#i know that sounds SO pretentious (and honestly maybe i *am*) but so many people complain about ‘old’ movies

[inkykeiji]

okai so i wasn’t able to convince everyone to watch night of the living dead but i was able to convince (mostly) everyone to watch black christmas :3

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @fandomlover1992! FandomLover1992 has 7 works in the Stranger Things fandom, and all of them are in the steddie tag.

@kaypie91 or anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @fandomlover1992:

Hello My Old Heart

Nothing Sweeter Than My Baby

A Rage That Never Wavers

Chained Up Fire

Finding Krampus

"I love her story lines so much! It never fails, once I get an email that one of her fics have updated I drop everything and RUN to ao3. Her fics really make you feel the feels." -- @kaypie91

Below the cut, @fandomlover1992 answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Honestly, when I first started getting obsessed with Steddie, I wanted to read a very specific AU. I loved the plotline of season 4 but I was literally distraught by Eddie dying LOL! And I was like he doesn't have to be dead in an AU. He can live happily in an AU with Steve 😍😍😍

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love enemies to lovers. It is just such an amazing journey to see two characters go from one extreme to the other. To go from completely loathing someone to 'I'll kill for you.' The journey can be comedic but also humbling as the characters have to be able to say 'maybe I was wrong about you.'

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I love, love, love soul-mate AUs. Particularly ones where they know it the moment they see each other. It just makes me feel so warm and fuzzy when someone goes, "Yes, this is the one. I don't need to look any further this idiot is mine and I'll love him and wrap him up in a blanket and feed him."

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Oh Goddess there are so many. Honestly the fic that I am constantly astounded by and just re-read all the time is Hic Sunt Dracones by Just-My-Latest-Hyperfixation. I am just so floored by the level of passion and imagery and masterful storytelling.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I love reading a slow burn Enemies to Lovers but I feel I'm too impatient to write it. I'll be like chapter 1 going good, they hate each other and….boom chapter 2 they're in love and married. So, I really want to challenge myself to be patient and let the plot flow nice and slow.

What is your writing process like?

So, it's extremely chaotic but I love it. A lot of times I won’t necessarily have a story or plotline at first, but I will just have a scene in my mind. So I will write that scene and then reverse engineer the story to that scene and that's how I create the plot. For example in Nothing Sweeter Then My Baby, it was the scene where Eddie finds Steve at the bakery and he knows that Steve is his soulmate, but Steve is denying it and is so scared to be discovered. So, I had to be like ok why is Steve hiding? Why is he running? Why is Eddie so desperately looking?

Do you have any writing quirks?

Yes, when I start a story it is so chaotic. Cause I never ever start at the beginning. I will write like two scenes that are not in any shape related, then a single line will pop in my head and I'll write that but I won't finish it and I'll just start writing another one and next thing I know I have 5k of gibberish.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

When I finish…or when I'm like ok I need to post people are starting I'm dead lol!

Which fic are you most proud of?

Honestly, not to sound pretentious but all of them. There was a time when I looked at a blank page and felt nothing but hopelessness that I could ever fill it, much less be able to write 10,000 words in one sitting. As weird as it sounds writing Steddie has given me the hope, the skills, and the drive to become a published writer someday

How did you get the idea for Hello My Old Heart?

So, I was reading Bad Beat by LexiRoseWrites and I just kept getting this idea about Eddie being so mad at Steve at the end, he just picked up and left town. And poor Steve is pregnant and alone. Lexi gave me her blessing to write it and I tagged her work as inspiration at the bottom.

When writing Hello My Old Heart, what was something you didn’t expect?

I didn't expect the plot to take me where it did. I had planned it just to be a heartfelt, angsty story but through workshopping some ideas I came up with the Brenner/pills plotline.

What inspired Nothing Sweeter Than My Baby?

I always loved the idea of soul-mate identifying marks and how that would affect real life. So, I thought it would be really cool to combine the idea with royalty core and draw out the dangers one might experience being the soul-mate of a very important and powerful person.

What was your favorite part to write from Finding Krampus?

The parts where Eddie makes Steve blush. I love that little cat and mouse games where they are both attracted to each other but are scared to make a real move so they just flirt and blush and giggle. I find it so sweet and exhilarating.

How do/did you feel writing A Rage That Never Wavers?

When I started, I was going through a very difficult time. When I'm overwhelmed or just so fucking done with everything and the people around me, I just want to be alone and self isolate. I felt like no matter what I said, or did or even wanted, everyone was attacking me. So, I came up with a scene of Steve alone in a cabin in the woods and he was just scared of everyone including Eddie. And so I reversed engineered, what if there was a magical reason this was happening and therefore a magical cure. Don't we all want that when we have anxiety and the world is pressing your chest and getting air feels like a battle. I am doing much, much better now and I am very determined to finish the story before Halloween.

What was the most difficult part of writing Chained Up Fire?

Honestly, it was probably one of the easiest stories to write. It just flowed out of me. Full disclosure I'm having trouble picking it up because I feel like it's original enough to publish, so who knows?

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

For Nothing Sweeter Then My Baby: "Eddie’s heart was slow, proud, heavy and belonging to Steve. And by everything that was holy and unholy in this world, he would deliver it to Steve at his feet."

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Yes, when I get all my WIPs done, I am going to start on a vampire/ABO/royaltycore fic that I'm too excited about.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

No, just that it seems silly but writing Steddie has legit changed my life and gave me hope again that I could be a professional writer. And I love the supportive community so much and I really, really hope that it stays strong even past the series finally.

Thank you to our author, @fandomlover1992, and our nominator, @kaypie91! See more of FandomLover1992's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[halsteadlover]

Just a little rant here about my personal life so feel free to skip lol

I know nobody is gonna read this and I’ll probably delete this when I’ll come to my senses but right now I feel so depressed I just need to get this out of my chest. I always felt tumblr like a safe space so here I am.

I don’t know if you remember the times where I took some time off because of anxiety and my mental health.

Lately it feels like it’s getting worse and I really don’t know what to do, I don’t know if many of you will relate (I really hope not) but it’s just like I don’t know how to be happy and I really hate it here man. I’m so tired of feeling like this, always worrying and having anxiety about something I don’t even know about. I feel so crazy sometimes you know? Like there’s nothing wrong with me, I’m honestly so grateful for the things god gave me. I’m healthy, I have a loving family (even if sometimes they’re overbearing to the point of crazy), I get to study for my dream job, I have a bf that puts up with my ass, friends even if few of them, there’s nothing wrong there are so many worse things people go through and I don’t even have to right to rant about any of this. So why do I feel like I don’t deserve any of this?

I have such deep trust issues it’s ruining my life and relationships, I don’t know why. I hate myself and I sometimes think I don’t deserve to be loved, I’m not that speciale and I’m so damn insecure that every good thing that happens in my life I can’t help but think it’s gonna fade in a minute, that something bad might happen, that I’m so easily replaceable.

Sometimes I truly think that if I disappeared no one would notice or miss me, I thought about doing it but I’m so damn scared. I don’t know where this is coming from, maybe the bullying had something with it I don’t honestly know but I’m so tired of feeling like this.

Why can’t I just love me? Why can’t I enjoy a single good thing that happens to me? Why do I keep sabotage myself by thinking I don’t deserve any happiness and it’ll soon fade away?

For example, these last two days I took three different exams and even though I’m relieved I can’t help but think I’m such a failure, that my parents are so disappointed in me for taking so long to finish a degree I was supposed to finish years ago.

I had an anxiety attack yesterday morning while I was with my bf and I sobbed for hours while he held me but if you ask me what triggered it I wouldn’t know how to answer you.

Why am I like this? Why am I not normal?

It’s just a bit of everything and I honestly don’t know what to do.

But please don’t judge me. I’m aware these “problems” are nowhere serious like some others and I’m so sorry for being so dramatic it’s just… I don’t know guys, I just want to be happy, to feel loved without actually thinking about the worst.

Am I soo pretentious? Do I sound so ungrateful? Complaining about these things when I have everything some people unfortunately dream of? I don’t want to sound like that and I feel so guilty about having these thoughts.

I know you’ll think I’m an attention seeker, fishing for compliments or things like that, I’ve been told that before here and I’m so sorry if it seems that way but trust me it’s the opposite of that. I’m telling this here because I guess it’s easier behind the screen, when no one knows you and can really judge you, but I also thing you’ll judge me anyway but at least it was good for me to let this out.

If someone reads this I hope you won’t think of me any less, and if you’re feeling something like this too I’m so sorry and if you want to talk my inbox and DMs are ALWAYS open for you guys, I’m here even if it takes me some time to answer.

Sorry if something doesn’t make any sense, I didn’t even read this back I’m just cried my eyes out while writing this post and now I have a headache. At least I hope the sleeping will be good lmao.

But tomorrow will be better, I’m sure of this.

[aloneandunreal]

january 19, 23

3 months later and... she's back! i've thought about posting before this but either did not have the energy or did not think it was relevant enough to post (although most of the stuff i speak about on here isn't very relevant, anyway). but yeah. new year. 2023. i feel like the years keep going by and they are no longer starting to feel "real." i know that sounds dumb, but seriously. take a look at "2023" and tell me that sounds and looks like a real year. i don't know. ever since covid started, the years just haven't really felt like they used to. but maybe i'm just romanticizing it. i also am getting older, which is a hard pill to swallow. i know that sounds dramatic because i'm "only nineteen," but for whatever reason i feel so old. i can no longer really be a teenager or act like one because i am technically an adult. but i don't feel like one at all. i wish i did, but as always i am stuck in the past and don't want to grow up. reminiscing on my teenage years is so much easier than focusing on the future. it's not that i was doing much, or having a great time, and this is definitely rosy retrospection, but i felt like i had less adult responsibilities. turning twenty in 5 months makes everything feel so much more real. this is really my last few months of being a teen. i used to want to be around this age so bad when i was a teen, but it's quite honestly not all it's shaped out to be. i guess i always want what i don't have. and when i have something, i don't realize how much i'll miss it until it's gone. of course, i didn't peak in my teenage years. considering everything, i've been doing better mentally and socially while at college compared to high school, but as i said... it's more of a "i'm scared of being a real adult" thing.

not only that, but i also just feel that being a teenager after/during covid is not the same as it was before covid. if that makes sense. i always tell my mom i wish i was in college when she was. being in college now just isn't the same as it was 3-4 years ago. not that i would know, but just based on what i've seen and heard... nobody had the trauma of a 3+ year long pandemic. i also feel as if social media is a really big part of everyone's lives now. it always has been, but during covid, that was all we had. so now it's heavily used by... basically everyone. more specifically, tiktok. i feel like everyone cares about specific aesthetics rather than just being themselves. which i understand, sometimes i want to be a certain way, too, but i don't want to be put in a box. this is laughable to write out, but for example, coquette.

this is going to sound dumb, but covid changed so many things. people went into quarantine as young as 7th/8th grade and came out almost finished high school. it, along with dependence on social media and new trends etc, has really changed teenagers. they are so different compared to when i was a teen. which is of course expected, but it just makes me feel old. and it also makes me realize why some older folks complain about the younger generations (yes, even mine). we're annoying! to give one example that makes me especially annoyed, is concerts. concerts before covid were so different. this doesn't apply to all, but concerts used to feel like a little community. we all loved the same artist, and were seeing them live. but now, so many younger people just don't understand concert etiquette. that sounds really pretentious, but i can't help but think it. some artists i wish i had seen in concert before covid. because now it just won't be the same as it was. which is unfortunate. i'm sure this is worded very badly and i sound stupid and pompous, but nobody is looking at these posts or my blog so i don't really care. i keep telling myself this is my place to write my thoughts, knowing nobody will be seeing them but me. and i guess whoever on tumblr stumbles upon this account. ha.

nothing against teenagers nowadays. technically i still AM a teen. but it's just different. however, of course, as there is with all generations, there are similarities too. things that will never change no matter how many years go by. it's sort of comforting seeing it, if that makes any sense. it makes me have some hope. but not much. and of course, i'm a hypocrite talking about social media, tiktok, etc, because i use it. and have since i was very young. but i suppose this is just commentary on it as a whole, not necessarily a critique. i'm calling myself out, too. all i'm saying is that i wish things were more natural and organic; more carefree. people will say they're carefree but, truly, how can you be in this day and age? especially if you're between the ages of 18-25. social media can ruin lives and mental health. covid has impacted everyone on earth. making money and being able to survive is a huge worry. what about graduate school? the earth is dying. school loans, debt... the list goes on. of course some/all of these have always been issues, but i personally just don't think anyone can TRULY be carefree anymore.

i don't want to have to work my whole life to afford living. i want to enjoy life, have fun. it makes me wish i had done more with my teenage years. i still have time to "have fun" and "live my life", but soon i'll need to start worrying about grad school, jobs, internships, etc. i guess young me hadn't really thought about that.

i feel so melancholic thinking back on my younger self, what i was like, who i was friends with, experiences i had. of course, i've written about this before - it's a trend with me - but i can't help it. that's just who i am. i've even started looking back somewhat sentimentally on my senior year of high school, even though that was just two years ago. same with my freshman year of college. and, of course, way before that as well. i don't know why i do this. everyone's changing, including me, but i'm still semi-stuck in the past. i have one foot in adulthood, and one in teenagehood.

it's funny thinking about how i started this blog when i was sixteen, during covid, my junior year of high school that got cut short. how i was so afraid of turning seventeen, for whatever reason. well, guess what? you're turning twenty in 5 months. how's that make you feel, sixteen year old me? not great, i'm sure. i wish i could shake myself and tell her to stop being so afraid. but then again, in three or four years, i'm sure i'll be wanting to say the same thing to myself now.

i'm not totally unhappy/unsatisfied with my life at the moment, but i wouldn't say i'm doing great. if you couldn't tell with what i've been writing. i wish i wasn't so caught up in the past, so scared to move on. i wish i could just happily feel nostalgic about things instead of whatever... this is. i hate feeling a knot in my stomach thinking about old memories, both good and bad. still, it's a familiar sadness/nostalgia i've always had. but i just don't know how to let go of it. i want to be happy, have a happy, fun, fulfilling life. i want to be remembered and thought of fondly by others, and vice-versa. i want friends i'll have for a lifetime. but it feels impossible. i hope it's not.

i don't know what i have going for me; i don't know what's to come, and that is what scares me. i want to make the best of the time i have, but i can't when i'm so stuck in the past. like i've been my whole life. i can never live in the present. i'm either in the past or the future, almost never the present. i can't enjoy things normally. and, just as my teenage years, my 20s will be over at some point. i don't want to be 30+, looking back, and regretting all the time i've wasted. i'm scared of growing older, but i really just need to face the truth. there's no going back in time, and i'm not going to be young forever. but how? i still haven't fully learned, even after all of these years.

i guess that's all for now. a pretty anticlimactic way to end a journal, but it is what it is. i wonder if i'll ever have anything good to say on this blog, anything positive. i feel as if i only go on here to rant about nonsense and be sad. i don't think i've ever given a "happy" update. because, unfortunately, happiness is not easy to romanticize like sadness is. maybe one day i will. but for now, we're stuck with the sad, sentimental rants. these are supposed to be the best years of my life, but it doesn't fully feel like it.

while writing, i listened to:

playground love - air

bathroom girl - air

cemetery party - air

get free - lana del rey

bel air - lana del rey

in my head - bedroom

kids - MGMT

my kind of woman - mac demarco

[swirlysmile]

sooo i have this prompt if you like it: hangman x reader, she's a pilot too but jake finds out she forgot how to ride a bicycle (not like it just happened to me heheheh🥴), you can decide how it goes from there

honestly such a mood. i grew up in utah, hills galore so learning to ride a bike was so hard 🥲 thanks for the request, anon!

word count: 721

warnings; small mention of a wound

Scrapes

“You’re kidding me,” He says. His eyebrows are furrowed, tone dead serious. It would be a little bit threatening if it wasn’t coming from Hangman of all people. 

You’d insulted him, bruised his ego, far too many times to be intimidated by anything he does. 

“I wish I was,” You groan into the palm of your hands. You’re sitting with Hangman in the corner of the bar, and that beer you’re nursing looks far more appetizing than the conversation placed in front of you. 

“I didn’t even know that was possible.” He snickers, almost as if he’s ridiculing you. 

“Yeah, neither did I.” 

“How’d you even find out?” 

You wince, taking another long sip of your beer. Then, you stand to show him the gnarly scab forming on your mid thigh. 

“Fell.” 

He can’t hold back the hearty laugh that erupts from his throat, and any other time you would have been at least a little proud to make him laugh. 

“Don’t laugh, it’s embarrassing.”

“Exactly.” 

You sigh and take your seat again, glaring at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s still laughing at you, the pretentious dickhead. 

“If only I could have been there.” 

“You can ask Rooster. He’s got all of the inside details. It’s too upsetting for me to talk about,” You say, wiping fake tears. He laughs again, and it’s definitely an attractive sound. 

“I could teach you?” He asks, almost a little nervous. It sure snaps you out of your stupor. 

“You say that as if I don’t know how.”

“Yes, because someone who knows how to ride a bike falls in two seconds.” He’s taking another sip of beer and you’re tempted to get up and leave the Hard Deck.

“More like one and a half.” 

Somehow, he convinces you though. You’re sitting on a bike, sweaty hands gripping the handlebars. Both of your feet are on the ground because, fuck that. You’re not toppling over again. 

Your breathing is a little heavy, and Hangman is trying to “coax you out into the light,” as he’d say. Really though, he’s just torturing you.

“Remind me why I promised to let you do this?”

“I paid for all your beer. Now get going, sweetheart.” He grins, giving you a gentle nudge. You’re lucky that you are rooted to the driveway, or you would have fallen again.

“Are you trying to kill me!?” You shout, accusatory tone in tow. He’s shrugging it off, as if to say maybe I am. 

“I’ll be right there to catch you if you fall, darling.” 

“Yeah, because that’s so reassuring Hangman.” 

He knows you’re using his callsign as an insult, but honestly he couldn’t care less. He was just hoping to see an entertaining crash, make some flirty remark, and then have you go on your way. 

He finally manages to persuade you to go. His driveway is on a bit of a slant, so you're going downhill. 

He can’t help himself from laughing when you fall, but he “caught” you. You’re thinking that this is the most reliable Hangman has ever been. 

“That’s it, I’m a lost cause. I’ll never ride again.” 

“Try again, you’ll get it soon, gorgeous.” 

You scoff because, wow. He is laying it on thick, but also because he has too much faith in a girl who forgot how to ride a bike. 

You tell him as much, and he laughs, again. 

Then he has the bright idea of moving to the street. It’s a little bit flatter, probably easier to start on. 

“I’m right here. Good luck.” he calls.

He gives you, or the bike moreso, a little push the second you lift your feet to the pedals, and you’re praying you won’t fall down. 

You’re sure that if you could, without fear of being run over by any passing cars, you’d have your eyes closed. 

Then, in a split second, he’s running up to you to celebrate.

“You did it, you actually did it!” He says, helping you off the bike in a more graceful way. You can’t help but give him a hug.

“We should probably get out of the middle of the road.” You mumble into his shoulder.

“Yeah, probably.” but instead of going to move to the driveway, he moves to give you a kiss. 

“Good job, sunshine.” 

…

the devil works fast but swirly works faster 😉

[sevlgi]

c’est la vie teaser

requested: yes (many different requests put together)

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: a shit ton of angst, fluff ending

contents: band!au, (kind of) celebrities!au, rivals to lovers, guitarist!rosé, guitarist!y/n, they’re honestly so in love, featuring jennie, jisoo, lisa, twice’s mina, skz’s han + chan, bts’s jeongguk, nct’s johnny + jaehyun. READ THIS FOR BAND CONTEXT

warnings: mentions of smoking

synopsis: It’s been 8 years since your legendary rivalry with L0VES1CK’s Park Chaeyoung began, and yet, she doesn’t seem to hate you any less. But maybe, with the right turn of events, both of you will learn that the line between love and hate is far thinner than you think.

a/n: IF THIS FLOPS I AM GOING TO FUCKING DEACTIVATE /HJ

listen to: all my friends are turning blue by loren, you stupid bitch by girl in red, love me or leave me by day6, slump by stray kids

teaser word count: 1.3k

“It takes a stupid amount of effort to wake you up,” Chan sighs as he drags Chaeyoung forward by the elbow. Usually, the guitarist would protest a little more, but for once, she’s glad for her bandmates complete inability to go to sleep.

“So... why exactly are you waking me up at midnight? After exactly 15 minutes of sleep?” the girl groans, head lolling back. Chaeyoung hasn’t slept in 36 hours, solely sustained by energy gels, cigarettes, and Chan’s battery-acid coffee, and has absolutely no idea where her bandmate is dragging her to.

“... Johnny will explain it to you. You’ll probably take it better from him anyway,” Chan answers slowly.

She recognizes the creaking noise that she hears when Chan pushes open a door, though, and squints suspiciously. “Why are we back in the stadium? And why are you carrying our guitar?”

Now that her eyes are open, Chae can see the sweat beading on Chan’s temple as he carries both guitar cases on his left arm, dragging Chaeyoung along with his right, and she lunges to take her most prized possession from him. He dodges, and cajoles her, “Just let Johnny explain. Okay?”

She finds Mina, Jaehyun, and Lisa gathered below the stage with their manager Johnny and a stranger, a pretty albeit tired-looking woman smiling apologetically when she spots Chaeyoung. And on the stage sits four people who she’s avoided for a long time-- specifically, you right in the center, with your back turned to her as you explain something to your own bandmates. “What’s this about?”

“Chaeyoung! Hi, my name is Jisoo,” the woman introduces herself, holding her hands out in greeting. “I’m Bloodbath’s manager. We- well, the band- have a huge favor to ask of you guys.”

“Their instruments don’t work with the sound system,” Johnny intercepts. “And they want to know if they can borrow yours. One drum set, a bass, an electric guitar, and... four mics. Is that right?”

Jisoo nods vigorously, and pleads, “Just for today and tomorrow, then we’ll be out of your hair. We heard that the system here is bad, but not this bad. We’ll return everything in perfect condition, promise.”

Chaeyoung glances at the others. Mina shrugs and says, in that soft-spoken way of hers that won’t let anyone disappoint her, “We all said yes. It’s up to you.”

She’s almost about to say yes, when she feels a specific pair of eyes lingering on her. “No.”

The crushed look on Jisoo’s face almost makes her feel bad, as does the unsurprised twist of Jaehyun’s lips and the apologetic glance that Johnny casts. However, she hears from the stage, “What is your problem?”

“Excuse me?” Chaeyoung answers, switching her incredulous gaze to you, standing at the edge of the stage with your hands on your hips.

You gesture wildly at your bandmates, and exclaim, “You can’t just lend us these? We said we’d pay, and it’s not like we’re going to smash them! I swear, you Sydney College people are so pretentious, can you not be a little bit generous?”

“She knows your music school?” Lisa says dubiously.

The two of you say at the same time, with almost identical levels of anger, “We went to the same university.”

“And she,” Chaeyoung continues with a point in your general direction, “sabotaged my graduation performance.”

“I did not!” you yell. Someone places a hand on your shoulder, a heavily tattooed guy with a gentle expression that doesn’t match his intimidating appearance. You sigh. “I swear, I didn’t. And even if I did, that was five years ago. Just... pretend I’m not here, and lend us the stuff. Please.”

Chaeyoung opens her mouth to argue with you again, but realizes just how immature she seems. The only other boy on stage, a short kid with round cheeks and fluffy blue hair, looks so exhausted, and so does the girl pinching her eyebrows with the mic still in her hands. “Okay,” she finally says, and hears a quiet cheer from the tattooed guy. “But I want to stay for the rehearsal.”

You say, “What?!” at the same time as the guy says, “Yes! Yes, absolutely.”

The two of you exchange glances, Chaeyoung waiting with her arms crossed, until you roll your eyes and nod. “Thanks,” you mumble.

Mina pats Chae on the shoulder. “Hey. Don’t you need to sleep? You don’t even like their music, why are you staying for the rehearsal?”

“Minari. I love that guitar more than anything,” the Australian girl answers, with every ounce of seriousness in her body. “I’m not letting anything happen to it.”

“Suit yourself.” Contrary to Jaehyun’s dismissive tone, his eyes linger on Chaeyoung as he leaves, Chan following suit with a soft touch to her arm. Johnny stays to negotiate with Jisoo, the two of them trailing backstage, which leaves Chaeyoung to board the stage with her precious guitar in hand.

You don’t say anything as you take the case from her, with enough gentleness that she can’t say anything about it. “Is it tuned?” you ask without raising your head.

“Yes. Not a scratch,” Chaeyoung warns, watching you sling the faded canvas strap over your neck.

When you don’t respond, your members take it as their cue to introduce themselves. Tattoo guy raises his hand with a smile, already seated at Mina’s drum set. “I’m Jeongguk.”

“Jisung,” the guy holding Chan’s guitar says, tying his hair into a ridiculous bright blue ponytail. He looks a bit ridiculous in a giant sweatshirt and oversized guitar, platform sneakers disguising his height, but Chaeyoung passes on a comment.

The other girl smiles, eyes crinkling like a cat’s. “My name’s Jennie. Thanks for the equipment, by the way.”

“Sure.” Chaeyoung steps down and take a first-row seat. To your credit, you aren’t intimidated at all by her-- you take your position at the left of your diamond formation, strumming a few soft chords out of the guitar.

“Mic, one two,” Jennie says, and holds up a thumbs-up for Jisoo, who’s popped out to check on the equipment.

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but Chaeyoung jumps when you shred the first note, a screeching G flat kicking off the start of the song as Jeongguk starts. And oh, god, she’s never heard a song like this from her own equipment.

And Jennie’s shouting out a line that perfectly emphasizes the grit to her tone, the notes floating weightlessly over Chaeyoung’s head as Jisung plays a gorgeous series of bass notes that Chae wishes she thought of first.

You only sing when the chorus needs a little extra kick to it, but the pink-haired girl swears that she only hears your voice. It hasn’t changed much since all the times you rivaled each other in the school showcases, but your demeanor has-- you’re no longer shy, gripping onto your scratched blue guitar for dear life. Instead, you’ve come alive with the heavy strums of Chaeyoung’s guitar, your smile glittering brilliantly under the hot stage lights and your head bobbing with the beat in tune with Jeongguk’s.

The guitar barely seems like hers anymore-- the shiny black of it, so lovingly polished, matches with your leather boots, the shape of it perfectly fitted to your hands splayed over the strings.

She hates how raptly she pays attention, only waking up when the song ends and Jisung whoops loudly, hands held up in the air with a wide smile that shows all his teeth. “Let’s go!” Jeongguk yells too, hoisting his drumsticks up in victory.

The Australian girl hopes that the darkness of the audience is enough to cloak her as she gets up silently, taking the moment where you and Jennie’s backs are turned to talk with the two guys.

Your voice rings in her ears, and your smile aches in her heart.

[mercurytrinemoon]

On houses, house rulerships & how ya'll should stop associating them with signs + a rant on the meaning of the 8th house

This is one of those moments where I'm going to say (read: rant, so heads up, I may sound pretentious) that modern times keep distorting astrology. I’m talking about associating houses with signs/planets (aka the “12 letter alphabet”, briefly mentioned by William Lilly in the 17th century but ultimately it became a product of modern astrologers: first attempted by Alan Leo and decades later popularized and named by Zip Dobyns). Can we just... use a neuralyzer and make people forget that method? It's ingrained in people's minds because, seemingly, it's easier to learn that way - search astro basics in google and you'll see things like "9th house=Sagittarius=Jupiter". This compressed version of astrology seems more accessible and easily digestible for a casual reader and not many newbies try to even question that approach. But there's a reason reputable astrologers these days are trying to erase it from everyone's minds. Signs are traits, planets are vessels, houses are areas of life. Houses are a completely different thing + every person has their own chart with their own house rulers. You can't say Mars is the “natural” ruler of the 1st... well unless, of course, you're an Aries rising, then yeah, your 1st is ruled by Mars, 2nd by Venus and so on.

Sure, some houses share accidental similarities with planets that have been assigned to them by modern *cough*lazy*cought* approach. Example, the 3rd rules communication... oh and so does Mercury. But then again, Mercury has nothing to do with health, injuries, work - all things 6th house. 7th is relationships and 2nd is money & values... and it so happens that Venus shows our attitude towards these things. I would sometimes find myself loosely refer houses to planets, like “oh the 3rd mercurial house” just because SOME of them do fit with the characteristics... and because it's a language that is well-understood (I won't do that anymore). BUT even when I started learning astrology, I had a red light go on in my head when people would straight up go "Moon in Virgo or Moon in the 6th". It never made sense to me. These are completely different things. And I've seen some awesome astrologers who would state things like "oh Aquarius Sun is basically the same as Sun in the 11th", like nah, dude. Because why? Aquarius is the friendly type and the 11th rules friends? Because Aquarius is the big innovator and 11th stands for hopes and dreams? But Aquarius is also a rebel who's stiff in their beliefs. Aquarius is a weirdo, is the 11th house the house of weirdos? No. Aquarius likes to be independent and usually has issues with feeling of not belonging anywhere, while 11th rules communities. THAT'S CONTRADICTORY. Because they're not the same.

Want more examples? Having Venus in Aries is completely different than Venus in the 1st. What do people usually say about Venus in the 1st? That it makes the native charming, lovely, well-put together, with great manners, maybe beautiful, graceful, maybe a bit shallow. When in Aries? None of these characteristics fit, on top of that, it's in its detriment. Our poor gal Venus is uncomfortable and confused in Aries. She's like, "conquer? Swords? Selfishness? Obnoxiousness? Sparring? You're telling me to fight people? What am I doing here???" 

I think it most shows in the 8th house, which... *deep breath* has gone through so much (ironically since it rules transformation), like, there's a lot to unpack here. "tHe sCorPioNic HoUse": tell me in what way does Scorpio have to do with inheritance, death, taxes, other people's stuff? These are the og topics associated with the 8th house. And by the way, it doesn't have to be a material inheritance, because I saw people being confused by that. You can have your 10th house ruler in the 8th so maybe you'll inherit that job as a chairman in your father's corporation, along with its renowned name. Or your 6th house ruler is in the 8th so you'll inherit a genetic health condition from your parent. 

Now, modern astrology, as per usual, tried to turn it into something positive (and psychological because apparently according to modern notion, astrology can’t predict anything so it’s only psychological *eye roll*) and put its rose-colored glasses on it so they'll say things like: transformation or taboo topics - like okay, makes sense, it's an intense house after all. Like a near-death experience or a metaphorical death will be transformative and maybe hard to talk about. And Scorpios do have the tendency to go through drastic situations in their lives and to dig deep & not being afraid to uncover secrets and all that's unknown and scary for others. There you have it, some convergence. But still, Scorpio and the 8th house are two different things.

