something that looks like a child. Later on, when she speaks with a dying Tom, she wonders why she didn’t kill him when he was still small. Tom tells her, “Because you’re a good person.” Their problems could have maybe (I mean probably not we’ll never know, at the very least Tom wouldn’t have died of exposure maybe) been solved if they just locked the thing in the car and ignored it, but in the end they still wound up viewing it as a person.

Tom and Gemma openly comment that the boy is always, always watching them, knowing full well they’re within earshot of him. He doesn’t retaliate for this, they’re never punished for saying it. Why would he? It’s what he’s there to do. He knows they know he’s watching. Water is wet. The boy watches.

Of course, when he is older, and better at putting together conversations that sound like an actual person, Gemma is openly terrified of him. His mannerisms don’t change, but conversationally he seems to at least understand whats being said to him, and is willing to ask more in-depth questions, graduation from, “What’s a dog?” to “Why did you say ‘you’re welcome’?”

By the end of the movie, the boy matures into a man. He’s gotten a bit better at knowing which words to parrot at what time, something we can watch him improve upon as the movie goes, and still insists, to Gemma’s last breath, that she’s his mother and that she is home. Gemma dies telling him, “I’m not your fucking mother.”

This is maybe the only other genuine reaction we get from the boy: a disappointed, “Whatever,” before he zips up the bodybag and chucks her into the hole as well. He cleans up the house for the next occupants and leaves. He takes the now-dying realtor’s nametag and puts it on himself, folds up the old realtor and stuffs it in a drawer, and takes his place in the office ready to lure the next couple to the suburbs of Yonder, with words that almost, but not quite, convince you he’s a person, and by that point it’s too late.

The boy was only ever there to make sure someone would be in Number 9 to make sure someone would be there to raise the next boy to make sure someone would be led to Number 9 to raise the next boy.

And who among us haven’t left this exact message, or even said this exact thing out loud, to the bot hanging over our shoulder watching us constantly, politely asking if we want help or suggested content?

See the full post

94 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

Breeds of Kill Six Billion Demons fans

Roleplayer: Largely harmless, just here to have fun, have been following the comic since day one. Mildly irritating to wade through when you look through the comics for actual discussion about the story, since a lot of their posts are shaped by headcanon by necessity. Usually chill.

Lore Bro: Similar brand of annoying to the roleplayers in that they assume their headcanons to be canon and act accordingly, but infinitely less fun to read because they don't even have the courtesy of pretending to be a dragon first and will not back the fuck off when proven wrong. Will get very, very angry when their headcanons turn out to be wrong. Are here primarily for the lore in fact. Become even more upset when it becomes clear Abbadon isn't and consider it a failure of writing.

Twitter Brainrot: Are looking to this comic to deliver Good Representation and Moral Truths. Very angry that Steven Universe advocates genocide and war crimes. Continually shocked when a trans character makes a bad, selfish decision, or a pee-oh-cee slices someone in half with a very big sword and intestines fly everywhere and they choke to death on their own blood. Wants you very badly to know that this behaviour is NOT okay or healthy in real life! <3

Comment Poets: Try to say deep one-liners in a similar voice to the Song of Maybe. At best state the obvious. At worst, directly embody that Dril tweet about there beign zero difference between good and bad things. Whoa....... maybe the bad guys had a point........ makes you think............ Can't knock them too hard though because they're some of the only people in the comments actually directly trying to directly engage with the comic and its subject matter! Good for you guys, keep up the good work, maybe work on the delivery.

Immigrated Warhammer 40k Fan: Just here for the swords and gunmechs. Might be a bit lost but haven't figured out this is a Wendy's yet. "i don't like how you demonised these god emperor cops >:( liberal agenda much??? why are there so many gays in here for no reason? good job ruining your comic you soycuck"

Horny On Main: Home of sexual. Know a good pair of tits when they see them, regardless of whether they're attached to a buff despot with sad dad energy or a desiccated mummy. Invaluable members of the community, braver than any marine. Thank you for your service. #AllisonsAreolaTruth

The Rhyming Wax Head: The only cool roleplayer. Only broke character the one time and it was fully justified

118 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

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347 notes - Posted May 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

okay FIIIIIINE i'll throw my hat into the Goncharov ring

Been a while i've done a proper movie breakdown, may as well be this one.

