dumbshow | highly new, slightly improved open post

highly new, slightly improved open post

assorted morons

optional prompts/ideas

☆ caught in the rain meme
☆ little steps meme
☆ affectionate physical contact meme
☆ picture prompt also acceptable but link them so it's tidy
☆ AU ideas: soulmates AU, reincarnation AU, Bad End AU, canon divergent/roleswap AU, dorky college AU, crossover AU, super indulgent high fantasy AU
☆ melodrama is ultimate tier
★ SHIPPING AND FUCC:
☆ non-fluffy relationship types I'm down for: codependent, master/servant power imbalance type ships, "we're bad for each other but worse for anyone else," other things I am failing to think of tbh
☆ things I am not into: noncon (includes "dubcon"), incest, tsundere shit if your tsundere is just verbally abusive, gratuitous torture porn, you'll probably have to ask me about harder kinks and they will vary by character
☆ I don't have a kink list so pitch me an idea if u thirsty
☆ if you would prefer a locked post I can also make that happen

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[Boy... Reim gives him a look while he dusts off... like, all of him; who knew riding down dirt roads all day would be this dusty. This is the worst. Still, Arthur knows what he means and so now he's just being sassy, is that it? Is that Reim's terrible fate?

Whatever! He doesn't complain beyond his stern look, but he will go over to this pile and pick up his bag... to put it back on the ground next to the pile. He'll accept - sadly, but he will - dust on everything he owns, but not having his things crushed by... bedrolls. Or whatever one takes with them to go camping. Reim has never done this before.

Speaking of things he's never done before,] I'm getting the impression you don't take me very seriously.

[Grim... he can pick up sticks. Uh, in theory. He doesn't even dignify this second sass with a "yes, sure," he just looks in a few directions before picking one and marching off to get... sticks. The learning experience is that he hates camping, but since he already guessed that, there really isn't anything to learn.

But look, he agreed to more or less do what Arthur tells him, and he's doing it! He even has the sense to not wander down the side of the road looking for sticks, even if the amount of people out and about has dwindled since midday. Reim and the sticks will be back soon, please do all of the other campsite labor without him.]

[Is silence the best way to respond to that? Probably not, especially when it's paired with a pointed look, but—well. Arthur is sure that Reim is very, very good at pushing papers, and delivering orders, and doing who knows what else inside a plush, comfortable office, but it's an entirely different world out here! Arthur knows what he's dealing with!

And because he knows what he's dealing with, Arthur will indeed set up their entire camp while Reim is, like, puttering about the underbrush. There's nothing fancy about this camp; it's just, you know, a small canvas tent, a single bedroll, and one carefully cleared spot for the firewood. Welcome to rough livin', Reim. It's grand. At least there is one (1) tin coffeepot sitting out in the open, because that is the one (1) luxury Arthur refuses to go without.

Anyway, catch Arthur sitting beside that cleared spot, sharpening a few sticks as he waits for Reim's triumphant return. That fishing rod of his is out now, resting atop the one cooking pot he has, so... hmm! Whatever is the plan here!]

Well, look who's back. [He could make a joke about how long it took! He could say something about how he, like, almost rounded up a search party, but he doesn't; instead, he just sort of... points at Reim with one of those sticks he's working on. Hi. Hello.] You ever been fishin', Reim? Ever looked your dinner in the eye before it wound up on your plate?

[Has he ever had to work for his food... you know, that's a good question! Not the real reason Arthur wants to take Reim down to sit by the river for a spell, but hey...]

[Reim has half a mind to dump his armful of sticks right over Arthur's head, when he's immediately sassed upon returning. Please! It's been a very long day and he doesn't deserve this treatment!! But again, all he does is look at Arthur blandly, like he's just unimpressed... truthfully, he's exhausted, and dusty, and he had to pick up sticks, and he would love to have a sip of water for dinner and call it a night.