Then there's the topic of the 8th house and sex. Actually, side note, a quick history bit, the 2nd century astrologer, Vettius Valens saw sex in the 7th house - because that was the thing that happened after marriage - it represented two people coming together. In medieval times it then moved to 5th house of kids - because children-making requires intercourse, duh. Listen, I get that the 8th, as the follow-up to the 7th, is seen as joined resources; and joined everything, including bodies... or bodily fluids... (tmi?) after you get married or whatever. I don't think that makes sense in the modern times. I mean, go ahead if you want to associate the 8th with sex but after some time of studying astrology, I see it almost exclusively in the 5th as it's the house of pleasures. Simply. Besides, technically you can get yourself off and don’t need anyone else to assist you. My issue, again, comes from the root of the association with the 8th. Modern astrologers started linking 8th with Pluto and Scorpio in medical astrology rules reproductive system and so Scorpio is seen as the fReAky sEx dEMon blAh blaH (honestly, try asking Scorpios about their intimate life and they'll run for the hills abashed). So it turned out that 8th house is the "plutonian one" (I had a moment today wondering if it's plutonian or plutonic and idk anymore) so therefore it must rule sex. Well that logic doesn't make sense because everyone knows that the first and most important planet in the matters of sex is Mars but none of ya'll go and say "1st house is the house of sex because it's ruled by Aries". So no, houses are not the same as signs/planets.

12th house has a similar issue. This one has literally nothing to do with Pisces. Like, I feel bad for Pisces honestly, you guys don’t deserve being dumped into the 12th. It's a rather gloomy house and the most positive thing you could come up with it is being the house of imagination and intuition - because it rules the subconscious and partially your mind. And Pisces is usually characterized by those two. Or you could say that they're both kinda foggy in nature - 12th is the unattainable. But that is literally the closest you can get with them correlating. Other than that, 12th is hidden enemies, succlusion, illness (but mental or chronic, it's a bit different than 6th). There's nothing piscean about it really.

But I get it, open most of the astrology books and you'll see chapters called that way. Why? Because it's easier to publish something that's shorter aka simpler for the reader (actually that was one of Dobyns' reasoning behind spreading that approach). That’s why I said it’s lazy. And someone would argue that it’s easier to learn this way - because the information is compressed into 12 sections (signs) instead of 24 (signs+houses) or even more if you include delineations of every house ruled by each sign. Like, “well if I memorize the meaning of Cancer and Moon then automatically I’ll also memorize the 4th house”. But in fact, it’s so limiting in the long run and then forces you to unlearn what you have learnt, which is actually harder than taking the time and grasping the proper meaning right away. And again, with time it warps the meaning of everything.

Saying house=sign completely discredits the purpose of even having houses. And then on top of that it leads to people not understanding their own charts because they don't know the core meanings of the houses and instead look at them through the lens of signs. "I have planets in Gemini but I'm not that talkative and extroverted". Well okay, where are those planets? Are they in the 7th? Then maybe they're not talking about you but about people you come in contact with? Are they in the 4th? Well maybe it's your fam that has those qualities? The 11th? Are your friends like that? Houses are areas of your life, you can't say "Moon in the 3rd or Moon in Gemini" - Moon is "how", house is "where" - these are not the same things, even if they have a few traits in common. 

Ok, rant over, bye.

[maraudersftw]

If you're still doing the drabbles - 21. Don’t you know who I am? (Yeah, I just don’t care.) for anyone 🧡

Look at me, getting to these prompts after 60 years. Thank you for the ask! I went a little crazy with this one, but I hope you like it 🧡🧡

Insufferably Annoying

“Of course, the Minister has the right idea of it,” the woman babbled on, either appallingly unaware that she’d lost the attention of her audience, or just uncaring. “The Dementors are a necessary evil, given the state of affairs outside. Minchum understands how to implement difficult decisions despite their unsavoury nature. Mark my words; that man will bring about the reformations that our society gravely needs.”

“Hmm.” James took a sip of the expensive spiced mead sloshing around in his glass, eyes staring beyond the woman’s shoulder, obviously distracted. Around him, some notes of pretentious, uppity music floated through the room, mingling with the sounds of highfalutin conversations that were rather characteristic of Slug Club parties.

He hated Sirius for ditching him.

“But let’s not bore ourselves with such tedious political talks, Mr Potter,” continued Mrs MacFarlan, misinterpreting James’s distraction as disinterest. Though, to be fair, she wasn’t entirely wrong; he was disinterested. “My husband and I watched your latest match against Hufflepuff. Truly impressive performance there. Of course, there are many talented players in your year at Hogwarts, but Horace assures me you’re one of a kind…”

James had to quickly reign in the humourless snort that wanted to escape him; he knew very well that Slughorn only cared about him because of the Potter family name and nothing else. His firm conviction stemmed a lot from the fact that he was entirely rubbish at Potions and he certainly hadn’t done anything else to merit the favour Slughorn extended to him. While James knew he tended to be arrogant—and rightfully so—about most things in life, this was not one of them.

Similarly, he was under no delusion that the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Hamish MacFarlan, and his wife, Viola MacFarlan, had come to watch his match—a school match—for any reason other than the prestige they stood to gain from having him. Nothing would serve their department better during such times than adding another ruddy Pureblood name to it.

“He’s just exaggerating,” James said eventually, voice flat. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

That was a lie, but he’d rather eat a handful of Cockroach Clusters than simper at the woman like she’d clearly expected him to do. “I don’t think you should be throwing away all that talent carelessly, Mr Potter.”

But James had tuned her out, eyes latched onto the flash of red hair he’d caught at the end of the room. “I think I can decide that for myself,” he said. “You're wasting your time. Please excuse me, I just need to—”

“I beg your pardon?” her eyes widened with affront. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Yeah, I just don’t care,” James shrugged. “I’m sorry, Mrs MacFarlan, I’m just not interested in Quidditch professionally. I was, a few years back, but now—there are more important things in the world.”

“Like what?” she snapped.

“Like tedious politics,” he said pointedly. “Don’t get me wrong, Quidditch is great, but I know I can do more for the people I care about. I’ll be joining the Auror Department after Hogwarts.”

His eyes flicked away once more, and he spotted Lily near the exit, walking out briskly.

“I think you should reconsider—”

“Can’t. There’s no time,” he was already brushing past the woman. “Thank you for the offer. Goodnight.”

James didn’t wait to observe just how badly MacFarlan had taken his ill-mannered dismissal, for he was too busy making his way through the throng of students and out of Slughorn’s office. 

“Evans!” he called, voice echoing down the hallway. The sequins on her dark blue dress glimmered as she halted, sudden, surprised. James rushed up to catch up with her when she started walking again after a few seconds, slower. “Lily, wait!”

The back of her neck was flushed by the time he caught up. “What do you want, James?”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all day. Why have you been ignoring me?”

Green eyes flashed up to him, lashes curled, liner popping. His heart flipped over. “I’m not ignoring you; you’re ignoring me.”

“Um,” he frowned, speeding up so he could stand in front of her. They stopped walking, alone in a long corridor on the sixth floor. This close to her, James caught an intoxicating waft of her floral perfume. “Given the fact that I literally had to chase you down, you’ll find that I’m not.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Yes, because it’s convenient for you now.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” She shook her head. “I’m not ignoring you, alright? We’re fine.”

“Are we? Because you seem pretty pissed at me still.”

“I’m always pissed at you, James. You’re insufferably annoying.”

He cracked a smile for her effort. “Then let me live up to that image. Why were you ignoring me?” he repeated.

“I—” she swallowed her words, clearly spotting the stubbornness in his eyes, and pursed her lips. “We were just at a Slug Club party, yeah? Do you know what happens at those?”

James ran a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous thanks to her intense gaze. “Uh, we meet a bunch of people with sticks up their arses?”

“Wrong,” Lily said, stepping closer. One slender finger poked his chest. “We dance, we talk, we get drunk.”

He couldn’t breathe right. Her lips were so red. “Um, okay?”

“With our date,” she hissed, cheeks flushing despite the bite in her words. “A date that I didn’t have for tonight because I’d rejected everyone who’d asked.”

A beat passed, and he absorbed her words, found the meaning behind them. The hallway was suddenly brighter, the air warmer. James’s heart sung. “Why?” he breathed.

Lily made a frustrated noise at the back of her throat, leaning away. “Clearly, because I’m an idiot, that’s why!”

“No, no, hang on,” he grinned, pathetically gleeful as he pulled her back to him by the waist. “Are you saying that—that you wanted me to ask you to be my date, Evans? Is that what you’re saying?”

She tensed under his fingertips, skin hollowing between collarbones as she held a breath. “Maybe,” she exhaled. “Because I thought you would, but—”

“Are you saying,” James pressed, dipping his head closer to hers, “that you would rather go with me than any other bloke at Hogwarts?”

Lily’s eyes flicked to his lips, back to his face. “Check that ego, please.”

“Impossible,” he grinned.

“Why didn’t you ask?” she croaked when it became evident that he fully intended to close the space between them. “I felt like such a fool, hovering around you, waiting. I thought you were deliberately ignoring me.”

He paused, lips almost brushing against her mouth. “I honestly didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“Idiot.” Lily nudged his nose with hers, one hand on his cheek, one hand on his chest. “Insufferably annoying.”

James admitted that he certainly was; he didn’t let her up for air until their lungs were screaming.

[anonil88]

Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

[pridewhatpride]

do you have any gx rivalshipping hcs!! im super curious on your take of them :]

When I saw this ask my immediate reaction was thinking: "Yes, I have an excuse to talk about gx rivalshipping, YES."

So yeah. I love this ship a lot, like a whole damn lot and it's a little hard to explain why, especially when gx has so many open possibilities for romances involving Judai. By which I mean two, really, and Manjoume is not one of them (sadly for me). I am referring to Yubel and Johan, by the way, I refuse to acknowledge Asuka as a love interest.

I'll start off with a bit of fluff headcanons?

Manjoume thinks Winged Kuriboh is really cute and that its friendly and fluffy appearance screams Judai, in a way. But he will never admit it because of what that might imply for him and the Ojamas.

Manjoume is fueled by caffeine and monster, he only really starts to recognise how nice it can be to have a meal because of how much Judai enjoys his food. He tries to sit at the table with him with dumb excuses.

Judai feels a bit guilty for how his actions impacted Manjoume's life, but Manjoume generally tells him that it's fine, it's better this way, that he's never this happy, that the only reason why Judai should maybe feel bad about it is because of his tendency to get overly invested in other people's problems and getting hurt in the process. Judai responds with bear hugs.

Manjoume brags about Judai a lot, actually. "Oh you think that's cool? One time Judai managed to do a backflip, you loser." "Slifer reds suck, but they do have redeeming qualities, by which I mean one of them is actually good."

Judai likes to indulge himself in the thought that he's Manjoume's most trusted, that he's the only one who could ever be allowed to have that many incriminating pictures of him. Because Judai just loves taking candid pictures of Manjoume. He thinks he looks and and cool in every situation, so yeah. A part of him does it because he has an inexplicable fear of forgetting people and the way they look, but he just can't say why that is.

They hang out in silence a lot, but once they start talking they just never stop. You'll find them on the beach at 3 am with a smiling Manjoume listening to Judai go on about how crazy it is that you can fry food in so many different ways and how he once caught a butterfly as a kid and named it Kujaku.

They share their music a lot, so Manjoume's tastes switch from just emo to fast paced rap and the weirdly happy sounding songs about very morbid things Judai listens to (plus emo). Judai starts to enjoy a bit of angry screaming into microphones thanks to Jun. Do they sing along like idiots as they share earphones? Yes. Is Manjoume mesmerised by Judai's singing voice? Also yes.

Judai loves hiking and sometimes invites Manjoume, but because he's a lot weaker and has less stamina, they take it slow. Manjoume keeps cursing himself for being slow and dead weight, but Judai is just happy to have a companion. Admittedly, going slower makes the walks better as he has the time to enjoy the scenery properly. He never teases Jun about his lack of physical training.

Now... I wanted to talk about my general view on the ship, plus headcanons I guess, but this is going to be EVEN LONGER (you are getting more than you asked for, your fault for enabling me, really). For the sake of the sanity of mobile users, I'm adding a cut so nobody has to unwillingly scroll through endless text.

On to the the juice, then. My thoughts on the ship. Manjoume and Judai are, of course, the rivals of the series and, if my thoughts on rivalry weren't clear enough, I am one of those people. It's just really romantic to me. What is very interesting about the two of them specifically is that they are polar opposites in the way the reason why they play, throughout the whole series. Hell, their views end up getting reversed completely: Manjoume goes from "if I don't win I'm gonna have a breakdown breakdown" to "losing is ok, as long as I enjoy the game and am true to myself", while Judai does the 180 from "I really just love playing cards with my friends, who cares about the outcome, it's fun" to "I have card game related trauma, nobody speak to me, games are only an excuse to assert a sort of power scale and honestly fuck that".

Manjoume is sort of the only person in the 'friend group' (he's never actually part of it, sadly, literally only Judai and Fubuki like him) to not idolise Judai, not explicitly. He clearly has an admiration for Judai from the beginning, but he is adamant on expressing it as hatred towards for being better than him. A part of me feels that a lot of his superior act is meant to try and fool himself and Jaden into thinking that he's a worthy rival, because I know for a fact that Manjoume doesn't believe that. He wants it to be true, yes.

What I am trying to get at is that Judai is probably a little confused by the fact that Manjoume doesn't drool all over him like the rest of the school does, but it soon becomes a crutch. Judai is under a lot of pressure because he is the hero who will save everyone and people like to remind him of how much they count on him. Manjoume is in it for Judai. He wants to be acknowledged by him, he wants his recognition and his attention, but he never asks for help or expects Judai to fix his problems for him. Judai is probably thankful for that.

Manjoume is also really scared of being left behind and cast aside as soon as he stops being useful and that's exactly what the writers do to him!!! hooray!, but Judai keeps insisting that he's not a bad guy, that he's fun to be around, that he's competent. Manjoume doesn't really believe all that that much, but Jaden keeps playing him despite his repeated losses and to Jun that's the equivalent of someone kissing his tears away. Manjoume only learns to accept his losses and shortcomings because Judai did it for him first.

So basically Manjoume is the only one who fully sees Judai as a person, while Judai is the only one who is really willing to look past his pretentious facade. I fully believe that Judai was relieved to learn that Manjoume was not just a perfect boy with perfect manners, by the way. They both just love to learn about every imperfection that the other has and silently thinking that they just add to the beauty of the other's character. Will they tease eachother about it? Fuck yes. Do they feel awful when the other tries to fix something about themselves because they pointed it out? Also fuck yes.

They are in a dumb competition against themselves to be better in order to earn the right to be friends with eachother, but because they are fucking dumb they never actually communicate (until they do), so for a long time it's endless pining that is definitely not gay because admittedly Judai just doesn't think that dating is a thing, while Manjoume is straight™, really straight. He has never liked a boy in his life, he's so very fucking straight, I swear.

So Manjoume is a bisexual disaster (and in my headcanon he prefers boys, actually, the Asuka incident is the biggest example of denial™ ever. He prefers Fubuki, fight me over this). The problem is that he never really considered he might be crushing on Judai, but at the same time admitting to maybe liking boys too means that there was more to wanting to stay at DA, to hanging out with Judai's crew despite their mutual dislike, to his continuous playful headlocks and ear pulling. To add onto that, there is probably a certain amount of guilt over having betrayed that bond with Judai by trying to throw away his cards and everything. Judai, on the other hand... is confused at how bothered he is by the public declarations of love, because Manjoume is his rival and rivals are supposed to focus on eachother, not on some girl, no matter how good said girl is at card games.

So maybe they are a bit gay for eachother. And maybe they just want excuses to be together as much as possible. And it's really just the vibe of highschool romance between two people who don't want to admit to caring for one another on a deeper level, but are also weirdly possessive of eachother for no apparent reason. And I think I'll stop here with my gay retelling, but really if you look at the two of them you do see that they do a lot for eachother's characters. It's kind of beautiful, really. They are the two socially inept characters who find comfort in someone being just like them and understanding them as they change and grow up.

I have a lot to say about how that changes once the transfer students come in, but I think I've bored everyone for long enough- as in nobody will read this lol. That's ok. I thank you again for the ask and for allowing me to gush about this ship that is so close to my heart. If anyone ever wants to talk about them, just. Do. Break into my house at night and I still won't mind, I just want to talk about them.

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

The Problem with Perfection Chapter 10 spoilers!

Hey all! So, a couple people asked for this, so I figured I’d post it. It’s chapter 8 of the companion to TPWP, The Problem with Mondo, which corresponds with chapter 10 of TPWP. Yes, this confuses me a lot too, the fact that the chapters don’t align. -.-

Anyway! Don’t read this if you’ve not read TPWP chapter 10, since it will definitely spoil that chapter, ha. Warning for an overabundance of foul language and some sexualized thinking, as well as an absent thought of suicide, same as in TPWP. This chapter is super long, about 20,000 words, and I’m posting all of it because... why not, am I right? Ha.

I did cut a few sentences from this chapter because they might spoil things for later chapters of TPWP, but they don’t really contain anything major.

The chapter is below the cut! Hope y’all like. :-)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mondo is angry. Blindingly angry. So angry he doesn’t know why he’s angry, but honestly, what else is new? He just knows that he’s angry and the reason he is angry is that goddamn motherfucking kid and his goddamn motherfucking glasses-

 “They! Are!! Glasses!!! Just!!! Wear them!!!” the boy grits out, thrusting his goddamn hand out towards Mondo, looking like he is about five fucking seconds from bashing his head against the goddamn wall. Mondo almost wishes he fucking would, to save him the fucking trouble! Unable to help himself, he scowls and crosses his arms, shaking his head firmly, so fucking pissed it ain’t even funny. 

 “No! I ain’t no fuckin’ nerd!” Mondo yells back, glaring like he was born to do it. Unfortunately, it seems so was Ishimaru, as the kid is glaring like his life depends on it, as fiery and beautiful passionate as ever. That goddamn motherfucking... 

 “Just! Wear them! The doctor says you need them! You don’t have to wear them all the time! Just when you’re reading! Stop! Being an idiot!”

 “Me?! I ain’t no fuckin’ idiot, you’re a fuckin’ idiot! If ya think I’m gonna wear that shit, yer outta yer goddamn mind! Now get that shit outta my face, ya fuckwad, or I’m gonna bash yer head in!” 

 “Like heck you will! You’re all bark and no bite, Owada! Now just! Wear! The! Glasses! You said you were okay with them when you bought them! I will force you to wear them, don’t think I won’t!” 

 “Oh, you motherfuckin’-!”

 “U-uh, g-guys?”

 Mondo and Ishimaru turn, as one, to glare at the intruder on their private fucking conversation. Okay, so maybe they’re in the middle of the hallway outside their dorm rooms, but fuck! That don’t mean shit! Eavesdropping is a nasty fucking habit and if this goddamn motherfucker doesn’t butt the fuck out right the fuck now- 

 “Shut up!” the pair shouts in unison, before turning to glare at each other again. 

 Mondo doesn’t know why he’s so angry. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, or why he has been doing this for the past week and a half. From hot, to cold, to hot, to cold, again and again and again, never fucking ceasing. One minute he’s fine, relaxed as shit and not at all angry, maybe even feeling kinda good, and then the next...

 And he doesn’t know why. Why he’s doing this. Why he’s fucking ruining this shit, like he fucking ruins every fucking thing. He... h-he just... 

 Things had been okay, you know? Between him and Ishimaru. At first. Sure, they weren’t really friends, evidenced by how they are still referring to one another by last name, but they’d been friendly enough. Mondo had taken care to keep his anger in check, and— to his surprise— it... it hadn’t actually been that hard. It seems that Ishimaru can be pretty fucking cool when they’re not at odds. 

 He’s also a great fucking tutor. He somehow manages to not sound sanctimonious and pretentious when explaining shit, instead looking so fucking earnest and like he genuinely wants to just... help. 

 Because of that, they’d gotten along pretty well those first few days. Ishimaru had been determined to get him brought up to speed before they started the fucking novel, so he’d taken care to spend a couple hours a day hanging around Mondo, at various times. The pair usually spent an hour or so in the library after class ended, but more than that, they just... they would walk together between classes, Ishimaru rambling on and on about what they’d just learned about in class. Mondo doesn’t know why he’d allowed it, usually not caring about shit like that, but somehow... somehow, it had been nice. Hearing Ishimaru talk about the shit they’d learned, the kid better able to impart knowledge in the ten fucking minutes they had between classes than the teachers were able to in the hour plus they had. It’s not at all the sorta shit Mondo would have expected himself to enjoy, let alone look forward to, but shit. There they were. 

 But then... Mondo got stupid. He overstepped his bounds and got fucking scared, fuck. 

 They’d been in Ishimaru’s room. Mondo doesn’t know why he’d made the offer to go to the kid’s room rather than the library, like they usually did, like was safe, but he... he had. And the kid had fucking accepted, and so there they were, sitting on the hall monitor’s fucking couch, sitting too fucking close. The kid was reading the short story Teach had assigned to the class, the pair realizing it was just... easier, while Mondo waited for the nurse to contact the eye doctor for him, since it turned out that yeah, his eyes were kinda fucked up, shit. 

 He had felt so fucking weird inside, the first time the kid had read to him, since they’d been in the library and he’d been nervous someone would see them and think Mondo was an idiot who needed to be fucking read to, but... shit. This time it had just been... different. Without the fear of being judged (since Ishimaru never fucking judged him, not ever, god fucking damn), he... he’d been able to listen to the kid reading without any fucking reservations. And he’d had to admit that- that he... he liked it. A lot. Like... fucking a lot. 

 So fucking much that it had made him feel relaxed for the first time... shit. Prolly ever. Ishimaru just had a nice sounding voice, ya know? It was strangely deep, at times, when he got lost in the story, his words not too fast but not too slow. He actually emoted when he spoke, too, the sound not a dull and dry monotone like so many fucking other people he’s heard read before. It just... made him feel so fucking calm inside, like the monster inside of him had been fucking purring. 

 And... and then...

 Mondo had let his head drop down onto Ishimaru’s shoulder, eyes closing in contentment, the kid faltering for one split second, breath hitched, before he’d smoothly continued, like it had never happened. And with his eyes closed and his head resting on a warm, comfortable shoulder, hearing that wonderful cadence from that wonderful, beautiful mouth... he hadn’t been able to stop the thought. And the thought he had was... 

 God, his voice is so fucking nice, isn’t it...? Wonder what it would sound like screaming your name as you pound the fuck outta him. He’d prolly be loud as shit, so fucking passionate, clawing you to all hell, but damn if you’d mind. Shit... wouldn’t that be fucking nice...

 He had been, to put it mildly, freaked the fuck out. 

 His eyes had shot open the second the thought had crossed his mind, heart fucking pounding as he wondered where the goddamn fuck that shit came from. Ishimaru had been startled, looking at him with his wide fucking eyes, lips opened softly in shock, voice faltering for the first time and Mondo... Mondo couldn’t fucking handle it, holy fucking shit. 

 He’d immediately stood and stammered out some bullshit about needing to check on his hog, before fucking bailing, eyes wide and heart an absolute mess. He had, indeed, gone out to his hog and rode around for a bit, not wanting to think, but he’d been unable to help it. To stop it. And it... it made him feel...

 He’s not gay. Okay? He’s fucking not. There’d be no fucking problem if he were, but he just ain’t. He likes chicks, something he knows better than anything else, something he’s known since he was a fucking kid, goddamn. He’d even made sure to look at his porno mags that night, reassured when he felt his dick harden so fucking hard as he saw the tits and pussy that always made him so fucking hard to see. 

 So, he wasn’t gay. He fucking couldn’t be gay, and it’s not possible for him to like both, so he figured that the thought had meant... meant Mondo wanted to fucking pound Ishimaru’s head in, not- n-not any other meaning of the word that it could have meant. He guessed that he didn’t like being around Ishimaru as much as he had assumed and that he actually hated him, after all. 

 As freaked out as he’d been, he took hold of that idea and fucking ran with it. He told himself that he hated the kid, of course he hated him, his voice was fucking annoying as shit, not nice, not nice at all! 

 And so, the next day, he’d been cold to the kid. So fucking cold. And when the kid had tried to approach him after home room ended, looking open and earnest and so fucking cute-

 Mondo hadn’t been able to handle it. His stomach had clenched, and his heart had fucking lurched, and he told himself it was hatred he felt, it had to be fucking hatred. And so, he’d snarled at the kid, telling him to ‘get the fuck away from me, freak!’ before he’d run off, heart aching so fucking stupidly. 

 He had considered skipping class, getting on his hog and fucking booking it, but he needed to give his girl a break, and he still kinda wanted to try the whole ‘giving school a chance’ thing, so he’d eventually decided to storm into class, even if he’d been five minutes late. He’d refused to look at Ishimaru, though, thinking that seeing his stupid fucking pathetic face would fucking destroy him infuriate the shit out of him, and as soon as class ended, he’d shot out, not needing to pack anything up since he’d not fucking brought anything, shit. 

 That had kept happening the rest of the day. Every class they had together (which was pretty much every fucking class, god fucking damn this school) Mondo would carefully keep his eyes off the kid, ignoring the feel of sad, hurt, bright red eyes as they bored into him. After the second class, the kid had tried to chase after him, tried to talk to him, but Mondo would fucking turn and head the opposite fucking direction of their next class, and he knew the kid wouldn’t dare risk being late, so he’d give up pretty quick. He’d constantly be looking in class, though, lips pulled down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Not that Mondo was fucking looking! Shit! 

 It wasn’t until Ishimaru had cornered him outside his dorm room that night, looking so fucking hurt and upset and not a little bit annoyed that they’d managed to resolve things. 

 In that Ishimaru had been so fucking annoying that Mondo had immediately started yelling, causing Ishimaru to yell back, his words bleeding hurt, making Mondo feel like absolute scum. They had been loud enough to garner the attention of most of their classmates, even fucking Togami gracing them with his condescending presence, which had made Mondo even more pissed, honestly, wanting nothing more than to be anywhere fucking else.

 It was when the kid looked about ready to fucking cry that Mondo had had enough. His insides were squirming, and he felt so fucking scared, for reasons he still doesn’t understand, but he... h-he hadn’t wanted to make Ishimaru cry again. After spending several days interacting with Ishimaru, having a lot of fucking conversations that hadn’t actually ended in the kid’s tears, he... he hadn’t wanted to go back to that. 

 And so, with all the confused fucking emotions swirling inside him, he’d yelled ‘fuckin’ fine, ya goddamn bastard! I’ll fuckin’ meet you and do that goddamn fuckin’ assignment tomorrow! Now leave me the fuck alone!’ before storming into his room and slamming the door shut so loud it made even his ears ring. 

 He’d then promptly stormed into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it could go, the water fucking hurting, but he’d wanted it to. He just... he’d felt so... so...

 Confused...

 He’d never felt this way for anyone before. So angry and scared and confused and yet also so fucking happy, so bizarrely, stupidly happy. Ishimaru fucking... he made him happy. And he didn’t know how to handle that, because clearly, he still hated the kid... right? Right? What other option was there? Why did he want to hit Ishimaru (and he had to want to hit him, it was the only fucking option that made any fucking sense) if he didn’t hate him? 

 But he’d agreed— stupidly— to meet with the kid for another fucking tutoring session after class the next day. And while the thought had made his insides squirm, he... fuck. He hadn’t wanted to make the kid cry again. God, did he not want that. Even if he did hate him— which he must, he must— he... fuck. 

 He couldn’t make him cry. 

 He wasn’t his goddamn old man.

 And so, when he got out of the shower, he’d resolved to contain his anger the next day. He’d push it down, keep it locked up tight tight tight, and he wouldn’t let it hurt Ishimaru. He’d gotten into bed (still hated it, but he was slowly getting use to the ridiculously plush material) and fallen into a fitful sleep, dreams full of wide, hurt red eyes, a sad voice begging him to explain why he was hurting him so. He’d woken an hour early with a start, heart pounding, and had spent the remaining time until he usually got up doing push-ups again and again and again, until he didn’t remember the dream anymore. 

 And then, when he went into class, carrying his supplies for once... he’d given the kid a small, sheepish smile, stomach roiling with all the emotions within it. He’d then spent the rest of home room doodling absently on the notebook Ishimaru had helped him pick out from the school store, doing his best to not think of everything and psych himself out. He’d even managed to feel almost calm as he let himself draw, something he rarely allows himself to do, but always has kinda enjoyed, even if he’s shit at it.

 Once home room ended, he’d waited for Ishimaru at the door, telling him as casually as he could that the nurse had contacted him the day before, saying she’d scheduled an eye doctor (he still can’t remember the official name Ishimaru called the dude, shit) appointment for 3:00 the next day, hesitantly asking the kid if he had wanted to come along. He could tell that the kid was taken aback, clearly not having expected such a thing, but he’d still stammered out an acceptance, looking so flustered it wasn’t funny when Mondo turned to look at him with a small, soft smile. He’d not meant to look at the kid like that, but he’d just... been unable to help it. 

 The rest of the day had gone well, the tutoring session going nicely like it had before that stupid fucking bullshit two days prior. It had happened in the library again, which Mondo figured would be safer. He’d almost started to hope that things would stay that way, stay as calm and easy and nice, but then-

 Mondo got angry. Again. 

 He doesn’t even know why, he never fucking does, but the kid had just... he’d been so fucking patient, helping Mondo pick out a pair of ‘reading glasses,’ since the doc had said he had pretty bad close-up vision and would be benefited from having prescription reading glasses, not just the over-the-counter stuff you find at drug stores. Mondo had felt so fucking lost, no idea what any of the bullshit meant, but Ishimaru had... he’d been so fucking helpful, explaining the complicated terminology and shit, helping him find a pair that didn’t make him look too much like a fucking nerd. And the pair he settled on was honestly kinda nice. It was a rectangular silver metal frame that had deep purple plastic on the sides, and it actually make him look kinda cool... if a bit nerdy. He’d given the salesperson his school insurance card and was pleasantly surprised to find he’d not have to pay a penny for the frames, since the school covers shit like that. 

 It was then, as he and Ishimaru exited the shop and the kid absently commented that the glasses made him look very smart that Mondo just... fucking lost it. 

 And he doesn’t even know why.

 It just... it made him feel weird inside. Being around the kid. Being soft with him. And he was. Soft. Soft and kind and fucking gentle. And the kid was the exact same back. The entire time they’d been in the shop, Mondo had been thinking how nice it had felt. How domestic. The panic and fear had been slowly rising in him the entire time they’d been in the store, and he’d done all he could to push it the fuck down, but he... he hadn’t...

