#my art trophies should step aside

[visual-explorxtion]

lol i need a life

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Hello! So, something that always intrigued me is the concept of “reverse aus,” and I’ve been thinking about that in the context of Cobra Kai for a while now. How do you think it would go down if Demetri was the one to get roped into Cobra Kai? Obviously, I don’t think he would be as into as Eli canonically was (probably due to it becoming a special interest for him), but I’d be curious to hear your take on it. Would Eli end up going to Miyagi-Do like canon Demetri did, or would Demetri and Eli sort of become the new Evil Karate Husbands™️? And possibly, how do you think Demetri and Johnny’s dynamic would go? (I’m just going to awkwardly add that this is cc-tinslebee, coming to you live from my main blog because I don’t think Tumblr let’s sideblogs send asks-)

So this is actually the SECOND ask I’ve gotten about this scenario--Cherry sent in another one!--so I figured I’d give it a stab. Took me a while to work out how I think it would go and how everything would play out different if Demetri and Eli’s roles were reversed, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. I tried to make it more interesting than just “Demetri does all the stuff Eli does and Eli does all the stuff Demetri does.”

Also I lowkey LOVE the idea of Evil Karate Husbands and even though that isn’t the direction this particular AU goes in, I might do a divergent spin-off AU to explore that too??? Because man...the thought of Miguel desperately trying to save his two best friends who have fallen to the dark side...*cries*

Fair warning that this AU is gonna get dark as shit--I fully belive things would’ve gotten equally fucked up between them in a role reverse AU, just, ah...in slightly different ways. A lot of this will not be Happy Times later on, much like their canon relationship XD

OKAY TIME FOR PAIN, LET’S GOOOO

Longboi post so be warned!!!

Season 1

After getting his ass handed to him--for trying to stick up for Eli, no less--Demetri was pissed. Why the hell was he paying some guy to beat him up for daining to have a problem with him bullying his best friend? Going home in a rage, he nearly texted Miguel to tell him he was quitting--but something stopped him just before he hit Send.

He remembered the look on Eli’s face just after Kyler shoved him away. He remembered seeing Eli stiffen when Kyler grabbed him by the chin, practically feeling the terror emanate from his friend’s body. He remembered how completely and infuriatingly helpless he felt.

It certainly wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. But maybe if Miguel was onto something--maybe if karate really could protect him and Eli from the bullies--it could be the last.

Mr. Lawrence (or Sensei Lawrence, as he obnoxiously insisted on being called) hardly let up on bullying Eli. Even at Eli’s request not to call him “Lip” and the pleading of his star student Miguel Diaz himself, the man only seemed to crack down harder--in some sort of twisted effort to “toughen Eli up,” Demetri guessed. Demetri defended Eli every single time, not mincing any words mouthing off at Sensei Lawrence. It got Demetri punched in the face, flipped on the mat, saddled with much harder drills than the rest of the class, but he didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t about to let anyone treat Eli like that, no matter what pain he had to endure for it.

Johnny, meanwhile, is immensely annoyed by this obnoxious, sarcastic kid who just can’t stop running his mouth--but working him twice as hard as the rest of the class is proving to be fruitless in shutting him up. But, Johnny’s finding, Demetri constantly antagonizing him doesn’t have to be a hindrance. Anger like that can be weaponized--the more he provokes Demetri, the more he insults and belittles that Eli kid he’s so attached to, the harder Demetri punches. The quicker he moves when he fights. The stronger he kicks. Johnny sometimes comes home after training covered in nasty bruises, almost entirely from sparring Demetri--they’re enough to make Carmen and Rosa Diaz worry he’s getting jumped on the way home.

One day Johnny takes his ribbing of Eli just a little too far, hoping to get an especially vicious reaction out of Demetri. Eli, pushed to the end of his rope, runs out of the dojo, barely holding back tears. Demetri starts to go after him, but Miguel puts a hand on his arm and stops him, saying they can both check up on him later.

When Demetri finds Eli after practice, Eli’s sobbing. “I can’t do this anymore, Deme. No matter what you say to him, he just keeps picking on me. It never stops.” Demetri winces, because Eli isn’t wrong--Sensei Lawrence really hasn’t stopped bullying Eli at all, and while Demetri was busy letting himself get riled up by it, he didn’t actually think to see how it was affecting Eli. “Well, I know it sucks now, and Mr. Lawrence is a huge asshole, but we’re learning to be tough,” Demetri reasons. “We’re learning to be intimidating. A few more months here, and the bullies will never touch us again! Just like Miguel!” And Eli just scowls, uncharacteristically angry for his timid self, and says “Well, it’s not worth it if I have to feel like shit the whole time! If every time I step in here I get everything about me picked apart, over and over again! I’m done with this, Demetri.”

And just like that, Eli is out of the dojo. Demetri can’t help but be disappointed--he’d looked forward to them training together, and seeing Eli become a badass, fearless fighter who could hand Kyler’s ass to him after all those fucked up things he said to Eli. And to make matters worse, Sensei Lawrence doesn’t stop using Eli as fuel to rip out Demetri’s rage long after Eli’s gone. “Oooh, Loudmouth, feeling sad today? Missing Lip the Quitter?” “You keep throwing punches like that, and you could get beat up by that loser with the fucked lip you were so enamored with. Although knowing you, you’d let him win anyways.” And Demetri can’t help but hate the man, but damn, if it doesn’t feel good to land an especially good hit on him, or jab him in the thigh with a powerful kick.

But things aren’t bad--Demetri still has Miguel, and their new friend Aisha. Eli still hangs out with them outside of practice, and indulges Demetri in his ever-increasing ramblings about martial arts, no matter how nervous and uncomfortable karate tends to make Eli. If Demetri likes it that much, maybe he should make an effort to show interest in it. The four of them crash Yasmine’s birthday party, and Demetri even finds himself smooth-talking them into getting alcohol with his newfound confidence. After all, if he can land punches faster than a snake can strike, how difficult can it be to weasel his way into getting a little beer?

Meanwhile Moon, feeling understandably unfulfilled in her popular clique, takes an interest in the Cool New Karate Gang in town, and after apologizing to Aisha at the beach rager, the two strike up a friendship. She comes to hang out with their group more and more, and Eli finds her surprisingly easy to talk to. Moon constantly makes an effort to include him when the others get to wrapped up talking about karate, and he appreciates her kindness and sincerity. It’s odd, really, how easy it is to have a conversation with her, considering how nervous he tends to get around her. But Eli doesn’t think too much about it.

When it comes time for the tournament, Moon and Eli go together to support their friends. Eli finds his gaze flickering back and forth between Moon and Demetri, lingering on each of them longer than he would care to admit--and he can’t quite explain why. Something about Moon’s wide, excited smile, the smell of cherry shampoo in her hair...but also Demetri’s smug, triumphant smirk when he pulls off an especially impressive move, the way his wiry arm muscles ripple when he fights. They’re both just so...captivating.

Demetri, for his part, is ruthless. Much more so than Eli has ever seen him be. He’s always been sarcastic and cynical, but resigned to his fate--at the tournament, Demetri lashes out in vicious ways the old Demetri would never have had the courage to pull off. He talks shit to the other contestants far beyond what’s considered “sportsmanlike”--and Eli can tell he’s not holding back, with the theatrical body language channeling every awful thing he’s saying.

Demetri fights like lightning--he weaves and maneuvers and strikes at breakneck speed, a limber, flashing form hitting all across his opponent’s bodies before they have any idea what’s happening. He dodges hits and jumps aside like he has some cosmic sense of when and where they’re coming. And it scares Eli, seeing a viciousness and relentlessness in Demetri that he’s never encountered before--but somehow, he finds, he just can’t look away.

Season 2

After the tournament, Demetri’s life has never been better. At the summer’s start, he’s still riding the high of the Cobra Kai tournament win. He didn’t take home the trophy, but suffice to say he got much farther than anyone believed a scrawny, lanky nerd ever would, and he is incredibly smug about it. He realizes, at the end of the day, he’s gotten what he always wanted after all--the bullies don’t come near him and Eli at all, and he can rest easy, knowing Eli is finally safe. However, he’s so busy embracing his new skills that at times, he almost forgets that was ever even an issue. His newfound fighting prowess has caught the attention of Yasmine, of all people--maybe someone who can throw kicks that good isn’t as much of a loser as she originally thought.

