#growing pp

[vamphorica]

mattmello week vii: nothing bad ever happened au

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: Death Note (Anime & Manga)

Relationship: Matt | Mail Jeevas/Mello | Mihael Keehl

Characters: Matt | Mail Jeevas, Mello | Mihael Keehl

Additional Tags: Happy Ending, Wammy's House (Death Note), Separations, Foster Care, Gang Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Growing Up, Reunions, Kissing, Not Canon Compliant

Word Count: 3,127

Series: Part 7 of MattMello Week 2024 | @mattmelloweek

Summary: After the closure of the infamous Wammy's House in 2003, Matt and Mello navigate a life without the pressure of successorship.

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“Congratulations on making it onto the New York Times Bestseller list, Mihael! Selling fifty-thousand copies for a debut novel is practically unheard of, I guess you really must be a genius.”

Mihael was already regretting agreeing to this publicity event that his manager had arranged, a book signing that took place only a week after the debacle that was his launch party. From what he was told, everyone had loved it, but he had not signed up for these repetitive self congratulatory occasions which felt less like an excuse for him to talk about his book, and instead an opportunity for orbiters in the industry to get drunk and engage in underhanded remarks to one another. It was impressive how creative these people could be in turning a benign compliment into a boasting competition within a matter of a few words. If he was not subject to its influence, Mihael would be somewhat amused.

Now, sitting at a small table, a long queue stood before him with people holding hardback copies of his first novel to their chest in anticipation. He had written it under the letter M, but his publishers had managed to miss the memorandum that Mihael requested anonymity due to the nature of his identity, and it was excitedly disclosed that the new book taking the world by storm was written by none other than a former Wammy’s boy. It was too good of an opportunity to avoid capitalising on, and thus followed lengthy reviews in various broadsheets about how the narrative would have most certainly been informed by the trauma inflicted on a young Keehl. The reader can sense the lingering pain of the author’s tragedy through his protagonist, and it serves as a harrowing reminder of how we as a society must take responsibility for our gifted youths.

Wammy’s House closed down in 2003, after a lengthy legal battle between social services and Interpol over the actual necessity for an L successor, at risk of harming the wellbeing of the children who resided at the orphanage. After the courts ruled that the House’s practices were technically abusive, all fourteen boys and girls were quickly relocated into foster care homes across the country. It was believed at the time that many of these prodigies had been so isolated from one another within the House that there was no real concern in separating them from one another – for the most part, many were young enough to forget their aliases and grow up into well-adjusted members of society as anticipated, the pressure of successorship a burden they were no longer required to withstand.

Many, but certainly not all.

As one of the oldest, Mihael struggled to hear himself being referred to by his real name, spoken by strangers in suits who would smile widely and slowly explain to him that he would be placed in a home with many new friends waiting to meet him. Even at the time, he had little expectation that moving from one house full of orphans to another would provide any respite, other than the fact that he lost his sense of purpose almost immediately. His whole identity revolved around the need to fight for his position as L's successor, and at a time in which the detective had yet to choose between himself and Near, having his singular ambition torn away from him by people who simply didn’t understand the culture at the House broke him. He dropped out of the local state school at sixteen soon after completing his exams. Despite his results being ridiculously good, a promising future in academia often projected by his teachers, he had no interest in pursuing further education. What was the point? There was no goal anymore, his life’s purpose was completely unfulfilled.

It was only a matter of months before he had found himself caught up in gangs, selling drugs and adopting the habit of carrying a blade whenever he stalked the streets at night. During those years Mihael – or Mello, as chose to reclaim – took solace in the few quiet moments he was afforded to write in a scrappy notebook that he had managed to hold on to from Wammy’s. It was nothing special, a throwaway birthday present from a friend who he still thought about too often, but upon being caught by police for the fourth time, it was taken away from him. Without it, he had nothing left from that time in his life, and despite everything he had gone through as a child, such a thought that he could lose that part of himself sent him into a panic.

“Your writing is brilliant.” His court appointed lawyer had told him as he flicked through the pages in front of the eighteen year old, “You’re wasting yourself with all this shit, you know? Practically begging for Kira to catch up with you, is that really what you want?” He sighed, passing the notebook back to Mello who snatched it eagerly, “Listen. I’ll get you in touch with a friend I know on the condition that you stay out of trouble, got it? I know you’ve been through a fair amount of crap in your life, but it really isn't an excuse to have become involved with the people you consider acquaintances now.”