Rather surprisingly (but perhaps not too surprisingly given the unexpected renaissance of things like the original Dracula and Breaking Bad on this website out of seemingly nowhere and with very little prompting), I'm seeing a lot of new people suddenly interested in Martin Scorsese's seminal film classic Goncharov, originally released in 1973. Obviously a movie like that doesn't make it coming up on 50 years without generating a lot of discussion about the different ways the movie resonates and why, but coming into it in 2022 there's been so much cultural cruft that's collected around Goncharov that (similar to stories like Fight Club and Scarface) it's a little hard to parse what it's actually about with all the mythologising that's gone on around the characters.

Those movies, in one way or another, are about portraying the downfall of their protagonists -- Fight Club's after ironically creating another system of control and dehumanisation and becoming what he sought to destroy, Scarface's after being consumed by the wealth and power he's amassed. A lot of people assume it's that kind of story, because aren't most well-loved movies? However, I think this is ironically an assumption made because of the genre of film it is. All the people that aren't going, "OMG Goncharov is so cool and badass and fucks bitches," are going, "WOW I can't believe Goncharov is a cautionary tale about power corrupting," and in the process people miss that Goncharov is first and foremost about loss, in all its different forms.

I'm both kind of surprised and frustrated people miss this, given how utterly pervasive the movie is with its clock symbolism -- it's the one thing everyone remembers about it, it was in all the tie-ins. I dunno, maybe that got funneled back into the theory where they're meant to reinforce how Goncharov is just a mortal man at the end of the day, which is fine I guess, but the movie overall becomes a lot clearer when you interpret it through the lens of, "These things are gone and you can never get them back; clocks don't go backwards."

One of the most fascinating things about the movie is how every character embodies a different kind of loss. I'm gonna ease into this and start not with Goncharov but with:

Rybak, who is usually associated with loss as we typically think of it, i.e. the loss of loved ones via death. This comes up all the time, either in his trust issues (why he's being such a prick at the wedding), in the card game (he never bothers to bet much money, knowing he's bad at poker, and still loses all the same). Rybak is terrified of loss, cannot manage it, and ultimately is punished by losing what few people he had left and then being spared by Lorenzo who deems him punished enough, and is forced to survive, to grapple with what his life is now without them.

Goncharov's is actually more subtle, and it's loss of small, insignificant things as a result of the larger losses he believes he's processed. This is something that's frequently contrasted against Rybak. The pawn shop going under is actually a microcosm of this whole thing. Goncharov anticipates that this is obviously going to lead to financial issues for him, plans accordingly to deal with this, and... it works! He's saved! Except that means card games can't be hosted at his place anymore, given it's burned to the ground. Does this matter, in the grand scheme of his life? No, of course not. Poker night still gets had all the same. But it is different now, and always will be. Little things like this continue to add up, until something as insignificant as a towel -- a towel that never should have been in his room, but Sofia is no longer there to drop off his laundry and chat with him -- is ultimately the final nail in a coffin built of insignificant splinters, each one an imperceptible change underneath the much more larger, noticeable story beats of things like grief.

Otto is the big obvious one I'm not gonna linger on: loss of his youth, moments in the past that he wants to redo but can't. Most people at least seem to have gotten this one.

(This is also what the clocks get associated with a lot, which again, doesn't NOT make sense but also if it were just for this one character that, while thematically important, was honestly just a side character with limited screentime and only two scenes, would they really be all over the movie before Otto's name is even mentioned?)

Sofia's a bit abstract, and is the loss of self -- of the familiar anchors we have to who we are, what we think our core principles are, our place in society, who we want to be to our loved ones -- and by the time she dies she is rendered utterly unrecognisable to herself, and is horrified by it. She grieves herself the same way Rybak grieves his wife (even gets a direct visual callback via the way her face is lit when she's burning Lorenzo's check). You see echoes of this in Goncharov as well, but while Sofia is grieving the person she used to be, Goncharov is grieving the world around him (even though really, it's the same world it always was -- time keeps ticking on, one second per second, and neither one of them can ever un-fire that gun).