She finds out after her family’s plans to go to France for the summer fall through, and she finally patches things up with Moon after their fallout at the beach party. Moon can’t stop gushing about how amazing Demetri was at the tournament--both she and her new friend Eli (who Yasmine definitely thinks seems like a weirdo, but hey--maybe if Moon thinks he’s worth her time, he can’t be that much of a loser) were so impressed with him. Interest piqued, Yasmine joins their little but ever-growing group. She finds herself quickly drawn in by Demetri’s ever-growing confidence, intelligence, and surprisingly enjoyable (if somewhat annoying) sense of humor, and before long, the two are dating.

Yasmine and Aisha are...cool. Kind of. Yasmine doesn’t quite apologize, and the two aren’t friends by any stretch of imagination, but they tolerate each other, and Yasmine refrains from making awful comments and picking on Aisha in front of their friends. Aisha, for her part, does her best not to lash out or be mean to Yasmine either, keeping the peace mainly for Demetri’s and Moon’s sakes.

Meanwhile, it would take an idiot not to notice the rather starstruck looks Eli’s been shooting in Moon’s direction. Moon, for her part, is either entirely oblivious or simply doesn’t even think to consider a shy, timid, nerdy kid as a romantic option, even if she does consider him a friend.

Oddly, Demetri finds himself extremely bothered by Eli’s doe-eyed crush on Moon. He really can’t place why--he has a girlfriend already, so it really shouldn’t bug him so much that Eli is finally growing noticably interested in girls too, now that they tend to be in closer proximity. And it’s not even like Moon seems to be at all interested in reciprocating. Maybe, he figures, it’s the fact that Moon never would have even looked their way if it weren’t for the fact that he and Miguel and Aisha were the “Cool Karate Gang.” The same karate gang, of course, that Eli quit. That Eli didn’t have it in him to fully be a part of. And yet here he is, reaping the benefits still.

Interestingly, Yasmine also seems bothered by Eli’s affections for her friend. Demetri feels her stiffen beside him and sees her shooting disapproving looks whenever she catches Eli staring at Moon. Demetri isn’t sure why she seems to take issue with this too--perhaps she thinks Moon is too good for Eli, and her friend deserves better than a shy, awkward nerd.

Something about this mindset very much rubs Demetri the wrong way, but he pushes the feeling aside. Maybe he should count his blessings instead of being so inwardly critical of his girlfriend. After all, not everyone gets to date the hottest girl in school.

The day of Valley Fest arrives, and Yasmine goes to support her boyfriend. Moon and Eli tag along, eager to support their friends as well. Caught up in the thrill of the blaring music, the bright, flashing lights, the audience cheering, Demetri feels a wave of pride as he looks at his little group of friends that came for him, yelling and whooping and jumping up and down. For some reason, he finds his gaze drawn specifically to Eli, wearing a grin bigger than Demetri’s seen in months and eyes absolutely glowing.

Suddenly Demetri feels an overpowering urge to wrap Eli up in this world he’s fallen in love with, immerse him entirely in the karate that’s made Demetri feel so much more happy and free in the past several months. Grinning, he strides forward and reaches down, using the absurd upper body strength he’s built up since he’s started karate to yank Eli up onto the stage. He hands his best friend a wooden board and steps back, racing forward and snapping it in half with a jumping roundhouse kick. For a few seconds, Eli can do nothing but stare at the broken board, something shifting inside of him.

After that, Eli decides maybe it’s time to give karate another go. Something about the way Demetri positively shone onstage--how genuinely happy all of it seemed to make him--makes him thing it can’t be so bad, even if he does get taunted for his lip again.

He stops by the dojo the following week, gathering up every ounce of courage he has to ask that mean blonde man how he goes about joining the dojo again. He’s hoping against hope that maybe, after all these months of teaching students and a tournament win under his belt, the edge of his pathetic cruelty will at least have been taken off.

No such luck. Upon seeing Eli walk into the dojo, Johnny greets him with “Hey, Lip is back! Real world not treat you as nicely as you thought?” The two are, regrettably, completely alone in the dojo. Eli sucks in his breath--Demetri isn’t around, so if anyone is going to defend him, it’ll have to be him himself.

“Could you please not call me that?” His voice shakes as he says it, but nonetheless, he finishes the statement. It occurs to him that not once in his (admittedly brief) stay in Cobra Kai did he simply...request that Sensei Lawrence not call him Lip. Demetri’s approach was always to get angry about it, go off on the sensei about how wrong it was to mock someone’s appearance, but Eli himself had never been the one to make a case for Sensei Lawrence to treat him better.

It hardly helped. Sensei Lawrence just claimed that if he didn’t want him to call him Lip, he shouldn’t have a freaky lip, and then went on to claim whoever did his cleft lip surgery must have done an awful job. Eli attempted to move away from the topic, but Sensei Lawrence didn’t let up. “It’s hard to when it’s right in front of me. Hard to believe Demetri was so willing to defend you like some knight in shining armor or some shit. You’re pathetic.” Having heard enough, Eli storms out, anger overtaking him. How could he have been so stupid, to think this was going to go any better? Why did he think that just because this man had been willing to help Miguel and Demetri (who were normal) become badass meant he would extend the same treatment to the freak with the lip scar?

Eli calls Demetri in tears. “I don’t know how you can train with someone like him,” Eli spits out. “He’s a shit person, Demetri. I--I don’t know what you and Miguel are thinking. It’s like he gets some kind of...I don’t know, sadistic pleasure out of bullying people. He’s not any better than the people he claims he’s trying to help you fight.”

Demetri, to his horror, reacts only with scorn, scoffing and rolling his eyes. “God, all this drama because he was mean about your lip again? Jesus christ, grow a backbone, Eli. I hate to say it, but I think Mr. Lawrence was right--if you can’t even handle someone making some insensitive comments about your scar, how are you going to handle an elbow to the teeth? Or any training more intensive than a slap on the wrist, anyway?”

Eli can do nothing but just stare at him through the screen. Demetri, the one person who he has always been able to count on to not comment on his scar, the one person who has always comforted him or talked him through it when he cried, is brushing him completely off--being an asshole about the one thing Eli was certain he never would be. Why is Demetri, of all people, not taking his side on this?

All Eli knows for sure is that he doesn’t like this new version of Demetri one bit. What happened to the best friend who was always willing to fight for him, no matter what it took? Now, he seems more concerned with looking cool and tough and upkeeping some kind of ridiculous reputation than Eli’s own well-being.

Over the next few days, a rage he didn’t know he even had in him bubbles up inside Eli. He decides if Demetri’s going to play dirty, so is he. And maybe, if Eli plays his cards right, the old Demetri will come back.

Despite his long-standing frustration with the way adults treat him--delicately, condescendingly, like a Thing of Pity--Eli figures he can get some use out of it for once. If this is the only way they’re going to see him regardless, he might as well use it to his advantage. And so he goes crying to his mom, who he knows for a fact other adults talk about being a “valued member of the community” and probably has some influence and some strings she can pull. He bawls to her about how his best friend has turned into an unrecognizable jerk, all because he’s training with a middle-aged man with the mindset of a high school bully who has no issue verbally abusing his students. Sure enough, discussions are had with the Neighborhood Committee, phone calls are placed, and Eli overhears his mother vowing to shut down that degenerate karate place if it’s the last thing she ever does.

Meanwhile, back at the dojo, Kreese makes an announcement. The elderly, intimidating man has recently teamed up with Johnny to teach--and he gives Demetri the creeps, if he’s honest, but he seems to know his stuff when it comes to karate, so Demetri goes along with this new addition to the sensei roster. However, when Johnny goes off to visit his high school friends and leaves the kids alone with the new Sensei, Demetri can’t help but feel uneasy.

“Now, the dojo’s been getting some concerned phone calls,” Kreese says, arms crossed and expression difficult to read. He doesn’t seem to be angry--if anything, he looks faintly amused. “Parents of the local teenagers are worried. They think Cobra Kai is full of bullies. Think our methods are...abusive, even. They want to shut us down.” Worried murmurs start to echo around the room, but Kreese silences them as he goes on. “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t be a problem. I have my ways of talking people down. We know better, anyhow. They’re just...intimidated by us, because we’ve honed skills here they couldn’t even dream of having. But nonetheless...” Kreese smirks in a way that makes Demetri feels ever-so-slightly unnerved. “If you run into one of your little peers whining to your parents about getting rid of us, well...show them Cobra Kai can’t be messed with so easily.”