Apprehensive at first, Mello did not understand what motivation someone might have to offer such an incentive. Perhaps the publicity surrounding the Wammy’s House scandal had given those in positions of authority an unfounded obligation of charitability to extend towards these traumatised orphans. Mello was smart enough to know he ought to take an opportunity when it presented itself, as undeserved as it might be.

Within a matter of a year, he had his work published to unprecedented success.

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“Name?” Two hours had passed already and Mihael had given up with the facade of smiling at every person who emerged in front of him, ready to gush about his book, or ask questions that he had either answered several hundred times in interviews and panels. Sometimes, they were too invasive about his “terrible past”. Was he abused, beaten up, sexually assaulted? Did they torture children who failed exams? Did he meet L, and was he as evil as the tabloids made him out to be? His face ached as he scribbled ‘M’ over and over again, until the letter resembled little more to him than a wonky line of no distinct meaning or connection to himself. He kept his head lowered as another fresh copy of his book slid across the table towards him. He opened the front cover, and his pen hovered above the title page.

“Matt.”

No way. Matt was such a common name that when Mihael looked up, he expected a stranger to be staring back at him with a dopey smile and a remark about how the book really affected him. Instead, a lanky red haired teenager wearing a replica of the striped shirt he was so fond of as a child grinned, a slight colour tinting his cheeks.

“Found you, Mello.”

“Fuck, Matt… Wait, give me a moment.” Mihael scrambled up from his chair, alerting his manager who quickly appeared by his side, “I need a break – ten minutes?”

“Mihael, you still have a couple of hundred people waiting.”

“I can see that, Andrew, I need ten minutes and I will be back, okay?” In another world, he would have enjoyed the ability to order people around in such a manner, but such opportunities were rare to him in this line of work. Regardless, Andrew sighed and began telling those who had congregated to please wait for author Mihael Keehl to take a quick break. Yes, he will be more than excited to continue signing books once he has returned which, as a reminder, must be purchased from the tills over there.

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“You’re becoming quite the celebrity, aren’t you, Mihael?” Matt teased gently as he lit up a cigarette. They had managed to find a small space just behind the back of the bookstore, where Mihael silently inspected every slight change his childhood best friend had undergone in the past five years. He was taller, of course, and the manner in which he spoke was significantly more relaxed, deeper than it had been the last time they spoke. Yet he still retained the familiarity of a boy who Mihael still said a prayer for every once in a while. “I’m surprised. I expected that you would lay low. No judgement – the book is really good.”

“You read it?”

“Of course I did. I was going to buy it anyway because I wanted that fucking sexy author’s photo they published on the sleeve, but yeah, I actually read it as well. Was it inspired by the House then?”

Mihael folded his arms across his chest and averted his gaze towards his feet. There was something surreal about meeting Matt again like this. He was happy to see him, no question about it, but there was a weight in his chest he couldn’t quite shift. With Matt came memories unfolding and spilling out that he had subconsciously repressed, feelings of inadequacy and anxiety, but so too surfaced the reminders of comfort that Matt had provided in those moments.

“I suppose so.”

A silence descended between the two as Matt took a long drag, smoke unfurling from between his lips. Was this a new habit of his, or had he picked it up soon after the two were separated? Mihael had experimented with all sorts of things to try and block the feeling of perpetual emptiness in those first few months after the move, only progressing onto the harder stuff as he grew older, more weary of the world around him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Matt developing the same bad habits. Mihael looked up.

“What do you do now, anyway?”

“Nothing exciting – IT consultancy. A few big companies like the idea of having a Wammy’s kid on their rota, but none of it is exactly complex stuff. I get my kicks from doing other shit.” Mihael was not about to interrogate Matt about what he meant by that, but he could imagine the redhead getting bored easily with something so goddamn corporate. It felt like it went against everything the two had grown up anticipating for themselves.

As if reading his mind, Matt continued, “I miss the House, in a weird way. I think while I was reading your book, I realised that, as fucked up as it was, there was a structure to it, you know? We were there for a reason.”

Mihael nodded, “Yeah, we were.”

“I missed you.”

“Same, Matt.”

It felt so natural to be back in one another’s arms again, clinging on as the world compressed to nothing but the heat and smell of each other. Mihael wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever, to make up for the lost years by exploring Matt, examining the man he had developed into so that he could adapt himself to his body once again. He kissed Matt’s neck and felt his hand rub his back in response. I’m here now.

“Mihael! We need you back now!”

“I’ll see you later, Mello, okay?” Matt gently eased himself out of the other’s grip, smiling at him, “You still need to sign my book after all. I paid a good fifteen quid for the hardback copy.”