 He’d left the kid standing there, looking so fucking confused, as he hopped on his hog and drove away. He’d not cared how the kid would get back to the school, he had refused to ride with Mondo since it made him ‘nervous’ anyway, so it wasn’t his fucking problem.

 And that pattern just... kept repeating. Mondo would get angry, say something toxic to the kid, and storm away. The kid would wait a couple of hours, maybe try and talk with him after class or something, only to eventually corner him and force him to talk to him, looking so fucking fed up, but also so fucking upset and sad and confused. Like he didn’t know why Mondo was doing this to him. Like he didn’t know why Mondo was being so fucking difficult. Like he... he didn’t...

 Didn’t know why he fucking bothered...

 And… honestly? Mondo didn’t know why either. Why he kept trying. Why he was so stubborn, always chasing after Mondo even after Mondo fucking shoved him away, sometimes literally. Even when Mondo would get so fucking nasty, making tears build up in the kid’s eyes, frustration clear in his every movement. 

 For almost two weeks this occurred, again and again and again, and Mondo... Mondo doesn’t know why the kid doesn’t just leave him already. Why he doesn’t just say ‘the hell with it,’ realize Mondo isn’t fucking worth it, and leave his ass. Like every other person on the face of this goddamn planet... 

 It’s only a matter of time until he does, though. Leave him. It’s what always was going to happen, since Mondo couldn’t ever hope to hold onto someone so very, very good. So very, very nice. Mondo is poison. He’s gas. He only knows how to destroy and break and hurt. 

 He’s not allowed something nice. 

 He’s not allowed someone nice. 

 He’s just...

 Not worthy of it. 

 Case in fucking point...

 “Look. Owada-kun,” Ishimaru spits, hands clenched around the stupid glasses case that he for some reason has (Mondo doesn’t even know how he’d gotten a hold of them, shit), looking like he wants to crush them, shit. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this! You picked them out! You said they were fine! Why! Why have you changed your mind!”

 Mondo scowls at the words, heart racing and swirling and hurting, hurting, hurting, and he doesn’t wanna be doing this, wants to stop, but he can’t, he can’t, he fucking can’t! He doesn’t know how to stop this, doesn’t know how to make this go away, all he knows how to do is break and hurt and destroy, destroy, destroy-

 “I ain’t changed shit! I never fuckin’ agreed ta wear fuckin’ glasses, now get the fuck outta my face!” 

 It’s a lie. They both know it’s a lie, he can see the anger rising on Ishimaru’s face as he processes the abject lie. Mondo had, in fact, agreed on the glasses, had even kinda liked them, but he can’t concede that, can’t say he does, if he does then- then that means he’s okay with this, this weird thing he has going on with Ishimaru, and he doesn’t know if he can handle that, handle the proof that Ishimaru is so fucking amazing, the proof that Mondo doesn’t fucking deserve him, proof that... t-that he... 

 Mondo can’t take it. He can’t fucking take it! He tries to leave, to get away, to fucking end this shit already, but then Ishimaru is grabbing hold of him, holding so fucking tight, and Mondo tries to break free, tries to get away, but the kid just doesn’t fucking let go, and Mondo is so fucking freaked out, he just wants to leave, please god, let him just leave, don’t let him break this fucking kid again, god, please- 

 “You-! You are the most infuriating, pig-headed, arrogant... jerk I have ever had the misfortune to meet! If I never saw your face again, it wouldn’t be long enough!”

 “Oh, I’m so wounded, please don’t call me anymore fuckin’ names like that, how the fuck am I ever gonna recover?!” Mondo snarls, sarcasm so thick he’s sure even Ishimaru will be able to pick up on it, wanting to stop but not being able to. “Grow the fuck up, ya cock suckin’ assfucker! Learn some better fuckin’ insults or don’t even bother tryin’ ta play!”

 “Just because I am too sophisticated to resort to such foul language does not mean anything! You may be a lowly, classless heathen, but I, for one, refuse-”

 “Oh, so now ya think yer fuckin’ better than me?! I told ya already, y’ain’t goddamn shit, Ishimaru! Ain’t no shit at all!”

 “I am one hundred times the man you will ever hope to be! And if I’m not... feces, then you’re not even worth anything at all! Y-you’re... you’re an amoeba, so tiny and insignificant that it’s a miracle you think you’re relevant at all!”

 “What the fuck did ya call me, ya son ofa bitch?!”

 Mondo sees the kid open his mouth— likely to fire something back, barely any space between them— holding onto Mondo’s arm so fucking tight, like his life depends on it or something, looking so fucking pissed and angry and hurt and fucking beautiful, so fucking beautiful, god fucking damnit-

 But before the kid can say anything, another voice pipes up, the same voice as earlier, making Mondo’s rage reach a paramount, oh god-

 “Aw, come on! I thought you guys resolved things already, do you really have to do this?! Please!” 

 Mondo turns to the fucking eavesdropper, snarling at the beyond fucking average boy. Naegi turns super fucking pale at the look, but he doesn’t cower away for once. Mondo doesn’t care. He’s far passed the point of caring. 

 “I told ya ta stay the fuck outta this!” 

 Naegi frowns, but Mondo doesn’t give him a chance to say any other stupid ass thing before he’s turning back to Ishimaru, eyes practically spitting fire as he stares so deep into Ishimaru’s that it feels almost like a physical embrace. It makes Mondo’s breath hitch for some stupid fucking reason, his stomach swirling as he looks deep into the most gorgeous fucking eyes he’s ever fucking seen-

 But he can’t feel things like that, so he pushes it firmly away. 

 He can hear their eavesdropper fucking sigh, soft and almost disappointed, and that should make Mondo even angrier, but something in Mondo is feeling so fucking weird now. G-god... he doesn’t even know how to begin to describe it, other than it feels like he’s on fire, but not even in a bad way. Ishimaru is staring at him, eyes wide, anger in them, but also something else, something Mondo can’t understand, no matter how much he fucking wants to. 

 He can’t let this end here. He wants to let it end, but he fucking can’t. He... h-he needs to figure out how to settle this, how to make this stop, how to not be as fucking pathetic as he knows he is. He... he needs to prove that he’s not as worthless as they both know he is, as weak, as nothing, so fucking nothing. Everyone knows it, knows he doesn’t belong here, knows that Ishimaru is so much better than him it’s not funny, but he- he needs to prove that he has something going for him, that he... he can do something, even if he’s worthless in every other regard, every other aspect, even if Ishimaru is better than him everywhere else he just needs to prove he can beat him at fucking something, god-

 He’s issuing the challenge before he can stop himself. 

 And god, is he so fucking afraid. 

 “You think yer so perfect, don’t ya, Ishimaru? Think yer better than me? Well... well, yer not, an’ I can fuckin’ prove it. I bet I can beat you, hands down, any day of the fuckin’ week. Y’ain’t better than me, ya shit fuck. Y’ain’t nothin’,” Mondo hisses, lying through his fucking teeth. Ishimaru is better than him. He knows it. He’s always known it. He hates it, though. Not being good enough. Not being worthy. He... he wants to be. Good enough. For... f-for... 

 Ishimaru’s eyes are shiny again, even despite his glare. 

 Typical. 

 “What?! Y-you guys aren’t going to- to fight, are you? Guys-!”

 Mondo breaks his stare down with Ishimaru to shoot that goddamn fucking bastard a single, solitary sneer, before turning back to Ishimaru, chest heaving with all the emotions he carries within him. 

 “Nah. Ground floor, there’s a sauna. Ya know it?” 

 Ishimaru blinks slowly, sluggish, before nodding slightly, looking very fucking confused. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are pulled down, and he looks so fucking cute stupid, god. After a moment, though, it seems he understands what Mondo is getting at, the challenge he is suggesting, as his face lights up, eyes bright and passionate once more, an honest to god grin on his face. 

 Holy fucking shit... 

 “Aha! A simple endurance challenge! If that is your gauntlet, then I happily accept! I will wipe the floor with you!” 

 Despite the anger that is still flowing through him, Mondo can’t help the small smile that passes on his lips, something about the enthusiasm so fucking... not cute, not cute, not cute at all, but maybe, a little, teeny tiny bit... endearing? He pushes it away, though. It’s not helpful, here. 

 “Yer fuckin’ on. And you,” Mondo points blindly to Naegi— who ‘eeps’ at the gesture, fucking coward he is— not able to look away from Ishimaru for a single fucking second, “will be our witness. Got it?!” 

 As intently as Mondo is staring at Ishimaru, he doesn’t see the other kid’s response, but he can hear how Naegi splutters, the kid clearly not as enthusiastic about the idea as Ishimaru and himself are. Bastard. 

 “W-what?! Now?! B-but it’s so late... g-guys, are you sure this is a- a good idea-?!”

 “Yes, ya fuckin’ moron, it’s a fuckin’ great idea!” Mondo snarls, at the exact same time Ishimaru— eyes bright and feverish— exclaims, “yes! It is an excellent idea!” 

 Uncomfortable at their agreement, Mondo finally tears his eyes away, ignoring the churning feeling in his chest as he storms down the hall to where the bathhouse is, mere meters away. Ishimaru stares after him for a stunned second, but quickly spurs himself into motion, using his long-ish legs to catch up quick, head held high as they march determinedly on. God... he’s so fucking...

 Shit. 

 When they reach the bathhouse a few moments later, Mondo firmly pushes aside the rational voice inside him that is screaming at him not to do this. He knows his limits when it comes to endurance. While he’s not the best at running, he has great endurance for other things, especially pain and discomfort. (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~) 

 But Ishimaru... fuck. He’s so fucking passionate, so fucking determined, but who knows what his endurance is like? If he’ll be able to keep up? And it shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t give Mondo pause, but he... he can’t help the stab of concern that fills him as they enter the room, Mondo grabbing a ‘closed for repairs’ sign and putting it in front of the entrance, not wanting anyone to interrupt. 

 He hates the feeling and pushes it away as he turns to glare at Ishimaru, pointing a finger, not wanting to deal with such weakness, but he... he can’t quite manage to force it fully away... 

 Shit. 

 “Alright, here’s the fuckin’ terms. First ta tap out is a fuckin’ bitch ass loser who ain’t worth shit. The one who lasts the longest is the official winner. We ain’t allowed ta touch the other or do anythin’ ta them directly, this is strictly an endurance challenge. Oh, an’ we’re gonna do this fully clothed. What do ya say?!” 

 Mondo sees Ishimaru’s eyes widen when he gets to the last term, the kid fucking shaking his head sharply in denial. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. He’d added that last clause in last minute, realizing as he detailed the rules that they were gonna be fucking half fucking naked in there, and his mind had shorted the fuck out. He’s been in saunas fully clothed before, he knows he can handle it, but he isn’t fucking sure he can handle sitting nearly nude beside Ishi-fucking-maru...

 But of course, the kid wouldn’t fucking agree. Of fucking course...

 “I do not agree to that last term, but I agree to the rest!” 

 Glad his angry flush fully disguises the fucking embarrassed flush he can feel rising on his face, Mondo just nods tensely, sneering, as he storms over to the water cooler in the corner. 

 “Alright, whatever, fucker. Ya got five minutes ta prepare. Then, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this shit.” 

 With that, Mondo grabs a paper cup and downs some water, feeling so impossibly tense. He can feel Ishimaru staring at him, mouth partially open, but he gets spurned into action when Naegi shifts awkwardly beside him, chasing the kid away to one of the lockers, where he... he fucking...

 Starts taking off his fucking clothes...

 Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

 Mondo is staring. Mondo knows he shouldn’t be staring, knows it’s wrong to be staring, but he can’t fucking help it. His eyes are like magnets, drawn to the kid, watching as he takes off all of his fucking layers, folding each one so neatly and carefully as he sticks them in the small fucking locker. The kid hesitates a little when he gets to his fucking tighty-whities (of course the kid wears that shit, of fucking course), but ultimately, he doesn’t take them off. Instead, he bites his lip and grabs a white towel, wrapping it firmly around his waist before putting the rest of his stuff away. Mondo firmly pushes down the stupid as shit rush of disappointment and tells himself to stop staring, to look away, but god, he fucking can’t. Ishimaru, he...

 He’s so fucking gorgeous, so fucking hot, so fucking sexy-

 Mondo feels himself heat the fuck up when Ishimaru turns abruptly and looks him straight in the eyes, looking fucking startled at something. Feeling strangely caught, Mondo looks away as quick as he can, pushing away the stupid as shit thoughts, marching over to a locker stiffly. Shit... he’s gotta fucking get laid one of these days. The tension is doing fucked up shit to his brain... 

 He takes his time putting some of his more fragile shit away, like his crappy cellphone and his key card. He does, honestly, consider taking off his uniform, or at least taking off his duster, but he just... shit. Can’t. Not with how strange he feels inside, his mind’s eye still stupidly forcing him to think of Ishimaru, his stupidly muscular back flexing with every move he made. It means nothing, fucking nothing, but he... shit. It prolly would be better to remain fully clothed, duster included, even if it does put him at a disadvantage. But ya know what, whatever. Doesn’t matter. He knows his limits and knows that he can last longer in the sauna than Ishimaru, even when fully clothed. Shit...

 When the five minutes he gave them are up, he meets up with Ishimaru outside the entrance to the sauna, fully intending to slide it open and step inside, when-

 “Owada-kun, you cannot seriously be considering entering the sauna fully clothed! It’s suicide!” Ishimaru exclaims, sounding fucking concerned as shit. His eyes are wide, and his brows are furrowed, and he’s biting his fucking lip, god fucking damn, and it’s messing with Mondo’s head so fucking much. Why... why the fuck would he care?! Huh?! They’re not fucking friends! Why would he care if Mondo did try and kill himself, huh?! World would fucking be better off for it, shit! 

 Deciding to definitely not say that, Mondo just sneers at the kid, crossing his arms stubbornly. 

 “Just ‘cuz yer a fuckin’ pansy ass bitch don’t mean I am! Now, ya ready ta do this, or are ya a fuckin’ chicken?!”  

 His face flushed, Ishimaru doesn’t even bother to answer, instead just yanking open the door and entering the sauna with a stubborn tilt to his jaw. 

 Staring after the kid for a split second (pushing down the disappointment that he didn’t press the issue harder, proving to Mondo how fucking right he is), Mondo enters on Ishimaru’s heels, the heat not even bothering him one bit. 

 It’s nothing compared to the fire that constantly burns within him. 

 Sliding the door shut behind him, leaving Naegi outside to do whatever the fuck he wants while the contest takes place, Mondo marches over to where Ishimaru is sitting, taking a seat an arm’s length away. He can feel bright red eyes on him, but he determinedly pushes the feeling away, trading a few snide comments with the kid, not even feeling the heat really. 

 About ten minutes in, Mondo will admit the heat is getting to him a little, a thin sheen of sweat making its way onto his skin, which is more uncomfortable than anything. Ishimaru looks a little woozy, so Mondo taunts that the kid should just give up now. Ishimaru just laughs, saying how he never gives up, ever. Fucking pretentious bastard. 

 After half an hour, he can admit he is feeling kinda uncomfortable, the heat becoming somewhat unpleasant, but he’s still feeling pretty good, all things considered. Ishimaru looks flushed as all hell, though, his cheeks bright red and sweat clinging to his muscles. The kid tells him— unprompted— that he’s doing fine, and Mondo’s brain feels too stupid to allow him to do much else than glare, shit... 

 After around fifty minutes, the kid... he looks fucking awful. Mondo isn’t doing too hot, the uncomfortable feeling spreading to be extremely uncomfortable, but he knows he can handle it. The kid, though... he looks like he’s starting to lose it. Ishimaru mentions absently that he’s starting to feel cold, which honestly concerns Mondo, since he knows that shit is a bad sign, but his head is too stupid to remember why, so he just says it’s prolly not good. The kid doesn’t call it quits, though. 

 Instead, he actually... talks... huh. 

 “Y-you can take off your uniform... if you w-want... I- I won’t judge...” the boy mumbles, sounding super fucking exhausted. Mondo tries to snort, but it’s a lot harder than it should be, shit. 

 “N-nah... I’m... I’m... I’m good,” Mondo finds himself muttering back, looking at the kid intensely, wondering why he isn’t giving up when he so clearly feels sick. Mondo finds himself muttering about how red Ishimaru’s is, likening him to a hot spring monkey, of all things. The kid mumbles back about being born with a red face, which makes no fucking sense, but ya know what? He’s too tired to waste energy on this shit. He’s got a challenge to win. 

 After what he figures is an hour and five minutes, the warning bell rings, telling them they have five minutes until curfew. Mondo figures the hall monitor will end this now, since he wouldn’t dare stay out past curfew and risk breaking one of his ‘precious rules,’ but the kid doesn’t seem to even notice the bell had rung. S-shit... that... that’s not good, is it...? 

 Mondo gets distracted from his stupid as shit concern when a new voice pipes up, shocking Mondo. Huh... he hadn’t realized the kid was still out there. Shit. 

 “U-uh guys? It’s almost curfew, shouldn’t you... stop? I know you both want to prove how big of badasses you are but... don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

 Mondo scowls at the meaning of the words, knowing that he sure as shit ain’t gonna back down first. He’s already so worthless. He’s gotta prove that he can at least do this, of all fucking things.

 “Shut up!” he barks, at the same time Ishimaru does, making him feel fucking wigged out at how they’re both on the same page again. 

 Naegi replies back to them, saying something about it being nighttime, and a tie... it honestly offends Mondo, but before he can reply, the kid is... talking... saying something about how in a true competition, there are no ties. That you either win or you lose, and that... that’s the only thing that matters. It honestly kinda pisses Mondo off, even if he agrees fully, so he fires back how he will push the kid right up to the gates of hell, meaning it fully. 

 He tells Naegi to leave then, knowing that this might drag on a lot longer than he had anticipated. Shit. He knew Ishimaru was fucking stubborn as shit, willing to do absolutely anything to reach his goals, but this... this is just madness. Utter madness. As Naegi leaves, Mondo cannot help how he stares at the hall monitor, who looks so fucking sick right now. He does his best to ignore it, to wait the kid out, but when roughly fifteen more minutes pass and the kid isn’t tapping out, despite looking half dead, he... he can’t help the worry that he feels. And then, when the kid closes his eyes, barely breathing, Mondo... s-shit... 

 “Hey... man... are you... are you okay...? Ya don’t... don’t look so good...” 

 Mondo listens, getting really kinda freaked, when Ishimaru lets out a soft puff of air, almost like he’s trying to laugh but can’t find the energy. He lolls his head over to Mondo, the first movement he’s done in minutes, but his eyes are still closed, which looks so fucking freaky. It takes him far longer than it should to open his eyes, and when he does, they... shit. They look glazed, like the kid isn’t fucking in there, like he... he’s...

 Already dead...

 F-fuck... 

 It really does look like that, though. Eyes glazed, mouth partially open, chest so scarily still... o-oh, shit. Shit, what if he... what if he is dead...?! Y-yeah, he just moved, but he- he looks so still, it... Mondo... 

 But then the kid is speaking, and he sounds so very out of it, but at least he’s alive, thank god... 

 “I- I’m... I’m fine, I...” 

 Oh, shit... no, he... he’s not fine, is he...? Shit... s-shit...

 “Shit... man... no, y’ain’t. I know my... my limits. I’ve got some time... left in me... but you... shit. Just give up, dude. Just... just give... up...” 

 It makes something in Mondo clench when he sees the kid’s face screw up, like he wants to cry but just has no tears left within him. And then he... he’s speaking... 

 “No... n-no, I can’t... I- I can’t... give up... I have to... have to...”

 The kid stops, then, and Mondo feels so fucking confused, his head all stupid because of the heat, making it hard to think. What? He has to... what? 

 “Hafta... what? What... is so important... ta ya?”

 The kid blinks, like he hadn’t expected to be spoken to, before opening his mouth and muttering words. It... it’s like the kid doesn’t even know he’s speaking, the words sounding so fucking slurred and soft. Mondo has to strain to hear them, even though the silence is oppressive between them. 

 “I can’t... give up... must... restore... honor... family... f-family name...” 

 Mondo furrows his eyebrows, his lips turned down in a frown, not... not understanding...

 “Yer family... name? What… what about it?” 

 Ishimaru blinks, like he can barely understand what Mondo is saying, and fuck is that scary... 

 “I must... fix his mistakes. I must... I must bring honor t-to... to our name... my grandfather...”

 Okay, that... that doesn’t make any fucking sense... his grandfather? The fuck? Shit... Ishimaru needs to stop this, he... he’s not making any sense...

 “What? The fuck... the fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout, man? Shit... Ishimaru, yer ‘bout ta... ta fuckin’ pass out... why can’t ya just... just give up, man?” 

 Ishimaru isn’t looking at him anymore and is instead staring blankly at the steam that is billowing around them, looking like he’s not aware where the fuck he is. It makes Mondo’s stomach clench, the concern rising. He... he doesn’t wanna give up, needs to prove himself, but he... Ishimaru... f-fuck... 

 And then... Ishimaru starts talking again...

 “It... it’s all up to me to fix it... t-to make it better... m-make it- it right-! I... I can’t... give up, I... I’m not... not allowed to... give up... giving up is- is wrong... and immoral, and- and I am not wrong! I... I’m not- not immoral... I... I’m better... better than my grandfather... better than myself... better... than...” 

 Okay. Okay. Okay, it’s official. Mondo is fucking freaked the fuck out. What... what does any of that even mean? He... Ishimaru...

 “Fuck, dude, yer- yer scarin’ me... what the hell does… does any a’ that even… even mean? Yer the fuckin’... Ultimate Moral Compass... ‘course yer not- not... immoral...” 

 Ishimaru is shaking now, eyes still glazed, staring at the steam as if it holds the answer to life itself. And fuck... it’s so fucking creepy... 

 “But I am, I am... I’m worthless, I’m nothing... my grandfather... he’d done so many terrible things, had hurt s-so many people... he’d ruined... ruined Japan... e-everyone hated him... hated me... I have to do better... to be better... to fix... my grandfather’s... mistakes...”

 His grandfather? Who the fuck is his grandfather? And why... why does he even matter? Even if he was so fucking terrible, Ishimaru... he ain’t... he...

 “Dude... y’ain’t... ain’t yer grandfather... yer yer own person... an’ frankly... I kinda... kinda like... s-shit. Just... stop this, man. Just admit it. Admit it’s... too much...” 

 The kid shakes his head, and Mondo doesn’t know how he’s able to even hear him, as far fucking gone as he looks, but fuck, he’s clearly responding, ain’t he...? 

 “Nnnn- n-no! I- I... I can’t... can’t admit... weakness... god I’m so... so weak... pathetic... the children, they’re right about me, they’re all so... so right... I’ll never... amount to- to anything... I’m worthless... pathetic... scum...” 

 H-holy shit... Ishimaru he... he can’t fucking believe that... can he? No... n-no, he... he ain’t none of that shit, Mondo is, Mondo is, but not- not Ishimaru! He... he’s fucking... he... 

 “Ishimaru... Ishimaru, stop... s-stop! Y’ain’t... none a’ that is... is true... yer the best... goddamn person I ever... ever met, ya... ya never gave up on me... no matter how horrible I treated ya... ya just... wouldn’t leave... I tried ta make ya leave, why... why wouldn’t ya leave...” 

 He hadn’t meant to ask the question, voice so fucking soft, but he couldn’t help it. It’s been plaguing him for weeks now, wondering why... why Ishimaru bothered staying... why he didn’t just leave his ass... why he didn’t just... give up on him... like everyone always does... 

 “Me... leave? Why? Where would I... go...? I’ve n-never... had a friend... if this is... is friendship... then what else can I... do? I don’t... w-wanna... be...... alone.........”

 Oh... oh, shit... suddenly, so many things make so much fucking sense. Why the kid always seems so fucking nervous and awkward around people, though he tries his damndest to hide it. Why he is always alone, never seen really talking to anyone, not without a reason. Why he always... always does his best to extend olive branches to people, offering to tutor or help or do whatever is needed to... to get them to talk to him... g-god... he never would have thought the kid would have no friends, even though it’s so fucking obvious when Mondo thinks about it. He’s just... he’s just so fucking bright and full of sunshine... Mondo can’t imagine people seeing that and not... not wanting to... 

 It’s right then, in that moment, brain stupid from heat, halfway gone but not fully gone yet, that Mondo... Mondo makes a decision. 

 If they survive this stupid fucking challenge... he... he will be Ishimaru— no, Kiyotaka, his name is- is Kiyotaka... he will be Kiyotaka’s friend... and he will be a fucking good one, the friend that the kid... that he fucking deserves...

 If the kid even wants to be friends with him... 

 “Fuckin’... shit, man. Yer not... alone... I’m here. Ishimaru... Kiyotaka... I’m right... right here...” 

 The kid shakes his head, breath still shallow, but now it’s wavering, shaking... trembling... g-god... fuck...

 “No... no... I’m alone, I’m alone. Everyone... always leaves... my mother... my grandfather... even my father would leave... if he could... he’s never... never understood me. No one... understands me... I don’t... even... understand...... myself..........”

 Oh. Oh. Oh. This... this poor fucking boy... he... s-shit. Shit... this... they gotta fucking stop this... they... 

 “I... I understand ya. Yer... yer like me... ain’t ya? Shit. We gotta... gotta stop this, man... what are ya... tryin’... ta prove?” 

 Kiyotaka is shaking again, looking like he wants to cry but just... can’t. God... god... fucking... god.

 “Everything. Everything. Every… everything… I have to prove them... wrong. I have to prove... that I can do this. If I... if I give up... i-if I let myself give up... then I fail. I fail, I fail, I fail, I fail, I fail. I c-can’t... fail, I can’t... g-give up... or else... what is... the point... of me...?” 

 Point? The point? Why... why does he have to have a point? Shit... he’s so fucking amazing, he... he doesn’t have to have a point... no more than just... just being... 

 “Ain’t gotta... have a point man... ya can just... be. Be... Kiyotaka. What’s so wrong... with that?” 

 The blank look on the kid’s face grows, his voice soft, weak. Trembling, like he doesn’t mean to say it, like he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Mondo has never heard someone sound so... so... dead before... h-holy shit...

 “Everything. Everything. Everything. E-everything... is wrong with... me... I- I’m too... too much. T-too passionate... too vibrant... I- I hurt... hurt my own eyes... I hate... l-looking at myself... hate... b-being myself... if I could... be someone else... I- I would... gladly...” 

 No. No. No, fucking... no! Ish- Kiyo... Kiyotaka can’t fucking believe that... yeah, he’s so fucking passionate, so fucking bright, but that... that’s not a bad thing... he... he’s so fucking good... so fucking... amazing... and he... Mondo wouldn’t...

 “I wouldn’t. Want that. Yer... fuck. Yer somethin’... somethin’ special... I thought I... I hated that ‘bout you, but... man you... you shine... I don’t deserve... someone as... as wonderful... as you...”

 Kiyotaka is shaking his head again, barely breathing, looking so dead, so very, very... dead...

 Oh, god...

 “I- I’m not... wonderful. I’m not... anything. T-the children... they hated me... t-they all... hated me. My f-father... hates me. My mother... if she could s-see me... now... s-she’d hate me... too. Why... w-why do I bother... trying...? W-why... why don’t I just... g-give up...” 

 N-no... no, no, god, please... no... Mondo feels pressure behind his eyes, and he doesn’t think he has ever felt such pain. Because that... that sounds so goddamn familiar... he always has seen Kiyotaka as so different to him, so much better, so much brighter. But if the kid is to be believed... he... he thinks of himself like... like Mondo thinks of himself, and he... he can’t... can’t fucking stand that thought, oh god... 

 “Kiyo... Kiyota- Taka. Kiyo... Taka. Just... ya don’t hafta... give up... but yer... yer gonna kill yerself if ya... keep this up... s-shit...”

 Mondo feels himself go cold when Kiyotaka responds, sounding half dead, looking so... so nothing... 

 “Kill... myself? No... I’m not- not that weak... not anymore... not... n-not again... but maybe... maybe... m-maybe it would be better. If I weren’t... weren’t...” a pause. “Alive...”

 What?! No... no, no.... nonononononononononono-!!! He... he can’t... he can’t-

 “What?! Dude... no... god... fuckin’... dammit! Ya can’t be... serious... Kiyo... Taka, ya can’t...”

 “I am. I am. I- I am. If I wasn’t... so weak. If I wasn’t... s-so afraid. I know... k-know how to fix it... a-all of it. How to... t-to make it better. My father... would be happier. The children... w-would be happier. And I... I... I’d be... I’d be...”

 A pause. Inhalation of breath. And then... softly, so fucking softly...

 “Dead...” 

 No. No. No, fucking-! No. This... this is so fucking stupid, why is Mondo doing this, he... he has to stop this. This kid ain’t gonna stop, he can’t fucking stop, he won’t stop until he is fucking dead, and Mondo... Mondo can’t... he fucking can’t-

 He can’t lose someone else... not during another fucking challenge that he fucking issued... he just... can’t.

 “Okay. That’s it. This ain’t... fuckin’ worth it. If y’ain’t... gonna quit... then I! I fuckin’... I fuckin’ will. Ya... ya win... Kiyo... Taka... ya... ya win. Now, c’mon, man. Let’s… let’s get outta here.”

 With all the strength he has left, Mondo stands and hobbles over to where Kiyotaka is sitting, looking like a puppet with its strings cut. He’s not moving, barely breathing, and his eyes are so glazed over Mondo doesn’t think he can even see right now. Mondo has never seen someone look so still before, and it scares the ever-loving shit out of him. Especially now that he... he knows that... that the kid has tried... or at least wanted...

 Fuck. 

 Fuck. 

 Fuck.

 But he doesn’t have time to hate himself for issuing this stupid ass challenge. He doesn’t have time to waste. Gathering all his strength, he bends down, and he wraps an arm around Kiyotaka, heart stopping when he feels how boneless he is, not moving at all. But then, as he starts moving towards the door, he feels the kid start to struggle. It’s weak and doesn’t sway Mondo even a second, but fuck does it relieve him. The kid is even able to walk a little, barely. It... it’s good. 

 The second he manages to get the door open, however, the cool air almost torture on his overheated skin, he feels Kiyotaka gasp, all the fragile strength he had gone as his knees buckle, making him deadweight. But Mondo hasn’t spent the majority of his life lifting weights for nothing, so he just adjusts his grip, taking on more of the kid’s weight. He doesn’t lift him, doesn’t have time for that, but he drags him bodily over to the bench, accidentally throwing him on it since he’s not really at a hundred percent himself. He sees the kid start to topple, then, and he immediately moves forward to steady the kid, the skin under his hands far, far too warm. Oh... shit, that’s not... not good, oh fuck...

 “Goddamn shit. Ya look... fuck man. Why didn’t ya just... dammit. Ya need water... I’ll be right back.”