But no, that's not happening, so he sets the firewood down in what he assumes is the firewood spot, looking down at Arthur and not sitting. If he sits, he can tell, he's going to be told to get up and go somewhere else. Somehow he just knows. It's a gift, and not Arthur being transparent at all.]

No and no, I'm afraid. I'm not going to faint at the sight of animal blood, if that's what you're worried about. It's so kind of you to ask.

[GAZE... Anyway, what's next, just tell him. Spoil his dreams of going to bed right now, he can take it.]

[Arthur holds up his hands, palms out, trying to look as guileless as a man possibly can when he's holding both a pointy stick and a sharp knife. Reim? Please.]

Now, there ain't no need to be so damn defensive, [he says, like the thought of Reim passing out after watching him gut one (1) fish didn't cross his mind at all. He deserved this read? He definitely deserved this read, which is why he looks more amused than anything. Called out by this twig! Damn!] It was just a simple question.

[Or, well—two simple questions, but please, cut him this much slack as he slowly lowers his hands and pushes himself to his feet. God damn, but he's getting old? He used to be able to ride for days on end without any problems; now he has to pop his back yet again, uttering a colorful curse under his breath before he bends back down to swiftly swoop up the necessary supplies. Everything but the fishing rod goes into the pot! Efficiency!]

See, I was just thinkin' you could use a bit of, uh... well, maybe not rest, since I think you got enough of that. [He is just! Saying! Amiably enough, too, as he holds out the fishing pole for Reim to take.] Relaxation, though? I guess you could use some of that, and that's what fishin' is all about.

[Arthur is a simple, outdoorsy man with simple, outdoorsy hobbies. This is him trying to be... considerate of Reim's, uh, terrible horrible, no good, very bad day, all while ensuring they have something to eat for dinner. Fish with him!]

[Hmm!! A simple question indeed. Reim watches him get up, still frowning slightly - he'll be as prickly and uptight as he likes, on this particular day in his life, thank you very much Arthur, but— the offer to go fishing does actually seem genuine. Reim's thoughts ping-pong uselessly back and forth: he doesn't, uh, want to go fishing? Nor does he want to sit at this campsite alone and wonder if every snapping twig is someone coming after him. But at the same time, Arthur has been taunting him...

He sighs, eventually, rubbing at his temples and looking forlornly at the fishing rod. Here's an idea: Arthur catches the fish, and Reim watches. It is a very long look.

But he knows when he's defeated, and when ridiculous cowboys who are more or less in control of how much he gets to eat tonight, that seems like one of those times. He tells himself, at least Arthur is trying to be friendly, and he takes the fishing rod.

uggghh]

Oh, alright. Well, shall we...?

[But if Arthur is the one catching the fish, he won't have any time to draw? Or: It's been a long, hard day for them both, but Arthur patiently—well, stubbornly—continues holding that fishing rod out there until Reim finally decides to take it. Arthur is the one who's going to enjoy, like, a solid two hours of sleep tonight, at best, which is why he's determined to kick back and do as little as possible by the river.

Now, though? Now he's free to give an exaggerated sort of half bow, because good Lord, Reim!]

Oh, we shall.

[All of that thinking over one of the best parts of being out in the wilderness! But Arthur is, above all else, trying to be considerate, which is why he only shakes his head a bit as he turns to head toward the river. He'll even stick to a nice, easy pace as he scans for the perfect fishing spot, all in the hopes that Reim will catch right up on his own; it's why he just, you know, keeps on talking.]

It ain't like it's hard, if that's what you were worryin' about. And you ain't the first person I've had to teach. [A beat as he considers this, actually, before he adds:] The other one was a helluva lot younger, mind you, but I guess that don't matter. Much.

[A five-year-old boy, a fancy rich man... hmm. There are some definite similarities, so hey! He's qualified!]

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highly new, slightly improved open post

drops this thread

ouch... my achy breaky heart

i hate this

i will spare you... for now

thanks.....that's merciful

no subject