Mihael smiled – hearing himself being called Mello felt right, even if he could never truly go back to being that boy again. He brushed his fingers through Matt’s hair, away from his goggles, and slipped through the side door back into the bookstore. He could manage a few more hours of this, he told himself.

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Matt had been moved to a small foster home in Northern Ireland, and had only settled down in London within the past year. His flat was rather large, to Mihael’s surprise, but when Matt disclosed how much money he earned from his legitimate endeavours alone, Mihael understood how he could afford living somewhere a little more spacious. It was probably just as well given how much shit he had managed to hoard.

“Make yourself at home.” Matt began busying himself with cleaning away loose wires and crisp packets hurriedly, taking Mihael back in time to their shared room at the House. He was not overly tidy himself, but kept his possessions relatively organised compared to Matt, whose clothes and consoles always had a habit of encroaching on his space anyway. At the time, he would moan about it, tossing Matt’s striped shirts back at him when he would stroll into the room. Now he was in the midst of the mess once again, Mihael suddenly did feel at home in a sense that he had not experienced for quite some time. He threw himself down on the sofa, a loud crinkling sound alerting him that the space was already occupied.

“Since when do you read newspapers?” He asked jokingly, pulling the page from beneath him. He glanced over it, and smiled, “Don’t tell me you’re fucking clipping my reviews, idiot.”

“Give me that.” Matt seized it away from him, “Well I have to frame it now that it's got Keehl’s arseprint on it, don’t I? How much would that go for on eBay?”

Mihael laughed and Matt sat down beside him, his hand tentatively resting on the other’s thigh. A small intimacy Mihael leant into. He had developed a strong disdain towards people touching him, tensing up as prospective foster parents would try to embrace him, knowing he would only be rejected yet again, or forcing himself to shake hands with men in suits who saw his writing as nothing more than a nice bonus to their massive bank balances. It was the punches, the slaps, that were Mihael’s only real opportunity to be touched in a manner he considered more genuine, from those who threatened him over drug deals and gang loyalty. Matt reminded him that people could want to place their hands on him gently, to make him feel good.

“I knew I’d find you again, eventually,” Matt said, “I was worried you wouldn't want anything to do with me, I don’t know. You were always destined for some kind of greatness, and I admired that about you.”

Mihael shook his head, “Don’t be ridiculous, Matt. You were on my mind every day, I wouldn’t have got to where I am now without you.” He tilted his face, angled just shy of Matt’s lips, “You have always been home to me.”

They kissed with the softness that lovesick teenagers engage in with one another for the first time. Mihael gently pushed Matt back sprawled atop of him while their hands ran across each other’s chests. As if there was still an inherent fear that they would be torn apart again, they traced each other to commit their features to memory. In another life, maybe their anxieties of separation would be valid, the early deaths of Wammy’s boys forever a haunting persistence in the back of their minds. Now, however, there was an experimental promise of stability. A life together that could be pursued. Whatever the headlines had made them out to be, abused prodigies whose collective trauma of their childhood would define them, they had the chance to defy it. They were a testament to their own survival.

“Call me Mello, again.”

“Mello?”

“Yeah.”

Matt hummed behind a wide smile. He cupped the blonde’s face between his hands, admiring those gorgeous blue eyes that now appeared alight with genuine promise of something better. A life worth living. They owed it to themselves to make the most of the future that presented itself to them, trusting in their ability to navigate it together. They had managed to get this far already.

“You are safe with me now, Mello.”

[spoopydeboop]

The Rise and Fall of a Midwest… *squints at notes* Symbiote???

I just know he’d love Chappell Roan.

I didn’t live the way I laid out the bubbles, so I’ll prob redo this. :]

But yeah! I watched Venom 2 recently (and then 1 again) and loved it — albeit not as much as the first. I find that I typically enjoy the original more, the sequel less, and then love the third when it comes to movies. I haven’t seen The Last Dance yet but I fear it will rip my heart out. : ‘)

I cannot stress how much I’ve always loved the idea of symbiotes and hosts and what-not — but the movie has made me appreciate Eddie Brock and Venom specifically sooo much.