 Mondo stand abruptly then, feeling clumsy and wrong. His chest feels so fucking painful, like it’s being sat on by an elephant, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more concerned for anyone. Well... other than one person... but shit, he can’t think of him, not now. Not now. Not when Kiyotaka needs him. He takes off his duster as he strides forward, tossing it carelessly on a bench, too fucking hot to deal with that shit. He needs to go quick, needs to... to get back to Kiyotaka... and he needs to drink some water himself, fuck, he’s so fucking dehydrated... fuck. 

 However... once he’s at the water cooler, filling up one of the paper cups for himself to drink, he hears the kid muttering again, the words making no goddamn sense, but damn if it doesn’t make his heart clench...

 “...they won’t, they won’t, they won’t... I’m alone, again... all alone... everyone has left... everyone leaves me in the end... why would I expect anything different... why would I expect-“

 Shit. Shit. Shit. Mondo quickly finishes filling the cup and downs it, filling the second one as quickly as possible while the kid rambles on about being alone again. As soon as the cup is full Mondo practically teleports back to the kid’s side, an odd sense in him that he never, ever wants to be anywhere else... 

 “Shit, Kiyotaka, I’m here. I just... had ta drink myself, shit. Now c’mon. Drink this. Please, man. Fer me. I can’t... ya can’t fuckin’ die on me, man... f-fuck...” 

 He carefully places his hand on the back of Kiyotaka’s neck, lifting it gently up, so he can get the kid to drink some water. He knows that the boy is prolly dehydrated as fuck, and he seriously hopes that’s the only thing wrong with him, because if it isn’t... s-shit. He can feel Kiyotaka struggle as he moves him, his lips moving, muttering those fucking words again... 

 “W-why am I so weak, I need to... to be stronger... to be... better...”

 God, is everything this kid says gonna make his heart break? God... he’s not equipped for this, he doesn’t know how to be kind, to be gentle, but after all the shit he has done, all the pain and misery he has needlessly made this wondrous, incredible, sad fucking boy go through... he owes it to him to not only try, but to succeed. 

 Even if it fucking kills him... 

 “Shh... hey, it’s okay. Y’ain’t fuckin’ weak, man, yer goddamn incredible. Now c’mon. Stop fightin’ me. Let me take care a’ you. You... you’ve been so strong fer so long. Let me... let me help you...” 

 With that, he slowly presses the cup against the kid’s lips, and he feels as he struggles, whimpering softly, scared. Shit, he... he prolly has no idea what the fuck is going on, is so fucking disoriented... 

 He begins whispering to the kid then, not knowing what to say, but just... knowing he has to say something, something soothing. He hums softly as he decides to just... let the soft words that he’s been gathering for weeks now out of his heart, telling Kiyotaka that he is there, that he will always be there, promising that he’s not alone, that he’ll never be alone again, that Mondo will take care of him, he promises... he promises... 

 And then he... he says...

 “Open up, Kiyotaka, shit. P-please... I’m beggin’ ya man... just... drink some water...” 

 The kid... Kiyotaka stops struggling then, and finally, finally opens his lips. It’s just a little, a small amount, but it’s enough for a small trickle of water to get passed his dry and cracked lips, which is so fucking relieving. But then... then the kid startles again, a soft sound of distress getting released as he panics, taking too much water too quick. Oh, shit... 

 So fucking scared, not knowing what to do but knowing he has to do something, Mondo lowers the hand holding the cup but doesn’t put it down, moving his other hand to rub soothing circles on the kid’s back, shushing him softly. 

 “Aw, shit. Slowly, man, slowly. That’s it, nice an’ easy... I’m gonna try that again, okay? Go slow this time. Idiot.”

 With that, Mondo moves his hand back to Kiyotaka’s neck and brings the cup back up to his lips, praying that he will drink this time. He’s so fucking dehydrated and if he won’t drink, Mondo is gonna have to call an ambulance or some shit, because he needs liquid, and fast. 

 Luckily, this time when he asks the kid to open up, he does so immediately. And then, when he tips a little of the liquid into his mouth, the kid doesn’t panic and just... sips it. Slowly. Mondo can see his throat working, moving slowly, swallowing the water, and fuck... he’s never felt so relieved in his life, watching the kid drink some fucking water, god... 

 However, then the kid is letting out a sound of desperation, seeming to realize that he is so fucking thirsty or something. He sees the kid’s hands try to come up, wavering so fucking much as they try and force the water down faster, but Mondo stops him, knowing he needs to go slow. 

 “Aw, shit man, stop! Ya gotta go slow. Yer dehydrated, ya can’t drink it too fast... trust me, man. I got you. I won’t let you down. Not again. I… I promise.”

 And he means it. He fucking means it. He has failed this kid so many fucking times, but he won’t this time, and he never will again. Because now he... he knows that this kid fucking matters. He’s always known that, from the minute the kid had run into him and knocked his world on its side, but- but he... he’s always been so afraid of it. Of the feeling. Of what it means. 

 But he’s not afraid of it. Not now. Not... not anymore. He doesn’t know why he feels this way, why this boy matters so fucking much to him, but it just doesn’t matter now, and he refuses to let his goddamn fucking nonsense ruin this shit anymore. This kid has faced some truly horrible fucking things, things that Mondo has barely scratched the surface of but can tell have damaged the kid so fucking much. He has scars all over his chest and back, which Mondo has noticed before, of course he’s noticed them, but now he’s really starting to realize what exactly they mean, and it just... it’s fucking him up inside, and all he wants is to bundle this kid up and never let him get hurt again, keep him safe from all harm, and Mondo has always felt like that, always wanted that, but now, for once...

 He’s not afraid of it. 

 And he won’t back down. 

 Not unless Kiyotaka wants him to...

 (But even then. Even then, Mondo will do everything he can to keep him safe. He won’t stalk the kid, but he will make sure that no one dares to lay a finger on him. He’s firmly under Mondo’s protection now. Nothing will change that. Absolutely nothing.) 

 Knowing that Kiyotaka needs to drink more, so he’s not so weak (physically. He’s so fucking strong emotionally, so fucking strong) anymore, he presses the cup back to the boy’s lips, his heart lurching softly when the kid immediately opens up and drinks, slowly, not even needing Mondo to remind him to go slow and steady. Mondo is so fucking proud of the kid, like a fucking mother hen, but he doesn’t care. This kid deserves all the softness in the world. If there’s one thing Mondo is sure of, it’s that. 

 It doesn’t take long for the cup to run empty, but the kid needs more, so Mondo gets up to refill the cup. But then he’s fucking crying, sad and pitiful, and Mondo immediately returns, holding him close, saying to him, “aw, shit, I’m just getting more water, alright? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

 And when Mondo is forced to leave again— though god does he not want to— he keeps talking. Promising that he’ll be right back, that he’s not leaving, that he will never leave again... promises that he will never break, and not just because he doesn’t break promises, but because he fucking means the shit out of them. More than any promise he’s ever made before. 

 He’s back soon after, bringing two cups with him this time, helping Kiyotaka drink, and drink, and drink. Mondo doesn’t know much about severe dehydration, just knows that it’s important for the person to be given fluids, preferably sports drinks, but since he doesn’t have that shit, water will have to do. If Kiyotaka doesn’t get better after the third cup, Mondo’s gonna try and see if he can take him to the nurse if the lady is still there. If not... shit. He’ll prolly have to call an ambulance, since he doesn’t think Kiyotaka could handle riding on his hog to the hospital, which is at least a ten-minute ride away. He’s hoping he won’t have to do that, though. Hopes that drinking the water will be enough to help him. He also hopes that it’s just dehydration that’s the problem... fuck. 

 The good thing is that Kiyotaka is drinking willingly. And the more he drinks, the more lucid he appears. He still seems very out of it, but about halfway through the third cup, he starts blinking rapidly, like waking himself from a dream. His eyebrows furrow, and he starts looking around a bit. He takes in the bathhouse and even looks down at his chest, like he’s just then noticing that he’s half naked. Mondo allows him to do this, but always makes sure the kid is still drinking, wanting to make sure he gets at least three cups in, since he had to have lost a lot of water while sweating. Mondo himself isn’t feeling too hot and knows he needs to drink more, too, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t ensure that Kiyotaka is okay before doing anything else for himself. 

 Mondo knows the exact second that things slot into place for the kid, since one second he’s loose and pliant in his arms, allowing him to hold his neck and give him the water, and the next he’s sitting ramrod straight, eyes wide. It startles Mondo a bit and he straightens up from the hunch he’d found himself in, so fucking relieved to see some lucidity in those bright red eyes. Fuck, but was that glazed look terrifying... 

 “Oh, shit. Are ya back? Ya really fuckin’ scared me there, dude, the fuck...? I was ‘bout ta take yer ass ta the nurse, consequences be damned. Shit, should I still do that...? Kiyotaka?” 

 The kid is just staring at him, his skin far too pale, his eyes moving back and forth over Mondo’s face as he seems to try to be figuring something out. They then widen somehow further and then-

 “Aw, shit! Fuck, man, what the hell!”

 Mondo stares wide eyed at the kid as he abruptly stands, his body shaking horribly, looking like he just saw a ghost, shit... Mondo is afraid the kid is about to collapse so he stands quickly, hands hovering to ensure he doesn’t fall, but the kid doesn’t seem to notice him. Oh... shit... he’s not better, is he? God fucking dammit...

 “W-w-w-what... w-what... h-h-happened?! I... I didn’t... oh god...” 

 Mondo sees Kiyotaka sway then, looking like he’s about to faint, scaring the absolute shit out of Mondo. Rushing forward, he grabs the kid by his shoulders, holding him upright. Part of him wants to pull him close, to wrap him up and never let him go, but he can tell the kid is super fucking freaked out, and he doesn’t want to make him panic, shit. 

 “What the fuck... aw, shit, y’ain’t better. Okay, that’s it. I’m takin’ ya ta the fuckin’ nurse. Goddamnit...” 

 Mondo tries to move Kiyotaka, then, carefully guiding him over to the door so they can make the stupidly long walk to the nurse’s office, mind racing a mile a minute as he tries to determine if it wouldn’t just be better to call the ambulance now. On one hand, he doubts the nurse is still there, since it’s well after curfew, but on the other... calling for an ambulance means he might have to explain this shit, and he just... shit. But he needs to do right by Kiyotaka, and if that includes getting himself in trouble, he’ll fucking do it. He doesn’t care what happens to him, just as long as this wonderful, incredible boy is safe. Huh...

 As distracted as Mondo is, he doesn’t expect any resistance to his movement, expecting Kiyotaka to be as pliant as he previously had been. As such, when the kid fucking pulls away from him, weak as it is, Mondo isn’t expecting it and thus is unable to keep his grip. And he watches, heart stopping, as the kid slams into the row of lockers, collapsing immediately to the ground with a soft noise of pain. 

 Shit!!!

 “Shit! Kiyotaka, are you fuckin’ alright?! What the hell, man?! Stop bein’ an idiot and let me take ya ta the nurse, fuck!” 

 He doesn’t mean to sound angry or anything, he’s just so fucking scared, needing the kid to cooperate so he can just get better already and not make Mondo worry he’s gonna fucking die or something... but given the way that Kiyotaka glares at him (or tries to glare, Mondo can tell he’s still a little out of it and can’t quite put the usual amount of passion into it), he can tell the kid intends to be difficult, looking at him like he doesn’t want Mondo to come any closer or something. Mondo immediately says, ‘fuck that,’ though, and rushes to the kid’s side, kneeling down, his eyes bleeding with his concern. He watches the kid blink, some more lucidity rising within the red, as he opens his mouth to speak. 

 “W-wait! I don’t... dang it. I don’t need to go to the- t-the nurse! I’m just... confused. Give me... give me a moment to... collect myself!” Kiyotaka says, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking. Mondo looks at him firmly, ensuring the kid means it and that he’s not just saying random, nonsense bullshit again. 

 Once he’s satisfied that the kid is, in fact, lucid enough to make that decision, he nods stiffly, still feeling so very, very concerned. 

 “Alright... shit, fine. If ya say so. But ya gotta drink some more water, alright?! Slowly. I should drink more too, fuck...”

 Mondo stands, then, and walks over to the water cooler again, hands tingling unpleasantly as he leaves Kiyotaka’s side. He quickly fills up two fresh cups of water and hurries back, handing the kid one of the cups as soon as he is by his side. 

 As soon as the kid takes it, Mondo flops down to sit beside him, so close they touch, and begins to drink his water, finding comfort in being able to feel the kid warm against his side. He is honestly thirsty as fuck, wanting to gulp it down again, but he forces himself to go slow, not wanting to be a hypocrite. He notices after a second that Kiyotaka isn’t drinking and is just staring at him blankly, eyes glazing over again, which scares him more than he is willing to say, fuck. 

 “Dude. Drink. Or I’m draggin’ ya ta the nurse, kickin’ an’ screamin’. Don’t think I won’t,” Mondo rumbles, startling the kid out of whatever fugue he’d entered into. The kid glares at him lightly, not nearly as strong as Mondo knows it could be, but at least he doesn’t try and counter him. He just brings the cup to his lips and drinks the cool water slowly, his eyes darting back and forth as he thinks hard about something. They don’t glaze over again, though, so Mondo lets him be and just drinks his water, every cell in his body so fucking aware of the kid sitting directly beside him. It honestly would scare him, how much he cares about this kid, if he’d not already decided to not care about that shit anymore. He cares about the kid. He doesn’t know why, he just does. End of fucking story. 

 Mondo doesn’t know how long they sit there drinking their water, and he doesn’t really care. He usually hates sitting still for so long, his skin crawling to get up and do something already, but strangely... he doesn’t really mind it too much. Sitting here, beside Kiyotaka. It... despite the worry he still feels, there’s also a strange calmness inside him now. Like... like something inside him that had been out of place and broken for years is just... gone, allowing him to breathe easy for the first time. It’s so strange but also... so very, very nice...

 Eventually their cups run empty, and Mondo is about to offer to get them both some more water again when the kid speaks. His voice is low and shaky, but it sounds a lot better and more lucid than it had before, which relieves the shit out of him. But then he comprehends the words, and he...

 “O-Owada... back in... in the, uh, sauna... I didn’t, um. Say anything strange. Did I?” Kiyotaka asks softly, looking very nervous. It concerns Mondo a lot that the kid apparently doesn’t remember what happened in the sauna, but he supposes it makes sense. He had been super fucking outta it... 

 He still takes his time to think about it. He usually just blurts out his words, no thought put into them at all, but this... shit. This matters. And he has to be so fucking careful if he doesn’t want to hurt the kid again. And god, does he not wanna do that... 

 Finally, he figures he’ll go the safe route and figure out what, exactly, the kid does and doesn’t remember. If he remembers nothing, then maybe... maybe it would be better to keep it that way, shit... 

 Ignoring the way his heart clenches at the thought, he sets his face into a carefully neutral expression, revealing nothing as he speaks, voice a low rumble. 

 “That depends. What do ya remember?”

 Mondo watches, heart clenched strangely again, as Kiyotaka bites his lip gently, eyes unfocused as he thinks. They’re not glazed, though, so Mondo thinks he’s just concentrating, not zoning out. After a few moments, the kid glances up at him, expression open and searching. It makes Mondo want to gasp, everything in him swirling, and when the kid speaks, still looking at him, he... h-he... 

 “I’m… I’m not sure. It’s all... fuzzy. I can’t quite tell... what is real or not. I have no idea what I said during that last part, though... just fragments of old memories and thoughts.” Kiyotaka pauses, his hands shaking lightly. He looks away then, down at the ground, and Mondo feels so strangely bereaved... “But I... I remember you... you said... things. About- a-about me. Y-you... you called me... wonderful. Special. H-heh! H-how r-ridiculous! I must... must have been- been hallucinating! Aha!” 

 The kid sounds nervous, frantic, like he’s afraid Mondo will hurt him, like he’s afraid Mondo will laugh at him, will tell him that he... he’s wrong, that Mondo hadn’t said that, that he... he doesn’t believe that...

 Which is bullshit. Because he did say that. And he’d meant it. Means it. Fully and completely. 

 Mondo consciously forces his shoulders to lose the tension that had entered them unbidden at Kiyotaka’s frantic words, sighing softly, a wry smile rising on his lips as he looks at the kid. The kid looks so fucking scared, so desperate, like he doesn’t believe that Mondo had said that shit, but that he wants to believe it. 

 And, shit... even if he hadn’t said it, he sure as shit would say it now. Because Kiyotaka truly is wonderful and special, ain’t he...? 

 Heh... 

 “Nah. That, uh. That happened. You really don’t remember what you said?” he asks as casually as he can, his head tilted in question, hoping he’s hiding the way his heart is racing well enough, but honestly not really caring if he’s not. He... he doesn’t want to keep shit from this kid. Not... not anymore... he watches as Kiyotaka shakes his head weakly, moving his eyes to stare at his hands again. It makes Mondo’s smile widen, eyes soft as silk. Heh. So... so fucking cute...

 “Heh. Makes sense. Ya weren’t exactly all there, ya know. Kept mumblin’ bits a’ nonsense. Could barely make sense a’ ya myself, tell the truth. Somethin’... somethin’ ‘bout yer grandfather. ‘Bout needin’ ta right his wrongs. An’ then there was somethin’ ‘bout other kids? An’ hatred? Ya mentioned how yer da don’t understand ya, how he hates ya, or somethin’. An’ ‘bout how... how ya... ya hate yerself. Which I think is fuckin’ bullshit, ya shouldn’t fuckin’ hate yerself, yer incredible, but whatever. There was a lot a’ other stuff too. ‘Bout not givin’ up, ‘bout havin’ ta prove people wrong. Some other shit, too, but I don’t really ‘member it all, sorry. But... shit man. Is that... is that real? Did ya... did ya really mean alla’ that?” 

 Mondo doesn’t really mean to ask the question, knowing the kid needs to be allowed to rest and relax, not be asked stupid fucking questions, but he can’t help it. He’s not lying when he says he doesn’t quite remember everything. It’s all starting to blur in his head, and while he’s fairly certain he remembers the most of it, some details are starting to slip away, and he just... did the kid really say all that shit, or had he imagined it, too? Shit...

 But then... then, after a moment, Kiyotaka, he... h-he...

 “Aw, shit,” he mutters under his breath, which seems to just make the kid cry harder. It breaks Mondo’s heart so much, hating seeing his tears. God... this kid just always fucking cries around him, doesn’t he...? Shit... shit! H-he didn’t want to make the kid cry! G-god, he... he wants so badly to hold the kid, to keep him safe from the sorrow within him, but would the kid even want that? After everything he’s done, all he’s taken from him, would he actually want to be held in his arms? It’s his fault he’s crying, his fault he’s in this situation, and he doesn’t know if Kiyotaka would want to be anywhere near him, let alone in his arms! But he... he wants so, so badly to... t-to...

 “Please, man, don’t cry, shit, I’m sorry! I... aw, fuck it. Come here.” 

 Mind made up, Mondo darts forward and— carefully as he possibly can— wraps an arm around the kid, pulling him gently to his chest, firm and tight. He can feel the kid struggle against him, and it kills him inside to feel it, especially when the kid starts frantically apologizing, like he thinks Mondo is going to hurt him or something. He thinks it might be best to let him go, to apologize and never touch him again, but he... h-he thinks the problem isn’t that Mondo is hugging him, but that the kid thinks Mondo is upset. So maybe... if he can reassure the kid that it’s okay, that he wants this, maybe... m-maybe he’ll stop struggling so hard... and maybe... m-maybe...

 “Shhh. Shh, c’mon. It’s okay, Kiyotaka. I’m here. Y’ain’t alone. I got you. Ain’t got nothin’ ta ‘pologize fer, ya got it? Yer okay. We’re both okay.” 

 He keeps his arms steady on Kiyotaka, praying to any god that will listen that he’s doing the right thing, that he’s not hurting the kid more, that this is okay, and then... after a minute... after a minute...

 The kid stops. Stops struggling, stops apologizing. His chest is heaving, and his eyes are still leaking tears, but he doesn’t seem distressed at Mondo holding him anymore. At least... Mondo hopes he isn’t. And then... t-then...

 Kiyotaka buries his head in his chest, firm and present, hiding his face. His arms come up too, fists curling into Mondo’s tank top, clutching it like his life depends on it. And then he... he just...

 Lets go.

 The kid is crying so fucking hard, chest heaving, sobs loud and noisy, and fuck, does it hurt. Mondo feels so fucking helpless as he holds the kid, doing all he can to rub soothing circles on his back, whisper soft words in his ear, doing all he can to remember the shit Daiya would say when he was little and he still allowed himself to cry, not yet realizing it was wrong of him to do such a thing. He feels like it’s not enough, never enough, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s never seen the kid cry so hard before. Before he- he would always stifle it, keep it in. 

 Mondo hadn’t realized it at the time, but seeing the kid truly let go now, he can see just how hard he would fight to keep his tears and true sorrow contained, and he feels so much for the boy that he can’t even begin to describe it. It’s like... a sad kind of pride. Like he’s proud the kid was able to keep going despite the sorrow and despair he clearly feels, but also so, so fucking sad that the kid had to do it. That he had to keep this all in, unable to have anyone to share his burden with, to shoulder the pain and anguish he so clearly feels inside. Mondo... M-Mondo knows what that is like, what it’s like to have to always keep everything in, never let it out, and he... he hates that Kiyotaka knows it, too. The pain.  The loneliness. 

 Maybe they really aren’t so different... are they? 

 Fuck... and who knows? Maybe that’s why he’s always cared so much about this kid. He... he just reminds him of him so goddamn much. Of... of the kid he used to be, before he built up walls so high around that child that he’d never see the light of day again. Of the scared little boy that he was, wondering why his parents hated him, why he was never good enough, why he didn’t fucking matter. He’d always been so scared and sad back then, so small and weak. Kinda like Kiyotaka is now, even with how fucking strong he knows this kid to usually be. 

 But...

 But he had Daiya, didn’t he? Even when the whole world was against him, (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~) he... he always had Daiya. Daiya, who loved him. Daiya, who cared for him. Daiya who raised him, Daiya who taught him, Daiya who sacrificed fucking everything for him. (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~). It didn’t matter that he was scared, or that he was weak. Daiya loved him regardless, and he always, always kept him safe. 

 Kiyotaka... Kiyotaka never had that... did he? He can’t say for sure, but the kid has never mentioned a sibling, either older or younger, which makes him think he’s an only, no sibs, bro or sis. Which means that he... he didn’t have anyone always on his side. Someone who would protect him no matter what. Or someone that he could protect, no matter what. His da is clearly not that great, if Kiyotaka’s words about him hating him were to go by, and his ma is gone, who knows for how long, or what his relationship was to her when she was around. He... he didn’t have someone to protect him... to keep him safe, from all harm... to... t-to love him...

 Eventually the kid stops crying so hard, the desperate sobs petering out into soft, quiet ones, his breath hitching only slightly every few seconds. And then, a little while later he... he stops sobbing entirely. The tears have run dry, his body has stopped shaking, but he... he doesn’t move away. He just stays there, in Mondo’s arms. 

 Like he belongs there... 

 “Ya feelin’ better?”

 The words are said softly. Gently. He doesn’t wanna spook the kid, knowing how fragile he prolly feels right about now. Mondo gets it. He hasn’t let himself cry fully in years, not even... h-heh. Well. Point is, while he’s not truly cried in years, he remembers how fragile it leaves you feeling afterward. How shaky. 

 And when he sees Kiyotaka’s eyes dart up, looking scared and afraid, Mondo doesn’t tense up. Doesn’t try and hide the openness on his face. He lets the kid see it. The softness. The care. The... the affection, because god, does he feel affection. He lets the kid see it, and he feels the kid settle against him, the fear vanishing, though the lingering sorrow remains. God... how Mondo wishes he could take that away...

 “Yes. I... yes. M-Mondo... t-thank you. I... I’m sorry...”

 Mondo can’t help the way he reaches out at that, hand gently grasping a warm, wet cheek. He realizes absently that that’s the first time the kid has said his name, and god is it making his insides squirm. And he can see the kid look at him with wide, watery eyes, lips open on a soft gasp, looking almost... dazed... shit...

 “Don’t. Thank me. Apologize. Ain’t nothin’, got it? I... I didn’t mind. At all. So, don’t... don’t apologize. It’s alright. You’re... you’re alright.” 

 And he means it. God... does he mean it. It... it had felt nice. So very, very nice. Holding Kiyotaka. Comforting him as he cried, somehow not fucking it up as badly as he’d been fearing. He’s always been so fucking shit at comforting people, feeling like he has to be tough all the time, unable to comfort since tough people aren’t soft and sympathetic. But here, with Kiyotaka... h-he’d been able to be soft. Kind. Gentle. All the things he’s secretly yearned to be for so fucking long, but never was able to, since he doesn’t lead a life that is suited for such things. He always has to be so tough, so strong, but... but with Kiyotaka... with this wondrous, amazing, incredible, beautiful boy...

 He can be soft. 

 And he will never be able to thank Kiyotaka enough for giving him that ability. 

 And when Kiyotaka smiles at him, wide, bright, unrestrained...? Mondo can’t help how he smiles back, wider than he’s ever felt it go before, heart beating so softly and yet meaningfully, feeling so very much for this precious boy. He... he’ll never be able to repay him for this... will he? For what he has given him this day... even if they are never this close again, even if Kiyotaka doesn’t want anything to do with him after this, he’ll never forget what this felt like. What it feels like to be soft. And gentle. And... and kind. 

 But... shit. Shit. 

 Now that they have this... now that he’s tasted this... what happens now? He... he doesn’t wanna... 

 “Shit, man. The fuck we do now? I... I don’t wanna go back ta how it was. I... shit. I was a goddamn monster ta ya these last few weeks... since we met, shit… I... goddamn it,” Mondo mutters, feeling his smile fade as pain fills him, remembering all the shit he has done to this poor, amazing kid. The shit he’s said. The way he’s acted. Kiyotaka gave him so much today, but he hadn’t earned any of it, had he...? He can see the kid shaking his head, looking frantic, like he doesn’t agree, and Mondo can’t help how he glares. Lightly, but it still makes the kid flinch back, proving how much he’s hurt him, and how much he can still, potentially, hurt him. God... he doesn’t wanna ever hurt him... not again… “No, don’t deny it. I was a fuckin’ moron. I just... I ain’t ever... I don’t get you, Kiyotaka. What I feel... when you- you look at me...” 

 And it’s true. He still doesn’t quite get it. What he feels. Why he feels it. It... he thinks he might kinda get it, might kinda realize what this feeling is, why he wants to protect this kid so badly, but it... it doesn’t quite feel like it fits. And he just... he just doesn’t know... but... if not this then... what else? H-heh... 

 Sighing softly, feeling so confused but strangely not angry about it, Mondo allows a wry smile to rise on his lips as he presses closer to the kid, as close as he’s always secretly longed to be, since that first day when he held him but not ever close enough. One of his hands is curled loosely around Kiyotaka’s waist, while his other is still gently cupping his cheek and has been for a little while now. He notices dimly how they are almost bare, Kiyotaka wearing only his underwear while Mondo is in his thin tank top and loose black pants, and he can feel the kid’s heat as it presses against him, oddly intoxicating. Mondo’s hair is down from its pomp, having been knocked loose sometime in the sauna, and it’s been years since someone outside his gang saw him without it up, it makes him feel so naked to have it down, but he... he doesn’t really care. Not when it’s only Kiyotaka who sees it. 

 He... he wants Kiyotaka to see all of him... every last part. 

 Because he... he views the kid like... like a... 

 “It’s like yer my brother or somethin’. Like... my nerdy, dorky little brother. Someone I gotta take care of. Protect. Keep safe, from all harm. I never... shit. I had my brother, but he... he’s gone now. I can’t... I couldn’t protect him, fuck. An’ I… f-fuck. I can’t protect you, either, can I...?  No, I… I can’t... I can’t... a-and why the fuck would you want a fuck-up like me, anyway? You... god, you could do so much better... why would you want someone like me as your brother, s-shit...” 

 The thought stabs Mondo through the heart, the realization that as much as he may want to have this with Kiyotaka, to have a brotherhood with him, they... they likely never will. Because Mondo has messed up too much. Because Mondo ruined their chance before it ever even had the opportunity to live. Because Mondo is so fucking broken and damaged that no one in their right mind would ever want him as a brother. Daiya was forced to have him, and he was so fucking amazing that he chose to love him anyway, but Kiyotaka... he doesn’t have to be stuck with him. He doesn’t owe Mondo anything, anything at all. In fact, Mondo is the one who owes Kiyotaka. So much. So very, very much. Kiyotaka wouldn’t want him. He just... he wouldn’t. 

 And as he feels the kid freeze against him, breath stuttering and harsh, he... he knows he’s right, isn’t he? S-shit... he shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have thought himself good enough to deserve such a gift. Kiyotaka, wanting him like that... wanting him at all... while he may have been soft and pliant in his arms a moment ago, seeming like he was at ease, that doesn’t mean it was because of Mondo or anything that Mondo did. He’d been through an emotional time and he’d needed comfort, and Mondo had just been the nearest warm body. Doesn’t mean he trusts Mondo or that he wants anything from him at all. He’d have to be the world’s biggest fool to think Kiyotaka could ever want him, want him at all. 

 And Mondo... he may be a fool, but he ain’t that big of a fool. 

 Heart aching painfully in his chest, Mondo can’t help how he pulls away, not wanting to force Kiyotaka to be near him when he doesn’t deserve it, doesn’t deserve it at all.

 “Shit, I was right, goddamn it, aw shit! J-just forget I said anything, I- fuck!” 

 Mondo hands come up to clutch at his hair, then, the grip tight and painful but he doesn’t care. He wants it to hurt. To ache. It’s what he deserves for fucking this whole thing up, for being so woefully unworthy of being close to such a bright and beautiful boy. Maybe, had he been better— a better person, a good person— he could have been worthy of it. Had he never let his insecurities get in the way, had he just accepted what he felt as true the minute he felt it, not pushed it away in fear, maybe... maybe then, he could have had this. Kiyotaka, as his friend. Kiyotaka, as his brother. 

 But no. No, no. He had pushed it away. Had been afraid of it, so very afraid. Had let his fear turn to anger, like he was so wont to do, and ruined everything before it even began. 

 He deserves all the misery he feels for how stupid he’d been... 

 Mondo gets jolted out of his thoughts when he feels a soft, tentative hand touch him, his eyes wide and manic as he looks at Kiyotaka, who looks so fucking afraid, god. H-he scares the kid so goddamn much, like he scares everyone, because he’s a monster, a senseless beast that only ever hurts people. Breaks people. He’s not allowed nice things, not allowed good things. Not allowed to be gentle, or soft, or kind. He... he’s just not... 