Lorenzo, tragically, gradually loses his freedom (and maybe in a parallel world would actually be the protagonist of a movie where he chokes on his own hubris like everyone seems to think Goncharov is GRUMBLE GRUMBLE). As he comes into his own more and more by his family's legacy, he is afforded fewer and fewer options about what decisions he can even make. Arguably he was doomed from the start, but the further he clings to power as a means to freedom, the more it drives him to destroying everything he ever (thought he) cared about. The tragedy of his character, and what makes him a good villain, is that he can clearly see what he is doing to himself and he absolutely hates it (his walking out early at the wedding is a tacit admission of this), but his absolute refusal to accept loss, to accept grief and pain and all the awful shit that comes with the human condition, is what causes him to toss aside every out he has because if he has enough CONTROL over his situation, surely he will never have to lose anything ever again. But, really, he already has.

I dunno. Goncharov is one of those movies that is great, and everyone seems to realise it's great, but nobody ever really puts into words why, and that's how you get Fight Club fans lmao. And it sucks because the actual discussion around the movie beyond "it's another hubris story but REALLY GOOD guys" is so much more fascinating and a much more earnest emotional truth that just never gets talked about.

2,301 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

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dmitri-writes · 5 years

Text

Listen~Intruloceit Request

INFO -requested by a wattpad user -roman, virgil, and patton are all unintentionally unsympathetic -sympathetic remus and deceit -can you tell how much i love this ship? -logan is constantly cut off and told to hush -deceit has a snake and remus has an octopus -its a long one

TRIGGER WARNINGS -u!pat/ro/vee -panic attack -talk of dead bodies

***

"But what if it was his fault-" "But Thomas would never hurt his friends! And definitely not his boyfriend!" "If I may-" "Oh hush pocket protector, you don't get this topic." Interrupted again. Logan feels anger rise but pushes it back down. Logic is cold. Unemotional. He shuts his mouth tight. "Sure he'd never hurt them on purpose, but you don't know if he said something that made him uncomfortable and he just didn't wanna say anything." "I'm certain that-" "If we just call him I'm sure he'll talk to us!" More anger. It rises farther this time, so Logan pushes it deeper, trying to force it into the ground. Listen listen listen. Shut up shut up shut up. "Are you kidding Princey? He wouldn't even pick up the phone!" "We don't know that!" "He hates us! I know he does!" Logan hears Virgil's voice start to multiply. He knows he can help, if only he would listen, "Virgil-" "No! He hates us he hates us he hates us!" Anger rising again. Everyone's yelling. no one is listening WHY? Why does no one listen? "I told you to stay out of it Logan!" Up up up, it's too much, he's going to burst- "FINE."

All the sides whip their heads to look at Logan. His jaw is clenched, his fists are balled, and his shoulders are tense. "None of you are LISTENING! I can help but you don't... You just shut me up... I just... I just..." Logan's anger turns to sadness and tears start to fall. No one knows what to say. No one knows what to do. Logan? Crying? Logan harshly rubs the tears away, turning his face redder than it was, "I'm leaving." Before anyone can stop him, he sinks out. He doesn't know where he's going, just leaving. Maybe some stars would be nice... Logan arrives at a destination, eyes stuck to the ground until he notices soft sounds like water. He lifts his tear-soaked cheeks to see an ocean washing quietly against a beach, moonlight reflecting on the surface. Moonlight? Logan looks up and sees a dark sky full of stars. These stars are not the same as Thomas'. The same constellations are there but they're in a new order and the stars are connected by strings of light. The planets are also visible in a perfect line, even the earth. His eyes widen as he sees a black hole. How fascinating.

He's soon interrupted from his admiration of the unnatural sky by a sensation on his ankle. Looking down, he realizes there is a small octopus on the sand next to his foot, tentacle attached to his ankle. "Strange." "Jeffrey! Let go of Logan!" Logan jumps at the voice and whips his head towards it. Remus and Deceit stand before him, Remus bending to pick up his octopus and Deceit giving Logan a curious look. "So what brings you to my side of the imagination, Logan?" "Oh um... I was ah... just leaving actually." Logan turns to leave but an arm rises up and grabs him with a gloved hand, gently, but with enough force to hold him in place. Deceit's voice follows, "That isn't suspicious at all. Tell us what you're doing here." Logan huffs and turns back around, staring intently at the ground as he speaks, "I would rather not speak of it. I apologize for intruding."

Silence follows Logan's confession until Deceit finds the words he needs. "Join us. For a walk, that is. We were following the beach to my room." Logan looks at the two warily but walks in line with them. Remus has yet to put down the octopus and is petting the top of its head. Remus must have noticed Logan staring because he smiles at him. "This is my octopus, Jeffrey Dahmer! Wanna pet her?" Logan laughs a small, short laugh, and pets the top of Jeffrey's head. "She's very interesting." Logan and Remus start a conversation about octopi and other sea animals while Deceit watches, studying Logan's face. In due time, they arrive at Deceit's room. He leads the two in and Logan is amazed. He assumed Deceit's room, where lies are the strongest, would have dark corners, many walls, and hidden doors. Logan is shocked to see that Deceit's room is well lit with an open floor plan, and very warm.

"Don't make yourself at home." Remus flops on the pale yellow couch and Logan stands awkwardly next to it. He watches Deceit approach a vivarium against the wall and stick his arm in. A moment passes and Deceit lifts his arm, Logan seeing a yellow and black snake around Deceit's wrist. Logan identifies it as a Chinese false cobra. How fitting. Deceit holds out his arm, and the snake extends its head towards Logan. "She likes to help. Pet her. She'll totally bite." Logan carefully extends a hand and the snake rubs her head into his hand. Logan smiles softly as he plays with the snake. "What's her name?" "Dmitri." Logan finally sits and Deceit's couch and plays with the snake. "She hates you. She's also a terrible comfort animal when you've been disrespected." Logan looks up at Deceit, "How did you know?" Deceit sits next to Logan on the couch, "I heard lies. I didn't listen in. Not sorry." Logan sighs as he watches Dmitri curl up his arm, "It's alright. I'd trust you to keep secrets better than anyone else."

Logan realizes Remus is still there and turns to see him happily playing with Jeffrey, paying no mind to Logan and Dee's conversation. "We both get it," Deceit says, watching Remus. "Being disrespected by the others." "I know. I apologize for them." "You don't have to. Their actions hurt us. Not yours. We know you only want to help them." Remus suddenly perks up and turns to Logan, "Hey do you know a lot about dead bodies?" Logan nods and Remus smiles wide, "Okay, okay, so, let's say I have a body, right? How long would it take to decompose?" "Cause of death?" "Blunt force trauma to the skull." "Any other wounds pre or post mortem?" "No." Deceit watches as Remus asks Logan the weirdest, darkest questions and Logan asks his own to answer Remus'. Dmitri eventually wraps up Deceit's arm and he puts her back in her vivarium, then goes back to watching Logan and Remus, occasionally adding his own input.

"Oh my." Logan stands and Deceit looks at him questioningly. "I should return to my room... Actually, Remus? May I move my room somewhere in your half of the imagination?" Remus shrugs but Deceit holds up a hand. "Moving your room will take a lot of effort and raise many questions with the others. Just pop into your room, get some clothes, leave a note saying where you are, and you can stay here. Take my bed, I'll take the couch." Logan shakes his head, "I don't want to be a burden." Deceit genty grabs Logan's arm, "You won't be. Let's go to your room, I'll talk to one of the others for you. Logan hesitantly nods and Deceit tells Remus to stay put as they sink out of Deceit's room and into Logan's.

As Logan gathers clothes, Deceit walks out of the room and into the Consciousness. He sees Roman and calls out. Roman turns to him and tenses, "Deceit. Do you know where Logan is? We've been trying to talk to him-" "Logan is with me. He'll be staying with me for a bit. Tell the others please." Roman frowns but nods and walks off to find the others. Deceit makes his way back to Logan's room to see him holding a bag. "Read to go?" Logan nods and they sink out. Thankfully, Remus is exactly where they left him. "I'm staying here too tonight Dee!" Deceit rolls his eyes, "Fine. Then what should the sleeping arrangement be?" "You two have known each other the longest, I'm fine with sleeping on the couch." Deceit tries to talk Logan out of it but Logan is determined. Deceit can sense the little lies as Logan says how "My neck will be fine. I don't like contact anyway." He gives up for now and hands Logan some blankets and pillows.

Later that night though, Deceit grins under the covers as he hears the soft padding of feet coming towards his bed. Remus shifts enough in his sleep for Deceit to also shift enough to leave a space for another person. He lifts the covers, speaking gently to Logan, "Get under, there's enough room." Logan finally gives in and gets under the covers next to Deceit. Deceit pulls him closer, "You might fall off." Remus shifts again in his sleep to put an arm across the two. Logan finally relaxes his tensed body and drapes an arm over Deceit and Remus. Deceit smiles, warmth very much welcomed on his cold body. "You'll always be listened to here."

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