Little weirdos. Absolute freaks. 🫶🏼

[marmsart]

[from the archives] every year i draw the mystery quartet for the parapines anniversary. i'm super happy there's a gf fandom resurgence right now because i'm thinking more about these guys and how happy they make me

[ratatatastic]

very important questions about the powerplay

post practise interview | 5.16.24 (x)

[nattawinlove-andmygaytea]

PP Krit ✌🖐 💝🎉

[p2ii]

LETS FUCKING GOOOO

[cherrysnax]

hope people chill out soon, your take was immaculate and actually the reason I followed you initially bc i am an adult who likes cartoons and little kid shows but also doesn't get in internet fights about them and thinks adults who do are... wild, for lack of a better term..

but!!! now I wanna know about your comic (???maybe its a comic not sure) that you've mentioned, I couldn't find a tag to search but do you mind sharing about it? tysm either way have a good one

hi nonnie!! first of all ty for the well wishes and compliments! i'm sure once all the jokes and the offense die down, people will be relatively normal again... i hope.. lets get into the meat of the ask under the cut

EDIT: this got long so if u just want the basic gist, go to the very end!

soooo my girlfriend @pokemonleague and i decided back in...2018? to make spidersonas due to our love of comics and the movie into the spiderverse, but since we're nerds that totally span out of control. it went from a fan rp with several spider-man themed characters to a completely original concept with new characters, our own setting, power system-- the works. it is about superheroes, so it might not be your thing. okay so first backstory stuff

it used to be called the phillyverse and if u go into the tag u might find some old art, but its all extremely outdated (and bad. im not the bessst artist). after some delegation we decided to start making it a comic (we spent YEARS debating it) and named the project around last year. its uh called Show Your Spine!

I'm the worst at describing things but we have like 3 whole seasons entirely plotted out so I can pull somethin like a pitch together: while the vigilantism is a core aspect, with the main overarching plot being a group of unlikely heroes, old and new banding together to stop their city from being overrun by the mob, supervillains, and other threats. it's really about finding love and community in a city at war and finding the strength to protect and nourish it. all the while unlearning all the shit the last generations have taught us, to stop us from perpetuating the cycle of hate... while also beating the shit outta some baddies

in short its abt cringe-fail women doing cringe-fail things lmaoo. its a like a superhero-action-soap opera taking place in the retro-futuristic city of Chesire Grove, new jersey.

in this world, there's people with powers called Augments, who are just like you and me but due to changes in their DNA due were born with the ability to manifest different abilities (think mutants or metahumans). the tension between augments and humans is a little.. high right now, but allegedly better than they've ever been before. It's a newish era of human-augment relations, for better or worse.

we have an ensemble cast, and we intend on taking the main characters from the ages of 16 to eventually 25. the characters are aging in real-time.

OKAY PLOT TIME: The first few arcs focus on a delinquent teenage girl, Leo, trying to find a cure for one of her best friends who has fallen ill after trying a new drug, by all means necessary. during her quest for it, she meets the elusive newer vigilante Spitfire, who had saved her once before. Despite a rocky start, the two start a mentor-mentee type thing, in hope that the other can help them find what they're looking for. For Leo, she's looking for info on the man who made the drug that's been killing people, desperate to make him reverse engineer it. For Spitfire, they're looking for Chesire Grove's longest-running protector: Nightingale, who has suddenly gone missing. Spitfire's a bit new in town but lucky for them, the kid knows the city like the back of their hand.

At the same time, a sheltered augment teen's life is changing, as her overly protective father has finally realized that keeping her inside wasn't protecting her at all. freshly enrolled in a school for STEM students, Bobbi (also known by his nickname Retro) has to learn how to navigate the world for the first time and solve the full mystery of her past, all while her powers are on the fritz.

there's so much to this world, and we're so excited to share it with everyone!! i tried to be pretty vague cause of spoilers, and like i said, bad with words

[1200flowers]

I had a dream where we got married. u proposed to me while we were lying on my childhood bed, my chin on your sternum, my lips pressing into the divot there over ur t-shirt. u were so nervous—eyes flicking, pulse racing next to my cheek and u began to talk and I knew and I was smiling so hard. u were so worried, so afraid of me the way I had been afraid of u the first time I told you I loved you n I kissed up your chest as u spoke, showing u my answer before I said it. I think we were both crying by the time I sat up on my knees between your legs n grabbed your wrists, put your hands on my cheeks n kissed u. it was a salty, sweet, beautiful kiss. we each invited seven people to the wedding. picked our guest lists while I was checking for eggs in my parents' chicken coop. it was sunny out n we were deciding we didn't want a huge thing. just wanted to get it done. it felt like the purest expression of our love, the way we chose everything right there—the flowers, my dress, the venue. we were older n grown up now n it didn't feel like a chore to marry u. there should've been more questions—in the dream, we hadn't even properly gotten back together. my parents should've been more wary. but in this dream, I had been saving a place in my heart for u, n everyone knew it. in this dream, I'd already forgiven you, or maybe I didn't have to in the first place. in this dream, it had only been a matter of time. in this dream, I was wearing a sundress, and holding ur hand on the cobblestone path at the side of my parent's house where my mother and I used to kneel to pull weeds.

oh god, we were so nervous.

I don't remember the part with the ceremony. I know we read our own vows n I know we were both horribly jittery. I could see ur hands shaking. it was so terrifying, so vulnerable, even with our small audience and the simple dress and the promise on my finger; a thin gold band, a little round diamond.

I know it's silly, you said, but I was so scared. like I was terrified you would reject me, or something. it made me feel far away from you, as if we were new, as if we didn't yet tell each other everything, trust each other so intimately. I didn't like that feeling. do u feel it now? I asked. no, you said, and oh god, your smile. it split ur face wide open. no. all I feel now is love. and it was horribly cheesy but it was true. we were drowning in it right there at that little table. I was horrifically happy. and I felt so beautiful—I've never felt so beautiful in my life. it's one detail I keep coming back to. the photographer clicking away at the altar, then swooping by that little café table where we sat now, and I just knew I was beautiful. sun-gold curls and all. that confidence, that pure happiness, that feeling of your thumb smoothing over the back of my hand—such a pure joy, such a comfortable love. I've never felt anything like it.

This is the love I wish you'd given me, m.q.a.

[wolf-skins]

online leftists are some of the dumbest motherfuckers alive

[morethanghosts]

You know in the end I think Ted did what we wanted despite what other people wanted. Not that he wanted to leave AFC Richmond. But he wanted to be there for his son and watch him grow up.

Leaving Henry was never what he wanted. He just gave Michelle space like she asked. Rebecca’s offer was convenient. And when Ted went back to Henry, he was doing what he wanted despite what Rebecca asked.

That’s his journey.

And I think the only reason Ted wasn’t shown in any of the flash forwards was because they didn’t want to show him outside of coming home to his son (because Henry is his future and his happy ending) and didn’t want to imply that he returned to Richmond later. I’m sure he stayed in contact with them all. He FaceTimes and calls them the same way he did with Henry. We can move away from family without giving them up

[autism-corner]

=3=

[gnc-tits]

going to ramble rq but i think it is so corny and useless to be like “we’re exposed to more information nowadays than ever before in human history!!!!!! this is why you need to take care of your mental health and monitor your social media use” or whatever and then give no example of how to actually do that. because yes we’re exposed to more info/news every day than our ancestors but. that isnt going to change like the internet is not going away. and if you just tell people “monitor your social media use!!!” its like. sooooooo many people take that as an excuse to put their fingers in their ears and block out anything “negative” instead of learning how to take in that information, process it, and move on with their day while carrying that information in a constructive manner. like. its a good thing that people are more aware of whats happening in the world. its a good thing and regardless it isnt going away so like you need to learn how to deal with it in a way that isnt just blocking out what you dont like or going the other way and doom scrolling to the point of giving yourself panic attacks. like you need to find a good middle ground idk

[nattawinlove-andmygaytea]

Since 30 April 1999 ❤

[steampunkedparm]

It's so ironic that the candle burning right now is citronella based

such a specific smell for such specific memories

sharing drinks in a place i hoped to in two years home

9 weeks of being able to faintly taste mike and orange cream

both bitter because it's not home

not-home housing an adoringly familiar face

it couldn't have gone to anyone better

i miss Home.

friday Saturday sunday off,

it feels like the universe is mocking me

friday night shower

an unknowing routine achingly familair

there is a hole

partially filled

because there is still fondess

there is still promise of tomorrows and soon to be's

but fuck.

i miss Home.

i miss sleepy sunday mornings amongst too big spiders and rocky wooden flooring

i miss the cheerful greetings and smell of dew

i miss the sticky heat that made your 3 layers stick

i miss the need to cry in the back because it's all too much too fast

inmiss the chatter

the drunks

the merriment and love

i miss the dead and the living melding between worlds with the twist of the faes hand

i miss the 4 way agreement of potatoes

i miss the sickly sweet tang of teriyaki meat

i miss the smell of my sisters perfume and the twirl of her skirts

i miss the robberies and hijinks galore

i miss the genuine fondess of neighbors next door or across the way

i miss the rainy days and ducks

i miss Home.

[fadedsyzygy]

am I masking? I don't think its right to self diagnose these kinds of things, but sometimes I don't feel like I'm myself when I'm with other people, and I wonder why