 To his utter shock, he can see Kiyotaka smile at him. It’s soft, and hesitant, and... and beautiful... but it can’t be real. It... the kid is trying to be kind, trying to hide his fear to make Mondo feel better, because he’s so goddamn nice, so fucking good, shit- 

 “N-no! Don’t worry! I was just- not expecting that! But I- I feel- the same. I feel- the same! I would be honored, Mondo Owada, to be considered your brother! I’ve never had a brother, never even had a friend, but I couldn’t imagine a better one than you! Y-you... you’re incredible...” 

 He... he... does he really mean that...? Does he truly... truly wanna be Mondo’s... Mondo’s brother? The kid is so bad at lying, and it hadn’t sounded like he was lying, but... but it... shit. It can’t be true, it can’t... after all the shit Mondo has done, how could the kid ever see him positively, even a little? Mondo isn’t a good brother, he’d always been so shit to Daiya, taking and taking and taking and never giving. He’d taken everything from Daiya, never satisfied with what Daiya gave freely, so he stole the most important thing in the end. 

 H-he’d just steal everything from Kiyotaka too. 

 It’s what he does... 

 “Ya can’t mean that, Kiyotaka... I’m a goddamn mess... and you... you are... shit. You’re goddamn perfect and I’m hot dog shit, ya can’t... y-you can’t...”

 And it’s true. Mondo has more to say, more to confess, but his throat is so thick, and he doesn’t know how to say it. To confess all his crimes to Kiyotaka, to let him know how unworthy he is. He- he hears Kiyotaka take a deep breath, and he doesn’t wanna hear what the kid has to say, doesn’t wanna hear him agree, but then he’s speaking, and his words... t-they... 

 “Mondo... I- I’m not perfect. I... I’m not. B-but that’s okay! I do my best, but so do you! I can see how hard you try and sometimes that’s all that matters! You’re not... dog feces! You... you’re so much more, Mondo...” 

 No... n-no, the kid, he... he doesn’t understand, he just- he doesn’t understand! Mondo, he has to... has to tell him. N-not all of it, he’s not strong enough to confess it all, he’s always been so goddamn weak, but he- he has to... a little. Enough so the kid knows. So he stops feeling pity for him and realizes that he... 

 He’s just not worth it... 

 “No. N-no, I ain’t shit, goddamnit, I...” Mondo has to stop, feeling so fucking conflicted. On one hand he wants to confess, on the other hand he wants to be selfish, and he just... h-he just... 

 But he can’t. Be selfish. Not... not about this. 

 Not with Kiyotaka. 

 With a soft sigh, he feels the tension inside him melt away, his body relaxing with the decision he’s made. All of his emotions— both good and bad— fade away until all he feels inside is... is...

 Cold resignation...

 “I hate myself. Always fuckin’ have. Heh. There, I... I fuckin’ said it. I love the gang, don’t get me wrong. I love bein’ with ‘em, bein’ a part a’ somethin’ bigger than myself. I love leadin’ ‘em, ridin’ my hog, wind in my hair... I fuckin’ love it. Even bein’ here, unable ta lead directly, I still like callin’ the shots from behind the scenes while my second in command implements it an’ shit. Means somethin’, ‘least. But... I dunno. Sometimes I’ll be in the middle ofa fight and I’ll just... wanna stop. Quit. Do somethin’... do somethin’ else fer a change. But I… heh. I can’t. I promised my bro... Daiya, I... I promised him I’d keep the gang together. He built it from scratch an’ I... I can’t leave that. I made a promise, a man’s promise, ta keep us together. So, I... I gotta keep doin’ that. Can’t stop. Ever. Not ‘til the gang is dead an’ shit, all the members movin’ on ta do better shit with their lives. An’ me… heh. Not much use fer me after that, is there?”

 Mondo pauses, and then looks down at his hands, a small, sad smile on his face. 

 “But you? Yer gonna go places, man. Shootin’ fer the moon. Prime fuckin’ Minister, shit, man. Never met anyone with such high goals, really. Never met anyone who wanted ta do that sorta shit, change things from the inside. Heard ya in class, talkin’ ‘bout yer plans an’ shit. Wantin’ ta make the world a better place, havin’ such hope for this garbage planet. Ya... ya’ve got drive. Determination. An’ I know yer gonna do it, ya know. Succeed. More than any a’ the other chucklefucks we go ta school with, ‘least. Yer just so... determined. Got such passion. I... I admire that ‘bout ya, always did.”

 Mondo pauses again, and he… he laughs. It’s sad, and pathetic, and it... he... h-heh...

 “But that… heh. That ain’t me, Kiyo. Ain’t me. I ain’t got plans, ain’t got any fuckin’ clue a’ what I’m gonna do after school ends. They got me takin’ fuckin’ leadership classes an’ shit, but the fuck am I gonna do with that bullshit? I can lead a gang, yeah, but that… heh. That’s ‘bout it, Christ. An’ ya… yer gonna see that one day. And yer gonna leave me. And I’ll be happy fer ya, ‘course I will, but... sh-shit. God... goddamnit...” 

 Mondo doesn’t know where he’s going with this. He doesn’t know what he’s saying or why he’s saying it. His head is so jumbled, so scrambled, and part of him wants to tell Kiyotaka everything. About his parents. About his brother. About what he did, what he stole. He wants to confess so, so badly, to see the hatred and anger and rage on that kid’s face when he realizes how big a piece of shit Mondo really is, horrified that he’d ever felt pity for such a pitiless creature. 

 But...

 He can’t. Can’t do that. He... he can’t burden Kiyotaka with his bullshit. And knowing the kid... he’d still try. To feel pity. To feel sorrow. He- he’s such a good person, so bright and shining. He’s the kind of person who would see a merciless and dangerous monster like him and think there’s something worthwhile in it. It wouldn’t be until his neck is snapped under Mondo’s uncaring hand that he’d realize he was wrong. And maybe... maybe not even then. He’d die, thinking Mondo was better than he was, even if it were Mondo who killed him. 

 God...

 So, he can’t tell the truth. Can’t burden the kid like that. But he... he can’t let him get close. Even if he... he really wants to... 

 “I’ll just hold ya back. Ya don’t want someone like me, Kiyo. Ya don’t want someone like me at all. So... I ‘ppreciate yer words. But it may be best ta leave this here. Ta... ta forget ‘bout this all and just... move on. I’ll leave ya alone and ya won’t hafta-”

 “No!” Mondo hears echo through the room, cutting off his words so thoroughly. It startles the fuck out of him, and he can’t help how he stares, wide-eyed, up at Kiyotaka. It’s weird, looking up to see the kid, but he’s sitting upright, almost standing but not quite, knees firmly planted on the floor. But seeing as how Mondo is crumbled pathetically on the floor, sitting back on his thighs, he has to look up to see Kiyotaka. And he looks... looks so...

 Scared...

 But...

 Not... not of- of... of Mondo...? 

 “Mondo, please! I just... look. I- I try to be perfect, but I... I’m not! And I know you aren’t either! But... but maybe that’s okay! Maybe... m-maybe... maybe we can learn to be not perfect... together? I, ah. I don’t know! A-all I know is... I want to be f-friends with you, Mondo Owada. I don’t care about your flaws; I don’t care that you’re in a gang! I just... I want... w-we can be brothers. If you want... we can be brothers. I want... I would want nothing more than to be your brother! Your kyoudai!” 

 Brothers. Brothers. Kiyotaka wants them to be... brothers...

 It’s too good to be true. Too fucking good to be true. Mondo doesn’t get nice things like this. He doesn’t get soft, kind, gentle things. He gets shit. He gets cruelty. He gets anger and hatred and rage. He gets angry fists and cruel words, and a suspicious look on his back at all fucking times. After all the shit he has done, the people he has hurt, the lives he has ruined, he... he doesn’t deserve... he just doesn’t... 

 But as he sits there, staring up at Kiyotaka with wide eyes and an open mouth, he... he remembers something. Something the kid had said, in the sauna. How he... he never had a friend before. How everyone always hated him. And it could have just been insecurity talking, the kid thinking people hated him when they really didn’t but judging by the scars, he... he would doubt that. 

 He’s never had a friend. He’s never had a brother. Someone to keep him safe. To protect him from all harm. Someone to hold onto, someone to tell him it is alright. That he is alright. He... he hasn’t had that. 

 And Mondo is the worst choice for a brother. He knows it, okay? He’s so fucking awful it’s not funny. But... but he... the kid doesn’t seem to get that. And Mondo is too weak to explain why he shouldn’t want it. And, as such, he... Kiyotaka wants to be friends. Brothers. With him. 

 Mondo is a mess. He messes everything up, ruining everything he touches. He... he doesn’t want to ruin Kiyotaka too. He doesn’t want to hurt him. He... he never...

 But maybe...

 Maybe...

 It’s stupid. God, so fucking stupid. But maybe... if he tries hard, so fucking hard... if he is careful, keeps his anger in check, does all he can, he... maybe he...

 He can be Kiyotaka’s brother...

 And keep him safe...

 It makes him smile. It’s small at first, tentative. Like a stiff wind will blow it away. But as Kiyotaka keeps looking at him steadily, earnestly, he... he feels the smiles strengthen. Feels as it grows wider and wider, until it fills his whole face, his eyes squinting with how wide it is. He’s never felt like this before, so scared and terrified, but also... also... 

 Hopeful.

 “Ya... ya really mean that, Kiyo?” 

 Kiyo. Mondo doesn’t really know why he’s calling the kid that, nicknames aren’t super common in their culture, but somehow, he... he kinda likes it. He doesn’t know if the kid does, he should ask, but before he has the chance to, the kid is nodding. Enthusiastic and bright, a shaky grin on his face. He still seems a little out of it, but god, is he trying... fuck that kid is so amazing...

 “Yes! Of course! I always mean everything I say! I would not lie to you, Mondo, I promise you that! We shall be the best kyoudai! You’ll see! Aha! This is fantastic!”

 Oh, god... this kid is so fucking cute! God... h-he really shouldn’t be thinking that, should push it away like he always pushes stupid ass thoughts like that away, but he... he’s allowed to see his brother as cute... right? Or, well... his little brother. Though... fuck. Is Kiyotaka younger than him? He seems like it, as naive and endlessly optimistic as he is, but fuck, he doesn’t actually know. Mondo is usually one of the youngest in his class, since his birthday is at the end of the year, but he’s always felt decades older than the chucklefucks he goes to school with. Maybe it’s ‘cuz he was forced to grow up so fucking fast in order to survive, shit. 

 But you know what? Whatever. It doesn’t matter if Mondo is older or not. He’s the older brother regardless. That shit is felt, not necessarily determined by birth order. Daiya was his older brother in more ways than just because he was physically older, after all.  

 At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that... that Kiyotaka wants this. Wants... wants Mondo. And Mondo doesn’t deserve it, had never deserved it, but fuck, is he a selfish bastard. But he won’t take this shit for granted. Now that they are brothers, Mondo will go all fucking out. No fucking reservations. They are brothers, now, and Mondo is the big brother. The ani. It’s his duty and obligation to keep Kiyotaka safe from all harm, including (and especially) from Mondo himself. And he won’t. Hurt him. Not now, not ever. If he ever does, he will stab himself in the gut, commit fucking seppuku, he swears he will. He’d rather die than hurt this precious, amazing, incredible boy ever, ever again. 

 And so, Mondo grins, and he laughs, and he lets his arms reach forward and wrap around the kid, like he’s been wanting to do since he ripped himself away the last time. Part of him is afraid the kid won’t want it, or he’ll realize how stupid this whole thing is, but Kiyotaka doesn’t even tense at all as he goes willingly into Mondo’s arms, melting like warm putty against him. Like he... he belongs there...

 S-shit... 

 “Okay. O-okay. Kiyotaka, I... I’ll do my best. I can’t promise ya anythin’, know I’m a goddamn fuck-up who ruins everything, but... but for you? I’ll try. That... that’s all I can offer... heh…” 

 It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but he feels Kiyotaka wrap his arms around him, holding on so very, very tight, and it... it feels...

 Like coming home... 

 “That is all I could ever ask of you, my kyoudai! Y-you’re not a- a screw up! And- and your best is more than enough!”

 Shit. Shit. No one... no one has ever told him that before. That the best he offers is more than enough. It’s never been enough, he’s never been enough. He’s a screw up. The unwanted kid. The person who is good for violence and anger and rage, and that’s about it. 

 But here, being held by this remarkable fucking kid... hearing him say that it’s enough... that he’s enough…

 Maybe he’s inclined to believe him. 

 Wow... just...

 Wow...

 After a minute Mondo pulls back, knowing they need to talk about stuff, knowing he has to make promises, and it makes his heart sing when he feels the kid resist, arms refusing to let go at first. It makes him laugh softly, especially because he fully understands. But he doesn’t intend to go far. Just... he needs to look the kid in the eyes. He... he needs to see those beautiful as sin eyes...

 Pressing his forehead to Kiyotaka’s, soft and gentle and intimate, he can’t help how he smiles, eyes shining with the light he feels inside. And Kiyotaka... he...

 He looks at Mondo like he fucking matters... 

 “I’ll be good. Fer ya... I’ll be good. Promise, Kiyo. And ya can hold me ta that, got it? This is a promise between men. That means I gotta keep it.” 

 The kid looks stunned, eyes glazed but not in a bad way, breath hitched, and it... it makes Mondo feel...

 “Likewise! I- I will do everything I can to be the best brother I can be! I promise! We shall be the best kyoudai in the world! That’s a Kiyotaka Ishimaru guarantee!” 

 The enthusiastic words make Mondo laugh again, and he pulls away to wrap an arm around the kid’s shoulders, ruffling his hair gently like Daiya would always do to him. He notices that the hair is a bit longer than it once had been, and fuck, does he like it. The sweat from the sauna had made all the gel run out and his hair is now soft as it dries, curling lightly around the kid’s ears and it just...

 It’s so beautiful... 

 But ruffling the kid’s hair makes it fall in his eyes, which makes the kid let out an annoyed sound, adorable again, and Mondo can’t help the way he laughs. God, this kid makes him so goddamn happy... he’s never felt this happy before... never...

 “Yer the absolute, goddamn best, kyoudai. Kiyo. Hey, uh... is it okay if I call ya that? Kiyotaka’s just a bit of a mouthful, ‘sall. Ya got any other nicknames I could use?” 

 He looks at the kid at that, Kiyotaka’s (or should he say Kiyo? Does the kid like it? Shit...) mouth pulled down in a thoughtful frown. A moment passes, and then- 

 “A-ah! Kiyo is fine! If you’d like! B-but... well... m-my mother. She called me... Taka. Y-you could use that, as well! If you’d like...” 

 Taka, huh? Taka. Taka. Yeah... yeah, he- he likes it. He likes it a lot! It suits the kid, and while Mondo still does kinda like Kiyo, he might like Taka a bit better. And if the kid wants him to call him that, then shit... who is he to deny him...?

 Smiling, soft and gentle in a way he’s never been able to be before, he nods. 

 “Taka... heh, I like it! Alright, Taka. Mondo ain’t exactly got any good nicknames fer it, but ya can call me that, if ya’d like.”

 Mondo watches as Taka blushes lightly, lips still partially open as he breathes in and out slowly. His eyes are kinda glazed still, but he seems present enough. Just... like he’s thinking of something. Mondo wants to reach out, wants to pull the kid into a hug again, wants to always, always be touching him, but he keeps his distance. Just... just for now. But later... 

 The kid shoots up again, interrupting Mondo’s thoughts, looking so enthusiastic again, eyes bright and smile happy. Holy shit...

 “Oh! I can always call you kyoudai!! That way the whole world will know our manly bond!” 

 It makes Mondo laugh again, harder, and he can’t help how he reaches out to ruffle his hair again, needing to touch him at least a little. Kyoudai, huh? ... yeah. Yeah, he likes that, too. Daiya was always ani to him, the proper name for the big brother, and Daiya usually called him shit like ‘kid’ or whatever, so it’s not like Taka calling him that will bring up any bad memories or shit. It’s just... something for them. Their own, little thing, for them and no one else. 

 Him and Taka. Taka and him. Two... two kyoudai...

 Incredible... 

 “Alright, Taka. If ya’d like. Now, it’s fuckin’ late. I ain’t even gotta look at a clock ta know that. Come on, kyoudai. Let’s get ya ta bed.” 

 Mondo stands, then, realizing how fucking late it is. The kid always gets up stupidly early, he remembers Taka saying that once a little while ago, so he knows they should be heading to bed soon. He feels strangely reluctant to do that, never wanting to part from this beautiful boy, but- but he’s the big brother. He has to keep his little brother safe and healthy, and that includes ensuring he gets a good night’s sleep. Even if it means they have to part ways...

 As Mondo stretches, he sees Taka stand as well, his body flushing bright red as he looks down at himself and seems to notice his state of undress. Like he’d forgotten or something. Mondo hadn’t. Not... not for a single second. Shit... 

 He feels his eyes dart down to the kid’s chest, unbidden, and he feels the small smile die on his lips as he sees the long, jagged looking scar that goes from Taka’s collarbone to the bottom of his sternum, right over his heart. How... how the fuck did he get a scar like that...? It doesn’t look like one that would come from surgery or something, since it’s too jagged, and it also doesn’t look accidental. But... but how the fuck... 

 “How’d ya get that? The... the scar?” Mondo finds himself asking softly before he can stop himself, his hand rising absently to trace the length of it. Fuck, but it feels as jagged as it looks... angry and painful. H-he hopes it doesn’t hurt anymore... 

 “A-ah... that...” Taka mutters, his body flushing. It jolts Mondo out of the fucking fugue he entered, and he removes his hand quickly, feeling embarrassed. S-shit... he shouldn’t have asked that, it ain’t his fucking business. Yeah, they’re kyoudai, but that... that don’t mean he’s earned the right to hear the kid’s dark history. He still has to earn that shit. He knows that.

 “Aw, shit! Taka, ignore me. Y’ain’t gotta talk ‘bout that shit. Uh, shi-shoot, I mean... stuff? Sorry… heh, know ya hate swearin’ an’ sh- stuff. Heh…” 

 Taka blinks at Mondo’s rambling words, which makes him feel strangely nervous. He doesn’t let it take over him, though. Doesn’t let himself get angry. But strangely... the anger he usually feels when embarrassed or nervous just... never showed up in the first place. Huh... 

 He watches, then, heart clenching, as Taka smiles at him, soft and gentle as ever. F-fuck...

 “I... I don’t mind! It’s not exactly a pleasant story, but I trust you, kyoudai! And... I don’t mind you cursing! Much! It... it’s what makes you, you! Just as long as you don’t do it in class or in the halls!”

 He... doesn’t mind him... cursing...???? After all those warnings, all of those detention slips, he truly expects Mondo to believe he doesn’t mind it when Mondo fucking curses? 

 But... huh. He can’t detect a lie in the kid’s words. He looks as earnest as ever, and it just... god. Mondo can’t begin to describe how he feels right now, just that it feels... soft. 

 Taka... Taka makes him feel soft. And fuck, is it not bad... not bad at all... 

 Unsure of what to say, what to do, Mondo just laughs again, since that’s the only thing that even slightly manages to express the softness that he feels inside, and he smiles at the kid gently while nodding. He should feel stupid, ridiculous, but he just... doesn’t. 

 God... 

 He watches then as Taka walks over to the locker he’d used earlier, seeming to want to no longer be partially nude. Mondo doesn’t mind it, has never minded being around naked dudes, but he guesses not everyone can be like that. As the kid dresses, he starts to talk. And the story he tells... 

 “It was one of my middle school bullies. I, er... wasn’t well liked, as a child! They never liked how I would get them in trouble, not to mention... ah. M-my, well. My grandfather,” Taka mutters, voice turning nervous as he talks about his grandfather, glancing at him anxiously. 

 Mondo still isn’t entirely sure what the kid’s deal with his grandfather is, but he can tell it bothers the kid, shit, so he does his best to not look at all judgmental, even though the fact the kid was fucking bullied makes his blood fucking boil... shit. He’d expected it, honestly, but it still fucking angers the fuck out of him, Christ…

 Luckily, it seems his anger at that isn’t too obvious, since the kid continues then, voice less shaky and upset, even though the shit he says... 

 “One day, one of them was... particularly angry. I’d gotten him suspended, you see, for a week. It was his own fault, he was the one who had scratched profanities into the headmaster’s car, I’d just been the one to report it! Still, he was... angry. So, after school, he had his friends hold me down while he cut this into my chest. A reminder, he said, to mind my own business. I think he was going to do more but was interrupted by something. It was most unpleasant!” 

 Holy. Fucking. Shit.

 Holy shit, holy shit!

 What the goddamn shit?!

 Some goddamn motherfucker... carved that shit into Taka’s chest...?! And how the fuck can Taka sound so casual about it?! Mondo has never felt so much rage directed towards someone he’s never met, but holy fucking shit, that goddamn bastard had better hope Mondo never meets him, or else he is fucking dead. The thought that anyone could ever hurt this wonderful boy in such a way is just so... insane to Mondo. How people can see him and not want to keep him safe from all harm is just... he doesn’t get it. Even when he told himself he hated the kid, he couldn’t bear the thought of actually hurting him. Not really. 

 And Taka he... he looks so fucking sad, right now. But also, just... resigned. Like he expects that treatment and, while it sucks, it’s just... life. Which is so much fucking bullshit, holy fucking shit-

 Mondo unintentionally lets out a strangled noise, his anger and rage choking him inside. He sees the kid look up at him and sees panic rise in his face when he sees the anger Mondo so clearly feels. Oh, shit... shit, he’s not mad at Taka, he’s not at all, but he can’t make the anger go away, because... because... 

 “They fuckin’ what?! What the goddamn shit?! Please tell me ya got those fuckers expelled!” 

 He had to have... right? Taka is so gung-ho about rules and shit, he- he must have told on those fuckers and got all of them expelled... r-right? 

 Wrong...

 “A-ah! N-not exactly! I... I never reported them! I rarely ever did, to tell the truth... it wouldn’t have mattered, see! The teachers didn’t like me much either; they only ever believed me if I had proof, and even then, only half the time! And they never much cared when I got hurt... b-but it was okay! I persisted and never let them break me down! My struggles made me stronger! Aha!” 

 W... what? He... he... oh, oh god... n-no... 

 “Y-you... what?” Mondo whispers, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands shaking. He has never felt so horrified before, a terrifying realization overcoming him. Because he... he was right, wasn’t he? This kid... h-he was abused. Horribly so. 

 By literally fucking everyone, holy fucking shit-!

 “I mean... that’s just... how it was? I handled it, though! I never gave up! They... they did not break me!” 

 Oh. Oh. Oh, this... this poor fucking kid... his poor fucking kyoudai, having to go through that nightmare, actually believing that it was just... normal. Just... how it was. But he... he can’t actually... actually believe he deserved it... r-right...?

 “Goddamnit... that’s why ya keep tellin’ me ta... ta punish ya, ain’t it? Taka, please tell me ya don’t actu’ly think ya deserved that shit?” 

 He can’t. He can’t. Please, god, he... he can’t...

 Mondo watches, heart breaking so thoroughly inside his chest, as Taka looks down at his uniform jacket, the only piece of his get up he’s not yet wearing. He’s frowning gently, like he actually has to fucking think about it, oh god, no...

 “I- I... I suppose so... I mean-! I... I don’t know. They all hated me... s-so... they must have had a good reason... r-right? To... to hate me. I... I must have deserved it... right?” 

 No. No. No. Mondo... he can’t fucking handle this shit. So many things make so much sense now, and he has never hated himself more. For not seeing it sooner. For not allowing himself to care about this boy all along. For maybe even reenforcing this goddamn bullshit, making the kid think he is right, when he sure as shit ain’t. He...

 He can’t help how he moves. Swift and quick. He- he just needs to be near the kid, needs to hold him, reassure him that no, he didn’t. Didn’t at all. He needs to do what he should have done weeks ago, in the laundry room, and reassure that kid that no. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt. Not... not ever... 

 He stops, though, when he sees Taka look up at him, terror in his eyes, like he... he thinks Mondo is going to fucking hurt him. He wants to go forward, wants to hold the kid so fucking bad, but he doesn’t have that fucking right, so he stays where he is, all the sorrow he feels surely reflected in his eyes. And as the kid looks at him, he... he relaxes. He still looks upset, but he doesn’t look scared. That... that’s something...

 Right? 

 “No. Fuckin’ no. Y’ain’t deserved any a’ that shit, goddamn, man… and I promise ya, Taka, I’m gonna make sure ya see that one day, even if it takes the rest a’ my goddamn life. And that’s a man’s promise.” 

 And he means it, fuck does he mean it. He had never meant anything more. He will spend the rest of his goddamn life ensuring that this wonderful kid knows how special and amazing he is, and that he never, ever deserves to be hurt. It’s his life’s fucking goal now, the one thing that fucking matters. He will take care of Taka for the rest of his goddamn life, even after the kid finally wises up and leaves his ass. He will watch from the shadows, keeping a careful eye on him, there to keep him safe from all harm. This kid will never know pain again if it’s the last fucking thing Mondo does. He swears. 

 As the kid looks at him, he sees the softest and most beautiful smile he’s ever seen lighting up the boy’s face. His eyes sparkle with it, and he’s looking at Mondo like he’s important again. Like he... like he matters. And Mondo...

 He won’t ruin this shit. He just... he won’t. 

 This matters too goddamn much for him to let it slip away. 

 “T-thank you... thank you, kyoudai. I... thank you.” 

 Mondo smiles gently at the kid, moving forward to tentatively wrap an arm around his shoulder, squeezing gently, needing to touch him but not wanting to overwhelm him, god. 

 “Ain’t gotta thank me, bro. Now, we really should head ta bed. Got school tomorrow an’ I don’t want my bro ta be tired! Come on, kyoudai. Let’s get goin’.” 

 Taka nods quick and puts his jacket on, buttoning it with practiced fingers. The kid turns back to the locker, frowning gently at whatever he sees inside. Mondo watches as the kid reaches out and grabs it, his breath hitching when he sees the kid is holding the glasses case that started this whole fucking mess. He... he honestly had forgotten about that shit, to tell the truth, with all the drama that just occurred. But as he looks at the kid, who is looking so softly at the glasses case, like they’re precious to him, he... he knows he owes the kid for the shit he put him through earlier, for no fucking reason. He can’t quite find it in him to regret what happened, not when it ended up like this, but he... he has to make it up to the kid. All of it. 

 So, quick as a wink, Mondo darts his hand out and carefully takes the case from Taka, ignoring the startled sound the kid makes. He can feel the kid watching him with wide eyes, but he doesn’t let it stop him as he opens the case and— without a single moment’s pause— puts the glasses on his face, blinking at the foreign feel. It... it hasn’t changed his vision much, since this shit is only supposed to help with close up shit, but it... huh. He guesses it ain’t so bad... 

 “Huh... I guess they ain’t that bad... tell me, kyoudai. How do they look?”

 He hadn’t really meant to ask the question, but he just... couldn’t help but remember the shit he’d done the last time he’d worn the glasses and Taka had told him what he thought. He... maybe he wants to show that it’s different, now. That he won’t get angry, not this time. To prove that he will never hurt Taka, never again. Not... not ever again. 

 He watches as the kid flushes bright red, mouth open slightly again, and- and god, is it an attractive look on him... s-shit... and then the kid is smiling shakily, giving a shaky thumbs up, and that’s even... even worse... or better, heh... 

 “You look amazing, kyoudai! They suit you well!” 

 A-amazing, huh? Shit... no one’s ever said he looks amazing before... he’s had a couple of people call him hot, or even sexy once or twice, but never... never amazing...

 He adores it... adores... Taka... 

 It makes him smile again. Soft. Happy. So goddamn happy... he will never be able to repay Taka for the happiness he gives him... not even if he dedicates the rest of his life to trying. Which he will. He... he will...

 But it’s late. So fucking late. They... they need to get to bed...

 Even if Mondo never wants to part from this amazing kid...

 “Ah, cool. I guess. Now, c’mon! Bed! Ain’t gonna be the reason ya can’t focus in class tomorrow, ya nerd!”

 With that, Mondo turns to grab his duster off the bench he’d tossed it on earlier, shrugging it on carefully, before finally exiting the bathhouse, Taka on his heels. 

 Shit...

[zotlel]

The Exhibition (M)

pairing: jaebeom x you (ft. jinyoung)

genre: photographer!au, smut, romance, one-shot

synopsis: You are starved for inspiration as a photography student. When visiting the anonymous photographer “Defsoul’s” exhibit you meet a like-minded boy who gives you that spark. Only you didn’t expect the night to pan out exactly as it did.

word count: 7.8k

The wide city sidewalk was packed full of people anxious to get home and start their weekends. Their hurried steps accompanied by the warm street lights were quite a sight, you thought. With a quick flash of your camera, you are able to capture the scene as is, but you were already running late. You weave in and out through the bodies because unlike them you were not going home.

This was the third year of your photography program at the city’s most prestigious university. Despite how much you loved photography, you had been stuck in a creative rut recently that you just couldn’t seem to break free from. Therefore it had become a tradition of yours starting this new school year to attend some sort of photography exhibition on Friday nights. The size of the city that you were currently studying in allowed this to be a possibility due to the ever-growing art community it had.

Your steps continue at a quick pace, but you couldn’t help your eye from wandering at the scenes around you. So hungry for any sort of inspiration, from the streets dampened with a former rainstorm to the businessman making quick work to undo his burgundy tie that had been constricting his neck. Anything. You wished for just anything to strike you with a spark.

You had finally reached your destination where the new exhibition was being held. Alone. That was the title of the photographer’s first show. The photographer in question? Unknown. The photographer was going under the alias as “Defsoul.” It was quite a trendy thing these days to have no idea whose art you were looking at. You really could not wrap your head around as to why you would not want to put your name amongst the work you are proud of. Which was also a perfect example of why you probably struggled so much creatively.

The space the photographer chose had a rather grunge vibe, photographs were arranged on the tattered brick walls and all throughout the room. The air was thick around you as soft R&B beats flowed throughout the space. Stepping into the studio, you notice that you are one of the first patrons to arrive at the exhibition. While most guests came in pairs or groups you stood small in the expansive space in solitary, you preferred it that way. Small gatherings of people were scattered throughout the different rooms, all ranging from different ages, sexes, and ethnicities. You silently complemented the ambiguous photography for having the ability to reach so many demographics. The more you walked about the studio space, the more you understood everyone’s attraction to the enthralling photos.

Each photo was supposed to emit a different sentiment, or so that is what you have learned from your classes. The photos themselves vary from different subjects, older couples holding each other close, some were expansive European landscapes, and then also the occasional stray cat stretching in the afternoon sun. You tried your hardest to interpret the photos in your own words, trying to find the connection. Alone. That was the exhibition name. So why didn’t you feel that when walking amongst the various scenes?