And suddenly Demetri’s seething, because he knows exactly who made sure those phone calls got made.

Eli, for all his timidness, is notoriously smart. Demetri knows this intimately. He’d hardly put it past Eli to be this cunning, to manipulate the pitying adults around him to get what he wants.

When the Cobra Kai kids take a trip to the mall later that day, Demetri knows exactly where Eli will be. Every Wednesday, a new issue of Dungeon Lord comes out--they used to go get it together, but since getting into karate, Demetri hasn’t been keeping up. Demetri would figure someone like Eli wouldn’t have the balls to go out in public alone, if not for the fact that he knew how invested Eli was in the current plot.

And so Demetri heads to the comic book store, a group of reluctant Cobra Kai “pledges” in tow. Maybe it’s a bit sadistic, but he likes having someone to be able to boss around--it feels nice to be at the top of the food chain for once. Lord knows it’s the first time that’s happened. And if he isn’t going to milk that tournament win for all it’s worth, then what even is the point?

When Demetri arrives, Eli turns to look at him in confusion. “What are you doing here?” he says, lip curling slightly. “I figured you were too tough for this kind of stuff now.”

Demetri just scoffs and crosses his arms. “Well, Mr. Kreese said the dojo’s been getting some calls from weepy parents concerned we’re bullying their poor kids. Saying our Senseis must be some evil, abusive monsters twisting and corrupting the neighborhood teenagers. So I think you know exactly why I’m here.”

Eli just looks at him with a doe-eyed innocence that makes his blood boil. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Demetri advances on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t bullshit me, Eli. I know you’ve been meddling.”

To his surprise, Eli looks up to meet his gaze evenly, pretense of naiveté completely gone. “And what if I have? I don’t like the influence they’re having on you.”

Well, Demetri doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but he doesn’t like it. “What is it about Cobra Kai that’s got you in such a tiffy, huh? You’re jealous I found a way to fight back and actually protect us? You don’t like that I’m not a pathetic loser you can look down your nose at anymore?”

Eli just looks at him in bewilderment. “Jesus, no, that’s not it at all, dude. Just...do you even hear yourself? You’ve turned into such an asshole since you started all that karate shit. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. You walk around thinking you’re hot shit and everyone has to bow down to you all because your dojo won some stupid tournament. Well, news flash, Demetri--nobody cares.”

The callous way Eli, of all people, says it can’t help but throw him off. Is that really what his best friend thinks about him now--that he’s just some arrogant prick strutting around flaunting his success?

And then Demetri remembers how he got here--what it was that pushed him to be such a hard-assed fighter in the first place--and he feels a wave of venom coarse through him so powerful that he nearly chokes on it. Before he knows it he’s grabbing Eli by the shoulders and shoving him up against the wall.

“You fucking ungrateful brat,” he spits out, his words poison. “I did it all for you, you know. Everything I did was so that I could finally protect you. And this is how you thank me? After I’ve been getting my ass kicked over and over again so you wouldn’t have to worry about bullies anymore?”

Eli is surprisingly unfazed. “And where was I when you were learning to be such a good protector, Demetri? Getting shit on as a tool to motivate you? Nobody bothering to check how I felt about that? A real good bodyguard you turned out to be.”

“And yet Kyler and his little posse haven’t bothered you once. Who do you think that’s thanks to?”

“Miguel too. You don’t get all the credit. And anyhow, not like it matters when your Senseis would just as soon take the same cheap shots.”

Demetri just curls his lip. “Don’t get mad at me because you were too weak to survive Cobra Kai. Because...what, a middle-aged karate teacher hurt your feelings? I’d like to see how you go about taking a real fist to the jaw.”

Demetri raises a fist as if to demonstrate. Eli flinches, anger and defiance suddenly completely gone as his eyes widen in horror.

“You’d actually hurt me?” he asks softly.

Demetri slowly lowers his fist, realizing the answer as soon as he sees the terrified look in his friend’s eyes.

“Consider this your warning, Eli,” he spits out, with as much venom as he can manage. “Don’t mess around with Cobra Kai, or things are going to get ugly.” He smirks--a little sadistically, he has to admit. “You saw the tournament. Well...you’d better believe that’s the least of what I can do.”

When a downtrodden Eli shows up at Daniel LaRusso’s front door, timidly requesting to learn karate, far be it from Daniel to turn away a new student. Eli’s sob story about how he’s being bullied and threatened by his best friend only makes the new sensei more determined to take him under his wing--Daniel is no stranger to bullying, after all.

The next time Cobra Kai goes on an outing to the mall, Demetri catches Eli in the food court, eating with Samantha LaRusso and that kid whose ass he kicked at the tournament--Robby Keene, was his name? Mr. Lawrence’s kid. This seems...odd. How would Eli have met them?

An unexpected wave of jealousy rips through him. How did shy little Eli manage to make other friends? Let alone with an ex popular girl, of all people. Nonetheless, he figures this might be a good time to make sure his ex-friend isn’t trying to start any more shit with Cobra Kai.

He catches Eli in the deli line, sliding up behind him and purring, “Oh, I hope you haven’t been poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, have you, Eli?”

Eli turns and glares at him with a venom Demetri didn’t know the other boy had in him. “Why, Demetri? Scared your precious Cobra Kai is going to lose all its coolness cred if it gets out how shitty you all are?”

Demetri seethes with anger again, and before he knows it, he’s shoving Eli out of the line and ramming him up against one of the pillars on the edge of the food court. The crowd of eaters around them “Oooooh”s, but Demetri ignores them. He raises a fist again, fully prepared to follow through this time. “I’d watch your mouth, if I were you.”

Eli just curls his lip, more defiant than Demetri’s ever seen him. “You don’t scare me, Demetri. I know who you really are.”

The Cobra Kai pledges start to loom behind them, ready to provide Demetri with backup if needed. Eli notices and scoffs. “Wow, siccing your goons on me too? Way to set up a fair fight, Demetri. You’re so badass.”

Struck by a sudden desire to prove him wrong, Demetri socks Eli in the jaw before he can think better of it. He pauses afterwards, momentarily shaken by what he’s done.

To his dismay, Eli’s horrified shock is short lived before he laughs darkly. “Well, you’re not the only one who knows karate now. I joined Miyagi-Do.”

Demetri just scoffs. Ah yes, a little karate training and Eli, of all people, is going to kick some major ass. “All right then. Let’s see what you got.” He takes a step back, allowing Eli to try and get a hit in.

When the fight breaks out in full force, it’s vicious. Eli throws the first hit, but it’s weak--he’s out of practice since abandoning Cobra Kai. Demetri has him on the ground in seconds, throwing punches and kicks with a speed and rage he had no idea he had. Eli barely has time to get up before he’s getting his ass handed to him.

What Demetri doesn’t count on is Eli’s new dojomates coming to his rescue, getting the smaller boy behind them and executing a near-perfect synchronized fighting routine. Even with his lackeys helping him, Demetri is completely annihilated--nearly unconscious on the food court floor within minutes. The last thing he sees before he passes out is Eli staring down at him, blue eyes wide with horror.

When word of the incident at the mall gets back to Moon, shit hits the fan--to put it lightly. Yasmine is with Moon when she confronts Demetri, but she doesn’t say anything--just stands glaring with her arms crossed while Moon goes off at him. “How could you treat Eli like that? He’s your friend!”

“Not anymore.” Demetri curls his lip. “He joined Miyagi-Do. He’s made it pretty clear where his loyalties lie now, and it’s not with me.”

“Who cares about Miyagi-Do?” She retorts. “He’s still your friend! Our friend! And I don’t like the way you’re bullying him.”

Demetri scoffs. “Don’t you get it? He’s just a pathetic nerd who can’t handle the fact that I’m cooler than him now. All he wants to do is drag me down to his level again, I guarantee it.”

Moon’s gaze is more poisonous than he’s ever seen it. She turns to Yasmine. “Tell him, Yas,” she says, her tone dangerously quiet.

Yasmine sighs. She says--with notable hesitation, Demetri notices--“If you don’t stop bullying Eli, we’re through.”

Thrown off, Demetri laughs harshly. “What do you care? You don’t even like Eli! I see those...disgusted looks you shoot in his direction, when you think we won’t notice.”

Yasmine bites her lip. “That doesn’t matter. Moon is my best friend. If she’s not okay with this whole...thing, then neither am I.”

“You’re not fucking serious. You’re dumping me because your bleeding-hearted friend told you I wasn’t being nice enough to a guy you can’t stand?”

Yasmine pauses, but ultimately stands her ground. “I’m sorry, but if it’s between you and Moon, it’s going to be Moon. So her word goes. So either stop with this whole stupid feud with Eli, or we’re finished.”

“I...” Demetri can only stare at her, shocked. He never could have imagined getting this ultimatum...and yet here he is.

He must have hesitated a second too long, because Moon grabs Yasmine’s arm and starts to pull her away. “I think that’s all the answer we need,” Moon hisses.

“Wait!” he called helplessly after them. Yasmine turns around once as she walks away, but only to spit “It’s over!” over her shoulder. As if for good measure.

Kreese finds Demetri circling a punching bag in the back of the dojo, spinning around it and throwing kicks and punches faster than cobra strikes. Seizing his opportunity, he advances. “What’s wrong, son?”

Demetri turns, tensing. He’s still wary of the man, but to hell with it--it’s not like he has anyone else to talk to. “Fight broke out with Miyagi-Do, and we lost. Pathetic, I know. Please don’t rub it in.”

“Cheer up.” Kreese smirks. “The fight isn’t over until you say it is.”

Demetri just sighs. “No use going in for a rematch. They’re strong. I couldn’t take them again on my own.”

Kreese’s smirk widens. “You’re a smart kid. There are other ways to fight back, you know. You don’t always have to beat them into the ground.”

As he leaves, Demetri lets that sink in.

Well, Demetri is nothing if not tech-savvy. May as well make some use of that Yelp Elite status. He spends hours setting up dozens of sock puppet accounts, programming them to post terrible review after terrible review blasting everything he can think of about Miyagi-Do. The encouragement of violence in youth (Eli had technically punched first, hadn’t he?). The weak, subpar fighting style that broke down as soon as it was challenged by serious fighters. The pretentious, culture-appropriating sensei. Daniel LaRacist indeed.

During the Coyote Creek excursion, Demetri finds himself pitted against Miguel, fighting in the world’s most intense game of what essentially boils down to Capture the Flag. Demetri, about to get the better of Miguel, finds that he can’t help but gloat about his little online attack. Can’t be long before a one-star dojo goes out of business.

When Miguel seems to take issue with it, saying the whole thing is mean-spirited and over the top, Demetri can’t help but scoff. Miyagi-Do has been plenty clear in declaring war--their little battalion at the mall proved that. Demetri wishes Miguel wasn’t still too caught up in pining over Sam LaRusso to realize that.

Miguel, meanwhile, decides this dojo war of sorts is getting out of hand. It turns out Demetri isn’t the only tech-savvy student in Cobra Kai--Miguel designed their website, after all. With a little bit of basic internet coding and some rudimentary hacking, he manages to access the sock puppet accounts Demetri made and take the bad reviews down. He even goes so far as to go over to the Miyagi-Do dojo and personally apologize for how Cobra Kai has been acting, telling Robby Keene that he found out who blasted the bad reviews and took them all down. “We’re not all assholes.”

Come Moon’s end-of-summer party, Demetri is surprised to get an invitation. He hasn’t seen her or Yasmine since they both chewed him out, and Yasmine ended things. But perhaps this is a show of good faith. Maybe Moon wants to be friends again--and maybe that means Yasmine’s come to her senses too, and might be willing to talk things out.

Moon welcomes him when he arrives, previous animosity gone for the moment. “Hey, thank you for inviting me. I’m...sorry,” he starts. “Of how we left things off. I was an ass to you and Yas.” “It’s alright,” Moon replies cheerily. “I invited you because...well, I’m hoping that before school starts, we can stop all the fighting and be friends again.”

His heart sinks as he sees Sam LaRusso lead a stream of kids through the door, Eli trailing at the end, and he realizes exactly what she means. The Miyagi-Dos are here.

He sits forlornly on a couch with Mitch and Aisha, thinking about how much worse this night just got. He brightens, however, when he sees a shock of blonde hair at the door not long after. So Yasmine came after all.

Moon grins in delight, calling over to her. Taking a breath, Demetri stands up and approaches the two girls, determined to smooth things over with them both.

He’s not surprised to see Yasmine make a beeline for Moon, not noticing him for the moment. What he isn’t expecting is for Moon to sweep Yasmine into her arms, kissing her full on the mouth.

Demetri stops in his tracks. The girls turn to him a few seconds later, seeming to notice him for the first time. They look at him expectantly, as though waiting for him to finish walking over to them. Or say something, and not just stand there gawking stupidly.

“Uh...are you two...um...like...uh...” All he can do is shuffle closer and gesture abstractly, not able to find words. Yasmine blushes and looks away, while Moon tucks a hair behind her ear, her smile strained.

“Yeah. It’s new,” she admits, laughing nervously. “We’re, um...”

“Girlfriends?” Yasmine offers, looking up and smiling at Moon with uncharacteristic shyness. Demetri can’t help but bristle--shyness she never showed him.

Well, far be it from him to be judgmental. Even if Yasmine broke his damn heart just now, Moon is still his friend. He gives them a strained smile. “That’s...that’s great! Happy for you two. No shame in uh...trying out something like that.”

Demetri excuses himself and sulks back to the now-empty couch, mind racing as he sits down. Is that why Moon was trying to encourage Yasmine to break up with him? Was it even about Eli at all? Did Moon just want Yasmine for herself? It seemed unlike Moon, but who could say?

And Yasmine...had she always wanted Moon, too? Is that why she seethed every time she saw Eli shooting lovestruck glances at her friend?

...had she even ever liked Demetri at all, or was he just a cover-up for the fact that she was...lesbian? How was someone as feminine and fashionable as Yasmine a lesbian, anyways? All the lesbians Demetri saw on tv cut their hair boyishly short and had about 5 nose rings and walked around in leather jackets and combat boots.

His thoughts are interrupted by the last sweatered boy he wants to see taking a seat at the other side of the couch, glancing nervously at him with darting eyes. What did Eli want? And why was he so nervous? He’d been unduly bold as of late.

“You seen the new Doctor Who trailer?” Eli mutters.

Something about the nonchalant way he says it--like this is the olden days, when Demetri always felt like shit about himself and had no one who tolerated him but Eli--makes Demetri’s blood boil. He scoffs. “I have better things to do than watch nerd crap like that.”

A short silence. “Capaldi regenerated,” Eli offers finally. “I know you weren’t big on 12.”

No more Capaldi? Demetri turns to look at Eli, interest suddenly piqued.

“What’s the new doctor like?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Eli grins. “She’s a badass.”

“She?” Demetri finds himself grinning back. “How progressive of them. Welcome to the 21st century, Doctor Who.”

A sudden giggling catches his attention, and Demetri looks to where Yasmine and Moon are sharing a chair across the room, tangled up in each other’s arms and trading soft kisses like they don’t have a care in the world. He tenses.

Eli seems to sense his discomfort, and sighs. “Hey, I’m sorry, man. If it helps at all, I liked Moon a lot, too.”

Demetri just scoffs. “Yeah, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. They just have to be gay, right?”

Eli gives him a strange look. Demetri shuffles uncomfortably, realizing what he’s probably thinking about. The...incident, 4 years ago. Demetri glares at him, hoping to banish the thought before it arrives. None of that meant anything--they were just dumb kids. Dumb kids doing dumb shit that didn’t matter.

“I don’t know, I mean...if they’re happy together, shouldn’t we just be happy for them?”

Eli reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, and Demetri hesitates. Their special touch. Eli still remembers, even after everything that’s happened.

For a moment he’s overcome with longing, wishing things with Eli could just go back to how they used to be. Back when he knew no matter what hell he went through at school, Eli would always be there to pick him back up again. But then it sinks in what Eli’s really trying to say.

Be happy for them. What a bunch of Miyagi-Do bullshit. Just accept his sad little lot in life, just like he used to do. Go back to nerdy little Eli at the bottom of the food chain, doomed to spend the rest of his youth admiring pretty girls from a vast distance.

He never wants that to be him again.

“Oh, fuck you, Eli,” he spits, grabbing Eli’s hand and yanking it off of his shoulder. Eli freezes, looking like he’s just been slapped.

“What, so I’m supposed to do like you, moping and pining and hoping a pretty girl will look my way if I wish hard enough and just sucking it up when she doesn’t? Well, I’ve had plenty enough of that--I’ve been on the top. And I’m going to be on the top again. But you? You’ll always be pathetic--you and your entire sorry excuse for a dojo.”

He gets up and walks away, bristling with an anger he can’t even fully place anymore.

As Eli watches Demetri go, he realizes he’s finally had enough. Demetri doesn’t want to patch things up? He just wants to keep being an arrogant shithead? Fine. But Eli’s not about to take his prodding and insults anymore.

Eli makes his way over to Moon--still his friend, despite the unreciprocated feelings--and Yasmine, strikes up a conversation with them. Yasmine, he notices, is being notably nicer to him--probably at Moon’s request. They get to talking about sexualities, and Eli accidentally lets a little something slip about Demetri.

When they were 12 years old, they had kissed. It was Eli who suggested they practiced kissing, to get ready for all the girls they would inevitably date. However, a bit of choice wording and it sounded like Demetri had planted one on Eli out of nowhere...and Eli, of course, hadn’t liked it one bit, because he was totally straight. “You can’t tell anyone, though,” he pleaded the girls, big sad eyes every bit as convincing as he had hoped. “Demetri doesn’t want it to get out that he’s...you know. Gay. He’s worried it’ll ruin his reputation.”

Moon nods sincerely, but Eli can tell from the almost imperceptible smirk on Yasmine’s face that she has other plans. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Demetri’s ex over the last few months, it’s that even trying to be a better person, she can’t resist a good bit of juicy gossip.

And from what Eli gathers...two girls dating? No problem, as long as they’re hot and popular. At least creepy guys can fetishize it. But guys liking other guys? Now that...Eli has a feeling that won’t go over well.

As soon as Eli excuses himself, Yasmine gets to work. A few whispers at the snack table when Moon isn’t looking, and news of Demetri’s supposed orientation spread like wildfire.

Demetri, meanwhile, is determined to prove Eli wrong. So what if Yas doesn’t want him anymore (or never did, the mean voice in his head keeps prodding)? He’ll find another hot girl to have on his arm. He’s a top Cobra Kai fighter, after all--it’s not like it’ll be difficult.

He saunters over to a group of girls, leaning up against the wall in what he thinks has to be a very suave way. “Hey ladies,” he says. “Name’s Demetri. I’m sure you’ve heard about me--seasoned Cobra Kai fighter, finalist in the All-Valley tournament. But no need to be intimidated--if any of you beautiful ladies ever need a hand with anything, I’ll--”

“Take it off of the nearest dick to help us out?” one of the girls cuts him off. They all break out in snickers. “No thanks.”

Demetri freezes. Why would they think...?

Then he realizes there’s only one person who could have made them think he was into that sort of thing.

He tenses. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but--”

“We’ve heard all we need to,” another girl says, eyeing him up in disgust. “Not interested in getting it on with someone who’s probably had his cock up another guy’s ass, to be blunt. Gross.” Before Demetri can say another word, the girls are gone, turning and slinking hurriedly off into the crowd.

Every time Demetri tries his luck with another girl, he gets similar rebuffs. And every time, he seethes a little more. Fucking figured--timid little Eli couldn’t take the fact that Demetri had worked up the confidence to win over a girl and he hadn’t, so he had to ruin Demetri’s chances with every other girl so he’d feel better.

Besides, Demetri remembers that day from 4 years ago. He remembers that Eli was just as into...all the stuff they did.

Unfortunately, before Demetri has a chance to go over and confront Eli about the whole business, the cops show up. He’ll just have to wait until school, he figures.

Meanwhile, word gets back to Sam that Miguel showed up at her door, apologizing and promising he took all the bad reviews down--apparently Robby didn’t relay any of this to her. When Miguel admits to Demetri about the drunken kiss, Demetri chuckles, slapping him on the back. “My man! Trying to build up a whole harem here, are we?”

Miguel sighs, looking sullen. “I cheated, dude. That’s shitty.”

And then comes the PA announcement. Tory Nichols is starting shit, and Demetri can’t pretend he’s not intrigued to see where this goes.

As soon as the fight breaks out, Demetri is overcome with adrenaline. He whips through the crowd, spinning and throwing kicks and punches like explosive flashes. All he can think of is Eli, Eli, little Eli...oh, when he finds him, there’s going to be hell to pay.

And it doesn’t take long--of course Eli is the one who tries to pull a teacher in to stop the fight. The fucking wimp.

When Eli makes a run for it, Demetri can’t help but smirk when he leads him straight to the computer lab. How very typical, for someone whose hero is Steve Jobs. He grins, something frighteningly sadistic bubbling up inside of him.

For a second it almost scares him, how badly he wants to drive his foot into Eli’s chest.

“Little Eli Moskowitz!” he taunts, before he can stop himself. “Cowering away in the computer lab, just like the little nerd he is. Can’t hide forever, outer. I know damn well what you told them about me.”

He tries door after door, continuing in a singsong voice as he goes. “Oh dear me, what would they say if they knew you enjoyed it too, Eli? Well, I guess they won’t believe me now. But I know. I know you’re no better than me.”

Ever since they were kids, Demetri has been the speedier one. They used to race across the playground at recess, pretending to be Quicksilver and the Flash, but Demetri always came out ahead. Long, gangly legs tended to do that. So when Eli turns to see Demetri in the doorway, and he makes a run for it, he doesn’t get far.

Demetri grabs Eli around the waist and throws him against the wall, whipping kicks and hits into his stomach and thighs faster than he can block. Demetri hardly notices the bruises forming, or the bleeding cuts.

It’s then that Eli does something Demetri doesn’t expect--flips the script, as it were. As Demetri reaches out to strike again, Eli surges forward and grabs him by the shoulders, flipping him around and pinning him against the wall. Maybe Miyagi-Do specializes in defense, but they still taught him how to throw a good hit or two. He throws defense to the wayside and starts raining punches down on Demetri--sloppy, uncoordinated, but something the “Strike First” Cobra Kai student is entirely unprepared to defend.

When his chest is stinging and his head throbbing, Demetri can’t take anymore. Eli was a lot more...well, powerful than he expected. At his first opportunity, he turns and books it. Maybe this isn’t a fight he can win after all.

Eli doesn’t chase. As angry as he still is at Demetri, he can’t stop thinking about the mars and bruises and cuts that appeared across Demetri’s face and skin as he punched him, mirroring his own, and he feels sick. He can’t hurt Demetri anymore, no matter what Demetri thinks of him now.

Demetri just makes it to the staircase when he sees Miguel motionless on the floor, Robby Keene looking over the railing. Sam LaRusson hovering over him. He runs to Miguel’s side, world crumbling around him.

Turns out he showed mercy, just like Mr. Lawrence always said to. And look where it got him. When John Kreese offers him a place in a new Cobra Kai, determined to make the Miyagi-Dos pay for hurting Miguel, Demetri isn’t about to say no.

In his grief, it seems like the only option.

Season 3

On the first day back at school, Mitch is quick to remind Demetri that there are other girls in the world besides Yasmine. Surely it won’t be too hard to work his charms on some of the freshmen--after all, word about that little incident with Eli when they were 12 can’t have gotten across the entire school, can it?

“Well, hello, ladies!” he purrs to a passing group, leaning against the wall in the most nonchalant way possible. “Welcome to West Valley High. I know freshman year can be intimidating, high school classes and new people and all, but if you ever need help with anything, I’m--”

“--the scrawny little gay kid who ran his pussy ass away from the world’s easiest fight?” one of the girls finishes scornfully. “Yeah, we know.”

As they walk away, he notices one shoot a flirty smile at a passing Eli, surrounded by his squad of Miyagi-Do losers. “Ooooh, you’re famous now, E!” he hears Chris say, and his blood boils all over again.

Ah. So everyone knew about Eli’s little triumph.

Mitch saunters over, and Demetri follows his lead. “Got something to say?!” he snaps.

Demetri’s eyes lock with Eli’s, and he glowers down at him. Eli’s face is tight, expression almost...sad.

Not like he’d expect anything less from that little crybaby.

“Oh, little Eli,” he chides. “I’d like to see you try and hide behind security.”

“I don’t need to,” Eli mutters, not breaking eye contact.

“Everything all right here?”

At the sound of the counselor’s voice, Eli does something unexpectedly bold. He sidles up to Demetri’s side and presses into it, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “No, Counselor Blatt, we’re all friends here!” he says, offering that shy little Eli smile that made every adult in a nearby vicinity go mad with protectiveness.

Eli’s arm is tight around his neck--like a chokehold. But, Demetri notices after a few moments, it’s shaking--the grip almost frantic. Like he’s scared of when he’ll have to let go.

Odd.

Demetri turns, and his and Eli’s eyes lock. He tries to give the shorter boy the most intense, seething glare he can under his forced smile, but Eli returns the look with equal intensity. Demetri jostles his backpack his backpack and thumps him on the chest, feeling an odd compulsion to touch his old friend right back.

Maybe he missed feeling Eli’s body underneath him. But that wasn’t a thought he could afford to spend a lot of brainpower on right now. “Yeah!” he says. Of course we’re still friends! Of course you didn’t fuck up my love life and humiliate me to the entire school because you couldn’t handle the fact that I was getting some and you weren’t!

When the counselor chides them about having somewhere to be, Eli just nods, murmuring, “Yeah, of course, Counselor Blatt. Sorry.”

As Eli pulls away, he pats Demetri’s shoulder a couple times. Small, almost imperceptible, but there.

Demetri can’t tell if it’s serious--if Eli still cares--or if it’s just a cruel mockery of their old touch. He’s not sure he wants to know.

When Demetri runs into Samantha LaRusso in the hospital and she insists she wants to help, he hardly expects a whole fucking fundraiser gleefully using Miguel as their poster child. As though the Miyagi-Dos weren’t the ones who put him in the hospital in the first place. When he catches a glimpse of the carwash while driving Mitch to practice, he decides he’s going to do something about it.

Beating up the kid is an easy fight, getting the money with Mitch and the others a sinch. Maybe at some point he would’ve felt bad for this--pummeling some short kid and then taking his charity money. But all he can think of is Miguel, his best friend, lying in a white gown and hooked up to wires. Because of this kid and his stupid “peaceful” dojo.

Peaceful, Demetri’s ass.

When Demetri walks into the cafeteria the following Monday, he’s not sure what he expects to see at Yasmine and Moon’s table, the place where he would be sitting, under different circumstances--but it definitely is not Eli Moskowitz with his hair dyed bright blue and spiked up. Miyagi-Do blue. Apparently all that coolness cred he felt he got from “scaring” Demetri off in the school brawl has gotten to his head, and he’s playing out his new “badassery” up to 11. He’s showing something to Yasmine and Moon, and they’re smiling and giggling. Yasmine, of all people, is smiling at nerdy little Eli’s antics.

Demetri squints, and sees that Eli’s showing the two girls a comic book--he recognizes the copy. It’s Eli’s limited edition Captain Marvel comic book, signed by Kelly Sue DeConnick herself. Demetri remembers standing in line with him at a con to get it a few years back--he’s pretty protective of the thing.

And now he’s using it to impress girls? Because apparently Yasmine and Moon are into that kind of thing? Oh, but of course Yasmine couldn’t be into nerd shit when DEMETRI was dating her, could she?

And those gooey eyes Moon is giving Eli, her little giggles--Demetri doesn’t like them one bit. What, now Eli’s worth her affections--now that his “nerdiness” is cool? Aren’t she and Yasmine a stupid item, anyways?

Deciding he’s going to put a stop to this, Demetri saunters over, lunch tray clutched so hard his knuckles are turning white. Before the group can react to his presence, Demetri picks up his chocolate milk carton and dumps it all over Eli’s stupid blue hair, making sure to get plenty on the rare comic book in front of him.

“Oh, I hope that wasn’t important, was it Eli?” he taunts, voice thick with mock sympathy. “That sure would be a shame.”

Eli turns to look at him, eyes wide with heartbroken shock. For a moment, the anger doesn’t set in.

“I had to wait in line 5 hours to get that,” he says quietly. “You know that.”

“Sure do.” Demetri smirks. “And it took all of 5 seconds to completely ruin. How tragic.”

Eli tenses, eyes darting around for a couple seconds. Demetri starts to walk away, his point made, when he feels an iron grip on his wrist. He turns to see Eli smirking at him, clutching his arm with more force than he ever thought possible from the once-timid boy.

“Careful there, Demetri,” Eli sneers. “Coming all the way across the cafeteria to bother me when you’ve got your cool Cobra Kai friends to hang out with? People might think you’re a little...obsessed with me.” Yasmine and Moon snicker, and Demetri bristles as he realizes the implication.

“Although I shouldn’t be surprised since you love obsessing over other boys, don’t you?” Eli goes on, like his point isn’t clear enough. “Y’know, I feel bad for Yasmine. I mean, any idiot could tell she used you as a beard, but I had no idea it was a mutual thing.”

Demetri tenses, willing himself not to lose his cool. “Really letting that little victory get to your head, aren’t you, Eli? Honestly, I was going easy on you. Now I know not to next time.”

It’s at that moment that Sam LaRusso decides to show up, sliding up next to Eli and glowering up at Demetri. “There won’t be a next time if I have anything to say about it,” she retorts.

Demetri can’t help but scoff. Of course Sam LaRusso would be all too eager to defend her little pet nerd now, even though she was all too happy to laugh at him with her mean girl friends a year ago. “I’m not scared of you,” he says. “Like you’d start any fight daddy couldn’t bail you out of. Or that doesn’t end with your ex boyfriend getting thrown over a railing because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

It’s a low blow, but Demetri doesn’t care. It’s hard not to look at this girl and see part of the reason Miguel might never be able to walk again.

Sam LaRusso shoves him just as the godawful counselor is sauntering over, but to hell with it--maybe Demetri could spin this to his advantage.

“She hit me, Counselor Blatt!” he cries out, pointing at Sam. “Attacked and physically assaulted me, completely unprovoked!”

“That’s not true,” Eli mumbles, eyes darting. Flawlessly slipping back into the poor little Eli role in a way that never fails to make Demetri seethe. “It wasn’t unprovoked. He started all this by destroying my limited-edition comic book for no reason.”

Demetri puts on his most convincing remorseful face and sighs. “Look, that was an accident. I just tripped while I was walking and my milk spilled. Anyhow, if your book’s that valuable, you probably shouldn’t bring it into a school cafeteria where people are more than likely going to spill food on it.”

He’d like to see the dumb counselor argue with that.

“Look, I don’t want excuses. I just want you all to respect each other.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Demetri turns to give Eli a forced smile. “Nothing but 100% respect in this environment going forward, I assure you. Sorry if we caused any problems.”

Please, just anything to make her leave.

With one last warning to Sam LaRusso, the counselor is gone. Demetri turns to the two Miyagi-Dos and smirks.

“To hell with respect,” he sneers. “Your lot hardly deserve it.”

It doesn’t surprise Demetri when Eli and his little gang of Miyagi-Do losers decide to start shit in gym class. What he isn’t expecting is for Eli and his stupid blue hair to start running next to him--right after he’s tried and failed to catch Yasmine’s attention after scoring a goal.

He’s been thinking about her all morning--was Eli right about her? Did she only use him as a cover-up?

...would no one ever want to date him for him?

Well, maybe if he won Yasmine back, he could disprove that. If Moon was going to be hanging off of Eli’s arm before too long, chances were her and Yasmine’s relationship’s days were numbered.

Whatever Eli is about to say, Demetri can already tell it’s not going to help.

And it doesn’t. “Wow, Demetri. Few guys are so bad in a relationship that they manage to turn their girlfriend gay. I hope you feel accomplished.”

Demetri balls his fists. “Say that again. I dare you.”

“You really did have a good thing going with her,” Eli sighed, voice laced with condescending pity. “It’s a shame she decided she could do better than some belligerent Cobra Kai douchebag.”

And then suddenly Eli lunges for him and tackles him, knocking him to the ground just as easily as Demetri once did to Eli at the mall.

Not that it ended up mattering all that much--Demetri was able to talk the Cobra Kai’s way out of trouble in the principal’s office, just as he so often could. Nonetheless, it seemed Eli was hardly turning out to be as much of a pushover as he thought.

When Mitch and the guys invited Demetri to go to Golf N Stuff--fuck around for a bit, cause some mayhem--he wasn’t about to say no. The thrill took over, running around, snatching tickets and prizes away, throwing them in the trash--he almost felt as powerful as Kyler must have, all those months ago when he tossed the lesser kids’ backpacks in the garbage. Is this how it felt, to be on top? To have everyone else too scared to mess with you?

Because Demetri loved it.

What he wasn’t counting on was Sam LaRusso and her little posse arriving to confront them in the laser tag arena--including Eli, face hardened and ready to fight.

Things seemed to be going pretty poorly--that was, until Tory Nichols and the backup arrived. That reduced Sam LaRusso to a sniveling mess, and finally it looked like this would be an easy finish.

Demetri found himself only stalling for a second when the way cleared for him to go at Eli. Something about the sudden terror on the other boy’s face made him hesitate, but not for long. Eli threw a weak punch, and Demetri quickly flipped him onto the ground, pulling his arm up behind him.

“No, please, stop, Deme, stop! It’s me!”

Deme...

Eli’s old nickname for him.

Demetri pauses, and suddenly he feels sick. Deme...Eli’s nickname. Eli.

Wasn’t all of this for Eli? To protect Eli?

And now here he was, about to hurt him. The one thing he swore he was going to stop everyone else from doing.

And then comes the goading cries from Tory, Mitch, and the others. Do it! Finish him! He deserves it!

He deserves it.

And then Demetri remembers what happened to Miguel when he didn’t take his chance to finish the fight with Robby Keene. Suddenly Demetri’s running out of the end of a hallway again, seeing Miguel’s motionless body lying on the stairs, and the rage and horror and mind-numbing devastation hit him all over again.

“Demetri, finish him!”

In a split second, Demetri makes his decision. Eli’s arm snaps in half.

All it takes is one terrible, pained scream from Eli for Demetri’s entire world to come crashing down on him. What the fuck did he just do?

He can’t even hear the other Cobras, gleefully congratulating him and sneering at the “pussy” on the floor. All he can hear are Eli’s pained sobs.

He’d seen Eli cry before, but never like this. Never thanks to him.

When everyone congratulates him next practice, Demetri barely hears. He’s just numb. All he can see is Eli, curled up and crying on the dirty cement floor. When Tory tells him she didn’t think he was going to do it, all he can manage out is that Miyagi-Do had it coming for hurting Miguel.

And as if his week can’t get any worse, here come Kyler and his goons sauntering into the dojo like they own the damn place. Demetri does his best to convince Mr. Kreese this is by no means a wise idea, but the sensei will not hear of it.

When Kyler and Brucks realize who he is, it only makes Demetri more livid. “Oh shit, it’s the yogurt backpack kid! Lip’s little friend! I thought he moved away!” When a fighting ring is formed, giving the new recruits a chance to “earn their spot,” Demetri is all too ready for combat.

He’s horrified at how quickly Brucks takes down Mitch, how quickly his friend is ushered out the door. It was bad enough to see Bert go, but this...this is different.

He can’t remember the last time he’s felt more alone.

When Kyler steps forward, looking for an opponent, Demetri volunteers before anyone else can. Mr. Kreese shoots him a surprised look, but he doesn’t care. This fucko has been making his life hell for years--he can already tell this is going to be therapeutic.

Demetri doesn’t hold back. The fight has barely started before Kyler’s had enough. A few fast hits and his lip’s already bloody, and he’s backing away. “No...please stop...”

And suddenly Demetri’s back in the library, on that afternoon that seems like an eternity ago, watching Kyler grip Eli by the throat. Hearing him sneer “who would ever want to kiss THAT shit?” like Eli was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. Feeling absolutely powerless, hand clutching the back of a chair as he burned with rage that had nowhere to go.

Well, he wasn’t powerless now.

And before he knows it Demetri has Kyler pinned to the ground, landing punch after punch to his face. Because, he realizes, at the end of the day, who gives a fuck if Eli’s on the other side?

That’s still his Eli, even after everything. The same Eli he stood by for over 10 years, the same Eli who he wished so long that he could protect from everything, the same Eli who felt like he had to constantly hide a tiny red line on his face because his peers collectively decided--for no good reason at all--that it was ugly.

And maybe he couldn’t make those people hurt the way he wanted to then, but right now...well, he could hurt at least one. And that was enough.

He doesn’t stop until Kyler is practically pulverized and his hands are drenched in blood. After throwing his last punch, he smirks, leaning down to whisper into Kyler’s ear.

“Now who’d want to kiss THAT shit? That’s right, asshole--I remember.”

Demetri kicks Kyler’s limp form as he walks away. He shoots Brucks a glare as he falls back in line--just for good measure.

When Miguel comes back to school, Demetri’s one of the first to greet him at the door. “Cobra Kai’s still going strong! It’s going to be great to have you back!” He’s a little confused as to why Miguel seems so hesitant, but he doesn’t worry too much about it--they can sort through all that later.

Miguel’s certainly taken aback by the clunky cast he sees on Eli’s arm when he runs into him in the hall--but perhaps even moreso by the fact that he has both shamelessly dyed his hair blue and spiked it up in a mohawk and is currently walking the school hallways with Moon on his (unbroken) arm. As it turns out, once word got back to Moon that Yasmine was the one who had shamelessly whispered around the school about Demetri being gay, she had broken things off with her. And, with his new “coolness” upgrade, she’d taken quite a liking to Eli.

Not like she had any way of knowing he’d been planning on Yasmine’s cruel gossip, after all.

But the cast, Miguel quickly learns, has a much darker backstory than anything he could have expected.

He wastes no time confronting Demetri about it in the lunchroom. “I heard what happened with Eli. How could you do that?”

Demetri’s stomach clutches. He scowls, determined not to show his discomfort.

“Wow!” He scoffs. “We go to all the trouble of getting payback on those assholes for getting you thrown over that railing, and this is the thanks we get?”

Miguel shakes his head, horrified. “Dude, who cares what dojo Eli’s in? He’s our friend! And in any case, it’s not his fault what happened to me. What the hell were you thinking?”

I don’t know. I don’t know. Demetri’s face hardens. He can only imagine how angry Mr. Kreese would be with him if he caught him showing any kind of weakness. Any kind of second-guessing.

But he can’t help it. Glimpsing Eli in that cast for the first time...

“Look, the Miyagi-Dos were the ones who picked a fight with us,” Demetri retorts. “We just had to do what we had to so they’d back off and leave us alone. We had to finish the fight.”

Miguel pauses, looking pained. “This isn’t...this isn’t you, Demetri. You’re letting Kreese get in your head. He’s trying to manipulate you, get you to...obsess over revenge so you’ll hurt people. But I know you, and I know you don’t want to. Eli, or anyone else.”

Demetri clenches his fists. “What would you know about how I feel about Eli?”

“Look, I can’t claim I know what’s going on between you two,” Miguel amends. “But you have to believe me--Kreese is dangerous. He’s using you. He doesn’t care about you, Demetri. Just...come to Sensei Lawrence’s new dojo. Please. Things can be like they used to. You don’t have to be in this...this war.”

This gives Demetri pause. “He...made a new dojo?”

Okay, so he’s still not Mr. Lawrence’s biggest fan--the man is an asshole at the best of times. But to be able to train with Miguel again...to be able to be badass without being expected to be some soldier...

He can’t finish speaking before Brucks’s voice rings out through the cafeteria. “Look everyone, Lip’s got a dick in his hand!”

Demetri looks up to see Eli being held by the cast, eyes darting around as the entire cafeteria bursts into laughter. Involuntarily, Demetri bristles.

And there it is again, that feeling of being the helpless kid in the library as Eli’s taunted. And even after all this time...he still hates it.

Miguel turns to him, shaking his head. “So these are your friends now? I thought you were better than that.”

And just like that, Miguel’s gone. Gone from the Cobra Kai table, gone from Demetri’s life.

It makes him wonder if he’s making a huge mistake. But he knows he can’t back out now--not when he’s this far in. Who would even want to take him back? Probably not Miguel and Mr. Lawrence--despite what Miguel said, Demetri knows there’s no way he’s going to forgive him so easily for hurting their other friend. And certainly not Eli.

What makes it even worse is seeing Eli later that day, curled up against some lockers with Moon. Moon is tracing over his cast in colored sharpie, slowly transforming the dick pic into a beautiful landscape and night sky. Eli is bragging about how the arm-breaking didn’t hurt that bad.

Demetri remembers when that soft little smile was reserved only for him, and a pit starts to form in his stomach.

Well, no use bitching. You did this to yourself.

It seems like the world is out to just make Demetri’s existence in Cobra Kai as shitty as possible these days. Mitch and Bert are gone, Miguel isn’t coming back, Brucks is being a royal douchebag like always, and perhaps worst of all, Robby Keene shows up at the dojo. Demetri tries his damndest to appeal to Mr. Kreese about how outrageous this is--this is the kid who paralyzed Miguel in the fucking first place, what’s the point of dojo-wide revenge if they just take in the main culprit like an old buddy? But of course Mr. Kreese spouts some nonsense about how they need all the help they can get for the All-Valley, and sometimes you have to be allies with people you aren’t the biggest fans of, blah blah blah. To make matters worse, Tory--not a friend exactly, but probably the closest thing Demetri’s got to one left--is getting far too chummy with Robby for Demetri’s taste.

Maybe Demetri’s insane, but it seems like more and more ridiculous shit is being handwaved in the name of...what? Winning a karate tournament? Getting revenge for a kid who’s already recovered, and doesn’t even seem to want it?

When word gets back to Cobra Kai that Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang are teaming up, Kreese sends the students on a special mission: Show the other dojos that even with their combined forces, they’re no match for Cobra Kai. It seems like a waste of time to Demetri--why antagonize other dojos just minding their business? It’s not like there was anything worth fighting for in this dumb war anymore, considering Miguel was on his feet again (literally AND figuratively). Nonetheless, Demetri finds he’s itching for a good fight--it’s been way too long since he’s charged into a full-fledged battle.

Maybe this will help him get it out of his system, if nothing else.

When the fight breaks out at the LaRussos, it doesn’t take long for Demetri to be overtaken by the thrill of it. Just like he was at the school fight. Just like he was at the tournament. He’s zipping through the house, landing kicks and punches left and right. And it feels good. With everything having been so awful lately, he can’t remember the last time he’s felt more alive.

And then he lands a fierce kick, and Brucks chest-bumps him. “Hell yeah! kick some ass! Dumb losers never had a chance.”

Brucks. The same kid who laughed when he saw Eli starting to cry about the comments he made on his lip. The same kid claiming Kyler tossing his backpack into a yogurt-filled trash can was “brute.” And now here he was trying to be buddy-buddy with him.

Everything comes crashing down on Demetri at once.

Miguel’s speech, saying Kreese is manipulating him. Saying Kreese doesn’t care about him. Kreese cherry-picking what does and doesn’t count as vengeance--hurting Eli, someone who had nothing to do with Miguel’s fall, does, but teaming up with the kid responsible for said fall apparently does not. Demetri’s friends being booted from Cobra Kai one by one, just for not being strong enough.

The sound of Eli’s screams and sobs in a dark laser tag room.

Miguel was right, wasn’t he? Kreese never cared about getting payback for him. He only cared about starting a war for his own sadistic pleasures.

Demetri hears grunting and whimpering, and he looks up to see two of the other Cobras kneeing Eli in the chest over and over. Pinning him into an arm bar.

“Yo, ‘Mete!” one calls out. “Free shot!”

Eli looks up, gaze full of fear and pain. Bright blue irises glinting with welling tears.

Once upon a time, Demetri made a promise to himself that he would stick with karate, aggravating as it may be, so he would never have to see that look on Eli’s face again. It’s time, he figures, that he finally made good on that.

His face contorts into a snarl, and he runs to Eli. Eli closes his eyes and scrunches his face, bracing for a pain that never comes.

Demetri kicks one Cobra to the wayside and smashes the other into a glass table with perhaps more force and adrenaline than he’s used all night.

When he turns to Eli, the other boy backs away, eyes still wide with terror. Demetri feels sick to his stomach, and the tears come before he can stop them.

“God, Eli, I’m so sorry,” he splutters. “I’m so fucking sorry, for everything. I don’t know what I was thinking, and it was all so fucked up, and--”

“Demetri.”

“--I’ll never hurt you like that again, but if you don’t want anything to do with me now, I totally understand, and--”

“Demetri.”

“--I was so awful to you, and I didn’t listen to you, and I should’ve been there for you, and I’m such a piece of shit friend and--”

“DEMETRI!”

Finally Eli raises his voice enough that Demetri pauses. “...yeah, Eli?”

“Please stop talking. I forgive you. Now are you going to shut up and help me finish this?” He raises a hand, as if to initiate their old handshake. An olive branch.

Demetri grins so wide he thinks his face is going to break, and he grips Eli’s hand like a lifeline. Something to finally pull him out of the darkness. “Yeah.”

They’re a lethal fighting team. Between Demetri landing speedy hits and Eli protecting him and shielding them both with his bulked-up form (where did he get all that muscle? Demetri wonders), they dispatch half the Cobras in minutes. Whatever rush Demetri was feeling fighting when he first got here is nothing compared to fighting with Eli.

When they stop the fight between Tory and Sam, Tory wastes no time voicing her disdain for the ex-Cobras. “You’d better watch your back,” she spits at Demetri, and he feels a chill run through him. Turns out this girl is terrifying when she’s not fighting on your side.

Eli intercepts her as she leaves, staring her down defiantly in a very un-Eli-like manner. “You’d better watch yours,” he growls. “Touch him, and I’ll end you.”

Demetri glances over in surprise. When did Eli get so bold?

Well...he thinks he could grow to like it.

Season 4 (because fuck it)

Demetri is hardly expecting Mr. LaRusso and Mr. Lawrence to forgive him, never mind let him into their new dojo. But life has a lot of pleasant surprises in store for him, it seems, after the shitshow it recently put him through. It’s also possible Eli (and maybe Miguel too) but in a good word for him.

Demetri can’t stop apologizing to Eli. Seemingly every day, he finds a new thing to apologize for. Eli gets aggravated with it before long, having to reassure Demetri at least 50 separate times that he forgives him for everything. Nonetheless, Demetri refuses to stop--because he’ll never stop being sorry.

Or trying to find new ways to make it up to Eli. Going easy on him during sparring. Buying him lunch after practice. Helping him perfect some of the most badass Cobra moves.

Things end between Eli and Moon. Eli can’t fully elaborate on why--he just tells Demetri something didn’t feel quite right. The spark died out, like Demetri’s adrenaline rush slowly seeping away toward the end of a fight. That, and, Demetri gathers, something seems to have been distracting Eli from his girlfriend as of late.

Most likely the approaching, high stakes All-Valley. Karate is Serious Business, as they’ve both embraced now.

Rumor has it Yasmine and Moon are trying again, Yasmine realizing for seemingly the first time how awful she’s really been and making an effort to be better. Moon makes her want to be better--more than Demetri ever did, he realizes. And maybe that’s okay--he and Yasmine probably just weren’t right for each other.

Then one day, after yet another one of Demetri’s long-winded apologies, Eli offers something other than an exasperated. “It’s okay. Seriously.” There’s a pause before Eli quietly says “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?” Demetri blurts out, baffled. Everything Eli’s done has paled in comparison to his own atrocities.

“For outing you,” Eli says simply. “That was fucked. And it wasn’t my place, even if I was mad at you.”

“It’s all right.” Demetri shrugs. “You were right, anyways.”

Eli gives him a strange look. “I was?”

“Yeah, I mean...” Demetri laughs dryly. “I don’t...like girls. I pretended I did, because I felt like I was supposed to. That’s what people expect you to do when you’re a top athlete and all that. But dating Yasmine, chasing other girls, it always felt...empty. Like I was just acting out a role in a play or something. And at the end of the day, I think...” He pauses. “I think I was always looking at you.”

Because the last few months have made him realize something. Training with Eli, teaching Eli how to protect himself, watching Eli step up and defend him from the mistrusting stares and the scornful whispers...

Just how much of the person he’s become is thanks to wanting to protect Eli. The fact that that was always how all this started.

“I love you,” he blurts out, before he can stop himself. “I know I did a shitty job of showing it, and I know you were with Moon and you’re not like that, but I need you to know, and I understand if you don’t feel--”

Eli cuts him off with a fierce kiss, pinning him up against the dojo wall with unexpected aggressiveness.

When Eli pulls away, he’s smiling softly. The same smile he gave Moon in the hall as she drew on his cast--the smile that’s once again all Demetri’s.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. “Why do you think I broke up with Moon? