#rem estates | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amjustagirl · 28 days

Text

chapter 4

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f! reader

genre: romance, angst

wc: 5k

summary: you've loved soshiro since you were seven. he will always place his duty above you.

chapt 1 / chapt 2 / chapt 3 / chapt 4 / chapt 5

When you blink open your eyes, you find yourself back in the Hoshina family estate.

The garden is exactly as you remember it. Bonsai trees, neatly manicured. The white gravel ocean raked with ripple lines. Heat shimmers off the ground, harsh summer sun bearing down on the tiled roof. A young man with dark hair and sad, violet eyes sits across you.

“Soshiro”, you cry, fumbling to your feet.

He looks right through you even when you’re standing right before him.

He’s wearing the navy hakama he reserves for formal occasions, the family crest embroidered in gold thread on the back, a ceremonial katana strapped to his hip. Something’s about to happen, you realise, the compound bustling with servants carrying paper lanterns. No one pays you any notice as you float behind him down the familiar corridors of the house, a ghost.

His father approaches, severe lines running through his forehead. “You know your duty”, he claps his son’s shoulder with a heavy hand.

Soshiro’s shoulders slump, an invisible weight bearing down on him.

His duty awaits outside the estate’s gates.

A young woman, clearly noble born, waits for them to greet her with her chin in the air, dolled up in matrimonial white, surrounded by a retinue of servants. She tilts her chin higher to assess her groom as he offers her his arm before bowing her head demurely, letting him help her up the stairs.

The sun in your eyes forces you to turn away. Another woman catches your gaze, the profile of her face backlit in the blue-grey dusk. Rough hands, a cheap, cotton yukata, she hides in the shade. Her anguish is apparent in the defeated curve of her mouth.

She’s you, you realise, with even sadder eyes.

This is a dream, you tell yourself. A shitty, crappy excuse of a dream that you probably caused by drinking one too many cans of beer. You really should take better to maintain a healthy REM cycle, maybe pick up some meditation or exercise, because heaven knows your psyche will suffer if your subconsciousness decides to torture you in your sleep too.

You close your eyes.

You still don’t find yourself back in your bed. Instead, the stench of manure hits you, then the scratch of straw under your feet. That sad girl - you, in another life perhaps, kneels before the same dark haired boy, Soshiro, still as a statue.

“The horse is saddled. We can ride somewhere, far away where no one knows either of our names, leave all of this behind. You don’t have to get married to a woman you don’t love -”

He’s carved of marble in the moonlight, doesn’t move to meet her gaze, not even when she tugs at his sleeve. “I am but a second son, but even I know my duty to my clan.”

“And what about love?” she asks. “What about me?”

Neither of them notice you when you tumble out of the stable into the night. But there’s nothing but darkness looming before you, the moon nowhere to be seen, and when you turn back, the stable has disappeared. In its place, a familiar, wooden hut, where a fire grows. The heat of the forge stings your face, ash flying, the smell of burning steel in the air.

This time, Soshiro’s in the lacquered leather of a samurai warrior from centuries past. “Is it ready?” he directs his question at the woman in the forge.

Wordlessly, she hands him the sword in her hand, red hot from hammer and tongs. He weighs it in his hand, swings it once, twice, flashing quicksilver in the dim light of the blacksmith’s forge. You recognise the blade. You’ve seen it hung up in one of many sitting rooms in the Hoshina estate, captioned as belonging to a Hoshina ancestor who never returned home.

You understand why her voice quivers when she calls out to him before he leaves. “My lord”, she says. “Will you ever lay down your sword?”

“Perhaps in another life”, he replies.

In the shadow of the forge, the violets in his eyes wither and die.

You cannot bear to watch this play out before you again and again, a twisted loop you’re powerless to stop. There is nothing you can do to shock yourself awake, a ghost in every lifetime you freefall through, so bone weary, you stop running, sink to your knees. Wherever you are, the nightmares stop once you close your eyes. The damp grass is cool against your back, the darkness becomes soothing. It’s easy to lose yourself to a deep, undisturbed sleep.

(wake up)

The thrum of your heartbeat starts to still. You think you hear a faint echo. It sounds like Soshiro.

For the first time in your life, you hesitate to answer.

(please, wake up)

“But it’s comfortable here”, you say to no one at all. “I’m so tired.”

The neverending grind of work, of long hours spent hunched over glowering flames and complicated weapon blueprints. The dull ache of heartbreak, the painful lesson of learning to be okay alone.

“Let me sleep”, you whisper.

The darkness holds you close, blankets you. It’s too easy to let yourself just be, no one to disappoint, no one who disappoints. You let yourself be pulled beneath the tide, the endless ebb and flow lulling you into a dreamless slumber.

Perhaps you could be content like this.

Perhaps not. You think of the menagerie of plants you’ve gathered, they depend on you for food and water. There’s a pottery class on Sunday that you’ve been excited to attend, an abstract pot that you want to attempt. You’re supposed to meet your mother for tea, you’re looking forward to feasting on peaches, in season in the dying weeks of summer.

Your eyelids are still heavy with the weight of sleep, but you force them open. A streak of pain that shoots through your right side, but you slowly sit up anyway. A sea of hydrangeas, shimmering violet-blue in the early morning light stretches before you.

An achingly familiar voice calls your name. You lift your face to meet the rising sun, feeling its warmth flicker through you.

Your heart begins to hum.

You’re not in your own bed when you crack your eyes open.

The room is too white, too pin-neat. There are clear tubes running from your arms, bandages restricting even your slightest movement, not that you really can do much other than shift about the too-narrow bed you’ve found yourself in, the sudden brightness disorienting you.

“Oh!”, an unfamiliar voice exclaims. “Call the doctor, she’s awake!”

Your head threatens to split open. It hurts too much to stay awake.

You fall back into a dreamless sleep.

You drift in and out of consciousness after that, the pull of sleep still irresistible, but you stay awake for longer periods of time. Doctors poke and prod at you, nurses fuss over you. It’s hard to recall any conversations you have during this time, your memories melding almost into your dreams.

People ask you questions about your name, your age, where you’re from. It feels as if you’re stuck underwater, it’s a struggle to gasp for enough air at times to answer them, but you think you find enough brain cells to rub together in the cotton wool jumble in your head, mumble the right answers so they go away.

Your parents show up to visit you.

‘’Llo”, you mutter. Your father looks strangely old, your mother tired.

You’re pleased that your mother brings chopped peaches for you, less so when you realise you have no ability to swallow solid food just yet. They disappear for a hushed conversation with the doctors, leaving you with little distraction so you drop back off to sleep.

The next time you wake, the room is dark.

Even in the dim glow of machines beeping, you make out the faint outline of a boy you know too well, curled up uncomfortably in a plastic chair. “S‘ro”, you mumble, half asleep.

A flurry of movement. He appears by your uninjured side, staring at you wide-eyed, as if he doesn’t believe you won’t disappear. You wonder if he’s another figment of your dreams because he stands so still drinking his fill of you, until he remembers to breathe again.

“Hey”, he says hoarsely.

“Mmph”, you grunt. In your vague, rambling train of thoughts, you register surprise that he’s even here. “S’ work?”

His laugh is wet. “Are you seriously askin’ me ‘how’s work’ right now?”

You frown. Why - why is Soshiro even here?

“I’m here for you, silly”, a warm hand settles on your left arm. “Go back to sleep. I’ll seeya later.”

You start to stay awake for longer stretches at a time.

Your parents gently fill you in on your situation. You were touch and go for a while, your mother recounts tearfully, your head injury making the doctors doubt you’d ever wake. You had to be cut open to stop internal bleeding in your gut, fix a multitude of shattered bones in your right hip and leg. Burns, on your shoulder and arm which required skin grafts, extensive medication to keep infection at bay.

Everyone treats you like you’re made out of glass even as your condition steadily improves, aided by the wonders of kaiju regenerative technology. Your parents fuss over you like a child, tucking you in too tight beneath starched hospital sheets. The nurses refuse to let you shower, only allowing you sponge baths which you detest.

Soshiro’s the worst of the lot.

At first it's endearing how protective and sweet he is. The doctors give him a wide berth, most of the nurses terrified of him, though he swears that he’s been utterly polite when you question him about it. He doesn’t allow you to do anything yourself, not even hold your own cup of water when you drink. Your bedside is overflowing with colourful greeting cards, half of them signed by him, and he brings you a fresh bouquet of flowers during each visit.

“That boy is besotted with you”, one of the nurses who isn’t intimidated by Soshiro trills in with her unsolicited opinion. “It’s adorable.”

He’s not”, you deny, frowning. “We’re just friends.”

It’s a little too much. The only visitor who doesn’t smother you is Sochiro, who snaps back to his usual self the minute you show a little of your usual snark. “Did you break your head too?” you ask, when he arrives bearing a hamper of fruit.

“Impertinent brat”, he snaps back. “I’ll have you know my father put me up to this.”

You grin. “I suppose that’s where your brother got his manners from. Pity you don’t have any.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t storm out of the room. Instead, he brandishes a small, silver knife and starts peeling fruit. “I never wanted a younger sibling”, he grouses. “Should’ve dropped Soshiro in the drain the minute he was born, then I’d never have to deal with your smart mouth -.”

“Aww”, you coo. “Hoshina Sochiro, Captain of the Sixth Division, getting soft in your old age.”

“Shut it”, he snaps, while stuffing perfect wedges of fruit into your palm.

It reminds you of the easy friendship you had with Soshiro, not the way he’s behaving, almost as if he feels anything more than friendship for you - which he’s confirmed to your face that he mostly does not. It confuses you, the tender way he treats you, the lingering stares when he thinks you’re asleep, and you much prefer him to go back to the way he was before.

“Stop it!” you finally burst, when his smothering becomes too overwhelming. “Treat me like your friend - not like I’m some glass figurine you’re trying to keep safe.”

A plastic chair screeches back. He stares at you. “Do you even realise how close you were to dyin’?”

“Sorta”, you reply, though some gaps remain empty in your memories, “but I’m okay now, and ‘sides, what happened was just bad luck -”

“No it wasn’t just luck”, he replies. “It wasn’t. It wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Something shutters behind his eyes. “It’s my fault you’re hurt.” He angles himself away from you. “I crashed into your building.”

“The kaiju threw you into the building”, you correct. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He lunges forward to grip your bed rail, his sudden intensity scaring you. “I could’ve been the cause of you dyin’-”

“My head’s pretty hard”, you try to diffuse the building tension with a joke. “Would take more than a fallin’ building to kill me.”

He makes a strangled sound of outrage in his throat. “Don’t. Just - don’t.”

His tone is devoid of its usual lightness. He’s - he’s angry, scared, face twisting into a scowl, body coiling, as if preparing for an attack. “You’re upset”, you murmur. “Don’t be.”

“You could’ve died.”

“Hey”, you beckon him forward, lifting your uninjured hand off the bed to place it on top of his. He grasps at it, a drowning man clutching at a lifeline.

“It’s okay”, you say gently. “I’m okay.”

“Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“I’ll try my best”, you offer.

An angry sound escapes through his clenched jaw, his face strained. You brush the skin of his wrist with your thumb until the too-quick staccato of his pulse steadies.

“Go to sleep”, he finally says. “Just stay safe.”

After that, something shifts. Soshiro resumes the mantle of his chaotic, goofy self.

“I’m gonna yell at you when you’re better”, Soshiro huffs the next time he visits. “A daikaiju -it was a nine on the fortitude scale, y’know - decides to attack near you, and you not only choose to stay put, you run back into a collapsing building for whatever reason -”

“I was trying to save some of the blades -”

“How about you focus on savin’ your own damn skin -”

You sniff, deliberately closing your eyes. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Oi”, he grounds out. “Stop pretendin’.”

The reappearance of the playful banter you’re used to sharing with him puts you back at ease. “Don’t you need to sleep too?” you ask, staring pointedly at the purple smudges beneath his eyes. “In a bed, not a hospital chair that’s going to give you a crooked neck.”

“S’fine”, he always replies. “Still way more comfortable than sleepin’ out in a forest durin’ kaiju hunts.”

“Still”, you insist. “You don’t have to visit me so often. I know how busy you are with work.”

He squints at you. “Do you not want me to be here?”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it -”

“Sometimes work can take a backseat.”

You beckon him forward, place a hand against his forehead. “No fever”, you pronounce. “That’s odd - the Hoshina Soshiro I know would never say that unless his mind is addled by illness-”

He pulls away with a splutter, cheeks a furious pink.

But awkward moments like this remain, no matter how much you try to keep your conversations light, breezy. There’s a tension Soshiro carries, especially apparent in the broad lines of his shoulders. He’s nervy, jumpy almost, the unguarded hitch in his breath when he draws in just a little too close. There’s something he’s keeping in, deep inside his chest that keeps trying to explode out of him whenever he’s not careful.

There’s a glimpse of that when you tell him of your plan to move back to Osaka to continue recuperating under your parents’ roof. You’ll miss your apartment where you navigated much of your young adult life, the routines you’ve built for yourself. But you’re tired of living in the hospital, sleeping on a too-hard bed, without much privacy from nurses who pop in and out of your room at odd hours at all times. Your parents agree to ferry you to check-ups and appointments, and they even got your brother to transport your plants to make you feel more at home.

“You’re not leavin’ for good, surely”, he frowns.

“I’m not sure”, you shrug. “Izumo Tech does have offices in Osaka, and there isn’t much tying me to Tokyo anymore.

There’s a sudden lull in the conversation as Soshiro falls silent, face stricken. He opens his mouth as if to speak, once, twice, before shutting it deliberately, Then his face slackens into a childish pout.

“Don’t go”, he whines. “Who would I hang out with when I’m off-duty?”

Caught off guard from this sudden change in mood, you refrain from pointing out that you’d each taken turns to studiously ignore the other before. “You’ll survive”, you pat his hand. “And, on the rare occasions you actually find the time away from work, you��re always welcome to visit me in Osaka.”

“I will”, he replies, so seriously that your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“I doubt you’ll get enough time off work”, you brush him off lightly before changing the subject.

You don’t expect him to visit, not when Osaka is two and a half hours away from Tokyo on the shinkansen, but he turns up at the doorstep of your parents’ apartment with roses, dusty pink like the flush up his neck.