To you, the different film that was taken emulated a mass collection of photos taken from someone’s personal collection. There was a sense of solace in each photo that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It felt as if you were with the photographer in every photo, imagining the way they shot each scene. You had been walking around rather aimlessly through the gallery until you stopped upon one image in particular. 

The photograph was no more expressive than any other photo in the gallery, but you couldn’t help stopping and staring. The scene was the back of a man, his hair slightly long and disheveled, he looks out into an extensive lake surrounded by forestry, the light of a late midday sun which illuminated the photograph.  You cannot help your logical analysis of the image, and you find no flaws. The common idea surrounding photography is that it is a completely creative and artistic practice, while this isn’t false, it just so happened to also require certain formulas as well. It requires an eye for direction, proportions, and balance. This photo that fascinated you in the gallery had all of those elements.

The sound from the other patrons fades around you as you become enraptured in the photograph. It was only the scent of pure pine and spice that had you reeling back to the current moment. To the right side of you, a man stood, he wasn’t looking at you but instead he was, just as you were, staring into the alluring photo. You studied the man, he seemed to be around your age, taller than you, with dark hair that matched his sultry eyes. You admired the man’s bone structure, tall nose and cheekbones, he really was quite attractive. 

The way your gaze lingered on his face must have given him a sense of being watched. Because before you could hide your stare the handsome man was shifting his face towards you, looking straight into your eyes, a devilish smirk dances on his features. Heat rises to the apples of your cheeks as you turn to look at the picture again, pretending like you weren’t just caught checking him out.

“What do you think?”

You turn to face him, “Excuse me?”

“About the photo,” he smiles back at you. You cough slightly trying to hide your embarrassment. 

“Oh, um-” you start carefully, “it is actually my favorite one in this exhibit I think.” 

His face softens at your answer as he nods, looking back to the photo before he begins to speak again, “What’s so great about it?” 

You look at the photo one more time, really analyzing it.

“I’m not sure exactly,” you say honestly. “It was the only photo that really caught my eye. Don’t get me wrong I thought all these photos were great, but this one helped me visualize what the photographer must have been witness to through his photos.”

He looks back at you with a surprised expression. 

“That’s a really interesting take on the photo, I thought you just thought the man in it was attractive.”

You laugh slightly, “You can’t see much of looks from a person’s back.”

This has the man doubling over in laughter, much to your surprise. You look around the room to see if any of the other patrons are staring at the man, you couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed at the attention. Then you looked back at the man and his blinding smile and you cannot help but return the same emotion. And for the first time, in a long time, you began to feel captivated with this man.

His laughter seizes yet his smile remains as he turns his body to face you, “I am Jaebeom by the way.” 

He says while extending his hand out to you. You are now able to see his entire face as you grip his hand in a greeting. To your surprise, he had a silver nose ring on his right side, along with multiple piercings all up and down his ears. It was your first time feeling such an attraction to a man’s jewelry. You blink rapidly realizing you had just been grasping his hand in silence for some time, but he didn’t seem to mind. You tell him your name before dropping your connected hands, he repeats it softly as if he was saying it for only him to hear.

“Did you come by yourself tonight?” He asks.

“Is that some form of a pick-up line?” You reply back snarkily which has the man chuckling at your playful banter.

“It’s only a pickup line if it works,” he states causing your head to nod in agreement.

“Well then yes, I am alone if you must know.”

“Fascinating. I would have definitely assumed you to just be here on a date, not actually here for the art,” he says.

You scoff, “How pretentious of you to assume such a thing,” you say. 

“I’m a photography student if you couldn’t guess, so I am most definitely here for the art.”

“I meant no offense,” he holds his ringer clad hands up in a form of surrender. “It was just a simple observation due to the other people here tonight.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, you thought. The gallery was littered with different couples strolling throughout the space. Love could easily be seen in the air the minute you walked in. Not that you minded, of course. If you had allowed yourself to date you would also think to come to an art gallery like this, spending time with someone you were attracted to amongst gorgeous imagery, it was quite romantic. 

“This does seem to be a hot-spot for couples tonight,” you note back to him.

“So, what would you say if I asked you to come out for a drink with me tonight instead of staying here?” He asks you.

“What, are the lovebirds kind of cramping your style?” You laugh back at his sudden suggestion.

He laughs at this before continuing, “Not necessarily. I’m just interested in you, I thought maybe a good way of getting to know more about the beautiful girl from the gallery would be over a couple of drinks.”

You smile shyly looking away from him, “I don’t know, I was kind of curious to see if this secret photographer would show themselves by the end of the night.”

“Trust me, he’s not one for introductions.”

He? You thought to yourself, how could Jaebeom know the gender of the photographer? Perhaps he had been coming to Defsoul’s exhibitions enough to have eventually met the elusive photographer. 

Perhaps you should take Jaebeom up on his offer. Hell, you couldn’t even remember the last time you had been out for a drink. Especially with a man as good-looking as Jaebeom. Maybe you could finally allow yourself to let loose, just this once.

“Well, in that case, you lead the way,” he smiles at your response. Jaebeom raises his hand inviting you to take hold. You do so while smiling, excited for what the night shall bring.

Jaebeom grips your hand tightly as you two make your way throughout the lamp-lit city streets. Your heart is beating wildly every time he would look back to check if you were still there, grinning when he is met with your presence. The two of you walk hand-in-hand as he tells you he is taking you to one of his favorite lounges in the city, you can’t help your excitement.

You two finally arrive at the bar, the exterior of the building is ornate in nature with vintage signage and lights decorating the brick walls. Jaebeom drops his grasp on your hand to open the large wooden door allowing you to step inside first, what a gentleman you thought. Inside the lounge the cigar smoke twisted in an elegant way, forming curls in the dim light. The room was illuminated solely by the age-speckled bar lights. Jaebeom finds an empty booth towards the back for you two to sit. A smartly dressed waiter comes around to grab drink orders and skirts away hurriedly after. You sit back a bit in your seat trying to calm your nerves by looking around the room. 

You wouldn’t exactly describe yourself as an introverted person, but this definitely was a new experience for you. Coming out with a man you barely knew, to a part of town you were unfamiliar with, just for drinks. It was all so different for you, but there was something about Jaebeom that made you feel a certain sense of security. It was usually pretty easy for you to tell when a guy was a complete sleaze-bag and Jaebeom definitely did not give off that impression. Still, you couldn’t help but feel slightly shy to be with such a handsome man.

“I’m so curious to hear what you are thinking,” Jaebeom speaks up from the other end of the table. 

You turn to look at him and notice his chin perched on his hand as he stares dreamily at you with his deep-set eyes. You go red as you realize he must have been studying you this entire time.

“I was just thinking about how all of this is a very new experience for me,” you respond back.

“What exactly?”

“Just this,” you emphasize your words by swinging your finger in the space between the two of you. 

“I’ve never said yes to drinks with a man I had met less than an hour before.”

“You don’t say,” he chuckles. “I would imagine a girl as beautiful as you would have plenty of suitors waiting to take you out for a simple cocktail.”

You laugh at this. It’s not that men have not tried taking you out in the past, they most certainly did. You were just in a place with your life that didn’t allow you the capacity for any man. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded, really. You knew that at this point in your life the things that were the most important to you were school and finding your place in the competitive field of photography. No man could ever distract you from this dream of yours.

“Even so,” you begin. “I don’t really have the time for any sort of man in my life right now.”

“So then why did you agree to come out with me?” Jaebeom asks you.

That was a good question, why did you say yes? Despite the fact that Jaebeom had been one of the most attractive men to ever approach you, you wondered what it was about him that pulled your attention so strongly.

“I’m not sure why exactly it’s kind of hard to explain,” you say. “I just feel comfortable in your presence.”

This was something new to hear for Jaebeom. Mysterious, chic, sexy. These were all things Jaebeom was used to hearing from women, but “comfortable” was new. Little did you know, you were also a new experience entirely for him. The other women Jaebeom had encountered in his life felt like nothing more than a shallow quest for lust or domination with him. But you, he wanted to know so much more about the girl sitting across from him. Your dreams, inhibitions, fears. He could listen to you ramble on all night.

“I feel the same way,” he replies back coolly, to which you beam back a tender smile.

The rest of the night with Jaebeom is filled with giddy conversation between the two of you, both anxious to learn more about the other. You share with him things that some of your closest friends did not even know about you, but that was the power he held. He somehow was able to fluster you like a shy schoolgirl and yet hold your hand so sincerely that it felt as if you had known him for years. Drinks and conversation flowed throughout the few hours you spent with him at the lounge, effectively easing all your anxiety.

Once the two of you got onto the topic of photography there was no stopping the excitement. You could see in his eyes he loved it just as much as you, but ultimately he feared he was not good enough to be professional. You related closely to this worry, also sharing the hardships you faced with the creative aspect of it all. The way Jaebeom was able to relate so deeply to you on this issue made him all the more attractive to you, but that could also be the drinks talking.

“Of course you also make music,” you laugh at the man across from you at his recent confession.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He gawks back at you.

“Nothing offensive really,” you begin. 

“It just fits your whole image you know. The gorgeous man I met at the exhibit is also incredibly deep and creative,” you joke with him.

He smiles and nods his head understanding that to most people he appears that way. Not that he minded, of course, he just wished sometimes he wasn’t so easy to read. 

“Gorgeous, huh?”

He completely ignores your other statements to instead put you on the spot, but to his surprise, you don’t seem the least bit bashful. Instead, you take a long sip from your drink before setting it down with a soft thud. Looking him in the eye as if to say, “Did I stutter?” Jaebeom smirks and breaks his eye contact, absentmindedly twirling the small cocktail straw in his almost empty glass. 

“I want to hear your music,” you say breaking him from his trance. 

He looks up to see you leaning in on the table excitedly, a small flame of mischief burning behind your eyes. 

He leans in towards you, “Really?” 

You nod.

“Well then, let’s get out of here.”

You knew just as well as anyone what it meant to go back to his place and listen to his music, but that was exactly what you wanted. Jaebeom hails over the waiter closing up your tab before you both exit the bar to the crisp Autumn night air. As if on cue, a taxi pulls in front of where the two of you stood, allowing a handsome young couple to exit its backseat. Jaebeom takes the opportunity, seizing the door open for you to step into the now emptied seats of the taxi. He joins in after you quickly telling the older man who was driving the taxi his address.

The ride began innocently enough. Silent, as you two sat next to one another, too nervous to make eye contact. Because you knew as soon as you looked, things would take a drastic turn, but you were always too curious for your own good. You turn your head slightly to catch Jaebeom looking at you, not in your eyes, but everywhere else. From the way that your legs were crossed to your innocently folded hands in your lap, the curves of your body, the long expanse of your neck, until finally, into your lust-filled eyes. That was all it took.

Jaebeom was the first to snap, instantly latching his hand onto the back of your neck in order to bring your lips onto his. You more than happily obliged bringing your own hands to rest on his taut shoulders, molding your lips unto his. The connection was everything you imagined. Hot, rushed, and oh so gratifying. You could taste the deep bitters of his drink as his tongue danced across your lip, your own tongue eager to meet his. He groaned into your mouth once he felt the connection which in turn had you draping a leg across his lap attempting for your bodies to be closer. You felt somewhat sorry for the cab driver, but you mostly didn’t care.

Jaebeom grips your leg that is draped over him feeling the soft flesh beneath your tight jeans. God, he only imagined what you looked like completely exposed to him. The thought had to wait as the two of you could feel the car come to an abrupt stop, followed by an awkward cough from the front seat. You both break free and stare into each other’s dark gazes, unable to shake the overwhelming amount of lust. It took a second clearing of the cab driver’s throat to snap the trance and leave his car. Jaebeom handed the man the cab fare, being sure to tip him generously, before exiting the car and extending a hand out to you. You take it graciously after saying a quick “thank you” to the driver. 

Once outside the cab, the pace of the evening leveled out. Jaebeom, now calm and collected, takes your hand in his, smiling at you briefly before guiding you to a rather expensive-looking building. It was late at night when you two arrived, yet upon entering the bright lobby you notice a rather well-dressed attendant sitting modestly behind a large desk. She looks up from her desk to see who had entered. Upon gazing at Jaebeom she stands and bows her head silently in a form of saying “Welcome.” Jaebeom smiles politely at her while still having you in tow towards the titanium elevator doors. They open upon his touch of the button allowing you both to step inside.

The feeling of being next to Jaebeom in the elevator versus the taxi was entirely different. While the backseat of the taxi was filled with nothing but lust for one another, the elevator was quiet. Utter silence from you both as you anxiously spare looks to one another. Whenever one of you caught the other’s eye it would be hard to hide your bashful smiles. Your stomach was doing flips in expectancy of what was to come. The doors part, you had arrived. 

Jaebeom enters his apartment with relative ease, despite his nerves making it difficult to punch in his door code. Once the two of you were inside is when he finally began to speak, “Can I offer you anything to drink? Wine? Water?”

“Wine sounds lovely, thank you,” you respond back. 

He smiles, “Wine it is. Please make yourself at home while I go get us some glasses.”

Then he is off, leaving you to wander about his apartment curiously. It was relatively a clean place, or rather there just wasn’t much furniture in general. Simplistic and chic. You couldn’t think of a more fitting apartment for Jaebeom. You walk about the space coming unto what seemed to be a living room with a single black leather loveseat and a computer desk against the opposite wall. You make your way over to the couch sitting down gently. 

Not long after, Jaebeom appears from the doorway holding two glasses of a deep red wine. He chuckles nervously extending one glass to you. Jesus, he was so endearing. You take the glass with a small smile and thank him, bringing the bitter liquid to your lips. 

“Did you still want me to play you some of my work?” Jaebeom asks nervously, still standing above you. 

You had almost completely forgotten that was the whole reason you wanted to come. You were too enraptured by the beautiful man’s aura. 

“Yes please, play me something,” you say excitedly. 

He takes a sip of his wine and smiles before turning his back and walking towards the computer. He types away for about a minute before a soft melody can be heard throughout the room. You look to see speakers installed all around your head creating a hypnotic atmosphere. You close your eyes and sway, finding yourself getting lost in the beats and pretty vocals of his song. It isn’t until you feel a dip in the seat next to you that you open your eyes to see the expectant face of Jaebeom at your side.

“You really made this?”

“Yeah, that’s my voice if you can’t tell,” he replies nervously bringing a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“I don’t know as much about music as I do photography, but this is really good,” you say to him which has him chuckling and shaking his head. “No, really I mean it.”

He looks up at you to see that you were in fact being genuine. He felt more proud then than at any other moment he could remember. Jaebeom sets his wine glass down on the coffee table next to yours before turning his full attention towards you, tucking a soft hair behind one of your ears. 

“You’re really something, did you know that?” He asks you, with a voice just barely above a whisper.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest at the sudden close proximity, but God did you love this man’s presence. You leaned slightly into his hand that was still hovering near the side of your face, allowing him to cup your cheek affectionately. 

“That’s funny,” you say. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

He’s smiling at you now, staring deeply into your shining eyes. The self-control he had completely left him at that point. He leans into you slowly, allowing you time to register what was about to happen. You close the gap, kissing him softly. He sighs into the kiss, languidly moving his lips against yours while at the same time grabbing your hips to move your body closer. You reciprocate and bring it a step further, throwing one leg over his lap to straddle his thighs, never once breaking apart your lips.

He takes a shaky breath the minute your body softly grinds onto his. God, he was intoxicating. You were so eager to elicit more responses from him, to watch him come undone, so you snake your hands into his long hair, earning an appreciative moan. You can’t help but whine at the sound, wanting nothing more than to feel his body pressed against yours. 

Jaebeom seems to know your thoughts exactly because in one moment he is sweeping you up off of the couch, legs still fastened tightly around him, making his way towards what you can only assume to be his bedroom. He would stop occasionally to press you against a nearby wall, breaking from your lips he would decorate your neck in soft kisses. The scent of his musky cologne exhilarating your thoughts. Finally, he reaches his bedroom, dropping you down to your feet softly with a thud. 

“I want you,” he breaths out onto your abused lips.

“Then you can have me,” you whisper. “All of me.”

He groans at your response as it seems they were the exact words he wished to hear. Swiftly Jaebeom grabs at your top peeling it off over your head leaving you clad in a simple black bra. If you had known you would be seen naked tonight you would have opted for something a little sexier, but Jaebeom doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, his head instantly drops to your cleavage, pushing your breasts eagerly up into his face as he begins to kiss and suck at your skin surely leaving marks for you to remember him by. You breathe out at the sensual feeling, greedy to feel his skin against your own.

You reach below him to tug at his black t-shirt hinting at how much you wanted it off of his body. He understands, breaking away from your chest to pull his shirt over his head. His chest is broad and milky, illuminated from the streetlights outside his bedroom window. You can’t help yourself, bringing a hand to rest against the middle of his chest. You felt him, all of him. The warmth, the sweat, the anticipation, all of it rested just below your fingertips. Slowly you drag your hand lower, noting the shiver that ran through Jaebeom’s body at your soft caresses. You reach his belt, playing with it you look up at him through your lashes, batting them innocently.

“Fuck-” he says. “If you keep looking at me that way, I don’t think I can control myself.”

“Perfect,” you say, pulling him closer by his belt loop. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You have no idea where this sense of confidence has come from. Normally during sex, you tend not to be much of a talker, letting the man do as he pleases. Tonight felt different from all those nights before. Jaebeom made you a different person, someone who felt bold enough to take control. You liked this person he created, and he seemed to be just as pleased.

He smirks at you, enjoying your teasing nature, he pulls you flush against his skin. He holds your eye contact for a moment before firmly turning your body so that your back meets his chest. You gasp as you feel him move your hair to the side, decorating lustful kisses along your shoulder and neck. His hands find purchase on your hips, greedily massaging them while also forcing your ass to grind onto his already stiff cock straining against his jeans. You moan at the feeling, taking pride in the effect you had on him.

“Do you like that, baby?” He asks you. “The feeling of my hard cock against you?”

The man could talk dirty, you thought, could he be any more attractive?

You don’t reply with words. Instead, you grind your backside harder against him, causing a hiss to fall from his lips. You lull your head back dreamily, getting lost in the feeling of your bodies moving together, both of you ravenous for any sort of friction. While his hands stayed firmly on your hips you took this opportunity to grab at one of his hands, bringing it upward to your chest, encouraging Jaebeom to massage your breasts. He happily obliges, feeling up your warm body with his rough hands, your scent invigorating his mind.

“I want you to strip for me, then go lay on the bed,” Jaebeom softly commands in your ear, effectively snapping you out of your daze.

There was something about his assertive tone that sent heat straight to your core, you were so eager to feel him there. He takes a step away from your body allowing you space to remove your clothes, and you do so. You look over your shoulder at him to see his bottom lip caught between his teeth, anticipating your show. You reach down for the button of your jeans undoing it in a slow and sultry way until you are able to strip the fabric down your legs. 

Jaebeom intently watches your scantily clad figure which in turn gave you the confidence to continue. You put on a bit of a show with your movements, matching your swaying hips to his music that could still be heard inside the bedroom. Once you step your feet out of your jeans you turn your body so it is facing his. There is still a bit of space between your bodies, but the tension is extreme. You reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, taking one strap between your fingers as you allow the bra to drop. 

Upon seeing your bare chest a fire ignites behind Jaebeom’s eyes. You smirk, with still swaying hips, you hook two fingers into your panties. Turning once more to give him a view of your backside, you dance your way out of the soft material, letting it gather around your feet. Finally, now completely bare, you make your way to his large king bed adorned with fresh white sheets. Crawling on all fours up the bed, making sure to arch your back for the best view, you flip your body onto the bed awaiting his arrival.

Jaebeom drinks this all in. The music, fragrances, lights, visuals, and the ambiance of seeing your bare body lay upon his white sheets, decorated purely by the moonlight. Without waiting for a second longer he rids himself of the last of his clothing, pushing his jeans and boxers down with haste. He walks to the foot of the bed, softly caressing your calves as he climbs up the expanse of your body. Your eyes meet his hazily, running your gentle hands along his forearms until his forehead is resting softly against yours.

“Can I taste you?”

Your mind is in a haze at his request, but who were you to say no?

Your head nods at his request and he smiles. Kissing your lips passionately before dragging them lower and lower down your body. Occasionally Jaebeom would nip and suck on parts of your skin, causing your body to tremor. Until finally you began to feel his heated breaths over your core. You gripped the sheets expectantly, unconsciously tensing your body in anticipation. He gives each of your thighs one last kiss before licking a strong tongue through your core.

You moan instantly, surprised by how sensitive you were from just one touch. Jaebeom doesn’t stop, he grabs hold of your thighs effectively throwing them over his broad shoulders. At first, his licks are long and languid, causing your hips to fall in motion with his tongue. Once he begins to feel your thighs tense at the sensations he picks up his pace, switching from licking up your core to occasionally wrapping his lips around your clit. 

You feel electric waves throughout your body at his movements. At one particular suck, you moan out into the night, threading a hand through Jaebeom’s hair, which in turn has him groaning into you. He too was lost in the pleasure he was giving you. From your scent to your heavenly moans he couldn’t stop himself from grinding down against his mattress eager for some relief on his achingly hard cock.

“Jaebeom please, I need to feel you inside of me, please,” you manage to moan out wanting nothing more than for your bodies to become one.

Although Jaebeom wanted so badly to see your body come undone from his tongue alone, he too was starting to get impatient. One last suck to your clit before he is climbing back up your body, greedily you reach for him and connect your lips. He moans at your soft sucks against his tongue, desperate for you to taste your own arousal. 

Shockingly, you are able to flip your bodies over allowing you to climb on top of Jaebeom’s beautiful body. You break away from the kiss to sit up and see him. There he was in all his glory. The stoic man from the gallery naked and heaving beneath you, so eager to be inside of you. You smile sweetly at him and he groans, taking his painfully hard cock into your hand you stroke him tenderly, to which he throws his head back in excitement. Without waiting a second longer you align him with your dripping core, slowing sinking him deep inside of you.

You release an intense sigh that you didn’t know you were holding. Jaebeom moans at the warm feeling of your pussy wrapped tightly around him, he then looks to see where your bodies meet. As if on cue you begin to sway your hips back in forth, still in rhythm with the music coming from the living room. The pace is slow and sensual, just as you like. 

Jaebeom felt as if he could feel every little movement. From the way your beautiful hips swayed to your hands pressed firmly on his chest, he savored every second. His hands come to rest against your hips once again, encouraging your movements. Moans spill from your mouth as you get lost in the feeling of him buried so deep inside of you.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

Jaebeom is blissed out in the feeling, allowing you full control; he loses himself in the moment, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the song. You too let your body take over and allow your mind to float above the two of you making love. You can hear the melody too.

난 네게 눈이 멀었고

(I became blinded by you)

넌 내게 눈이 멀었겄지

(You probably became blinded by me)

우리 서로만을 보았고

(We only saw each other)

이 세상에 둘만 있었겠지

(We probably were the only ones in the world)

Jaebeom begins to lose his patience as he can feel his end nearing. You yelp with surprise as his strong arms wrap against your frame, flipping you onto your back. You squeeze around him from his dominant change in nature, he groans at the feeling.

“I want to feel you come all around me, baby,” he tells you. 

You nod back ready for him to ravish your body. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder giving him the best angle for you both. The pace from before is completely different. While you took your time with Jaebeom while you rode him, when he was on top he fucked you, hard.

Sheathing himself back inside of you so hard and fast you both scream out in pleasure. He wastes no time fucking you raw, trying to chase the high you both so desperately longed for. His movements are fast yet calculated, effectively hitting your sweet spot every time he entered you. You were desperate to hold on to reality gripping the sheets above your head as you moaned loudly. Jaebeom saw this action and instead moved your hands to his hair.

“I want you to show me how good I’m making you feel,” he says to you in his gruff voice.

You understand his wish, grabbing his hair just as tightly as he fucked you, earning an appreciative groan from him spurring on his movements further. 

You felt your end coming. It was like a small fire that suddenly began to blister in the pit of your stomach. Your chest heaved for air as you gripped his hair even tighter, warning him. He understood.

“Come on, baby, I need to feel you come, please,” his words did just the trick.

The fire turned into an explosion as the white-hot orgasm swept through your body. You trembled in his hold as he thoroughly fucked you through your high. Once you came down you noticed his brows furrowed and his movements began to waver. You released his hair to hold him close to your body, encouraging him to let go.

He eventually reaches his own high as he drops his head to your shoulder, you hold him close as he moans out deliciously into your ear. His movements stutter as he tiredly milks his orgasm to completion. He slumps his body against yours, slick with sweat the two of you stay connected for some time attempting to calm your breaths. 

Tiredly you stroke your hand softly up and down his back lullingly. You begin to feel the effect of all the alcohol in your system as you fought to keep your eyes open. Too at peace with where you were, you allowed yourself to become a victim of slumber while caressing Jaebeom’s naked frame. 

When morning broke, you expected to be woken by the bright sunshine pouring into his room. Instead, the thing that woke you from your slumber was the distinct click of what you only know to be the sound of a film camera. Still naked in his sheets you turn your body over to see an equally naked Jaebeom perched at the foot of the bed with a small camera plastered to his face. The morning sun decorated his frame in the most beautiful way, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

He lowers the camera slowly from his face, gauging your reaction, “Sorry I just thought you looked so perfect lying there. Does it bother you?”

You shake your head no. He smiles and climbs up his bed to be with you again in the early morning light. He lays at your side and you turn your full body to him, he tucks a stray hair behind your ear. You both stay there for what felt like an eternity. Mindlessly you both would let your fingers dance along the other’s naked form, basking in the soft flesh below. The silence was infectious, filling your soul with content. You never wanted this feeling to end.

──

“Can I just say what an honor it is to be accompanying you on this gorgeous Friday night,” Jinyoung smiles at you. “The forsaken Friday nights that you would normally spend in solitude, per your own request, but I am the first one to break that tradition. Really it is a privilege.”

You laugh at Jinyoung’s over-the-top monologue. Jinyoung wasn’t wrong, he was the first person you had ever asked to accompany you on this Friday night. Your friends all knew the deal, Friday nights were for your alone time, for your creativity to rekindle. 

“You are just too handsome to say no to,” you reply back sweetly, reaching up to Jinyoung planting a swift kiss on his cheek. His eyes crinkle in the most adorable fashion. 

As much as you had grown and changed in the past couple of months, Jinyoung was always a constant in your life. Before you used to be so caught up in your art and finding inspiration that you never gave the cute boy from your English class the time of day. Often times Jinyoung would ask you out for the occasional coffee or study date to which you would always find an excuse not to go. It surprised you that even after all his failed attempts he even still wanted to take you out, so ultimately you agreed. You could say that perhaps you had a change of heart. Something eventually opened your eyes to his affection for you.

After walking some time the two of you finally make it to the exhibit. The words “Awake.” displayed in white neon outside the entrance. Looking to Jinyoung and smiling you both make your way through the large entryway. Subtly you feel him slide his fingers through your own, and your body heats at the affection. 

It had been quite some time since Defsoul had held any sort of photography exhibition. In fact, the last one being just over six months ago. Although the photographer was still active through social media you were surprised as to why it had taken them so long to put on another show. You remembered just how much you fell in love with their work last time that you were eager to see what else they had in store.

As the two of you walk hand-in-hand throughout the gallery you instantly notice the ambiance of this show to be vastly different from the one you had attended months before. The air was lighter, the photographs themselves felt brighter than before, and even the conversations between the patrons were airier. Jinyoung would occasionally point to certain photos attempting his best at discussing the art of photography in order to impress you. You would smile at his attempts, bringing his body closer to yours the more you strolled throughout the space.

Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the night you shared with Jaebeom just months before where you met him at one of these exhibits. It had been so long since you had even thought of him or his name that you had almost forgotten. Though the feelings you felt never disappeared. 

You catch yourself smiling at the memory before looking up at one of the larger displays in the studio. You stopped dead in your tracks upon looking, your breath caught in your throat as you just stared. It was you, not your face, your naked backside peeking perfectly out of his crisp white sheets, the morning sun playing through your soft hair beautifully. There you were on full display for the whole world to see. 

The world around you faded as you sat and stared, Jinyoung taking notice finally to what you had been looking at, “That is gorgeous, I think this might be my favorite one so far.”

You can’t hear him as your mind was reeling a mile a minute. It was then in that moment you came to realize everything. His sheets, his bed, his room, his photograph. This was his show, Jaebeom was Defsoul. How could you have not seen it before?

You looked about the room frantically, fear striking you as you noticed the other patron’s eyes glued to the huge mural of you, Jinyoung too being entranced with the photo. Anxiety bubbled over into your stomach. That was until you saw it, the title: Muse.

You didn’t know why exactly upon reading the simple word that tears began to pool in your eyes. Again you looked around the room. You needed to see him, to confirm your thoughts. You needed to know who Jaebeom really was. Then suddenly there he stood, perfect as ever.

Jaebeom stood meters away from you and Jinyoung, the bodies of the other patrons crossed your paths as the two of you just stared at each other. He looked just as stunning as that night, that one fateful night. His gaze is soft on yours as if to ask if you were okay. You cannot answer him, still in too much shock. 

Until Jaebeom looks to Jinyoung, your connected hands, and then finally you, he smiles warmly. Little did you know that this is exactly what Jaebeom wanted to see for you. Your happiness above all else. To others, what the two of you shared could easily be written off as just some other one night stand, but he knew it was so much more. He cared for you in ways he never thought he would be able to feel for another person. And so he was happy, if he couldn’t be the one holding your hand in this gallery, he was glad you had someone to take his place. You deserved as much.

A tear finally escapes your eye as you continue to gaze at Jaebeom’s sincere expression, laughing slightly you brush the tear away. You felt no anger, no embarrassment. Because what Jaebeom said was right, for that night you spent together, he too was your own muse. The spark you needed at that moment. You needed him then just as much as he did. 

Without leaving his eyes, you bow your head slightly, doing something you realized you never did that night. You thanked him. He raised a wine glass in recognition. Then he was gone, swallowed into the sea of people who would never know his true identity. 

“I didn’t know photography moved you that much,” Jinyoung says to you while wiping your tears away, a look of concern etched into his features.

You laugh, dropping your head bashfully before raising your eyes again to look at Jinyoung. You were so content with the way you began to live your life since meeting Jaebeom. For so long you had deprived yourself of the one thing that should have mattered the most, your happiness.

It was fate for you and Jaebeom to meet each other that night, but you knew it was only meant for that one night. Jaebeom was the trigger for you to stop living inside the constrictive box you created for yourself. You felt inspiration more than ever through your art, which in turn greatly improved your abilities. You also finally allowed yourself love, and to share that love with someone who genuinely wanted you. 

Now with Jinyoung, you had never felt more at peace in not only yourself but your life. Rising to his height you capture Jinyoung’s lips with yours. He smiles against you and reciprocates your affection. This is who you were meant to be with tonight, and for every night thereafter.

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

Even opposite cakes attract

Summary: James and Lily assist to Petunia's wedding as their unofficial first date.

“Hello?”

“HI LILY!!”

“You don’t have to scream, Prongs”

“SORRY!!” he screamed anyway.

Lily laughed. Her laughter was so delicious and delicate. James’ heart overloaded with joy. It was easy now, making her laugh. She didn’t get annoyed, or yelled at him, or called him names. James felt as if he was doing things better.

“Moony, get out of here” he said whispering now. He wanted some privacy.

“Are you sure you can handle the, what did you call it? Oh yeah, the tellyphone, alright?”

Lily heard Remus’ voice because she laughed on the other line. James could see Padfoot and Wormtail cracking up laughing outside the booth.

“Just-get-out-of-here!!” James grunted

“Alright” Remus rolled his eyes, then yelled to the phone “BYE LILY!”

James heard her reply “BYE REMUS!”

James shooed his friend outside. He closed the door of the booth but soon enough his three dumb friends were making faces, sending him kisses across the glass.

“Sorry about them, darling” James decided to ignored them, they even deserved a middle finger. “Those assholes”

“It’s okay” Lily giggled “I know perfectly how those assholes are”

James laughed.

The whole summer, James and Lily chatted over the muggle phone. Luckily there was an old booth a few miles away from his house. Even if it was once a week, James was happy to talk with Lily, hear her voice. Really this muggle invention was ten times better than owls. It was like having Lily next to him, if he closed his eyes.

“How have you been?” James asked “How’s your summer so far”

“Stressful” Lily sighed “Petunia is getting married this weekend and my house had been a chaos with preparation and people coming over…”

“Your sister?” James asked. He had heard Remus mentioned her several times when he retold Lily’s stories to him. It was the only way to get to know her. But now, Lily had been telling him things.

Friends. Only friends. James could do that. He wanted to respect Lily’s wishes. Lily knew exactly how he felt. They had kissed. But something seemed to stop them every time, actually someone. Snape. He kept manipulating her, even after what he called her. And Lily was too good to realize it. After their first kiss, they fought about it. Then, they were okay again. Lily suggested starting from the beginning. They had been on the wrong foot before, they wanted to make things better this time. Know each other for real, not the wrong perception of each other they had before. So, friends, for now.

“Yeah… That bitch”

“Lils! I think it’s the first time you insult someone besides me” James teased

Lily snorted “You’re an idiot”

“Exactly my point”

“I just don’t want to be there alone, with Tuney’s pretentious friends and Vernon’s pretentious sister and…. OH MY GOD!!”

James jumped and his ear hurt. And he regretted now having shouted on the tellyphone before.

“Are you okay, gorgeous?”

“Sorry… It’s a stupid idea. I just had a stupid idea” Lily said nervously

“Okay…” James smiled again. James had found out that Lily was adorable and sometimes talked to much, but James could hear her talk all day. Apparently, Lily was different than what he thought. James liked this Lily better.

“Well is actually a good idea” Lily snorted “Yeah it’s definitely good” And James imagined her biting her lip as she did when she was nervous. “But I don’t know if you’re going to like it. Maybe it is horrible idea for you. I don’t know why I thought about it…”

“Hey, Lils” James interrupted “Just tell me”

Lily was definitely adorable.

Lily took a deep breath “Would you like, I mean maybe if you can and you have time… would you like…maybe come to my sister’s wedding with me?”

James was too shocked to even speak. Lily was asking him out? To Petunia’s wedding? Petunia being her sister, meaning her family would probably would be there. Her Parents!

He was sure his cheeks were burning. The Marauders were going to laugh at him. But when James turned to look at them, he saw they had given up and were seated by the grass, smoking.

“James?” Lily asked after a while “Oh Lord, I knew this was a bad idea”

“NO…NO…NO….NO….NO”

“Those were fives no’s, you definitely don’t want to come”

“NO! Shit! I mean YES!! Of course, I would like to come. I would definitely come. Just be sure I would be there, darling!”

Lily laughed relieved while James blushed profoundly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, sure”

“It wouldn’t be… awkward?”

“Why?”

“Well… We are going slowly. And now you’re going to meet my family”

James swallowed nervously “Friends meet each other’s families, right?”

Even though I don’t want to be your friend Lily

“Right” Lily answered after a while

Then, they were in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence. They were feeling each other’s breathing, planning on what to say. In James case, he wanted to tell Lily how much he loved her. How much he wanted to see her, kiss those lips again, how much he missed her. He wanted to say ‘Fuck being friends, please Lily be my forever and only’. But no. James was a new and improved man. He was so scared of fucking it up and going back to cero. James was going to respect her even if he had to wait forever.

“Okay then…” James began

“Okay then…” James could almost feel Lily’s smile on her voice.

“I’ll see you this weekend”

“It’s on Saturday, ten o´clock” Lily laughed “I forgot to tell you that”

“Yeah, that’s good to know” James snorted

“And I will send you the address so that you can apparate here”

“Right”

“Oh, and can you wear a muggle tuxedo? Ask Remus” Lily continued “My family is very muggle, you see”

“Don’t worry babe, I’ll be as muggle as possible” James’ intention was to impress Lily’s family.

“Now that I think about it, you probably don’t own a muggle tuxedo” Lily hissed “I am so stupid…”

“Hey gorgeous” James interrupted with a smile “I’ll figure something out, don’t’ worry”

“Okay…” Lily said now more relaxed “I’ll see you on Saturday, then”

“I’ll see you on Saturday” James answered

“Bye”

“Bye”

Silence

Lily giggled “Hang up James”

“I don’t know how”

Lily laughed louder “Right, then I’ll hang up…Bye”

“Bye gorgeous” James smiled. And then he heard a bipping sound. But James just stayed there grinning like an idiot. He just put the phone back to it’s case.

James turned to look at his friends. Moony was fast asleep on Sirius’ lap. And Peter was laying besides them, chewing a lolly.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

James knocked the door excitedly until his friends saw him. They jumped. But as a matter of fact, they turned to look. Even Moony was awake.

James grinned “I HAVE A DATE WITH LILY!!” he shouted.

It wasn’t technically a date. But he didn’t care.

His friends must’ve heard him, because they started cheering and clapping. James was so happy.

Lily had been very happy all morning. She felt like anything could stop her. She shouldn’t be feeling that way. But that was James Potter provoked on her. Lately she was bloody happy around him. Lily had been looking forward to see him again, perhaps kiss him again and run her fingers through his untidy hair…

But James and Lily were on good terms now. And Lily didn’t want to ruin it. She had realized James was an important person in her life. And Lily was afraid, because she had been hurt before. Turned out, the boys she’d met had been horrible to her, Luke, Severus, Jhonny. And she had thought James was on that list too. But actually, he had been acting differently. Remus had said he didn’t change, he was always like that. Only he was controlling his idiocy and his desire to show off. Lily didn’t know if she hadn’t known James at all, or if he had changed. The thing was that Lily liked this James. She liked him a lot.

And Lily was stressed and nervous about today. If Tuney wasn’t fucking hysterical, then maybe Lily wouldn’t be the same.

“Just untie the bun!” Petunia was shouting to her friend Margaret who had been working on a salon for a year and was assigned to comb Petunia´s hair for the event.

“But you wanted that bun” her friend replied nervously

“IT IS HORRENDOUS! TAKE THE BUN OUT!”

Lily understood it would be stressful to get married. But honestly, wasn’t Petunia in love? She was marrying the love of her life today. She should be happy. Lily had suggested to fix her hair with magic, but Petunia’s hateful glare and her mother’s gasp shut her down. That word was forbidden in that house. Magic. Lily missed her dad. At least he was interested in magic, Hogwarts and Lily’s subjects.

Lily was helping her mother fold some napkins for the reception when they heard the door bell rang. Almost everyone in the room yelled and panicked. Most of them being Petunia’s friends, and Lily’s aunts.

“The car isn’t supposed to be here, yet!” Marge yelled furiously. Vernon’s sister had been drinking many glasses of wine so far. Lily was afraid she wouldn’t make it to the ceremony sober.

“Lily, darling, Open the door please” her mother said “It’s probably the cater or florist”

Lily sighed before walking to the door. But when she opened it, the wasn’t any cater or florist outside. It was James.

He was wearing a blue tuxedo and a red tie. Lily remembered telling Remus she once saw Robert Redford using one in one of his movies and how sexy he looked. Lily was glad that Remus helped James dress up. Wow. And he was caring a bouquet of blue lilies. Lily was momentarily out of breath.

His iconic grin disappeared when he saw Lily’s shocked expression. James was early. So early. Lily wasn’t even dressed. Her hair and makeup were fixed already but she was waiting to put on her dress, in case it was ruined. Or else, Petunia might actually kill her.

“You look beautiful” James said running his hand through his hair, which made him even hotter.

Lily tried not to blush.

“What are you…”

But James was openly staring at her outfit, which meant her body. Lily unconsciously wrapped herself tighter with her dressing gown.

“Perhaps I am wrongly dressed” he looked down to himself “Remus said this would be fine”

Lily couldn’t avoid laughing.

“No James, you’re perfectly fine and very handsome” she blushed “But you’re like” she checked the house’s entrance clock “An hour early” she smiled at him.

“Yeah” James said confused “Moony said that muggles arrive one hour early to every event, and I wanted to…”

Lily bit her lip to avoid laughing. Probably James noticed.

“And he totally lied to me….” James closed his eyes embarrassed “FUCK REMUS LUPIN! I am so sorry… I am an idiot”

James sighed profoundly. And he started pacing and rubbing his hair uncontrollably. Lily giggled as she watched him.

“I can leave and come back if you want to…” he continued “Or I can leave and not assist at all… Fuck…. Remus…. Arrg…”

Lily laughed louder. She was so happy now that he was here.

“James, it’s fine…”

He looked at her.

“It’s totally fine” she repeated “Actually it is good that you arrive early” she took him by the arm “We need more hands to help” she dragged him inside.

James looked around like a little kid in the zoo. Lily found him adorable. He was even adjusting his glasses. Lily’s house wasn’t a big thing. It was small and average. Remus had mentioned how big James’ house was.

“There are quite a number of people in the room” James pointed amused. Like a kid showing their parent something interesting. Lily smiled.

“All of them are muggles?” James asked

Lily nodded. Her mother had two sisters, each one with their husbands. And her father had an older brother who had a lot of children and younger single sister. Her aunt Katie was her favorite, maybe because she reminded her of her father. And then, there were all Petunia’s friends: Ruth, Genevie and Margaret. Marge had been added to the group of bridesmaids as well as Lily.

Lily nodded “You and me, the only freaks”

Lily meant that as a joke, but James didn’t laugh.

“Don’t worry. I have my wand buried in my pocket” he said as he patted his chest “Today I am as muggle as the rest”

Lily knew Severus would’ve hated being here. He would probably had said something mean about so many muggles, how they were different and superior than them. Probably he wouldn’t have wanted to come at all. Lily was happy she had invited James.

She smiled “Let’s go. I’ll introduce you to everyone”

James was polite with everyone. He smiled, accepted handshakes and kissed the girls in the cheek. Some of Petunia’s friends were even eyeing hungrily at James. And Lily tried not to be jealous.

Lily’s aunts even mentioned that her ‘boyfriend’ was adorable and easy going. Lily decided not to correct them. And she enjoyed the grin and red cheeks on James’ face.

“Boyfriend, ha?” James raised an eyebrow once they were out of sight

“Shut up” Lily laughed “You need to meet Petunia and mum”

James seemed more confident. But Lily was not. Petunia wasn’t the nicest person to be around.

They got to the kitchen. Lily’s mother was busy talking, or better yet yelling at someone on the phone. So, Lily decided to go to Petunia first.

Margaret had managed to keep Petunia’s blond hair loose. With tiny flowers on top and curls falling down to her shoulders. She looked beautiful. Although her expression didn’t seem cheerful. She was looking at her reflection and deciding what to do with it.

“Wow Maggie” Lily said as they approached “It looks nice”

“Thanks Lily” At least Maggie was nice to Lily, when Tuney and Ruth weren’t around.

“Tuney…” Lily swallowed “This is my… eh friend James Potter”

Petunia didn’t seem to be listening to her. Lily bit her lip trying not to be embarrassed.

“From school” Lily added.

And now Petunia seemed interested, she looked up finally at James.

“Hi Petunia” James offered her his hand “Lily had told me loads about you. I’m James”

As adorable as ever. But Petunia didn’t seem swiped by James’ charm.

“I thought you were going to invite Snape” Petunia simply said looking at Lily. James lowered his hand slowly.

Lily was just asking one thing from her sister. A little bit of kindness towards her friend, boyfriend… well James. Just like she had shown to her friends or Vernon and his irritable sister, none of who had been nice to Lily. And James was being kind to her. In fact, he had been acting like a proper gentleman.

“No… I told you we aren’t friends anymore” Lily side glanced at James. They had discussed about Severus in the past. And Lily didn’t want to cause trouble.

“Good” Petunia said “I reckon he is better than Snape” then she turned to James “Your hair is widely untamed”

“I’ve been told” James nodded

“Nice. Maybe Maggie could fix it”

Maggie laughed nervously “I don’t think I…”

“I am only joking” Petunia said

James tried to laugh “You’re funny”

“Lily…” Petunia made Lily lean for her to whisper in her ear “I know he is one of...your kind. If he doesn’t behave…”

But Lily pulled away furiously “Your hair looks nice, Tuney” she crossed her arms.

“Oh, Lily why aren’t you dressed yet?” Mrs. Evans appeared behind Lily

“Mum, does my hair look good?” Petunia asked

“You look wonderful, darling” Mrs. Evans smiled “Lily. We are about to leave and… Oh, who are you? I don’t know you” she stared at James.

James immediately offered his hand and a wide smile. Lily was grateful.

“Mrs. Evans, pleasure to meet you. I am James Potter. I go with your daughter to school”

“Oh, I see” Mrs. Evans shook his hand “Nice suit”

“Thank you”

“He speaks like royalty” Mrs. Evans offered. Lily giggled. James tended to speak like a fine English man when he was around adults. He did the same with teachers.

“Lily does know strange people” Tuney commented

“Oh, I believe Vernon speaks funny as well” Lily spatted. Her mother, James and Maggie laughed. Petunia just glared at her. She began everything. It wasn’t Lily’s fault.

“Lily!” Mrs. Evans chanted “The dress!”

“Coming”

“Oh, and James can help me fold the rest of the napkins”

“Oh, I would absolutely adore to do so” James smiled

Mrs. Evans smiled “Very polite”

“You’ll have to teach him, mum” Lily grinned “He hasn’t folded a napkin in his life”

“I can fold napkins!” James protested “With a bit of magic” he whispered on Lily’s ear.

“No” she whispered back.

James smiled and winked at her.

“See you in a bit” Lily kissed his cheek and ran upstairs before James or herself could react to that gesture.

“REMUS JOHN LUPIN!” James didn’t shout loudly in case anyone heard him “Sirius put me with Moony! I can’t hear him laughing in the back!”

“I tell you mate; Remus is a bloody genius” Sirius roared with laughter.

James was freaking out. Mrs. Evans had tried to make a proper conversation with him. But James started talking about how fascinating the microwave was. James didn’t know how to talk to muggles. Not because they weren’t cool. But because he was so afraid of dropping something suspicious and magical. So, James had excused himself and locked in the restroom. Luckily, he had brought the two-way mirror.

“HE IS AN IDIOT THAT’S WHAT HE IS” James spatted “Did you have any idea about this?”

“Nop…”

James raised an eyebrow

“I swear! It was all Moony’s doing. I know as much about muggles as you”

“Arrive one hour later, talk a lot about microwaves… Bloody bastard!”

His two friends laughed hysterically.

“Put me with Remus Traitor Lupin…” James frowned “Oi! Are you in my pool?” James caught a glimpse of his familiar pool at home.

“Oh hi, James” Remus appeared in the mirror, grinning like an idiot.

“Traitor!”

“Sirius said this is his house as well so he is allowed to use the pool, which is not only yours” Remus said sipping lemonade “And Sirius invited me, so”

“Ha ha ha, you’re so funny. You fucking twat”

Remus giggled.

“Lily is very important to me, okay? Therefore, her family”

“At least I gave you a sweet tuxedo” Remus said

“It was well accepted” James said “What, are you hanging out without me? Where’s Peter?”

“I didn’t invite him” Sirius’ face appeared as well

“You didn’t invite him?” Remus asked “I thought you said he couldn’t come”

“I wanted to spend the day with you” Sirius shrugged

Remus looked embarrassed, and James saw him blushing. Or maybe was the sun.

“What the actual fuck?” James teased “The pretty good best friends, ha?”

Remus and Sirius smiled. James rubbed his hair.

“Okay, I need advice. And this time GOOD ADVICE JOHN LUPIN”

“Oh, I am going to call you John now” Sirius grinned

“Don’t you dare!”

“Lily has been flirting with me, okay?” James continued “I know it. I know it! And she kissed me on the cheek…”

“Wild” Remus commented

“Use protection!” Sirius gasped

“Idiots” James rolled his eyes “I just really want to push her against the wall and kiss her senseless. But at the same time, I want to be her everything and marry her and have her babies. And I won’t be able to do that if I push her like I did last time. Like I know we are just friends, but we keep flirting and I don’t think I will be able to stand her gorgeous face and body any longer. I mean I am sweating just thinking about her. I cannot sweat!”

“Relax, Prongs” Sirius whistled

“Just be yourself” Remus suggested “Actually don’t be yourself. Be more like me. Maybe you should behave”

“I bet you would be snogging her by the end of the night” Sirius said grabbing his glass of lemonade.

“Did Effie prepare lemonade without me?” James pouted

But Sirius didn’t listen “Or if you’re lucky, you can sh…”

Remus knocked over the drink over Sirius.

“MOONY!”

“Stop talking shit, Sirius”

They started discussing, as they always did. James was used to them discussing and liking each other as nothing happened. But he was more preoccupied on the possibility of doing something with Lily. He was sweating. And then he heard footsteps outside the door.

“I gotta go, they think I am pooping”

And James hung up pocketing the mirror and exiting the bathroom.

James smiled at some people on the hall, before walking to the kitchen again.

“Napkins look good, Mrs. Evans” James announced.

Mrs. Evans laughed. She had already changed to a discreet dress and was fixing her hair.

“You look nice as well, Mrs. Evans”

“Thank you, James” Mrs. Evans blushed “You are really a wonderful young man. You remind me of my husband when he was young”

James knew Lily’s father had died a year ago. James had tried to apologize for the Snape incident. And Lily had yelled at him horrible things. But he didn’t know she had lost her father until Marlene mentioned it later that day. The good thing was that James and Lily were on good terms now. Excellent terms.

“I wish I had been able to meet him” James said “Lily speaks highly about him”

Mrs. Evans smiled as she put on some earring.

“He would’ve liked you” she said sighing.

“Who doesn’t like the incredible James”

James turned around to see Lily. She looked so beautiful, so gorgeous. She was wearing a violet dress, with a pink ribbon on her waist. The dress revealed a bit of Lily’s breasts. She was wearing a heart shaped necklace. The one she always wore. Her hair was loose with red curls going down to her waist. She was wearing makeup and red lipstick which made her lips more desirable. She was so beautiful; James felt his legs trembled a little. His heart raced.

I want her, I love her. James thought.

But even if she was a few meters away, she seemed unreachable. Forget about Quidditch. Lily was the best thing in the world.

“Wow” James sighed “You look… am…” he moved his hands from his pockets to his hair “There are no words to describe how dashing you look, darling. I mean literally wow. A piece of art”

Lily’s face adopted the same red color as her hair. She bit her lip and looked down but she was smiling.

“You are wow yourself, Potter”

James grinned. James had forgotten that Mrs. Evans was there until she laughed.

“I think Tuney is not the only one in love this evening” she said. James and Lily blushed. “Do you want to come in the car or you prefer to walk?”

“We’ll walk” Lily said smiling at James

“Be there on time, Lily”

Mrs. Evans smiled at James and followed Petunia’s moans and complains somewhere in the house. But James too concentrated in Lily’s green eyes, staring back at him.

“We are going to walk there?” James decided to break the ice

Lily smiled “Church is only a few blocks away” she explained “But Tuney wanted to arrive elegantly in a car. I bet Vernon and the rest are already there”

“Okay…” James showed her his arms for her to take it “Let’s go milady”

“I bet that in an hour I will take these horrible heels off” Lily said “Try to use heels one day”

“The next wedding, we assist, I’ll promise I wear a good pair of heels”

Lily laughed.

“Deal”

They walked talking about many things. From their families, to the war, to their plans for the future, to silly things like food or music preference. It was so easy talking to each other. There were a lot of things they actually didn’t know about each other, even if they’ve been class mates for six years. James made Lily laugh a lot. And James laughed a lot. It just felt that the two of them where the only ones in that street, in that town, in that world.

“If there was a fire in your house, what’s the first thing would save?” Lily asked

“Oh, we are going with the deep shit questions, aren’t we?”

Lily giggled.

“Amm…” James thought about the question “It depends which one is my home and who I am living with”

“I thought you were going to say your broomstick or something” Lily smiled

“I am not that shallow!” James protested

Lily laughed

“I guess if I cannot rescue my parents or anyone alive…”

Lily shook her head.

“I would save our book, me and my folks’ book”

“What book?”

“We have this family book full of photographs and paper clips, and letters we saved through the years” James explained “I remember we started it when I was six. My parents were my best friends back then, they still are. But now I have The Marauders, and you and the girls. But they are everything to me. So, if everything burns, I would like to save that”

James didn’t say this to impress Lily or anything. It was actually true. He wasn’t ashamed of having a good relationship with his parents. Because he had the best parents in the world.

But Lily was looking at him in a very different and intense way. James decided to clear his throat.

“What about you?”

Lily smiled “No. I think I cannot beat your answer, I’m afraid”

“Now I’m curious”

“I was going to say my collection of records”

“I don’t believe you” James laughed “Come on, you don’t want to tell me!”

Lily laughed too “Really that was going to be my answer, because I thought you were going to say your broomstick… Now, I look like an idiot”

“Okay, okay” James laughed “I change my answer, I would save my broomstick. Happy?”

“In that case I would save my dad’s favorite books, the ones he used to read me when I was little” Lily said “Now my answer is better than yours” she grinned

“And I am the superficial asshole again”

“Exactly” Lily giggled

“You are worse than Moony”

Lily laughed “We arrived” she announced.

James even forgot that they were heading to a wedding. Petunia’s wedding. The church was a very large building with black windows. The guests were entering the place and taking their seats. Some were chatting on the entrance. James swallowed, more people to meet and impress.

Lily stopped before stepping inside.

“I might cry I lot in there” she said “Promise to hold my hand and don’t laugh?”

James dared to take her hand right now. And he kissed her cheek.

“Promise, love” he whispered. And they stepped in.

They sat on the front rows, still holding hands. James was so happy. He felt a sort of feeling of protectiveness towards Lily. Like Lily belonged with him. Like they were meant for each other.

And suddenly he didn’t need to snog or do other things with Lily. Like he wanted to do so of course but this was ten times better than any physical pleasure. Just sitting with Lily in silence. Holding hands.

Many people asked Lily if James was her boyfriend. She simply nodded, smiled or blushed. James didn’t know what to do about it. But she wasn’t saying no. Lily whispered on James’ ear who these people were, how they were related to her, and a quick funny anecdote about them.

“That’s my father’s cousin Maurice. Legend says he hides pot in his wig”

James and Lily giggled and some people shushed them up. That made them giggle even more.

Vernon was a short, chubby lad with the largest moustache James had ever seen. He looked nervous but pleased with himself.

“We don’t particularly like each other, me and Vernon” Lily whispered “I think Tuney deserved better”

“Love is blind, they say” James answered “Although I don’t see how can I be more blind than I already am”

Lily giggled with this. She was trying so hard to contain her laughter. She looked adorable. James dared to kiss her hand. Which he was still holding.

“Lily please” Mrs. Evans warned

“Sorry”

“Sorry, Mrs. Evans. Lily is nervous” James whispered

James found Mrs. Evans was really fond of him and she smiled at him a lot.

Music started and everyone raised to receive the bride. Petunia walked in accompanied by someone who Lily said was her uncle and Petunia’s godfather since their parent couldn’t be there.

“Every child has a godfather? Because I don’t have one” James whispered as Petunia entered

“Not magical children, no”

“Maybe they should”

Lily smiled and then squeezed his hand hard. James grunted in pain.

“Sorry. She looks so beautiful and she is getting married” Lily’s eyes watered.

The ceremony was beautiful. James had assisted wizard weddings when he was a kid. He remembered more rituals, spells, magical shows and performances. But this was nothing like those. This seemed more intimate, simpler. James wanted his wedding to be like this. And then, he started fantasying about his wedding. Could it be with Lily? They could get there. And start a live together. James stared at Lily. How beautiful she was. How much she cared about her sister. James wanted to live that with Lily. Maybe in the future he hoped. For now, he was holding Lily’s hand, and he wanted to kiss her. Only once.

Even if Lily hated Vernon, the way they had looked at each other in the ceremony. Him and Petunia were truly in love. Even if Lily couldn’t understand how Petunia could love someone like that. Lily had read about that one true love in books and watch it in movies. And Lily aspired to that. Finding her one true love. It didn’t happen with any of the boys she had met.

But James was different. It wasn’t exactly love…yet. But Lily knew she had a special connection with him. She’d never laughed so hard with someone, or be so relaxed and safe with someone. She’d never wanted to snog someone so badly. She’d never fantasized about it. She’d never felt so intensely happy with someone.

The reception was held on The Evans residence. It wasn’t that big so everyone was squeezed between the living room, the dinning room, the kitchen and the backyard.

Lily went upstairs to change to flat shoes before her feet broke. So, she was ready to dance after lunch. Dance with James. Lily had been considering all afternoon if she should kiss him. Would it change things? Lily was scared of staring a relationship with him and somehow fuck it up or James being someone else. James had tried to get with Lily for three years. What if Lily accepted, the spell would break and James wouldn’t like her anymore, what if he moved on to flirt with another girl? It was easy being that way. Just friends, like being in a very comfortable bubble. But oh boy, Lily wanted to kiss him and break it so bad, but she was scared.

They chatted over food with Lily’s mother, and the new wedded.

“Congratulations Vernon, is it? I think you two look very happy together and make a lovely couple” James tried casually, but Lily could tell he was nervous because he moved his leg a lot under the table.

Vernon and Petunia were caught of guard by James' intervention. They stared at him with displeasure. Petunia whispered something in his ear and Vernon’s eyes widened. Lily squeezed her napkin under the table.

It had been in New Year’s when Vernon found out about Lily’s “condition”. She had wanted to tell him because he had proposed over Christmas and Lily wanted him to know Petunia’s family. Where he was getting into. Petunia avoided the subject, and simply replied with a ‘I’ll tell him eventually’. Lily had cornered Vernon at New Year’s party and told him everything. She even made magic without her wand, which wasn’t registered at the Ministry. Vernon ran away, started his vehicle and left for the night. He didn’t speak with Petunia for days. She was devastated. And Lily felt guilty. She tried to contact him without response. She apologized with her sister and he was furious. Eventually, the couple worked things out, otherwise they weren’t here at their wedding. But Vernon flinched every time Lily was around. Vernon was scared of her. Probably Petunia mentioned James was the same.

“Thank you, sir” Vernon simply answered. And continued chatting with his sister.

Lily felt sick. Vernon was now her family, and he was always going to look at her with disgust.

But James looked pleased “He called me, sir” he whispered smiling.

James was so pure, so amiable, so wonderful. Lily was not going to permit that either Vernon or Petunia treat him badly, even if it was their wedding.

Later that evening, many people were dancing. Others drinking and smoking now that the party had officially initiated. James and Lily were on their desserts while Vernon went on and on about the cars, he was planning on buying for him and Petunia.

“Why did you order chocolate?” Lily asked ignoring Vernon. There were two types of cake. Thanks to the various bakers on the family. One chocolate cake, one lemon cake.

“Chocolate is the best!” James protested “Moony would’ve adored this one”

“True” Lily said “But too much of a chocolate is not good”

“Why?”

“It ends up getting too sweet to enjoy. And then you hated it, and you avoid chocolate for days after that”

“That’s better than ordering lemon”

“It’s actually pretty good”

“Yeah?” James raised an eyebrow “Can I try it?”

“Can I try the chocolate one?”

James nodded grinning. Lily took a large bite of the chocolate cake, while James took a large bite of the lemon one.

“Yeah it’s not bad” James said

Lily moaned when she tasted chocolate “So good” she licked the spoon.

James looked at her amused with his cheeks slightly red. Lily decided to ignore that.

“What about the nonsense of chocolate is bad?” James asked

“I told you. Only in little amounts, otherwise is awful”

“Remus would disagree with you”

“I know” Lily smiled “What if we mix them?”

“What if we mix them indeed?” James raised an eyebrow

They both giggled as they took a bit of one flavor and a bit of the other. And put them in their mouths at the same time.

It was actually pretty good. Lily laughed. James and her hit palms happy for their discovery.

“Opposites attract” Lily said

“Even opposites cakes attract” James added

Lily thought it was true. That was them. Chocolate and Lemon cakes falling in love and making a better mixture. Lily thought they couldn’t be more different, but they complemented each other in such way, it was beautiful.

“Maybe we can make this a tradition” James said “Order different flavors and mix them up”

Tradition. James saw her in his future. Lily giggled. And Lily had never wanted him so badly. She was leaning in, ready to kiss him, snog him senseless. Even if everything changed after that. James noticed this and his expression changed, he was leaning as well…

“What car do you own, Mr. eh….”

Vernon had ignored James all evening and now he tried to chat with him, just now…

“Potter” James answered quickly, clearing his throat and rubbing his hair, kind of blushing for what they were about to do “And I don’t own cars, I own a broomstick”

Vernon jumped at the sound of that word as it was obscene. He looked around, luckily no one was there. Just the three of them. Petunia was chatting with different relatives as well as her mother. Marge was gulping more wine. Vernon’s parents were dancing.

“We don’t ride cars” James said “We…” he looked around and leaned over whispering “wizards”

Vernon jumped again and blinked hard.

“I see…” Vernon said, he looked around trying to find an escape, regretting his decision of chatting with James in the first place “Then your kind… doesn’t have very much money, I assume? For having…eh… tricks?”

Lily almost laughed. She had tried to explain what her world was like, but they never payed her attention.