“Hoshina-kun”, your mother exclaims. “Come on in!”

Something is up. Your mother bustles around, ushers him into your room, lays out before him an offering of cut fruit. Surprised at the tableau before you, you blink, looking up from your book.

“Don’t you have to work?”

“I do have days off, y’know.” He says, easing you into your wheelchair.

“Thought you said killing kaijus isn’t a nine to five job”, you remind him pertly.

He tweaks your nose. “Don’t be smart”, his eyes crinkle as he laughs, rolling you out of the confines of your parent’s house to a nearby park to enjoy the crisp cool autumn breeze, settling you down in the shade beneath a sprawling gingko tree.

“Well, how’s work?”

He considers you with a sideways glance. “I refuse to answer”, he says primly. “If I do, you’ll make use of it to accuse me of being obsessed with my job.”

“Aren’t you?”

“This is exactly what I mean”, he throws his hands out dramatically. “Shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here -”

“Actually”, you tease. “Isn’t the train fare really expensive? Can you afford that on your pay?”

“The Defense Force’s generous enough to give me food, clothing and a roof over my head”, he replies drolly. “So I think my bank account can take the occasional hit.” Then, he shoots another mock glare your way. “Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about work or anything related to work.”

“Then I guess there’s nothing else to talk about”, you tap your chin thoughtfully.

“Idiot”, he wrinkles his nose. “We haven’t even talked about how you’re doing.”

“Me?”

Exaggeratedly, he takes a look around. “I don’t see anyone else I could be askin’ about -”

“You wanna hear about my boring doctor appointments?”

His eyes are wide, earnest. “I wanna hear about everything.”

The sudden seriousness of his demeanour catches you off-kilter. Haltingly you tell him about the long check-ups that take hours, the doctors being optimistic about your progress, the physiotherapy sessions you’ve started. You’re slowly starting to walk again, a few steps at a time, giving you hope that you’ll be on your own two feet by the time of your brother’s wedding at the end of fall, even if you have to rely a little on crutches.

“I’m talking too much”, you say, looking down at your lap.

“Don’t stop”, he urges. “Keep talkin’.”

A snort. “You’re gonna get sick of the sound of my voice”,

“What a silly thing to say”, his gaze holds yours, steady, sure.

There’s something impossibly soft in his eyes, a tenderness in the curve of his mouth. You don’t dare to put a name to it yet, don’t even dare to look too closely at it lest you lose yourself to daydreams that can’t possibly be true. Yet, in the purpling dusk, even though the seasons dictate that there be no summer flowers this late in the fall, there’s a bud of hope in your heart that starts to unfurl, petal by petal, twining itself between the ribs of your chest.

(i like you)

(i’m sorry)

You remind yourself that your heart is not quite healed. Stitches remain, fleshy scars pink and raised. Ventricles working overtime to compensate for the damage he’s wrought just months prior. Mercilessly, you prune those hopes like unwanted weeds, chopping away at errant stems and leaves.

“I’m tired”, you break away from his gaze. “Shall we call it a day?”

He makes it difficult for you to safeguard your heart.

Once a week, he makes the trek from Tokyo to Osaka without fail, appearing at your parents’ door with a bouquet of flowers and a bag bursting with fruit, whatever is in season - peaches and peonies, apples and chrysanthemums. Picnics when it’s sunny, cafes or supermarkets when it rains. Your mother has a sudden change of heart regarding him, always asking you when he’s coming to take you out next.

“Seriously, don’t you have work?” you demand. “You can’t keep coming down here, it’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he asks quietly.

“It is”, you reply. “It’s a waste of your time and money.”

With careful, calloused fingers, he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. “What must I do to make you believe it’s really, really not.”

You flinch, cramming your thrumming heart back into the confines of your chest. “You’re ridiculous”, you say as calmly as you can. If your leg weren’t still broken, you’d flee in the other direction, put as much distance as you can between you and Hoshina Soshiro, for fear of losing your heart again to him.

He’s relentless, a quality that makes him an excellent swordsman and soldier, though it does not bode well for your heart. You spend the next few weeks keeping your conversations light, unsentimental, refusing to allow that unnamed emotion budding in his eyes flourish any further, he remains undeterred. You catch him watching you sometimes, with something you don’t dare to name that bleeds into you, spreading the seeds of hope deep in your gut.

“I’ll be back next week to see you”, he always says. “Stay safe.”

You should tell him to leave you alone, let you replant your heart in another pot, give it a chance to learn to stop looking towards him for his light. But the words choke in your throat, and it’s all you can do to look the other way.

You don’t get any respite even at your own brother’s wedding.

It’s too large, too crowded an occasion, your parents booking out a banquet hall in an upscale hotel to cram in their swarms of guests. As the younger sister of the groom, you’re expected to greet each and every guest, thank them for their attendance even if you’d much rather be at home, warm and snug in bed. Instead, your head threatens to split open, your hip’s on the verge of falling apart. You curse your stubbornness in insisting against bringing your wheelchair, the crutches you lean on cutting into the tender flesh of your underarms.

“Did anyone tell you that you look beautiful tonight?”

As it was in your dreams, he’s in a haori, deep blue with golden thread, but this time he looks right at you. Your mouth goes dry and you can’t seem to swallow your heart back down your throat.

“Save your flirting for my cousins”, you retort, turning away. “They’re all aflutter at meeting you tonight.”

He doesn’t let you flee. An arm loops around your waist, sears through the silk layers of your kimono and smoulders. “You’re cranky cos you’re tired, so let me help you.”

You blame your capitulation on the absence of your wheelchair, not because you’re light headed from the sudden surge of helpless affection in your gut, as much as you refuse to allow yourself to believe his words. You let him steer you into your seat, palm flat against your back, heat suffusing into your skin.

“I’ll be here if you need me”, he says simply.

You don’t need him, you want to say, you can’t, but your mouth can’t seem to form the words when he leans in, tucks a stray strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, his touch feather light.

“Vice Captain Hoshina!?” As you foresaw, a gaggle of younger cousins goggle at him, drag him away for selfies and autographs. You don’t get a chance to speak with him again once the wedding starts, the seating plan placing him with his parents and other business associates of your parents, a few tables away.

The sheer scale and grandeur of your brother’s wedding isn’t what you’d have chosen for yourself, the cavernous ballroom feeling too large and impersonal, speeches dragging on for too long, but your brother and your new sister seem to radiate contentment, though you suspect the champagne toasts might have helped.

As the sister of the groom, you’re the target of your older aunts’ inquiry as to ‘when it’s your turn next’, never mind that you burrow into your seat, trying to disappear from sight, and when that fails miserably, try to divert their attention to anything, anyone but yourself. If you had full use of your legs, you’d make a hasty retreat by now, but you’re so painfully slow on your crutches that you’re sure even the oldest grandma questioning you on your dating status (or lack thereof) would be able to catch up with you.

“Ladies”, a smooth voice cuts in. “How are you all doin’ tonight?”

A boyish smile with a cheeky snaggletooth works wonders on elderly ladies, you learn. It gives you the chance to slip away to the bathroom, splash water on your face, shackle your heart back in place.

This brief reprieve doesn’t last long. Soshiro emerges from the shadows, pushing off the wall to pad quietly behind you.

“What are you doing here?” you demand. “You should be back inside -”

“I’m here to make sure you’re safe”, he replies. “Unless you don’t want me to make sure you don’t fall and crack your pretty head open?”

“Stop it”, you say crossly, your crutches clacking loudly on the floor as you speed up, trying to put some distance between you two. “You’re giving everyone the wrong impression.”

He follows right on your heels. “Perhaps I’m givin’ the right impression -”

“Just - just stop, Soshiro.”

You burst through glass doors to push your way onto the open rooftop in the hope that the nighttime air will cool the heat rising in your cheeks, but you miss your step, crutches sliding on marble tiles and oof -

Warm arms wrap tightly around you. You tell yourself it’s the shock of your almost-fall that makes you sag against a broad, lean chest, compliantly allowing Soshiro to tuck your face into his shoulders, settle an arm beneath your thighs, carrying you over onto a seat. A thick, rich fabric rests on your shoulders - his haori, you realise, the warmth from his body seeping into your skin.

“Are you hurt?” he drops to one knee in front of you.

The intensity of his gaze flays your chest open, exposing your beating heart, its stitches frayed. The spectre of the girl with sad eyes haunts you, leaving you terrified that you’ll suffer the same fate as her in this lifetime too.

“I need you to stop”, you shove him back, a trapped animal brandishing its claws. “I want you to leave me alone. I don’t want your pity -”

“Pity?!” he falls back on his haunches, gaping at you, incredulous. “Is that what you think it is?”

“What else could it be?” you demand wetly, eyes stinging. “Nevermind, I changed my mind, I don’t want to know -”

“Haven’t I made it obvious these past few months?” he asks, and you shake your head stubbornly, no. “What I feel for you - I’ve been goin’ crazy from the moment they told me a buildin’ fell on your head, so fuckin’ terrified I was goin’ to lose you just as I realised how stupid I’ve been -”

Your head swims. “I don’t -”

“I’ve loved you since I was eight. I just didn’t realise it til I nearly lost you.”

You push aside the clouds of anger and fear blurring your vision. You see Hoshina Soshiro kneeling before you, slicing his chest open with your blade to reveal his heart, pressing it bloodied and beating into your waiting hands.

In this lifetime, in this moment, he is yours and you are his.

There is no guarantee that this will remain. Duty will always call upon him, and he will answer without fail. That is his destiny, as much as he is yours. Realisation crashes into you, relentless waves pulling you underwater. You will have to share him with the rest of Japan, possibly the world. This too shall end, be it tomorrow or years down the road if fate smiles down on you both.

But even if his heart belongs to you for no more than a day, it’s enough. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“You love me.”

“Yeah”, he murmurs, moving so impossibly close that you see the violets in the depths of his eyes in full bloom. “And I kinda think you love me too.”

Instead of answering, you tug him towards you, tangle your fingers in dark hair, let your lips press against the seam of his lips. He doesn’t give you the chance to breathe, arm curling around your waist, his hand cupping your face so he can tilt your chin up to pour himself into you. You drink him in, greedy to take what you can get, mouth open against his, lost to the raging current of want, of love that pulls you beneath the waves.

“I think I do”, you say softly.

Hoshina Soshiro smiles at you, wider and brighter than the moon.

a/n: i hope this chapter soothes the anxiety from last week heh :>

squeal at me pls! muacks always <3

#hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro #hoshina soushirou #kaiju no. 8

271 notes · View notes

shadowofroses · 4 months

Text

Love at first bite?

Thinking of a Trigun Vampire AU. (Idea no idea if I will continue or will get a chance to write it down)

Rem takes in two little Vampires Only one is more blood thirsty than the other. Nai blames the humans for Rem's death when it was really him. There was a Raid on the Saverem Estate by Vampire Slayers that night, it was the perfect cover up. Though Rem was not a Vampire, she was human.

"If God didn't want Vampires to exist, why are they here? Do you have any right to take away what God Intended?" those words reverberated in Vash's mind always repeating in Rem's voice.

Nai tries to encourage Vash to feed off of humans but he just Can't Not unless they invite him to feed. Otherwise he's feeding off of animals, and even then he hates it. But he's never killed an animal while feeding. He doesn't even take what he needs, just enough to get by. Because Vash doesn't feed enough, or from a Human he doesn't heal as well as he should which shows in the amount of scars he has.

Vampires do age, just slower (Sticking with how they grew as independent plants. Vash can't be in the Sun like Nai can, Nai has drank more blood then him, the more you drink the more power you get, the more immunity. And despite common belief Garlic is their favorite flavor. Which is why Vampires spread propaganda about how Garlic keeps them away, if a human eats enough they are tasty drinks to them.

The more terror Nai Reigned, the more trouble it got Vash into. Because they were twins. They looked alike, so he took the blame for trying to go out of his way to protect Humans from them

And here is you finding an Injured Vash in the middle of the woods because you were looking for a flower that bloomed only at night. You were aware of the dangers, the creatures that roamed. that when you rushed over to Vash at first you didn't know even with how pale he was, but he couldn't hide his fangs with his shaky smile. trying to wave it off as everything was okay when it wasn't. You helped him get to your cottage to help care for him. Though there is only one fool proof way to, and you tell him to drink from you. Telling him it's okay if he drinks too much, you have a potion that can heal you and replenish your blood.

Not that you can give your potions to Vash, you have never tested them on Vampires. And you weren't going to test it on a Vampire that was on deaths door either.

And you far from expected to fall in love at first bite.

Bonus Points for the usual Father Wolfwood showing up (EXTRA bonus if he's a Vampire or Werewolf that Reader helped out as well)

#tw religion #Vampire au #x reader #Vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #vash x you #vash the stampede x you #Vash the stampede x reader #SoR story ideas

55 notes · View notes

jetskisonyourmoat · 6 months

Text

An old interview from 2007 ☺️

[credit to Twitter user who took photos of the interview]

Transcript:

Coldplay in scarves and woolly mittens. The Libertines as Dickensian street urchins, and REM's Michael Stipe as um, Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. The NME Christmas cover has an illustrious tradition of rock stars arsing around in their best dressing up clobber for a day Some need gentle coaxing, some need a raft of costume. based ideas sent over by our art team before theyll commit. Others, like this year's Christmas cover stars Arctic Monkeys, have planned the concept and hired the outfits even before our tentative email request has had time to settle in their manager's inbox. "We want to be evil elves," came the return message moments later. "Not naughty elves, not mischievous elves. EVIL ELVES.” Which is why, one Wednesday afternoon in late November, we find ourselves at a north London photo studio strapping dynamite sticks to reindeers, impaling others with giant shards of metal, hiding a bomb in a snowman's hat and handing Arctic Monkeys bassist Nick O'Malley a mallet and then standing back as he sends carefully wrapped gifts shattering across the room. Of course, there were the annual set of complications in trying to co-ordinate a photoshoot of this magnitude: Alex Turner requesting the ‘smacked-up elf’ look from the make up artist, but looking more like a cherubic waif with every ring of dark eyeshadow applied, Nick shunning the hired-in pixie boots in favour of his own toe-curling pointers ("from Prada, thank you very much") and a minor tussle over which band member was going to get their ears stuck on first. That and the endless flutes of champagne threatening to sabotage the interview scheduled for straight after the shoot (“I feel very light headed and unsteady on my feet, NME," says Alex, wobbling).

Eventually we manage to steer them to a corner of the room where a Dictaphone awaits. By this time Nick, Matt Helders and Jamie Cook's costumes are on coat hangers and they're back in civvies. Only Alex has opted to stay as an elf, at least as long as the interview lasts. It's a heated hour that will see them debate the big topics of the year, consider their own personal highlights (Nick. "Glastonbury. NME: And your defining Glasto 2007 moment? Nick "Er, headlining the fucker") and lowlights (Mike Reid RIP). Before all that though, there's the small matter of destroying Christmas 2007 for everyone. Your favourite worst nightmare before the festive season is about to be unleashed.

NME: Hello, Nice costumes.

Alex Turner: "Thanks. You might say we dress up too much, But really, what is too much? It's good to escape your own face for an hour.

Matt Helders: "It's easier to hide behind a costume, isn't it? I felt in good spirits up there though - I’m not sure I was really feeling evil enough.

So what's Arctic Monkeys squad of evil elves manifesto for ruining Christmas?

Jamie Cook: "Go out on Christmas Eve.

Alex: "I heard a terrible story about a friend who went out on Christmas Eve once. This lad got hammered and, you know when you're hungover and, like, your thoughts and your mouth aren't connected properly? Well, he was eating his Christmas dinner and his nan were wittering on as your nan does, and he thought to himself. Oh, shut up Nan, you cunt. Then he looked up and everyone was looking at him and his dad went. I think you'd better just take your dinner upstairs and eat in your bedroom. He’d said it out loud (The table collapses in laughter).

Matt: "His nan was a cunt, though."

Alex: "So there's a way to wreck Christmas - call your nan a cunt. Actually. you should leave that out cos my nan buys NME more than my mum. My nan files her NMEs!

Matt: "So our real answer would be... I dunno, burn everyone's house down.

Alex: "Or, you know those Santa’s that come on a truck to estates and all the kids come to see them? Maybe you could hijack one of them as another Santa then rip your beard off

Matt: "....and punch the kids. Or the dad. There's nothing worse than beating kids dads up in front of the kids!"

Alex: "(Nodding) Nothing worse.

Moving on. What does a traditional Christmas entail round at Alex Turner, the only child's, house?

Alex: "Quality Street. That's the only tradition around mine. Other than that, just looking at the phone thinking. Can I ring them (points at other Monkeys) on Christmas Day or is that out of order?'

Matt: "Yeah. it is. (Holding hands up to each ear to mimick a two-way phone conversation between Alex and himself 'Do you wanna come round?' 'Al, it's Christmas Day. My nan's here.' 'Yeah. but I'm just sat here at home...' "

Alex: "We've been discussing how there's nothing to do on Christmas Day and maybe having some kind of party this year. Fancy dress, obviously. We were talking about having some sort of Ultimate Warrior party."

Matt: "Wrestlers weren't it?"

Alex: "Ah yes, wrestlers."

What are you doing for New Year's Eve?

Matt: "Last year was crap. I DJed in Sheffield at midnight. The first song everyone in that room heard going into 2007 was 'Boom! Shake The Room, which was a good feeling"

Alex: "That's something to be proud of. This year we've got nothing planned. We all go out together though; we were at that club."

Matt: "It rarely works, New Year's Eve. It's always such a fucking build-up."

Alex: Everyone's like, '(Whining voice) What are we doing now?' And then it fucking snows, doesn't it?"

Um, not where I'm from...

Alex: "It always snows round where we are"

Jamie: "It's not snow, it's sleet."

Alex: "I remember walking home last year in it and no taxis stopping for us."

Jamie: "Yeah, 'Im not taking you to High Green, mate."

Nick O'Malley: "I booked a hotel last year in Sheffield city centre and just stayed there."

Alex: 'Maybe well stay in this year. See Jools' Hootenanny and that."

What New Year's resolutions are you going to make?

Alex: "I want to learn how to cook food. I want to do a good curry."

Nick: "I want to get to a level of fitness synonymous with that of a boxer - just so I don't get out of breath walking up the stairs"

Jamie: "I want to grow a beard. I’m not shaving after today."

Alex: "Otherwise I'm allowed to punch him in the nose."

Matt: "I want to learn to do a back somersault and a front somersault."

Jamie: "Oh, and be able to dive into shallow water from a height and not hurt yourself."

Alex: "Yeah, flips, juggling. unicycling. I think were all always looking for improvement in our overall balance."

The coming year dealt with, it's time to turn the clock back and get Arctic Monkeys' take on the headlines that shook 2007. For this, Alex takes a more noticeably back-seat role in the conversation especially when the spectre of political allegiance rears its head and he actually goes completely mute. According to his press officer afterwards, having seen Arctic Monkeys branded Gordon Brown's favourite new band before he became Prime Minister, Alex is reluctant to say anything that any of the political parties could use to their advantage. From here on in then, Nick'n'Matt take over from Aln'Matt as the comedy double act. Meanwhile, Jamie will reserve his sole contribution to the conversation for an animated outburst about social networking sites in the workplace.

This Christmas marks the one-year anniversary of James Brown's death. Did he mean much to Arctic Monkeys?

Nick: "Yeah, we were big fans of James Brown."

Alex: "The first ever gig we did, we walked onstage to 'The Payback. And at college I had a pair of jeans I'd written on in red marker ‘I've got soul and I'm super bad!

Jamie: "He did as well."

Nick: "It was one of those things when you heard, you didn't want to believe it. A bit like Steve Irwin."

Alex: "Or Mike Reid. (Genuinely moved) Mike Reid, that really hit me that."

Nick: 'I don't think there was a big enough fuss about that as there should have been."

Matt: "I tell you when Ill be dead upset- and I don't really want to say it cos he's not dead yet, but I might as well get it all out -and that's when Bruce Forsyth dies."

Alex: "(Gravely) Ah, Forsyth."

Matt: "Cos I know I'm going to see it.. all being well my end."

Nick: "Touch wood."

Alex: "Cover the holes!"

Nick: "(To NME] Do you know where that expression comes from?"

Alex: "Apparently there's these little people who live in the wood. Like these little fairies that bring things that you say to life. So you cover the holes so they can't get out... Yeah, Mike Reid. I remember reading about that in the airport.

Then there was the Celebrity Big Brother race row early in the year. Did you watch any of it?

Nick: "We made a point of watching that. We wanted to watch where what's-her-name got kicked out. That said it all, and they didn't have any crowd there"

Alex: "Oh, Jade."

Jamie: "I thought Jade Goody and the one that was getting abused by her.

Matt: "Shilpa Shetty."

Jamie: "That's right. I thought they both played it bad."

Alex: "Jo from S Club 7 can fuck off I’d send her to jail Why? I just don’t like her; I think she came across horrible."

Nick: (Changing tact) “I texted one of those numbers to find out about touch wood (Reaches for beeping phone and starts reading) Touch wood is said to come from a mid-18th century story in which children being chased who touched wood were said, to be immune from being caught"

Matt: "I don't believe that. This has been wrong once before and thats when texted, to ask who's headlining Glastonbury and it said Eric Clapton. (Pumping chest out defiantly) It weren't - it were us!"

Of course the biggest music story of the first half of the year was Keith Richard revealing he'd snorted his father…

Jamie: "(Laughing) His ashes weren’t it?

Yep. What's the weirdest thing you've ever snorted?

Matt: "An eraser. That's not true actually I've witnessed it but never done it I wish I had. I didn't live enough at school”

What did you think of Keith's revelations?

Matt: "I think it was shortly after he said we were shit. He said something like the ["Load of cunts. load of cunts. Posers, rubbish was how Keef actually described the Monkeys, alongside Bloc Party and The Libertines in the same NME interview.

Keith said he didn't like The Libertines who reformed for one night only in April, with Carl Barât joining Pete Doherty onstage at London's Hackney Empire. Did you care?

Alex: "Yeah, I was interested in that. It was a 'should've been there moment, I imagine.”

Matt: "I’d have liked to have seen that.”

Nick: "They're one of the bands that a very young us were really into."

Would you like them to get back together permanently?

Alex: "(With just enough sarcasm) The greatest hits album were enough for me”

Jamie: "They didn't sling it out though did they? It was the label."

Nick: "I read something where Pete was saying he didn't even know it had come out.”

What about the new Babyshambles album? Were you fans of that?

Nick: "I’ve only heard a few songs, but the were good tracks."

Alex: "I liked it and I liked him on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross.”

Nick: "He seemed like a nice gentleman"

Alex: "I met him once. I was at this party in this club this time last year when we were recording, and someone who I’d never met said Oi! Come here and led me through this door and there was a studio and in this studio he was stood there with his top off."

Nick: "Topless?!"

Alex: "It were surreal. For a start there's a studio in a club, then there’s Pete Doherty and then he's got his top off he’s taller than you’d think.”

Matt: "I remember meeting him, as a fan actually, at a Strokes gig at Alexandra Palace I had my picture took with him and that’s when I realised he were tall."

In May, offices and schools across the UK began blocking students from using Facebook.

Alex: "I’ve never even been on Facebook"

Jamie: "(Antagonised) You know what? That’s fair enough if they should be workin’ or learning, not making take friends"

Matt: "What's the difference between…”

Jamie: "(Raising voice) No, but fair enough! You're fucking working!"

Matt: "Um, what's the difference between Facebook and MySpace?”

Please tell me one of the Arctic Monkeys knows what Facebook or MySpace are...

Alex: "I've never looked on them."

Jamie: "I haven't."

Matt: “I know what MySpace looks like, cos other people have shown me theirs, but none of us have actually got one.”

Are there any sites you do frequent?

Matt: "I don't mind The Hype Machine. I go on to search for remixes before they get heard properly."

Nick: "I got really into Wikipedia at one point. I read loads of things about joe Meek and Shack"

Alex: "He’ll read all these facts then casually throw them into conversation the next day."

Matt: "Askjolene.com is the biggest adult search engine in the world.. Just throwing that in there"

Gordon Brown - a big fan of yours, apparently - took over from Tony Blair this summer as Britain's 51st Prime Minister. How's he done so far?

Nick: "I've not really noticed any changes."

Matt: "It's neutral for me."

Who will you be voting for next time?

Matt: "I need to start evaluating, reading all their manifestos."

Nick: "I’ll Wikipedia them all and make a decision that way.”

The UK smoking ban kicked in on July 1. Has it bothered you?

Matt: "Nick's the only one of us that smokes."

Nick: "Oi, my mum reads this!"

Matt: "(Back-tracking hastily) Like I said, Nick doesn't even smoke."

Nick: "I agree with it, even though 1 do smoke. I think it's a good thing."

Alex: "You get weird smells now, I reckon."

Matt: "We were reading about that place where they give out free deodorant because you smell people more now in bars."

Nick: "It's a good way to meet new people outside I've found. And it someone's getting on your nerves you can just say. 'Right, Im going outside for a cigarette."

Alex: "I think it will become less strict in a few years. 'Cos like in New York they've had it a bit longer and they turn a blind eye to it some places there now.”

In August we had another music legend pass away; Tony Wilson.

Alex: "That were a right shock. I'm not a huge fan of the Manchester music scene. but enough for his death to mean a lot."

Nick: "I always imagine him as Alan Partridge, y know! Well, Steve Coogan in 24 Hour Party People. That's where I first got to know of Tony Wilson."

Alex: "(Looking glum) What happened in September, NME?"

You can have the Diana death inquest or Klaxons winning the Mercury Prize.

Alex: "Klaxons winning the Mercury Prize."

Matt: "You could say Klaxons winning the Mercury Prize if you want, or you could say us losing the Mercury Prize"

How did you feel about that?

Matt: "It were alright. It were a bit of a dent on my life."

Nick: "Well done, Klaxons. I wanted Dizzee Rascal to win it."

Matt: "'Yeah, Maths + English'"

Nick: "I thought it was Winehouse's though."

Alex: "But then I think Klaxons' album is more of an album than Amy Winehouse's album. Like, Amy Winehouse's album had some good tunes an' that. But I think as a thing, you can't really argue with Klaxons."

What did you think about Radiohead shocking the music industry with the way they released In Rainbows' this autumn?

Alex: "We heard Radiohead's riveting radio broadcast on the way home last night."

Matt: "I nearly fell asleep at the wheel!"

Alex: "I were nudging him! 'Keep your eyes on the road!"

Nick: "I think it was quite a clever idea for them. I think it works well for them cos their fans are the type of fans who’d probably really be into that concept."

Is it something you'd ever do?

Alex: "Nah."

Matt: "That'll be memorable 'cos they'd gone out of their way to do something different, but I don't think we need to. Obviously they don't need to either. They can afford to do stuff like that."

Alex: "They've done it now. You only need to do an experiment like that once. I don't feel like it was designed to change anything"

Matt: "They said themselves, 'It's not a template' See! I was listening last night."

Then at the end of the year, Led Zeppelin finally played their long-awaited reunion show in London. Did you apply for tickets?

Matt: "Nope. I would have gone if late Led Zep drummer] John Bonham was still alive."

Nick: "Oh, Matt."

Matt: "I'm not that bothered by them. It's not that big a deal."

Jamie: "Nah, it really is! (Laughing) Thats why a lot of people are going."

Nick: "I had a phase of being a big Zep fan. I remember I had a perlod of about six months thinking they were the bee's bollocks."

Which brings us right up to the end of the year. What great truths have Arctic Monkeys learned in 2007?

Nick: "We learned that we're really into finding out where expressions came from. So we learned where 'fill your boots' came from - it's where old, er-”

Matt: "Cavaliers."

Nick: "Yes, Cavaliers!"

Matt: "They'd get their place at the bar and once they were there they wouldn't want to lose it, so they'd piss straight into their boots so they could carry on drinking. They had big boots on, like. That's it. There's our great truths.”

Or are they? Can we trust anything that comes out of the mouths of Satan's Little Helpers? Perhaps it's all just an evil plot to make us urinate on our own footwear this Christmas. Or go on festive arson rampages. Or cause expletive-induced coronaries in the elderly. Whatever, Arctic Monkeys certainly wish you all a very scary a Christmas.

#The idea of them being tipsy whilst doing this interview is really funny to me #They were so silly back in the day #This interview is such a gem #alex turner #matt helders #nick o malley #jamie cook #arctic monkeys #fwn

76 notes · View notes

fatehbaz · 6 months

Text

taking relentless severe psychic damage from watching several hours of videos of television commercial advertisements from the United States in December 1999.

a world-historical moment, an all-time high peak of self-assured smirking arrogance.

ascendant home computers and internet modems. a new millennium! a time after Cold War but before Nining Leven, with saxophone-playing heads of state and cheery Spielbierg-ian sentimentality attempting to plaster over 1970s/1980s disappointments and hangovers with renewed millennarian End-Of-History optimism.

come celebrate with us! look at these images of The Nation! from sparkling Times Square and the cast of "Friends" in bustling cosmopolitan New York City, to sunny Californian prosperity, to those cartoonish frogs in the quasi-mythical Deep South-ish rural periphery of Budweiser ads, and all the suburban Midwestern Kay's Jeweler's in between! planetary hegemony. "Head east from the Colosseum, across the ruts of chariots, and you'll find an imperial estate built by a second-century Caesar. It's a rough ride. And if the agile and durable Chevy Tracker can handle these ancient roads, driving back home will be a walk in the park. Chevy Tracker: It Gets Around!"

or perhaps "our" power extends beyond this terrestrial imperium, into space, conquering the stars. UFOs; space aliens; The X-Files; Independence Day; Space Jam; Men in Black; the Phoenix Lights; Coast to Coast AM on the radio; Space Command in Colorado Springs.

the anxious fragility belied by the desperate constant promotion of an almost religious dedication to recognizable icons.

talking chihuahuas, marketing jingles, annual football game events. self-referential circular cross-promotion maelstrom.

"An all-new holiday spectacular, a Christmas special destined to become a family classic! With music from REM's Michael Stipe, voiced by Ally McBeal's Peter MacNicol, and starring Drew Barrymore! It's Olive the Other Reindeer! At 8/7 Central Fox Friday!"

trying to insist that this "classic" cultural iconography binds us. it has always lived in your heart. fabricating in real-time a supposedly shared history, insisting on this "reality" even at the moment of its very creation. hammering away at the soul.

Daffy Duck saunters in and pronounces: "Eat your way into the new millennium with this 'gigundo' party sub from Subway!"

why aren't you smiling?

86 notes · View notes

yama-bato · 7 months

Text

Ralph Eugene Meatyard, Untitled (REM.1622.Y), 1962, Gelatin silver print, 13 x 10 inches, © The Estate of Ralph Eugene Meatyard, courtesy Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco

30 notes · View notes

colourstreakgryffin · 1 year

Note

Hey! I was wondering if I could request separate headcanons for Yan!Giyuu, Yan!Obanai and (aged up!)Yan!Muichiro for a reader who's personality is like Mulan. If not, that's fine! Have a good day/night and rem to drink water!

Ooooh! Okay, a really good Disney Princess! I wanna see how this’ll go!

Yandere! Tomioka Giyuu

Giyuu didn’t connect the dots for a long time that the new Hashira claiming to be a male was actually the daughter of a very wealthy family that wished to make her a traditional wife until he helped tend to your chest wounds

But when Giyuu did. He let his unknown feelings run wild and his passion he developed for you overtime run even wilder. He never wanted to admit it when he thought you were pretending to be a male, but he was falling for you

Giyuu is immensely proud of your independence and your courage. You’re not scared to fight and get dirty as you prefer it over being a helpless little wife to some man

You want to help in the war against demons, even though Giyuu is appreciative of your care and support, he hates the idea of you being put in danger as his obsession with you as a whole as grown to a unhealthy rate

He does silence a few people here and there who try to tell you who should be whilst pretending as if nothing happened. As if he didn’t shed blood for you

Giyuu is a supportive Yandere. What you want is what you get but not sometimes, all the time sometimes, he just wants to keep you in the Water Estate safe and sound, so you can’t let any demons dare try lay their disgusting hands on you

“You don’t have to wear that kimono with me, okay? I understand who you are… and I’m so proud of you”

Yandere! Iguro Obanai

At first, Obanai thought nothing else of you but another battle pawn in this war. Then he found about your dirty little secret and his world changed. He did like you a lot, but if he knew you were actually pretending to be a male, he would have spoken up sooner

Yes, Obanai know that you can sing very well as he watches you every single night from your window and he sometimes hear your nighttime lullabies in his head. He falls asleep to them as if you’re a siren

Obanai is the embodiment of overprotective. He will bark, hiss and attack absolutely anything to everything that makes a slight annoyance to you. Opinionated men say you can’t be a slayer, Obanai is plotting how he’ll hide their bodies

Like both Giyuu and Muichiro, Obanai is supportive of your dreams and like your loyal little assistant, he has the people hurting you at bay and your cause hide up in the air. His love does what she wants and he’ll make sure she can be who she truly is

He is delusional as fuck, over how you spend most of your time with him. He is the only person you’ve met that doesn’t view you as a wife but that’s interpreted by his love-rotten mind as you expressing your mutual love for him

Yes, Obanai wants you as his wife more than anything but he won’t try suppress you to being something you don’t want to be. He’d only suppress your freedom and keep you at the Serpent Estate to ensure you don’t leave him

“Who says a woman can’t use a sword? I think you fit the battlefield more than the kitchen, as you’re better than that wife shit”

Yandere! Tokito Muichiro [aged up]

Muichiro originally didn’t a single fuck about you as he thought of you as another Hashira but then, you begun befriending him and accidentally revealed your secret. It bumped you from ‘okay, you’re decent’ to ‘whoa, I actually care about you now’ in Muichiro’s head in a instant

Muichiro is possessive over you, he does truly believe you deserve to have your independence and willpower, but he doesn’t want you to go away anytime soon so he sticks himself to you like glue

He likes watching you sharpen your special Nichirin Katana as you hid it in your kimono before going out to a hangout with him. Why be defenceless? Even though, you don’t need to. Muichiro will drop anybody who tries to touch you and brutally too

His love for you bubbles up harder when you help protect him during a fight. He is a lot more skilled then you, yet, you care enough to risk yourself for him. He has mixed feelings over it; his delusions tell him that you did it because you love him whilst his obsession tells him you were in danger that he can’t bare

Muichiro has met your cute little animal friends; a cute little cricket and a red bearded dragon. Both are not that fond of Muichiro but he tries his best to make them like him so you’ll like him more. In reality, he hates them for having your attention and wants to kill them but that’ll hurt you

Your spirit is beautiful and intriguing, a little something that drew him to you and now, he knows he can’t live a single day without you being in it. He will take you away from the world at one point to stop his anxiety once and for all, but until then. You’re free

100 notes · View notes

writtenjewels · 21 days

Text

Orchard

[AU that's been bouncing around my head. The first bit ran longer than I thought. Also initially posted on the wrong blog by mistake]

John could not believe he was going through with this. He would much rather be enjoying a bonfire party or getting drunk off questionable liquor. Anything except breaking into some rich family's estate to steal an apple from their orchard.

When the Reds gave him this task, he immediately protested. It sounded almost like a joke. At sixteen, he was one of the older members of the gang. Something like this should be given to a younger kid, or at least someone a little further down the pecking order. Besides, couldn't he just steal an apple from anywhere and claim it was from the orchard?

“You try something like that, don't bother coming back to base,” the leader sneered when John brought this up. “Now shut up and get it done.”

It still sounded like a ridiculous task to John. If he was going to go through the trouble of breaking into an estate, he should at least still something valuable. It could just be gang hazing—John experienced more than his fair share of that since joining the Reds—or this task could be the preamble to a huge score the leader was planning. John hoped it was the latter, though he wasn't going to be told either way.

He treated the job with more seriousness than he felt necessary. He cased the estate in question, nothing all the security measures put in place. From the outside, it looked like the family mostly relied on tech to keep out unwanted visitors. This was good for him: he didn't want to deal with any guards. Although he wasn't going to enter from that angle, John still made note of the house's layout. He couldn't tell if the place was a reasonable size; he and the Reds usually crashed in abandoned office buildings.

John moved on to the orchard. The only visible thing protecting it was a fence. It immediately put him on edge. There was no way security was so lax around a valuable commodity. John hunkered down to watch it for a few hours and only saw a passing security drone make one sweep over the orchard. Surely this was a trick to lull would-be thieves like him.

He waited until nightfall before approaching the fence. He grabbed a rock and tossed it, expecting to find some some kind of barrier. The rock struck the fence with only the expected amount of resistance. John drew a little closer, heart pounding. He scooted his foot toward the fence, his body tensing with every inch he crossed. His toe nudged the fence and John's heart rocketed against his chest.

But there was nothing. No force pushing him back, no shock of electricity through his system. John took a step back, staring at it with his hands on his hips. He wasn't sure whether these people were arrogant or stupid. Now he wanted to break in, if only to see if this lack of security extended to the inside.

Climbing up the fence was more difficult than he expected. John's fingers gouged against the surface hard enough to bleed, his legs quickly aching from the effort of holding his body up. When he finally made it to the top, John was panting and sore in several places. He let himself rest there before slowly easing his way down and dropping inside the orchard.

The sharp scent of apples hit him in his next breath. The trees were lined up in neat rows, each one heavy and ready for harvest. John wasn't even hungry and his mouth was watering. Some trees had drooping branches easily within reaching distance. It was a little unsettling how smoothly this was going. John approached one of the tree s and reached out to pluck an apple.

Light suddenly flooded the orchard, temporarily blinding him. He jerked his hand back and quickly retreated to the shadows. He had to press his back against the fence to keep out of the light. Motion-activated lighting? Shit, I knew this was too easy. John was stuck until the lights turned off, and then he would have to move very slowly.

Except as the seconds ticked by, the lights remained on. Much longer than they should, if they were motion-activated. It was then that he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone was coming out of the estate and walking through the orchard. Shit! He hadn't planned for one of the estate's residents to be taking a midnight stroll.

The person was taking their sweet time, too, strolling casually through the trees. John could make the person out now: a young man, not much older than John, dressed in a simple short and pants. The fact that the guy was fully dressed made this even worse. It meant he would be more alert. As if to prove this, the young man paused by the row of trees closest to John's hiding spot. John pressed his body as tightly as he could against the fence and held his breath.

The other boy had just started to move on when John let out his breath in a gasp. The young man paused and looked right at him. He was unfairly attractive, with dark hair and what looked like a dimple in his chin. He arched an eyebrow at John.

“I see you,” the young man said in a pleasantly husky voice. John sighed and stepped into the light. He felt the other boy's gaze sweep over him. “How did you get in here?”

“The fence.”

“Why didn't you use the gate?”

“I didn't want to be noticed.”

“That worked out,” the young man remarked, and John was startled to hear a teasing tone in the voice. “I'm Kaidan.” He held out his hand, John staring at it blankly for a moment.

“Are you serious?” he demanded. The other boy—Kaidan—rose both eyebrows at this. “I broke into your family's orchard,” John reminded him. “Aren't you... mad?”

“No.” Kaidan was still holding out his hand. “I was hoping for your name,” he prompted.

“Why, so you can have me arrested?”

“Because calling you 'guy who climbed over my fence' is too wordy.” There was that playful tone in Kaidan's voice again. John would think the guy was messing with him if he didn't sound so damn sincere.

“Shepard,” he said at last, shaking Kaidan's hand. “You can call me Shepard.”

“All right, Shepard. Since you're here and I'm awake, let's take a walk. There's a nice sitting area a little farther inside the orchard.”

Too bemused to protest, John followed Kaidan. Sure enough, there were several benches set up in a space apart from the rows of trees. Kaidan sat in one and John the other, and there was silence for a few seconds.

“I'm wondering,” Kaidan finally spoke up, “why you decided to break in when you could have just waited until the harvest festival. We invite the public inside to take some apples from the orchard.”

“Yeah.” John snorted and rolled his eyes. “That'd be too easy.”

“And you just had to take the hardest possible path.” The guy was teasing him again. It was a little strange that Kaidan would feel comfortable enough to do that with a stranger, let alone someone he found skulking in the dark. “You probably would have been in and out if I hadn't shown up,” Kaidan observed.

“It was obviously you who ruined this for me,” John agreed, deciding to tease back. That got Kaidan to smile. Shit! Why does he have to look so good? “Anyway.” John cleared his throat. “I have to take one of the apples.”

“Go ahead,” Kaidan invited. John got to his feet and stepped toward the nearest tree. He reached out for one of the fruit, hesitating. He pulled his hand back.

“It's weird to do it when you're watching me.”

“I can close my eyes.” Kaidan sounded close to laughter. John glared at him, but it was half-hearted. Against common sense and his better judgment, he was starting to like this guy. Kaidan smiled back at him before closing his eyes.

It still seemed weird doing it with Kaidan close by, but John plucked an apple. He shoved it in his jacket pocket.

“I'm done, you can look now.”

“You going to climb the fence when you leave?” Kaidan asked, opening his eyes again.

“Can't do it the easy way.”

“Of course.” Kaidan let out a soft chuckle. “My mistake. Have a good night, Shepard.”

It felt like a dismissal. John's heart sank a little. A part of him wanted to stay and talk with Kaidan longer. But then he thought of the Reds waiting for him to get back. John sighed, letting himself linger for just a moment longer before walking to the fence and starting his climb.

#kaidan alenko #mshepard #mshenko #mass effect

7 notes · View notes

whatever-you-can-give-me · 1 year

Note

oo hot takes !!! i think. i think fandom is rlly missing out on not exploring more of the less human aspects of vash, ww & livio & literally anyone who's been experimented on OR is biologically Other. like - yo, zazie the beast??? why are we not talking about them??? they are SO terrifying???? the Potential with how many gaps mr. nightow left..... also this whole ... softification ... of many characters resulting in people fr missing how absolutely horrifying vash can be to be around and how terrified wolfwood was of him for a whole while.

oh man, anon, you're definitely trying to get me in trouble. obligatory disclaimer: i don't judge anyone's lighthearted or shippy fanfics, or even have that much of a bone to pick with most popular fanon.

HOWEVER, SINCE YOU ASKED:

vash is so fucking weird. he's so weird. he has this very subtle habit of like, forgetting that humans can have free will and fully-formed opinions about things? like, he assumes he is the highest authority on The Concept Of Conflict because he Knows The Most (and he's Space Jesus Delivered From On High By The Goddess Rem). and it makes him act really weird and patronizing out of 0% malice and 100% mommy issues. (i'm not a japanese speaker so take this with a grain of salt, but he uses the you-pronoun "kimi", which makes him sound 1. old 2. really patronizing. other people who use "kimi" include legato and zazie, for reference)

i can't really speak for what fandom's missing out on, cause i'm having a great time writing wolfwood's ongoing health issues from getting fucked over by the eye of michael into my fics about him. there's a lot to pick at there! i don't begrudge anyone not wanting to get into the whole. child experimentation angle, but there's a lot of real estate there if you're looking.

ZAZIE. oh i had a whole conversation about zazie with some friends the other day. i'd have to do some more research before i post about it, but the tl;dr is that by making zazie conscious and sentient, they exist as a native people of no man's land. which has made me think very hard about the post-canon concept in fanwork of terraforming the planet, because, like, that's their HOUSE, did you ASK them? for the record, i don't think nightow thought about this At All, but i think studio orange definitely has. also i want to write about them but it would need to be very stylistic, because hivemind.

LET WOLFWOOD BE SCARED OF VASH IT'S VERY IMPORTANT. very much hoping s2 keeps the thread from trigun maximum that seeing vash's power in action scared the fucking shit out of wolfwood and he doesn't really get past it for most of the manga. again people can write their fluff i don't begrudge it but i do think wolfwood's character is very informed by the fact that he is very in over his head and very scared.

66 notes · View notes

raetreaderarts · 9 months

Text

In the post I just made I mentioned new sprites and here they are! I’ve been wanting to give Esther and Monty a new coat of paint for a while, especially Monty, that art is just. Eugh. But anyways you can see the comparisons between the old and new, how much my style has changed. I’ve definitely leaned heavily into the sketchy aspect because I’m lazy and I hate doing line art it makes my art feel more natural and fun. Actually my style takes heavy inspiration from children’s books, the more rough-looking art with the soft brushes and the gentle colors, it all just feels so nice.

#rem estates #rem estates updates #rem esther #rem monty #roblox #roblox dev #weirdcore #I’m also planning on tweaking Felicity’s design #so keep an eye out for that if you’re interested #my art

8 notes · View notes

technotrousers · 5 months

Text

music tag game

tagged by: @sam-loves-seb (like two weeks ago, sorry I suck <3)

rules: shuffle your "on repeat" playlist and list the first 10 songs that play, then tag 10 people

Rose Colored Glasses by School of Fish

I Want You by Concrete Blonde

Wake Up by Rage Against the Machine

Un' estate italiana by Edoardo Bennato and Gianna Nannini

It's the End of the World As We Know It by REM

Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus

Nobody Rides for Free by Ratt

Pride by U2

Ruby by Kaiser Chiefs

Friday I'm in Love by the Cure

Tagging @meganwwrites @boutiquetraveltravelboutique (although I know you're not a Spotify person!) @wernerherzogs @asmeninas @tonfea @isaksbestpillow @fiandvee @shewasprayingphilip @apprenticemockingbird and @tommykinardkink

#i'm awful at doing these in a timely manner but ty <3 #you can see i've been on a classic rock tear lately #also three of these are from the point break soundtrack because i really am down a keanu reeves hole right now #tag games

7 notes · View notes

hikennosabo · 1 year

Text

trimax vol 12 random thoughts

okayyy i'm FINALLY done with all the art i had to do this week so i can focus on writing this post lol. this volume is so much, i don't know if i want to read it again...

i love that vash is ourple on the cover <3

chapter 1:

i like domina, she's cute. tbh i wasn't sure whether she was a plant at first because i assumed they were all blonde...

wait, pause, tell me about this. what are the circumstances of the other plant fusion incidents. were they rebelling against humans, same as knives? or were there other reasons??

vash's black hair is so STRIKING. i'm sad about it but i also kind of love how it looks...

the memory montage has been talked about like a dozen times by now, so idk if i can add anything that hasn't already been said... LOL. there's some deep cuts in here, i don't even remember them all... it really speaks to vash's memory of people. and there are anime-only characters too, which is cool! part of me wants to go through each page and label everyone but... nah.

ik they've taken a bit of a backseat in the latter half of the manga, but i feel like meryl and milly's section should be larger. :( and for that matter, legato takes up a lot of real estate on his page?! that's kind of unexpected... although legato and vash DID have that seven-month-long psychic battle... and i guess legato is on vash's mind rn because of the coins... so i suppose it makes sense...

a few things about the ghg page - first of all, WHO is that on the top right?! is that supposed to be elendira??? is it??? because it's not like vash doesn't know what she looks like, they've met face to face!

secondly... livio. this is his old self. face in shadow, skull mask visible. i don't think this necessarily means vash still views livio like this; that's unlike vash. livio's face is obscured while his mask and long hair are highlighted, both things that he has discarded along with his identity as a gung-ho gun. this is vash remembering the gung-ho guns specifically. it IS a bit sad that this is what livio gets... i suppose drawing him twice might've been redundant, but still...

a bunch of people have already pointed out wolfwood's grave being depicted next to rem and given equal weight/importance (page space) as her, so all i'll say is that scrolling through the pages and expecting to see wolfwood but getting hit with his grave instead was a fucking gut punch that i DID NOT need.

anti-plant missiles... so plant incidents have been common enough that they'd need to be built in the first place, and built into the fleet at that...

so they CAN be broken apart?! i see...

domina is so funny.

the ark just straight up vanishing really had me think for a second "wow! so that's the power of thor's hammer!" but no it just teleported. LOL

knives... oh, knives... he's looking less and less like a person. i'm probably supposed to be horrified, but i'm just sad.

chapter 2:

knives is the first creature in the universe to warp... wow... he's so talented~ i'm proud of him~

domina is so CUTE!!!! it's too bad what happens to her right after this... and it's impressive how likable she becomes in just a few short scenes. it makes her death more effective than it would be otherwise.

nothing to say, i just think they're cute.

knives putting his feelers out to interfere with the earth fleet was brought up in... volume 9, i think... so it's not like this was completely unexpected. (also "feelers" is kinda cute... like a bug...) wow... knives is fighting so smartly~ i'm proud of him~

i speculated a few volumes ago if knives would try to "save" the earth plants, but he just want to kill them... or at least kill the independents. i still feel like i don't have a full picture of what it's like for plants on earth or the relationship between humans and independents. either way, it's unconscionable to knives that independents would work with humans like this...

chapter 3:

perhaps i shouldn't laugh but shooting straight up into the air is such a dumb thing to do. haha get rained on idiots.

brad is stunned at their idiocy, lol.

chronica worrying over domina is sweet. she's not always "cold and calculating"...

i love how this spread is framed, with the black bars on the top and the bottom. it's cool.

and the double meaning of the chapter title. "the interceptor"... knives intercepting the earth fleet and vash intercepting knives's connection to the fleet...

uhhh... i don't have that much to say about this chapter...

chapter 4:

the universe conspired to deal me massive psychic damage by having 'brother' by gerard way start playing on shuffle while i was rereading this bit... i don't NEED this right now!!!!!

NOT THE IMAGE OF THEM AS KIDS

I'M EATING ROOOOOCCKKKKSSSS!!!!!!!

people have already pointed out knives covering his eyes (and vash covering his own with his sunglasses), it was a fucking punch to the gut the first time i read this chapter and it still is and i am fucking EATING!!!! ROCKS!!!!!!

is that REALLY the reason why you don't want to see your brother's corpse, knives?? is it really???

people have already talked about vash's little gunman speech so i won't say too much about it, except that it's fitting that we started this story with vash being just that - a gunman - we didn't even know about him being a plant - and now vash is determined to end this story as a gunman. well, "end," sort of. there's still 2 volumes left.

also, we're recycling chapter titles again for some reason... we already had a chapter titled "the gunslinger" in volume 6...

chapter 5:

should i call these their "teenage years"? ...i'm writing that in my notes.

i wish i could express my emotions about the plant twins beyond incomprehensible screaming and eating various things (rocks, glass, drywall...) because then i might have more substantial things to say LOL...

the virgin "did you really just shoot me?!" 98 knives vs the chad "if you're going to shoot me, improve your aim" manga knives

y'know, up until now, i never really bought the claim that "tristamp made knives more morally grey," because i was thinking along the lines of "the morality of his actions didn't change, orange just took a magnifying glass to his emotions, so he's easier to sympathize with," but... they COMPLETELY changed the context of knives cutting off vash's arm, huh?! i guess they DID make him more morally grey...

he's ready to go down with knives. if you'll excuse me, i'll be crunching on some more rocks.

chapter 6:

can't help but remember baby knives saying "we can work through a few little differences if we just talk to each other" :')

trying to talk to the plants... yeah... good idea! it's too little too late for knives because EVERYTHING is for him, but... it's a good idea!

okay, so the story of the village. they got kicked out of the city for being "contaminated," so they built their own village and had to resort to stealing from travelers to survive. right... chaining vash up is pretty extreme but i suppose it's indicative of their level of desperation. (especially since vash still looks like a teenager, like, as far as the villagers knew, the person they attacked was just a normal human kid...)

obviously this story doesn't move knives in the slightest, but even with the explanation for the villagers' actions, the bit about "the contaminated humans being kicked out of the city" is a different example of human cruelty that knives could've spat back at vash, lol. like, they were kicked out, and just left out there to die i guess? with no resources or plan to supply them with anything? except for the lone girl who seemed to be bringing canned goods back, but 1. this wasn't a regular thing for her since she hadn't been back in three years, 2. she was literally the only person trying to help, and 3. it was just luck that she wasn't contaminated to begin with - if it weren't for that there would be NO ONE trying to help. not trying to justify knives's worldview or anything but i just think this is interesting because even though now we know and understand the villagers' situation, there's still an undercurrent of human cruelty in this story, and that's something that can't be erased and something that knives invariably clings to to justify his actions.

and his worldview gets even further reinforced in this moment because the military starts shooting at the ark lmao. but then it's vash's friends to the rescue...! the takeaway from all this and the entire ethos of this story as a whole is "humans are complicated," they're not all bad and not all good, vash acknowledges that and tries to see it, and knives does not, blahblahblah it's been said a hundred times...

microorganisms :)

someone in the tag pointed this out already, but the way the earth fleet talks about independent plants is weird. "salvage," "persona," "repair"... that's weird, right? in my last post i said they were giving like, advanced-AI-robot vibes, and this is doing nothing to change that impression. but they're made of flesh and blood...

chapter 7:

knives is wrong about human nature but there sure are a lot of humans in this story who piss me off. fuck you, military guy!!

we all knew that vash was going in to this fight prepared to die, that his plan is to bring knives down with him, but actually seeing him bleeding so much... hurts.

LIVIOOOOO!!! I LOVE YOUUUUU!!!

he's so cute, what the fuck!!!! "i'm mr livio"?!?! oh my god. i'm sobbing. he's so cute.

gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. manipulate, mansplain, malewife.

this image of a single man facing down an entire military...!!! he's so cool!!!!!! also he's kinda caked up too

and he just bowls through them like it's nothing!!! i LOVE watching him fight, livio is one of the coolest fighters in this entire story, i'm so glad we get to watch him kick some ass!!!

chapter 8:

they said it's just a projection, but this is what i was imagining the "consciousness" of the merged plants to look like...

no concept of the self except for independents, i suppose. so do all plants think the same? last volume, vash said something about billions of thoughts being "exchanged," so there is SOME mental distinction between individuals, i think...

i wonder what information chronica is gathering from this, exactly. just the essentials, since time is limited? or all of it, every single detail?? knives's past and trauma included??

he's talking as if this is a mercy. i wonder if that's really how he's justifying this to himself.

oh, just this panel by itself is a fun dynamic. i don't actually expect elendira to live to the end (sadly...) but i AM looking forward to seeing these two fight again. interestingly, she doesn't seem surprised that livio is still alive...

this last bit of the chapter feels like all the dominoes falling at once, lol. elendira and livio, chronica and knives... and then BOOM! LEGATO JUMPSCARE!! ...from. seemingly nowhere. where did he come from. also i still don't know what to make of his... iron maiden... giant matryoshka... i don't know what or who this is!! it's driving me nuts!! is it going to be explained?!?!

chapter 9:

it's SO funny that vash says this because I WAS ALSO WONDERING THE SAME THING!!! the previous volume put so much emphasis on the coins that i assumed vash would fight legato FIRST and THEN move on to knives. but he never wanted to fight legato to begin with, so it makes sense that he'd skip right to knives LOL.

knives GRINNING when the earth ship appears and then staring straight down the barrel of their cannon... he's not afraid at all. dare i say this scene is pretty cool. knives and chronica are now on even ground in terms of knowledge about each other, and knives probably knows this, but he's still so confident. and then the cannon fires and he BLOCKS it. i shouldn't be complimenting him so much in this post. but i must give cool credit where cool credit is due. this scene is COOL!!!!

oh, so this IS how his powers worked all along, okay... i was confused. i guess this means his power in tristamp is different... because it's clearly NOT strings... it's just straightforward telekenisis i think... hmmm...

... i'd previously heard about what legato's backstory entails, but actually seeing it...

...

knives isn't even visible in this spread. legato hasn't even seen knives yet. but the framing of legato looking at the vast sky, the light, is evocative enough.

legato being able to even control knives with his strings... well, he was able to (somewhat) control vash, so it makes sense that he could, but i've never really thought about the implications until now. under different circumstances he could've been a massive obstacle to knives, if not outright stopped him.

new hair, new outlook, right?

and okay, sure, it's likely that knives's train of thought was "i could use this power for myself, so i won't kill him," but i want to believe there was something else... legato was used and abused by humans, and knives isn't stupid, he can see that just from looking at the state legato's body is in. so maybe knives recognized there's a kinship between them, even if he'd never admit it... i dunno, it's just, his expression here... it's hard for me to describe, but it's something...

oh, this is making me feel something. this is implying knives gave legato his name, right? that's... oh man. i want to say that it was kind. i don't know if i can call it a bond, but their relationship, whatever it is, is deeper than i imagined.

"...but in that moment, i was reborn." new name, new life, new purpose...

on a lighter note, now i'm thinking about where legato's name actually comes from, and i'm remembering this comment from nightow:

i want to believe knives thought the same thing... LOL. as for "bluesummers," "blue" obviously came from his hair, but "summers"... i want to say maybe it was summer at the time of this flashback, but i'm not actually sure if this planet has seasons...? do they ever say if it does??

oh, legato... my legatito... i should've known he'd be one of my favorite characters the instant he showed up in tristamp voiced by kouki uchiyama LOL. i've laughed at him a lot and made fun of him a lot but i really do genuinely love him.

i fully do not expect him to live to the end... but i'm looking forward to seeing whatever else he does before he goes...

#trigunbookclub #by some miracle i did not go over the image limit and was able to fit everything in one post #june speaks #trigun talk #this would've gone up earlier but i had to focus on art #finished this post just in time to read vol 13 tomorrow lol #i can't believe we're so close to the end?!?!

21 notes · View notes

kny-agere · 1 year

Text

Rem Cycle

★彡☆彡★彡☆彡★彡☆彡

Mitsuri finds herself at the water estate often. It stands just on the edge of her mission territory, and is often more convenient to stay there as opposed to making the trek back to her own home.

The water estate is a lonely place. It’s not in disrepair, or even dusty, but most of it’s rooms are completely barren. She never even hears a mouse creeping over the tatami. Mitsuri doesn’t snoop, but all the rooms she comes across when looking for an extra futon appear exactly the same. They’re bland square boxes with tan walls. Through all her time there she has only found two places that deviate from this standard. One was a simple office, accompanied by a desk, mostly empty bookshelf, and a dark painting. The second was Tomioka’s room, which was still bland, but also cute in a way. With just a look around she can see his futon folded in the corner, a much more crowded bookshelf, and a small collection of carved wooden animals.

That’s all she spots, before sliding the door closed. Mitsuri knows to not intrude too much. Once she finds a room she deems comfortable emough the woman mostly sticks to that space and the kitchen.

—-

When Tomioka finally makes an appearance he looks more out of place in his home than Kanroji does. He stumbles loudly through the halls, unaware of her presence. Before she can manage to reveal her place in his home the man is tucked inside his room. It can wait until tomorrow.

—-

Mitsuri takes a little extra time in the morning. She’s sure her movement around the house is loud enough to announce her presence, but Giyuu doesn’t leave his room. Just because she’s eager to talk and bond doesn’t mean she’ll make herself an annoyance.

Even though there’s no mission waiting for her, Kanroji decides to leave anyways. She can make it to her own home by early afternoon.

Still hoping to get Giyuu to open up, she does leave a note.

Your home was wonderful! I hope you didn’t mind me staying for the night, it’s happened a few times in the past as well. Next time I’ll be sure to leave a proper thank you!

—-

The love pillars next visit is much sooner than anticipated. Though Giyuu’s home has become somewhat familiar she only gets to visit once every few weeks, just under every two months. It’s not an exact formula, and sometimes Mitsuri has stayed for a few stretch of days, but there are other places for her to stay as well if needed. She can’t bear to be far away from her family for too long either.

Ubuyashiki-sama has sent her on many missions that put her right alongside Tomioka’s territory. Rengoku border’s the other side of her area, but she finds herself near her former mentor’s home much less often. Though they do get more joint missions. As close as she is to Giyuu (in proximity, not in the friendship sort of sense), he is almost never paired up with anyone.

But none of that is really important right now because there’s quite a large gash on the bottom of her foot. The bleeding has stopped, but she’s stuck trembling on one leg like a flamingo. At first she tries to put only slight pressure on it. With each step it feels like her leg is igniting.

After a small amount of crying and whimpering she makes her way towards the water estate. Her journey is accomplished by limping, hopping, and an embarrassing amount of crawling.

As she scoots towards the front door the woman nearly cries at the sight of light shining through one of the windows. It’s a strange combination of tears of joy and sadness. Embarrassment at being seen in such a sorry state overtakes her quickly. On the other hand Tomioka will be able to show her the medical supplies.

Pulling herself back onto her good foot Mitsuri knocks lightly.

It takes a bit of time, enough for her to begin to worry, but eventually the sound of shuffling feet starts to build.

The door creeps open slowly before his head peeks out from around the frame. Giyuu has never been there to greet her before, and there’s a moment where neither speak.

Kanroji is the first to break the stalemate.

“Tomioka-san, I’m surprised to see you home! I cut my foot and couldn’t make it very far, so I headed here. I hope that’s all right. You’ve never complained in the past but-“

She keeps rambling, even as Giyuu props the door completely open. Limping inside she stumbles to the couch while the man seemingly disappears. Once Kanroji realizes he’s gone she comes to an awkward halt in her talking.

The younger hashira is unsure if she should just be waiting. Tomioka didn’t specify exactly what he was running off to do. Maybe he simply went back to bed.

As if on cue he entered the room again, small box in hand. He regarded her carefully. Walking slowly Giyuu resembled a cat, wide eyes and cautious movements. It seems uncharacteristic, but Mitsuri hasn’t seen the man within his actual home before. Maybe he just doesn’t appreciate her intrusion.

“Here.” His voice is as soft as snow. There’s a bit more emotion lying underneath his tone than there usually is, even with just the simple word. The medical kit is sat next to her. Giyuu doesn’t quite retreat, instead choosing to hover awkwardly in the doorway.

Tears already are starting to form in her eyes. “Oh thank you! I don’t know what I would do if I had to wait any longer.” Struggling to wipe off her face, which has a bit of snot and tears covering it now alongside the dirt and blood, she moves quickly to pull off her signature socks.

Propping her leg up she leans forward to give the wound a proper look.

It’s not a particularly bad cut, only an inch or two long, but deep enough that the blood is still sticky. Since the fabric is already destroyed Kanroji uses the remnants of green fabric to scrub away some of the blood and dirt lingering on her foot. Only then does she moves to grab the rubbing alcohol and soft cloths.

While she works Giyuu disappears at some point. Mitsuri is more focused on bandaging the cut. It’s probably fine without stitches, but a few days of rest will be needed. Once it’s fully bandaged she tests her weight. There’s no sharp pain, rather a dull throbbing that increases when her foot flexes. For now she can deal with the pain.

Looking around the woman is surprised to find she’s alone now. There’s no sign of where Tomioka could’ve ran off too. Leaving the med kit on the table she wanders through the halls back to her usual room.

A few doors down a light peeks out from a crack in the wood. It’s a thin stream. Within the few seconds of staring the light clicks off.

Shaking her head she tries not to think about bothering Giyuu, instead pushing into her own room.

The futon she usually claims is already spread out on the floor. Beside it are a pair of standard pajamas, similar to the ones Shinobu keeps at her estate. Sticking her head back out she looks towards Tomioka’s door again. She swears a faint shadow moves behind the shoji. It’s not as if it’s a mystery either way. Unless the man has servants hidden away somewhere he’s the only one who could’ve done it.

She has to stop herself from running down the hallway. Knowing he’ll probably find a way to hide in the morning the woman wants to squeeze in a proper “thank you” when she can. Another note wouldn’t be good enough. Tomioka might appreciate sweets or something similar. She knows his cabinets are fairly empty.

Generating more ideas she slowly drives herself back towards the bed. The pajamas are ill-fitting but soft enough to make up for it. Crawling into the futon too she notices how fresh it feels too. The sheets have a indecipherable something that makes it clear they were washed recently. A few stains, some from Mitsuri herself and some mysteriously there, have disappeared.

It’s hard to go to sleep with how wide her smile is. Excitement bubbles up in her stomach and buzzes beneath her skin. She always knew Giyuu was a nice boy. He was quiet in a shy and awkward kind of way, not the lethal silence from someone like Iguro (not that she minded his personality either). It was similar to her own younger brother, who was the complete opposite of his elder sister. Rengoku agreed, and perhaps the other hashira simply lacked the knowledge of what a younger sibling was like to notice the softness in his movements.

She falls asleep picturing Giyuu carefully setting out the futon.

—-

As the man and her collide more, Mitsuri notices all her little habits. They’re most obvious when he’s inside his own home. At first she thinks Giyuu just likes to hide away from her, and the thought might still be true, but more often he just sleeps in. On the rare occasion she’s there for more than a single night he doesn’t drag himself into the kitchen until the early afternoon. He stumbles around blindly until something resembling food sits in front of him.

Outside of his house she gets a better peek at him as well. They’re not paired up for missions often. Tomioka has only served with her once, which was months before she had built a proper interest in him. But they still cross paths often enough for Mitsuri to pry into him.

He always sets up her futon. What she thought was a kind one-off gesture turns out to be standard practice for Giyuu. He always manages to do it when she isn’t looking. When she thanks him all Giyuu does is turn away. She swears she can see his cheeks grow pink and a smile right before he manages to tug his lips back down.

Afterwards when he goes to slip into his sheets Tomioka curls up around himself. The man always angles himself towards the wall and away from her. She’s trying to figure out how inappropriate it would be for her to inquire if anyone else notices his sleeping habits. Mitsuri hasn’t figured out exactly what the answer is, but it’s surely too inappropriate to ever speak aloud.

Moving onto things that aren’t quite as weird but still not entirely appropriate she watches his smaller habits. Tomioka tugs at the edges of his uniform. There’s divots where his fingers sink into the white edge. His pajamas are even worse, ragged things that have been stretched over time. A few times she catches him chewing onto the edges or even a finger in his mouth. It’s only when Giyuu’s sat on the engawa for too long or buried in his bedsheets before it’s actually late enough to begin thinking of sleep. If her footsteps are too loud he’ll straighten his back and keep his hands cradled in his lap.

In her little game of spy she doesn’t quite put together what any of this means, if it means anything. Everyone has odd little quirks. Still it tugs at the back of her mind like a stray thread.

It doesn’t come together until the behavior is echoed at her own home. Her extended family, aunts and uncles and third cousins twice removed, are around just as often as her actual mother and father. If Mitsuri had elected to upsize into a new estate (instead of just adapting her parents house as the core of her life) she’s sure they would’ve moved in. The woman enjoys the company and doesn’t mind the noise. It’s a gift too, when she’s able to experience the joy of little feet filling up the rooms. Her own parents are long done with children, the woman’s youngest siblings already coming upon their teen years. With the extra guests she gets to spend time looking after toddlers milling about.

They look at her with snot-covered faces, eyes barred behind the beautiful long lashes that all children possess. Shy groups mumble behind their fingers. Anytime the group gathers for dinner Kanroji spends most of her time wiping stray rice from their cheeks.

Tomioka doesn’t imitate the behavior constantly. While fighting demons or in his general life he acts cool and collected. Even with all the added oddities he’s not necessarily uncool… but more-so cute! It makes her want to sit and clean stray rice off his cheek as well.

—-

The act of indulging is her fantasies is a hard one. Tomioka is not only soft, but solitary. If she tried to dote on him in any capacity the man would either go back to ignoring her presence or respond a more scathing reaction she can’t even imagine.

Next time they stumble across each other is at Mitsuri’s own home. After a series of rather grueling missions the woman had been allowed some reprieve. It was late enough that everyone in the home was asleep. Mitsuri had hardly heard his knocking, only opening her eyes because she had been trained to stir at any noise.

Nimbly hopping over her sister, who elected to still share a room with Kanroji, she made her way to the door. Slayers were allowed, even welcomed, in the home, but few actually appeared. Most juvenile hunters were too terrified of the title of “hashira” no matter the actual kindness of the woman. Her fellow pillars could appear on occasion (Rengoku visited often, bringing along his brother several times), but were not often brought close enough to her territory to justify spending the night.

Finding Tomioka standing at her doorstep was not something she had expected. Someone like Sanemi (who had some amount of distate for Mitsuri) or Iguro (who lost all cognitive thought after they spent more than an hour together) would’ve astounded her less.

The man didn’t appear to be particularly hurt either, just tired. Trying to be aware of the late hour Kanroji struggled to keep her voice down as she bounced around her home.

Letting him settle down on the couch she rushed to prepare a room for him. Balancing speed and silence was a hard task especially when Mitsuri wasn’t particularly good at either. Thankfully all of her family are heavy sleepers, the habit not long broken like Kanroji’s.

When she enters the living room once more, Giyuu is half asleep on the couch. His head hangs uncomfortably, chin pressed to his neck. A thumb is caught between his lips. Knees are pulled tight to his chest.

Watching him for a moment she waits for him to awake on his own. She moves forward and then dances back in a mock waltz. He’d probably find the position compromising.

Repeating her entrance she calls his name gently beforehand. “Tomioka-san!” It’s still a whisper. Counting to three in her head she rounds the corner.

Giyuu is still half asleep when she sees him again. Instead of his mouth the man’s fingers press into his neck. Rolling it backwards a few gentle clicks sound off. “Sorry.”

“Oh don’t apologize! You should’ve sent your crow ahead and I would’ve prepared something sooner.”

The older hashira’s voice is still filled with sleep and something a little smaller. “Kanzaburo is old. He’s resting… somewhere.”

“I’ll send mine then! Or oh wait… that’s not- Anyways! I hope everything is satisfactory.”

“Thanks.” He’s nearly falling asleep standing up.

With a smile she watches him slip into the room.

—-

Tomioka seems overwhelmed with all of the people around. Mitsuri gave her siblings (and parents) careful instructions to leave the man alone while he slept well into the afternoon, but once he’s awake it’s a completely different story.

Her family is kind that leans into overbearing. Giyuu seems wary at best. He can only answer their excited questions with stilted mumbles. It drives him to cling to Mitsuri, looking to her each time someone offers him yet another treat or prying question.

“I love meeting Kanroji’s work friends,” her mother sighs. “You’re all so strong and sweet!”

His cheeks are light pink now, maybe more exhaustion than embarrassment. “…Thanks.” That’s been his response to almost everything her family has pushed onto him. It’s not too long after lunch and they’ve already layered a few light snacks onto the table and into his mouth. He’s been clever, passing half the stuff onto Mitsuri who consumes it with glee.

“Oh you should try these ones though! They have cherry jelly inside.” She passes all the best things back to him (mostly chocolate). Around the corner of his lips there’s little crumbs that he hasn’t bothered to wipe off yet.

“It’s good.”

“You have half the pan on your cheeks!” Without thinking she plucks a handkerchief from her pocket and rubs it against his cheeks. Displays like this are common amongst her family, or even with friends. Rengoku is as messy as Giyuu with the speed he eats at.

She doesn’t think anything of it until his cheeks burn and the man jerks away from her. “I’m not a child.” He spits out the words. It’s harsh enough to make the table grow too quiet until someone can usher in another conversation topic.

“Sorry. I just meant that-“

“It’s fine!” Mitsuri clings to his arm. She’s glad when he doesn’t brush her off. “I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous.”

He takes the handkerchief and wipes the corner of his mouth. “Do you want it back?”

“No that’s alright.”

Silence between them dips until Mitsuri picks up the conversation with her brother and they dissolve back into much of the same as before. Maybe Giyuu holds onto her a little tighter afterwards.

—-

By dinner Tomioka’s so worn out that he’s almost buried against Kanroji’s side. Any question asked are answered with a small nod of his head, regardless of whether they can be responded too that way.

The man mostly picks at the food too, which makes sense considering he’s been fed consistently even between meals. Mitsuri is happy to pick up whatever he leaves on his plate (which is most of the meal). He’s slumped over in his chair and already half asleep.

The table moves around him without care. Senjuro had befallen much of the same behavior during his visit. Shinobu had balked at their attention and excitement. Guests who weren’t used to the bustle of the home often faltered at a day of loud words and mountains of food.

“Tomioka-kun, we’re done with dinner if you’d like to go.” She mumbles it against his ear and doesn’t dare spoil the fact that there’s technically a fresh pie cooling on the countertop.

Again her family doesn’t mind when she stands up and guides Tomioka back to the guest room. He leans his head against her shoulder. Practically drunk on overstimulation the man is falling asleep as they walk.

“Tomioka-kun, you still need to get changed.” She pushes his head up until it stays there. He blinks a few times until his eyes stay open.

“I probably made a bad impression, sorry.” In the quiet of the guest room he seems more alert. “I’m not good with… people.”

“Oh I don’t think anyone really minded. You weren’t being rude or anything even! Quiet isn’t a crime.”

The man’s surprised by the reassurance. “Well your family was nice. And the cooking was good too, what I ate I mean.”

Mitsuri laughs even though she doesn’t know if it’s really supposed to be a joke. Tomioka isn’t very good at social things like that.

She pats his arm where it still wraps around her own. “I’ll tell them. You have a nice night.”

“I have to leave early tomorrow. Thank you for the room.”

Giyuu is suffocated for a moment with her hug. “Ah you never tell me things like that! Now I can give you a proper goodbye.” She’s not shy about pressing against him. Holding him as close as possible for a few minutes she swears the man hugs back. His grip isn’t quite as bone-crushing, but hands gently push into her back.

“Send your crow next time and he can rest here too! We have some roosts outside. And then I can plan something fun for you!”

He looks tired at the thought of it. That doesn’t stop him from nodding with a defeated kind of look. “Goodnight Mitsuri-san.”

“Right, I’ll let you go.”

—-

Whether he feels more comfortable around Mitsuri, or simply can’t find the energy to care, Giyuu slips more around her. He lets her clean his cheeks the next time they meet and doesn’t complain how much she coddles him. She dotes on him until he’s asleep on the couch with a thumb in his mouth. He probably thinks she can’t see him from the kitchen where she’s cleaning off the table.

After Giyuu had spent the night at her house Kanroji insisted on getting him to spend proper time together. It mostly consisted of dining and fighting over who would pay.

But the next time she stumbled into his home with light injuries and exhaustion weighing on her shoulders he had welcomed her to cabinets with real food in them.

Tomioka was easier to talk to when it was just the two of them. She pried small smiles out of him every few questions. At one point he let out a wheezing little laugh.

She convinces him to rest after dinner. The polite boy insists on helping her, but once she convinces him to lie on the couch he curls up there.

Once she puts on the dishes away Kanroji creeps into the living room. Every time they do this dance Giyuu will snap upwards and the end and excuse himself. It’s a little sneaky to try to lull him into a false sense of security but she knows otherwise he’d run away again. This isn’t a matter of him actuality wanting to push Mitsuri away. She’s a love expert, which means she’s excellent at reading all types of body language. This is because he’s embarrassed, prideful even.

But everything is going according to plan. When she peeks over the couch Tomioka is at least mostly asleep. He’s draped over the cushions. This time a whole handful of fingers are shoved into his mouth. His haori acts as an impromptu blanket.

Settling her weight on the couch she stills for a brief moment. It’s a game of red light green light. Every time she inches closer Kanroji is worried he’ll startle and never talk to her again.

Once she’s dragged half his body into her lap Mitsuri’s decided that enough is enough. Giyuu hasn’t said anything and if decides to run now she can chase him down.

She cradles his head against her chest. Giyuu’s eyes have lightly shut, but the way his eyelids twitch occasionally suggest that he isn’t actually asleep. That doesn’t stop Mitsuri from gently tracing his features. Under the guise of sleep he allows her to do so. When her knuckles skim over his cheekbones he twitches slightly in that direction. Soft pink lips part barely.

It takes everything in her to not squeal and pull him even closer. With his delicate state it would surely scare him off. The smile on her face is still rather wide though.

Once she’s regained some of her composure she goes back to running fingers over his face and through his hair. His breathing does slowly even out, diving into a real slumber. Kanroji is still careful with her hold, but slowly shifts to lean back slightly more. It’s more comfortable, even if his face is slightly less visible.

Feeling his chest rising under her fingertips makes her own breathing fall into a similar slow pattern. The weight of Tomioka on her lap is comforting. It reminds the woman of one of her younger siblings. Out of the handful one will always crawl into her hold and promptly settle there. The only difference now is the amount of weight, which is mostly negligible in the case of her strange strength. It gives her a chance to bond with the mostly estranged hashira too, even if the scenario is rather odd.

She isn’t sure what to do now. Tomioka would probably be scared away if she moved around too much.

Finally the numbing in her legs prompts her to shift ever so slightly. With slow and deliberate movements she rises. Giyuu stays content for now, simply leaning into her more. With her blessing of strength it’s no trouble to move around with the man in her arms. The only struggle is when she makes it to his door, and has to slide it open with her foot. If Mitsuri wasn’t so focused than she surely would’ve tripped over herself. There’s even a little wobble to her standing as she manages to open the door to Tomioka’s room. How he hasn’t woken up yet is a question with no clear answer. Though the light shading under his eyes does suggest a lack of sleep, that’s not entirely unusual for someone in their line of work.

She tries not to snoop too much, but being inside Tomioka’s room for the first times leaves her a little breathless. It’s strangely personable. Given the emptiness of the rest of the house she expected his room to look like it belonged to someone else.

Instead there’s a few stones of the shelf, or small wards possibly. The dried herbs and ribbons seem arranged to purposefully to be random.

His bed is a more western one, mattress sitting on top of a simple bed frame. Atop it lies a thousand different pillows in an array of colors and sizes. The one at the very front of the stack is a fuzzy deep mauve pillow.

It’s ridiculous to think Giyuu kept himself in a prison of sorts with a hard bed and single sheet, but that image is less surprising than the reality.

Tucked beside one of the pillows, almost hidden, is an old plush bear. The fur on it is so worn it’s almost gone completely. Pale brown has faded to a peachy gray.

It takes a few moments to figure out how to set him down. Luckily Tomioka seems completely knocked out, even leaning into her hold. Moving him around she manages to balance the man on her hip. It’s an odd hold. When she held some of her younger siblings this way the rested their heads on her collarbones or shoulder. Tomioka, a grown man, is a bit of a different situation. His feet are only inches from the floor, head hanging in the air. It doesn’t look too comfortable which is why she’s quick to peel back the covers.

Transitioning him into the bed is easy. The plush mattress only serves to drag him deeper into sleep. The man’s eyes twitch for a second before smoothing out. He curls into himself.

Finding a reason to stay she lifts his arm and tucks the old bear into his hold. Immediately Giyuu curves inwards even more, tucking the plush under himself.

Keeping her eyes on him Kanroji creeps back out of the room. She hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on, so once she shuts the door the man should be cloaked in darkness.

Despite the quickly darkening sky its not ridiculously late. Mitsuri’s gotten so used to carving out her own space in Giyuu’s home that she’s considering returning home for once. The train could get her there before her parents are even asleep.

Tomioka could probably use the break. She doesn’t know if he’s the kind to treat the next day like normal. Though Mitsuri supposes that this isn’t a particularly common scenario. He can have the reprieve, a bit of a gift.

—-

Unexpectedly Giyuu does act (mostly) the same. He stares at her near constantly when Mitsuri turns her back, but nothing else is too noticeable.

Several other times she can convince him to indulge again. That really just means approaching the boy while he pretends to be asleep. Once she tries to pull him towards her when he’s fully awake and he almost punches her with how hard he’s squirming.

Soft reassurances are a mandatory. When she holds his head and sits him on her lap little murmurs are whispered into his ear. When he’s a baby he needs baby steps. Kanroji wants to run into everything headfirst. This yeild sign is a bit of an adjustment. But just like how she coaxed him into a few nights of cuddles she knows how to push him without making him uncomfortable, hopefully.

—-

Blowing lightly on Giyuu’s face Kanroji watches his baby blue eyes reveal themselves. His pupils are wide as they stare up at her. It’s similar to a baby deer the way his eyes dart around.

“I have a surprise for you Giyuu-kun.” She hopes in his sleepy haze the man doesn’t notice the slight tremble in her voice. Her grip is maybe too tight too. They’ve done this a handful of times now, but pushing whatever they have too far could chase him away. Mitsuri tries not to think about that as she reaches for the bottle squished against her side.

Her thumb nudges against his lips and they part slightly. Tomioka is still looking up at her with unfocused eyes. When he glances down and the bottle comes into view his entire body jolts. Kanroji is glad for her tight grip because it keeps him in her lap.

Keeping the cup at arms length, as if it’s something dangerous, she takes a moment to stop his squirming. “Calm down baby it’s ok. I got this just for you.” Just like always her sweet tone and soft nicknames urge him to relax. His eyes remain wide, but Giyuu makes no movements to escape her again.

Cradling the back of his head she brings the bottle upwards again. He’s watching with a careful look as she brings the rubber end to his mouth. Keeping his lips open they wrap around the bottle.

The inside of Mitsuri’s stomach does happy little flips as he slowly starts to drink the milk inside. With both hands occupied the woman can’t caress his face, instead bringing her head down to plant a kiss on his forehead. Long eyelashes tickle her cheek as Giyuu tries to look up.

Keeping herself wrapped around him Kanroji picks her brain for a song to murmur. Music is common in her home and it’s easy to draw something out. Her voice isn’t stage-worthy, but not too shabby. It works to relax the woman herself too. The familiarity brings comfort within the strange situation.

Tomioka lets his eyes slipped closed again. Rhythmically sucking the bottle a small river of milk leaks out the corner of his mouth. With no cloth she uses her rough sleeves to wipe off the wetness.

Once the bottle is halfway done Mitsuri takes hold of it. Giyuu’s hold has begun to consistently falter— until he gave up completely —lettling the cup settle on his chest. She keeps prompting him to finish the drink. The man gets about 3/4ths of it down when he gives up completely.

The scene ends as it always does. Giyuu drifts off in Kanroji’s hold as she rocks him gently. She follows the familiar path to his room, stopping briefly to dump the bottle into the sink. The only thing that helps her clumsiness is the tried and true routine. She had almost dropped him once a few weeks back, and moved far more carefully ever since.

It’s a little easier to go through the steps when they’re both not pretending to know what this really is. Every few steps Giyuu’s breath hitches. Mitsuri doesn’t still, just holds him tighter (one day she’ll suffocate him that way). She wonders if he’d be as clingy if he was fully awake. Maybe that’ll be her next goal.

Kanroji doesn’t have to keep herself quite as still. It’s easy to lie her weight on the bed when he rolls out from her arms. He curls up looser now, not hiding from her quite as much.

When she pulls back his hands remain tied up in her sleeves. Peeling them off only makes him cling to her fingers instead. It’s a game of dragging him off as he stays sunken into her.

“Giyuu.” She lets the air brush against his cheek as his name comes out. “Baby you’re holding on too tight.”

His eye barely opens. In a bit of a challenge he keeps staring at her while his grip only tightens.

“C’mon use your words sweet boy. Tell me what you want.”

At first his words are only a breath of air. He has to try a few times to get the actual words out. “Can you stay?”

She’s happy to climb into the bed and nuzzle his cheek. “Can you say the magic word? Just because you’re my favorite and I love to hear it.”

He has to close his eyes to say it but she doesn’t mind. “Please mama?”

“There you go! You’re so good.” She further rewards him with a kiss on the cheek and pulling him back into her arms. The moniker is new too, a precious gift she’ll have to peel out of him again. She’s not wearing proper pajamas but her informal kimono is comfortable enough to sleep in.

Tomioka’s futon is only big enough for the both of them if she pulls him tight into her lap. The man curls against her body, head tucked underneath her shoulder. His bear is stuck between their chests.

He doesn’t try to hide his want now. Giyuu almost has to be pushed back with how tight he clings to her.

Tomorrow he’ll hopefully stay like this even when he can’t hide behind the excuse of being half asleep. She’ll see how he feels in the morning and try to worm a proper conversation out of him. Though something like that might be another week or two away. It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t mind waiting.

#demon slayer #kny #mitsuri kanroji #tomioka giyuu #kny agere #little!giyuu #safe agere #fandom agere #age regression #sfw agere #age regressor #cg!mitsuri

22 notes · View notes

padfootagain · 1 year

Text

Isle of Dogs (I)

Chapter 1 : Poker Night

Hi everyone! Here I am with a new series! It’s my first Wolfstar fic, I don’t know why it took me so long to write for these two idiots, when I’ve spent so many years reading about them! But better late than never. Before you ask, yes, the Isle of Dogs is a real place in London, and yes, I’ve chosen to set my story there only because there was ‘dog’ in the name and it made me think of Sirius, and as I was looking for a neighbourhood where I could set my story, I found that name hilarious. No other reason for me to spend three hours on Google Maps, yes, I’m sane, I promise.

I hope you enjoy my story. Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: Wolfstar – Sirius Black x Remus Lupin

Warnings: none! Modern AU, tattoo artist x bookshop owner AU

Summary: Sirius and Remus have been kind of in love for a while, but are both too scared to confess their feelings. However, everything changes when their neighbourhood is threatened by a new real estate project. But if they might fail in their fight against the City, they could also find something sweeter along the way.

Word Count: 2759

It was a lazy afternoon, like Mondays always were.

Cloudy, grey day over London. Something about Mondays that lingered in the air, something reluctant and lazy. It was almost spring, with the first flowers blooming in the nearby gardens. Busy streets and cars humming outside. People hurrying to work, and some walking leisurely by. At the far end of the little square, a group of old women carrying bags filled with yarns were entering the Community Centre, followed by a young man with a leather jacket, long dark hair and something dangerous about him. A pair of knitting needles were peeking out of the black tote bag he was carrying. It was barely two in the afternoon, people were coming back from lunch and opening shops again. Around Castalia Square, the row of small shops was filled with busy people unlocking doors and getting ready for the afternoon. A flower shop, a coffee shop, a tattoo parlour, a book shop, a small grocery store… It felt busy and yet it was only Monday. Slow, reluctant Monday.

A group of children ran across the square, aiming towards the bakery at the end of the street to buy sweets and pastries for the afternoon. They made the ginger woman opening the door of the coffee shop laugh as they waved at her despite their hurry. She stole a glance inside the tattoo parlour next door, and blushed fiercely when the young man inside waved at her, straightening the lopsided glasses upon his nose.

Meanwhile, in the book shop, the door was unlocked, but everything was still quiet. Slow, reluctant Monday…

It made Remus heave a sigh, actually. He still had his brown coffee cup in his hand, that he had bought in the coffee shop nearby. It was a quiet hour in his bookshop, with only few clients visiting him so early in the afternoon. Still, he had plenty of things to do. He had new books to set on shelves, some dusting to do over the right corner of his shop. In the back, Peter was organizing the Science-Fiction section, and cleaning the shelves.

He almost jumped as the bell over the front door rang, and he turned in a hurry, relaxing as he recognized Dorcas stepping inside his shop.

“Hey, Rem! Forgot to ask you when you dropped by earlier, but are you coming to play poker tonight?”

“Sure! Who’s hosting this time again?”

“The tattoo boys. We’ll probably get very drunk, better not plan on driving after that!” she joked, the piercing in her nostril shining in the yellowish light of the shop.

“Oh dear… it’s going to be a wild night, then!”

“As if poker night was ever quiet,” Peter scoffed, joining his two friends before the door.

They could hardly deny that statement.

“There will be much to discuss tonight, though,” added Dorcas, crossing her arms before her chest. “Have you heard about that new real estate project? Some say it’s about our neighbourhood.”

“I thought no details had come out, yet?” Remus answered with a frown and a shake of his head.

The door behind Dorcas opened, and this time it was to reveal a real client. She shrugged, aiming for the door again.

“We’ll see. It’s Monday, Sirius will probably get all the gossip from the grandmas!” she added with a laugh, nodding in the direction of the community centre.

They all let out a laugh, before Peter would focus on the newcomer, listening to his question.

Meanwhile, Remus was trying not to think about Sirius Black at all. Because every time he did, it made his heart jump to picture his crooked smile…

It was a merry evening, like Mondays always were.

It was dark outside already. It wasn’t that late though, barely eight. Dorcas and Marlene were fighting over the last piece of pizza, seizing the excuse to kiss each other an awful lot. Peter and James were busy setting up the game and bickering, while Lily and Remus were lost in a conversation about this new Sally Rooney book that should come out soon. Lily was trying to be discreet as she rested her hand on James’s thigh, but the grin on her boyfriend’s face gave them away easily. Caradoc was late, as always, but he arrived with crisps in his arms from his store, and so, as usual, everyone forgave him. It was the moment Sirius chose to reappear with a bottle of whiskey and a pile of glass shots. Everyone cheered at the sight.

It was merry. Merry and quiet and familiar, almost domestic. It was a tradition. Every Monday evening, the group of friends gathered in one of the shops they owned around this small square to play poker, drink wine or stronger spirits, and talk about their week or the new gossips spreading across their neighbourhood.

Some of them lived in the apartments set above the shops, in the white buildings that sheltered their small businesses, but some lived in the neighbourhood, in tiny houses or apartments in the adjacent streets. All lived nearby though, so it was okay for them to let loose on these evenings and drink a little more than what was considered cautious or reasonable.

It was merry and familiar, reassuring. A happy routine that had settled between the neighbours almost a year before. It was the highlight of the week for many of them. It was simple, just a pizza or some Chinese food before playing cards and laughing an awful lot.

When Sirius took a seat between James and Remus, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at the man on his left. He found Remus cute. Very much so, actually. With his oversized jumper, and the freckles on his cheeks, his lopsided grin and the white scars that ran across his skin. He found him cute, with his chocolate eyes and his quiet voice, and his peaceful aura that never failed to calm down everyone around him.

He found Remus a little bit more than cute, actually, but there was so much truth Sirius’s heart could take. Besides, it was dangerous. Because they were friends, because they belonged in a group of friends that would be forever broken if things went ill between them. And because… because Sirius knew that if he let himself fall for this guy next to him, he would fall too hard. And he was kind of a coward sometimes…

He cleared his throat, pushing away a strand of hair that had escaped his bun and was teasing his cheek as he focused on the drinks again, pouring the alcohol in tiny glasses. And Remus couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. Because he found him unbearably handsome under the neon light of his tattoo parlour, with the ink on his skin peeking through the buttons of his black shirt left open, with his dark hair held in a messy bun, with his stormy eyes and this freckle under his right eye that was unbearably lovely for some mysterious reason. But Remus looked away quickly, because he couldn’t let himself feel this way for one of his friends. It was ridiculous, really. Because they were friends, because Sirius was unable to handle a relationship and Remus was well aware of that. And because if he let himself fall for this man next to him, Remus knew he would fall too hard. And he was kind of a coward sometimes…

He helped Sirius pass the alcohol around while the game finally began. It was just banter and playfulness for a while, until conversations settled on their lives, their jobs, their families... although, the banter was never too far away.

“Marls, stop cheating!” Peter complained, laughing nonetheless, while the woman next to him was leaning to peer at his cards.

“You’re insufferable, babe,” Dorcas shook her head, a fond smile on her lips.

“You want to know what Peter’s cards are? I’ll make it cheap for you,” she replied to her girlfriend, something flirtatious in her voice now.

“Hmmm… and what could that price be?”

“Marls, if you answer with something naughty out loud, I swear to God, I’ll kick you out of my shop,” James warned his friend, making everyone laugh.

She leaned to whisper something into Dorcas’s ear, and judging by the size of her grin, Marlene was right not to say it out loud.

Meanwhile, James was trying to be discreet while holding Lily’s hand under the table, but no one was fooled. Sirius often claimed that if these two weren’t so cute, they would have been kicked out of the group for being so obnoxiously in love…

“Well, I could pay that price easily,” Dorcas answered her girlfriend. “Not sure you would handle it though…”

Marlene choked on her whiskey, and all around the table laughed. Sirius dramatically rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on, now! Get a room! I swear, if you keep on flirting like that I’ll be the one to kick you out.”

“Well, in that case, we’d better stop,” Marlene answered, laughing.

But Dorcas knew how to get her revenge instead.

“Hey, you haven’t even told us about this date of yours, Sirius!” she exclaimed, forgetting everything about the game and not playing anymore at all. “How did it go with that guy… Alex?”

“Alex? That was three weeks ago, keep up!” Sirius replied, making James roll his eyes. “No, last week I went out with Emma.”

“And?”

“And… she was amazing in bed.”

It was Caradoc’s turn to choke on his drink, making everybody laugh.

Remus tried to ignore the tugging at his heart… he downed his entire shot of whiskey to do so, but it wasn’t a full success…

“Right… and? Are you going to see her again?”

“Nah… she wasn’t that interesting,” Sirius shook his head.

“Why am I not surprised?” Marlene rolled her eyes.

“Well, it’s easy for the two of you! You’ve found each other, you annoying lovebirds… not everyone is so lucky!”

“Are you sure you’re not at all the problem, Sirius? You and the fact that you don’t want to settle down?”

But Sirius’s smile faltered, and he grew unusually quiet. Marlene bit her tongue, knowing she had touched a nerve.

But his crooked smile was soon back on his lips.

“I like to have fun, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, nothing…”

“Well, Emma was fun enough, but not the kind I would settle for.”

“Right… so… any plans for the week.”

“Actually, I’m taking Martha to the park on Saturday, if you really want to know,” Sirius answered, picking up some crisps from the bowl at the centre of the wooden table.

“Martha? Who is she? How did you meet?”

“You know Martha!” Sirius frowned. “She’s my one true love.”

“What?”

By Sirius’s side, James and Remus were trying not to laugh too loudly. They were surprised that Marlene was falling for Sirius’s stupid joke…

“Yes! Martha! Blue eyes, amazing sense of humour! And you should see her knitting techniques! She wants to see the farm on Sunday, so I’m taking her on a date.”

“She knits?”

“Of course, every Monday, with me.”

“But… I thought only old women were there…”

“Martha might be 86, it’s still rude to say that she’s old!”

Everyone exploded with laughter, and Sirius faked outrage, making everyone laugh even harder.

“Don’t insult my one true love!”

“I can’t believe you’ve never met Martha, she’s fantastic,” Remus shook his head.

“Ha! See! She truly is wonderful!”

But Sirius seemed to remember something important all of a sudden, and asked his friends to grow quiet again.

“I almost forgot to tell you! The girls told me something very strange this afternoon…”

“I still can’t believe you spend your Monday afternoons knitting scarves with grandmas…” Peter mocked, earning a scowl from Sirius.

“Oh, shut up! It helps me relax, alright?” Sirius snapped.

“Alright, alright, what did they say? Some interesting gossip?” Lily eagerly interrupted him.

But Sirius shook his head.

“Becky’s grandson works for the City Department. And apparently, there’s a new major project for our neighbourhood.”

“Really? What kind?”

“The kind to build an awful lot of offices.”

Lily rolled her eyes.

“Where would they do that, anyway? Not around here, they’ll probably go closer to Canary Wharf.”

“Apparently, not. They’re talking about buying houses around St John’s Park.”

“Really? “

“Yeah… and she said that they were aiming for buildings. Like… proper towers.”

“Of course, they won’t do that,” James shook his head. “Here? In this neighbourhood? Nah, we’re not fancy enough for that. Besides, why would they build a skyscraper here?”

“I’m just telling you what she told me. And she said that they wanted to develop this part of town, like an extension of Canary Wharf.”

“That’s bullshit, mate,” Caradoc shook his head.

Sirius raised his hands, shrugging.

“Hey, I’m just the messenger. But I reckon that we should keep an eye out, cause that whole thing sounds like an awful lot of bullshit.”

“Let’s hope she exaggerated her grandson’s words,” Remus replied, closing this subject for the night.

The game didn’t end before two more hours, it was almost midnight when the group of friends finally called it a night. James locked the shop while Lily waited for him to go home with him. Remus lived above his bookshop, but Sirius walked with him still, even for just a few more steps, using the excuse that his house on Cardale Street was in this direction too. Remus was only half-fooled, but he didn’t protest. After all, he did enjoy the sight of the streetlights painting Sirius’s features golden.

Sirius took a cigarette, and offered one to Remus, but he declined. He always did.

He took a long drag, breathing in deeply the smoke, letting it fill up his lungs, while Remus was busy studying the black nail polish on Sirius’s fingers as he held his cigarette to his lips.

And he hated himself for it. He hated himself for it because Sirius was unreachable, and he knew it…

“Need help with the delivery tomorrow?” Sirius asked, his words a little slurred because of the whiskey he had been drinking all night.

“Well… if you have some free time around noon, I can’t say I wouldn’t need a hand. Tuesdays are always busy with these deliveries…”

“Getting new books is always fun though!”

“Sure, still… an awful lot of heavy boxes to carry around.”

“Hmm… well, I’ll give you hand at noon, then.”

“If you do, I’ll make you this pasta dish you like so much.”

“Ha, Rem! Now, you’re talking! You sure know how to butter me up!”

He rose his cigarette to his lips again, and Remus hated the way he was unable to look away when he puffed out a white cloud of smoke…

“Right… that’s nice of you to offer your help.”

“Anything for you, Remus.”

They exchanged a smile. They had stopped walking, had already reached their destination. Still, they lingered there for a little longer, under the yellowish light of the lampposts.

The night was chilly and smelled of gasoline and rain. Nearby, some flowers had begun blossoming, it added something sweet to the scent of the street.

And Remus didn’t like at all the way his heart was beating faster because of Sirius’s words. He should have known better, should have pushed the thought away. He was just a friend…

This was just a crush. That’s what he kept telling himself. This was just a crush, it would pass…

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Remus shot Sirius a smile, trying to hide how nervous he was all of a sudden. “Goodnight.”

He turned towards the door, almost in a hurry, almost as if he was running away. Sirius wasn’t sure. Had he said something wrong?

“Goodnight, Rem!”

But the young man turned around before closing the door, and he offered Sirius a little wave. So, as Sirius waved back at him with an amused smile, he reckoned it wasn’t too bad.

Remus was cute. Annoyingly so. Really, really cute…

Sirius lifted his cigarette to his lips once more, took a long inhale, staring at Remus’s door. When he released the smoke trapped in his lungs, he did so in a sigh, before turning on his heels and heading home.

This was just a crush. Anyway, Remus was so…

He was too good. Remus was too good for someone like him.

Better think that this was just a crush then, just a silly crush. It would pass, eventually.

*********************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @unofficial-jaytodd-wife

20 notes · View notes