“Oh no” James laughed “We have money just like you, in fact my family owns a big portion of money. Not to brag or anything. And I just buy the best broom on the market just like you own the best muggle transport…”

“James…” Lily hissed

Vernon looked disgusted and scared.

“And we have a bank and everything to store our money, Gringotts. Guarded by goblins” James nodded and took a sip of his wine “The most secure place in the world they say”

“James…”

“It must be some sort of joke” Vernon grunted “Did I hear correctly? Go-goblins? Guarding your money?”

“Yeah. They are very serious when it comes to money” James nodded

Lily sighed. Vernon looked purple now.

“Are you mocking me? Are you truly laughing in my face?” Vernon snaped “Lily…”

It was the first time he said her name in a long time

“You bring a fool to my wedding so that he can mock me?”

“I am telling the truth!” James protested, but Lily grabbed his arm

“Nonsense!” Vernon raised up “I don’t like your behavior mister. I very well hope you had too much wine to justify your loose tongue. Excuse me” And with that he stormed out of the table towards his new wife.

“Very rude! I was telling the truth… I was very well telling the truth. You know that” James protested “Fuck, sorry, darling. Maybe I should go there and apologize…”

“No, it’s fine”

“Lils, I don’t want to be on bad terms with your family. They are very important to me because you are”

Lily’s heart started racing.

“Let me just…”

But before James could move, Lily kissed him. Lily, never in her life, had done something so reckless without thinking about it before. But there she was. She wanted to avoid more chaos, but the main reason was that she had been wanting to do that since the end of their first kiss, back in June.

James was shocked at first. But then, he responded to the kiss. And he moved in a way that sent shivers down her spine. After they were done, Lily smiled embarrassed. Her face was hot and red.

She snorted “Do you know how to dance?”

“What?” James was still in shock which was adorable.

“You don’t?” Lily said “Don’t worry. I will show you”

She took James’ hand and she dragged him to the dance floor.

“You have to put your hands on my waist” she instructed avoiding the urge to kiss him again and the embarrassment she felt. James obeyed.

“I’ve heard dancing involves a lot of kissing as well” James said

Lily laughed and everything was back to normal. Lily decided that was a green flag to kiss him again.

“Now focus” Lily laughed and wrapped her arms around James’ shoulders. He smelled so good. “Now we have to sway to the music”

Lily closed her eyes feeling her heart beats mixing with James’. She placed her head on James’ chest, confirming how much his heart raced. If this wasn’t love, it must be something very similar.

“Am I doing it correctly?” James whispered

“Perfectly fine”

“The dancing or the kissing?”

Lily laughed “Both”

“You’re good at both as well, gorgeous”

Lily loved when he called her gorgeous.

The rest of the evening was wonderful. They decided not to worry about anything and had a good time. They drank, ate more, danced a lot, sang a lot. And kiss a lot.

Petunia and Vernon left for their honeymoon at some point before sunset. The party continued. And Lily didn’t realize there were actually many people leaving, but the party was still on.

“I’m tired!” Lily announced after a while collapsing on her chair. She had to be fair, she was slightly drunk. Maybe more than slightly. “Do you want to take me to my room?”

When Lily saw that James went red as a tomato, she laughed. “Just to tug me in bed and then leave, you little perv” she was definitely drunk.

James seemed drunk as well. But many years of experience of after match parties, made him resist alcohol a bit more. James smiled widely. Then kissed her.

“You’re so gorgeous” he said

“So, do you” Lily said and they kissed again.

They climbed upstairs making sure they weren’t seen by the rest of the guests, specially Mrs. Evans. But she seemed too busy being host.

As soon as they got there, Lily collapsed on the bed. Her bed. James seemed unsure to be there. He was such a gentleman.

“I don’t bite” Lily grinned “Com’ere”

James lied beside Lily. Within the silence of the room, Lily could clearly hear his heart beats and his heavy breathing. James was nervous. Which made Lily want him more.

“I want your jacket so I can have your smell when you leave” Lily concluded that alcohol in her system was like Varitaserum.

James laughed “At this rhythm you’re going to strip me down”

Lily blushed at this, and her body felt warmer at the thought of a naked James.

“Here…”

Lily sat down and let James place the jacket around her. And she was happy she asked for it, it smelled really nice, just like James. She lied down again next to James. But James was already kissing her. And she kissed him back. James was being so nice. He respected when she wanted to stop, they giggled for a while and continued. James tried not to touch her where she didn’t want to or felt too uncomfortable. He didn’t even try to take off her clothes.

They stopped kissing after a while but facing the ceiling. Then Lily dared to hold his hand. They stared at each other only through the moonlight.

“I had a wonderful time” James whispered “Thank you for inviting me, beautiful”

“I am going to miss you for the rest of the summer” she whispered back, now closing her eyes. She was getting sleepy.

“Me too, Lils”

Lily knew he wanted to ask the question. What were they? Were they a couple now?

I love you. I love you. I love you. But I am scared of you getting tired of me. I am scared of this feeling being over.

“Would you stay with me until I fall asleep?” that’s what she said instead.

“Of course” James whispered before kissing her forehead.

Lily slowly drifted to sleep.

The next day, Lily woke surrounded by James’ scent. She smiled. She was still wearing James’ jacket. Lily hugged it, like it was James himself. She giggled. In the pocket, she found a strange pocket mirror. And a note that said:

With this, we will be able to talk and see each other until the end of summer. So, the longing would not be eternal.

Love,

James.

[lettheladylead]

Title: Witness

Summary: Scrooge is on trial and he needs a character witness, but he's not sure how helpful she'll be. Ship: Scrooge/Goldie Word count: ~3080 Notes: I needed to write something after seeing the summary for the upcoming episode, The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510085

-

“This trial is a sham!” Scrooge shouted, slamming his shackled fists onto the desk in front of him. “You havenae allowed me a proper lawyer or allowed anyone to testify on my behalf!”

The giant mystical judge scoffed and held the gavel in his hand, ready to use it if the duck continued yelling. Holding him in contempt of court would be an easy way to end this trial early, but he wanted to make sure Mr. McDuck paid properly for his crimes.

The prosecutor rolled his eyes and walked in front of the desk. “And whom would you have testify for you? In the High Mystical Court of Good Versus Evil, family members aren’t allowed.”

Scrooge gaped. “Not even as a character witness? I spend all my time with my family!”

The smug, suited creature shrugged at him with a smile. “Too bad, then. Looks like we’ll just have to continue listing how you’ve corrupted these fine men and women and forced them into lives of villainhood.”

The old duck seethed, grinding his teeth and considering his options. If he let the trial continue this way, his poor family up in the spectator’s seats was about to watch him get destroyed and they had yet to even discuss punishment, but Scrooge was sure it would be worse than anything he could get on Earth.

As he glanced up at his family - Donald, Della, and the boys in particular - he wondered if Webby or Twenty-Two would’ve been allowed to defend him had they been zapped here along with the rest of them. They just happened to be in the kitchen at the time of abduction and were probably losing their minds with worry. Hopefully one of the boys was able to send some sort of textual message to let them know what was going on.

At that thought, Scrooge’s eyes lingered on Louie and his phone, and a thought suddenly came to mind. It was something he wasn’t sure about...perhaps it’d be a bad idea...but he had no other options.

“I know someone!” he shouted. “I have a character witness who’s not in my family!”

The judge and prosecutor stared down with their many, many eyes - giving Scrooge an expression he could only describe as terrifying and suspicious.

“You still want to try this?” the prosecutor asked. “Alright, fine. Who is it?”

“Goldie O’Gilt.” Scrooge ignored the reactions from his family - particularly Della and Donald’s resounding ‘oh, please no’ - and hoped this would be a good choice.

The prosecutor looked up at the judge, who nodded his head and slammed his gavel down three times before snapping his fingers. “Alright.”

A few seconds passed without anything happening or anyone saying a word. Scrooge glanced from side to side. “Should you...call a recess so I can contact her?”

“That would be a waste of time,” the prosecutor said as there was suddenly a poof of purple smoke at the witness stand.

Everyone stared as the smoke dissipated to reveal one Goldie O’Gilt - currently wearing a bathrobe and her hair was down and wet and as soon as she opened her eyes she was immediately very unhappy.

“Oh, what the hell is this?” Goldie shouted, choosing to stay seated but glaring around the room. “What am I on trial for this time?”

Scrooge felt himself getting sweaty. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

“Nothing, Miss O’Gilt,” the judge said as he leaned down to look at her. “Mr. Scrooge McDuck is on trial for crimes of harassment, manipulation, and corruption against multiple innocent victims.”

Goldie blinked up at him and then turned her head to look at Scrooge.

He gave her a toothy grin and a small, nervous wave.

“So what does that have to do with me?” Goldie asked as she grabbed her hair and wrung it out onto the floor.

The prosecutor stared at the puddle of water and then glared up at their new witness. “You’ve been called as a character witness for Mr. McDuck. Now do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

Scrooge dropped his head to the desk while the prosecutor and judge glanced at one another.

The bailiff walked over with a large brown book that had a giant lock around the side and was shaking a bit and making snarling sounds. Goldie raised an eyebrow as he held it towards her.

“Put your hand on this.”

Goldie grimaced. “Must I?”

“If you don’t want to testify, we can’t force you,” the prosecutor said with a pretentious glance up and down her body. “Clearly you were in the middle of something, after all.”

Goldie glared at him and in that moment decided she hated him more than she enjoyed inconveniencing Scrooge. She slapped her hand down on top of the book. “I swear to tell the truth.”

The bailiff mumbled something under his breath and then the book lit up and shone a bright light onto Goldie for a few seconds before fading away. He walked away as Goldie rubbed at her eyes.

“What was that?”

“That was a Light of Honestly,” the prosecutor said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Which means that so long as you’re at the witness stand, you’re physically incapable of lying or excluding relevant information from your statements.”

“What?!” both Goldie and Scrooge shouted at the same time. They immediately locked eyes with one another and could feel their shared nervousness almost psychically.

“Since when do you use something like that?”

“It was specifically requested and provided by one of the accusers in this case. Now, could you state your name and occupation to the court, please?”

Goldie’s left eye twitched as she squeezed the sleeves of her robes into her hands. “Goldie Kathleen O’Gilt. I…” She paused as if considering her words - or, Scrooge suspected, trying to find a way to word her lie so that it was still true. “...I own and operate a hotel.”

Scrooge’s eyes widened. She did what? He attempted to make eye contact with her so he could let her know how confusing what she just said was to him, but she was purposefully avoiding his stare.

“And how do you know Scrooge McDuck, Miss O’Gilt?”

Goldie frowned and glanced up at Scrooge before glaring at the lawyer. “He’s my…” She seemed to struggle with the words again. “...boy...friend?”

A collective groan could be heard from the duck boys in the peanut gallery while Scrooge couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face.

“Are you asking?” the judge asked sternly, leaning towards her again.

She grunted and angrily waved her hands around. “We’ve never really talked about it, alright? He’s the love of my life and we’ve been seeing each other on and off since 1897. How’s that for you?”

Scrooge was surprised not to hear another groan, and looked back to see the boys and Della looking quite touched by Goldie’s confession. They weren’t the only ones - even after their little Florida adventure, he never expected to hear those words come out of her mouth. Now he had ten times as much reason not to die right then and there.

“That’s descriptive enough, I suppose,” the prosecutor responded, clearly not recognizing or not caring about the emotional turmoil Goldie was going through after blurting that out so carelessly. “In the one hundred and twenty years you’ve known Scrooge McDuck, have you found him to be cruel?”

Scrooge stared at her pleadingly, despite knowing she physically couldn’t lie he still hoped she’d find a way to make him sound good.

Goldie brushed her fingers through her damp hair. “On occasion. But usually I was cruel to him first.”

“Usually, but not always?” the prosecutor asked, taking a look at the jury who were watching with gradually increasing interest. “So he has been cruel without provocation.”

“The first night we met involved me drugging his coffee and then him kidnapping me,” Goldie said nonchalantly, clearly starting to realize there was no fighting the Light of Honesty. “At the time I thought he was cruel, but looking back on it, I don’t mind that it happened.”

Scrooge closed his eyes and wondered what his family was thinking at that moment. He was thinking about all the different painful, mystical punishments he was going to face after Goldie destroyed his already limited chances of surviving this trial.

“Interesting. And over the years, have you witnessed Scrooge McDuck inflicting such cruelties on anyone else?”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “No. I like to think our relationship is special,” she added with a wink.

The prosecutor scoffed, annoyed by her response. “Can I assume this means your time spent with Scrooge McDuck is usually just the two of you, making you less than an expert on how he treats people he’s not having sex with?”

“Objection!” Scrooge yelled, standing up. “Curse me kilts, there are kids here!”

The judge shrugged. “He’s got a point.”

“Fine,” the prosecutor responded, putting up his hands in mock surrender. “But my question still stands.”

Goldie huffed. “Unfortunately for me, I have spent plenty of time with Scrooge’s other associates. I can’t confirm whether or not I’ve seen him around your particular accusers, but I’ve interacted with most of his enemies at one point or another.”

“...good to know,” the prosecutor said and brushed invisible dust off of his lapel. “Have you ever known Scrooge McDuck to harass others?”

“Only when they owe him money.”

“Oh? And does that happen often?”

Goldie let out a short laugh. “No one would be dumb enough to borrow from Scrooge! He adds interest even when you borrow five bucks for lunch.”

Scrooge pouted and ignored the temptation to argue that he had every right to do so.

“Have you known Scrooge McDuck to be manipulative?”

There was a pause at that question, one that filled the space between Scrooge and Goldie with a modicum of tension. “Yes.”

“...can you elaborate on that?”

Goldie sighed. “Well, he’s the richest duck in the world, a businessman, and an adventurer. You can’t be successful in any of those categories without being at least somewhat manipulative. Though he’s certainly not the most manipulative man I’ve dealt with, he’s not exactly a saint.”

Scrooge groaned and slammed his head against the desk multiple times in a row.

The blonde pouted angrily and tried to think of a way to save face. “That being said...if the accusers in question aren’t ex-business partners or fellow adventurers, I question the relevance of anything I’ve said.”

The jury seemed to find that statement interesting and the prosecutor glared angrily at Goldie for causing a stir. Scrooge lifted his head and smiled at her - now he was sure she was fighting to help him.

“I think we can allow the jury to decide the relevance of this information for themselves,” the prosecutor said with a snarl. “We don’t need any unfair extrapolation from our witnesses, Miss O’Gilt. Stick to the facts.”

Goldie let out a short, low hum and grabbed her hair to wring it out once again, getting water all over the attorney’s shoes. He gasped and stepped away from her.

“Oops!” Goldie put a hand to her beak, but offered no apology. No one needed to think twice to realize it was because she was incapable of doing so at that moment.

“Corruption is the biggest charge,” the prosecutor said matter-of-factly. “The accusers all claim that their villainy is a direct result of damages done to them, their property, or their livelihoods by Scrooge McDuck. Have you known Scrooge McDuck to be a corrupting person?”

Scrooge wondered about that charge against him in particular. He couldn’t deny that a lot of his enemies were a direct result of something he did - but it wasn’t purposeful nor was he the only person capable of causing these problems for them. If Scrooge hadn’t indirectly negatively impacted their lives, some other billionaire would’ve done it instead. It’s not like he was the only businessman-adventurer in the world.

“...yes.”

Scrooge sucked in a breath. He didn’t know what Goldie was going to say, but it couldn’t be good.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“Not in any way that’s appropriate for the audience,” she answered with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to corrupt the kids, too, after all.”

Scrooge exhaled loudly and blushed. Alright.

The prosecutor slapped a hand against his forehead. “Not that kind of corruption!” he shouted, pointing a finger into her face and getting much too close for anyone’s comfort. “Have you witnessed Scrooge McDuck influence the life of an innocent person in a way that led to them falling down a path of villainy?”

The jury reacted more than expected to the prosecutor’s anger, whispering among themselves briefly. Scrooge and the prosecutor both looked over at the Jury Box, but Goldie kept her eyes forward.

“...not purposefully, but yes.”

The prosecutor smiled. “Ahh, well naturally, if it wasn’t on purpose, then it doesn’t matter! Is that what you’re saying?”

Goldie’s left eye twitched again. “You asked me to state facts. I stated a fact. Do you have any other dumb questions?”

He glared at her and glanced up at the judge, who was leaning on his hand and watching their discussion closely. “I want to summarize what you’ve told us so far, Miss O’Gilt.”

“According to you, Scrooge McDuck may not be prone to harassment, but he is often cruel, fairly manipulative, and has been known to corrupt innocent people to villainy. Is that all correct?”

She frowned and tapped her fingers against her leg. “That’s all accurate to what I’ve said here, yes.”

The prosecutor turned back to look at Scrooge, whose expression could only be described as defeated. “Some character witness you’ve found yourself, Mr. McDuck.”

“Stick to the witness, Prosecutor,” the judge said quickly, holding up his gavel.

“Yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor responded, moving back towards Goldie again. “Now, Miss O’Gilt, based on what you’ve told us here, Scrooge McDuck is not a nice man nor is he a noble man. Yet you referred to him as the, quote, love of your life, unquote. This leads me to believe that you, yourself, may not be a nice or noble person, either.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s your point?”

“If anyone has any doubts as to whether or not Scrooge McDuck is a cruel, manipulative person capable of horrible deeds, we need look no further than the fact that his girlfriend here is similarly cruel, manipulative, and as many of us here are already aware - a criminal.”

There were gasps among the crowd and the jury - the prosecutor turned his head towards them as he continued. “Yes, everyone, Miss O’Gilt here is actually quite familiar with the inside of this courtroom. She’s been on trial dozens of times over the past one hundred years for theft of mystical artifacts from every dimension and realm you can think of.”

Scrooge closed his eyes again and started counting. Perhaps if he did this long enough, he’d wake up from this nightmare he found himself trapped in.

Goldie, on the other hand, was unperturbed. “Been on trial, but never been convicted. Who’s the one bringing up irrelevant information now?”

“I simply thought it was important for our jury to be aware of the witness’ extracurricular activities.”

“The activities you have no evidence of,” Goldie said sternly. She glanced up at the judge. “I believe your prosecutor is harassing me when all I’ve done is comply with every question I’ve been asked both here and at previous trials.”

The judge considered this for a moment and looked down at the prosecutor. “She has a point. Was she convicted of any of the crimes you’re accusing her of?”

The prosecutor frowned. “No, but-”

“But nothing,” the judge said as he slammed down his gavel again. “You will move on from this statement of irrelevant accusations or I will have you replaced with another attorney.”

“...yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said with a bow, glaring at Goldie.

She smiled back at him, then glanced at Scrooge and blew him a kiss.

======

After court was adjourned and Scrooge’s handcuffs were finally removed after all those hours of magical metal chafing against his feathers, he spent an enjoyable few minutes being congratulated by his family before Goldie stepped out of the courtroom and stared at them.

“Um...Uncle Scrooge?” Louie said, tugging at his uncle’s sleeve.

“Yes, lad?”

“I think Aunt Goldie wants to talk to you.”

Scrooge considered taking a moment to discuss that nickname with his nephew, but Goldie’s presence distracted him enough that he simply turned around and walked towards her.

“You really saved me in there, O’Gilt,” Scrooge said softly as he reached down and grabbed one of her hands.

Goldie shrugged and squeezed his hand back. “Well it wasn’t like I could let them throw you in interdimensional prison. They don’t have conjugal visits, you know.”

He blushed and pulled his hand away. “Must you always be so inappropriate?!”

“Not always,” Goldie said as she took a step closer to him. “Just with you.”

Scrooge felt his heart racing and couldn’t help the nervous smile that came back to his face. “...I would’ve thought you’d run out of here as fast as possible after what you said.”

She played with her hair for a bit, roughly running her fingers through the knots that had formed since the judge had summoned her from her bathroom before she’d had a chance to brush. “It’s not like I said anything you didn’t already know.”

He smiled brighter and leaned forward to press a quick kiss against her beak; a disgusted groan sounded from behind him that he was pretty sure was Louie’s. “Is the judge sendin’ you back home?”

“After I’m done with you, yes.”

Scrooge grabbed her hands again. “How about you come to the mansion instead, dear?”

Goldie breathed out a laugh. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I’m not wearing anything under this robe and I’d kind of like to do something with my hair before it knots into a nest.”

“I’ve got some of your clothes,” Scrooge said quickly. “And showers. Towels. Hair brushes. Anythin’ you need.”

She raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Scrooge’s family who were all pretending not to pay attention to them. “Well...I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

[sunfoxfic]

Anonymous asked:

Okay so I was about to send this in anon, but oh well - if you answer this ask, could you do it privately? Thanks!

So umm this eng Vs french dub debate is kind of frustrating me. Like I actually prefer the English dub, and seeing people trash on it is really unpleasant? I mean I have no objection with people preferring the French dub, that's great! Everyone has their own opinion and that's cool.

But I recently saw this post going around about the script changes in the eng dub and made the mistake of opening the comments hdhshdhhd all I saw was "FRENCH DUB IS SUPERIOR!" "ENG DUB IS FOR BABIES!" And well, it's been bugging me for days now.

It mostly seems to have to do with Adrien's VAs, I guess? I'll be honest here, when I first got into the fandom, I found the French voice really pretty and charming and all. But seeing people say that eng dub Chat Noir sounds like an "obnoxious douchebag"(their exact words), that the french dub "fit the characters more" and that the eng dub was the reason why salters salt on Chat for being pushy bothers me SOOO much and is actually ruining the French dub for me?

I mean I think I am really used to the English dub and just generally feel and connect to the characters in that dub and I know people aren't saying it's bad, but still - I don't know. And don't get me started on the whole "french is more canon" thing.

I do think that people like the French one more because it sounds more "dark", ig? And considering how most people participating in fandom are grown ups, I guess they think eng dub is childish and just find French dub cool?

Anyway, I just can't stand all this hate for English dub :( What do I do to not take all this seriously??

I unfortunately believe that I saw and unfollowed someone over that same post that you saw. I'd maybe be more worried about posting an ask which directly quotes them if they were following me, but I know they aren't.

And yes, Adrien's VA seems to be one of the more relevant reasons why people don't like French. Often people claim that the English VA gives him an entirely different sense of humor, and honestly there are a whole ton of people who just don't like Bryce Papenbrook's voice. (Personally, I like Bryce Papenbrook's voice; I like that it's high pitched, I think it fits the role really well.)

The great irony of this is that the post I think we both saw was an anon coming into another blog's askbox and saying a lot of the things you're saying about the English dub, and someone decided to reblog that and create an addition that's making you feel a lot of the same things that the original anon felt.

(That is why I am uninterested in people adding on additional commentary about Eng vs. French dub debate on a post that is ultimately supposed to say, Watch what you want. The debate is analysis for elsewhere. Positivity is undermined by saying, "But I personally don't subscribe to the ideology behind positivity." It's like if I said "Happy Diwali" and you reblogged the post giving all the reasons why you don't celebrate Diwali because Christianity is better but ended it with, "But happy Diwali!" Like, you see why people might feel like you don't want others to have nearly as happy a Diwali?) Here's the thing: I don't like watching in languages that aren't English. It has nothing to do with any dub in particular (okay, maybe the Brazillian dub has earned a special place in my heart because Gloob has annoyed me one too many times), I just don't have the potential to connect with the characters when they speak other languages the way I do in English. It doesn't matter if English dub Adrien is a pretentious douchebag because I'm never going to understand him in any other language well enough to see that other versions of him in other languages aren't pretentious douchebags.

I've been feeling a lot of the same things you're feeling recently. I don't know how to not let it bother me, and in general, I'm not the best person to ask because I'm hotheaded and prideful as shit.

I think the main thing for me is that most of their claims are genuinely opinion and they treat them as fact. And I absolutely agree with you about people who think that French is more canon -- they're different. They always were and always have been. And that's... not a bad thing?

Like, in the English dub of Ikari Gozen, we learned that Marinette is a Snake and Kagami is a Dragon on the Chinese Zodiac. In the French dub, we learned that Marinette is a Leo and Kagami is a Scorpio. That's a perfect example of the two dubs being different and those things benefiting the fandom. We can now pretty firmly say that Marinette was born in August 2001, and Kagami was born in November 2000. (We can then further narrow down Kagami's birthday as November 20 thanks to the Instagrams.) But like. You wanna know what? I think this clip is funnier in English. I think that saying that the French VAs are better because they're under Thomas Astruc's supervision is super insulting to Ezra Weisz, who has genuinely been one of the better crew members (and hasn't had nearly so many controversies as Astruc). I think you can hear Chat Noir say "meowch" in the English dub of Glaciator 2 and that's absolutely hilarious in a way that the French dub didn't counter. I think that claiming everyone should watch the French dub is super undermining to people for whom the French dub is inaccessible -- if you're vision impaired or blind, if you have ADHD or dyslexia and can't keep up with subtitles alone, if like me you have issues with reading tone especially when it's not in a language your speak because you're ADHD or autistic.

I also think there's a certain amount of intellectual superiority people gain out of watching the French dub. Less so for French audiences -- honestly, I've never met a French speaking person who seems to think that the French dub is the only way to go. Though there are a couple non-French French speakers who don't like the English dub, most of the people who don't like the English dub are English-only speakers who think that they're more correct for watching the French dub. In many cases, I don't think these people actually have the right to claim that French is better -- if you watched French dub on Netflix with English subtitles, sorry, but that's not anywhere near the same experience as watching the French dub, so what's the point?

I don't think English is inherently better than French. I think that Chat's singing at the end of Ephemeral was funnier in French, and that there's a lot of really good lines when you translate directly.

But here's the thing: Anyone who tries to make you feel like you should enjoy your experience of the show less because you aren't doing it right is trying to sell you something. And if they aren't trying to sell something, they're just an asshole. I think people who argue in favor of the French dub need to be more aware that for the vast majority of English-only speakers, there is literally no way to enjoy the French dub as much as the English dub. I think people need to be and let be. I think that the transcripts of the French episodes being less complete than transcripts of the English episodes is tragic and that anyone arguing in favor of the French dub ought to do what they can to transcribe the French dub, and if they can't, then shut up about it. I think there is absolutely merits to understanding the original French, but speaking as though French trumps English always is anti-productive for the fandom as a whole.

I think a lot of things, but mostly, I think you should block people who make you feel like you're doing something wrong in a fandom experience that should be self moderated. Also, join my Discord server, where Miraculous fans can get together in real time to watch episodes together. So far, I'm the only person who's ever hosted a watch party, and I always prefer the English dub where possible.

[mando-abs]

I’m avoiding making notes for my journal (bc I’ll probably do all my journaling on the plane ride back home just to distract me bc I know I won’t be sleeping a wink) SO, I’m gonna list things that have surprised me so far while I’m England as a Southern US gal.

I’ve already told some of this to @honestly-shite (resident Englander) but I thought I’d make a post to help wind me down to bed.

OK! Here we go.

1) Wind turbines - There’s so many! I’ve never expected there to be any in England, mainly bc nobody has mentioned it. And that makes a lot of sense for England’s climate! So, way to go England. (Note: Yes, America does have wind turbines but not very many in Southern states im afraid. This was my first time seeing one)

2) The grass is greener - For the most part that is. Obviously cities and some moors are excluded. Idk if it’s the time of year? But it does rain a lot in England so…maybe that’s why.

3) Cars - better quality cars in England. Do people pride on their cars here? There’s been quite the many luxury cars on our excursions. That and there aren’t as many beat up cars on the highways (apologies, “carriageways”, which I am never letting y’all live down, just say highways, so pretentious).

3.5) Manual - So many cars are manual here. Y’all are already driving on the wrong side of the road. How much more dangerous do y’all have to be? Please, more automatic. I’m begging. For my nerves’ sake.

4) THE NORTH - why do your signs for Northern England say THE NORTH? Rude.

5) Cheers - Did not expect the constant use of “cheers” instead of “thank you.” I hear both, of course, but I think I hear cheers more often. I like it. You go you funky lil English. I would say it too, but it doesn’t sound right

6) Food - Ok yes, I will agree England makes some… choices when it come to English food. HOWEVER, the quality of food is significantly better. Yeah, I’m sure if I went to a run down spot, I’d get some bad food. But I’m talkin about fast food places, grab and go stuff. Most of the stuff is local and not as mass produced and stored in industrial freezers like it is in America. I could be wrong, but I get the sense this is the case. Especially when I eat at fast food places. Man. So good. Less guilt. Amazing.

7) Sprite - What did y’all do to my poor Sprite? Jail!!!! Immediately!!!!!!! Taste some American Sprite and then get back to me. Unbelievable.

8) McDonald’s- A lot more McDonald’s than I thought. And, it isn’t any better than it is in America. But! It is the same. So there’s a comforting thought for English McDonald’s lovers

9) Gardens - I knew gardening culture was bigger here but like…I didn’t expect it to be THAT big. So many gardening commercials lol. But, America has lawn/grass culture so I can’t say much on that.

10) THE NORTH Part 2 - Ok but Northerners are sweethearts 🥺 So friendly. I felt really safe in the towns I went to. Even York! It was nice for a change. Also, the mountains up in the North remind me of home 🥹 Except we have more trees. And more mountains. Oh, and the Lakes District 💕💕💕💕💕 Beautiful

11) Toilets - Damn. Y’all weren’t kidding around when you said y’all have better toilets. Color me impressed. I might miss them as much as I’ll miss cheese and onion toasties.

12) The Queen - Ok, I know y’all don’t talk about the Queen ALL the time. But I thought I’d hear a lot more about her because of the big jubilee coming up. Y’all really aren’t bothered aren’t you? (The Revolutionist in me is cackling hehehe) Today was the only day I’ve heard someone refer to her, and it was in liturgical church. I’ve heard more about Boris Johnson than I have in my life though. Brought to my attention how little America talks about British politics 😶😶😶…sorry.

13) Ukraine - Which reminds me, I’ve seen Ukrainian flags everywhere. Your overwhelming support for Ukraine in such a dark time in their history is very admirable, and it’s something I wish America would take initiative as well.

14) Daylight - Man. It gets dark LATE. Don’t know whether to be happy or mad at that.

15) Stores closing - I get why shops and restaurants close early. You’ve got lives and family. But, you just can’t do that to a confused hungry college student who thinks things are open because it’s still daylight 😭😭😭 Please, let me eat your food! Don’t make me go to pubs during prime drinking hours as a foreigner! I want your business! I swear!

16) Rest stops - Phenomenal. 10/10. They’re like if American rest stops were on steroids and actually had what you wanted.

17) KRISPY KREME!!!!! - Y’all have Krispy Kreme?!?!?!?! I love that shit bro!!!! I thought it was more of a local thing. Yet, I can barely even get any where I live. You lucky dogs you. Dang.

Alright, that’s all I can think of off the top of my head. There’s probably gonna be a part 2.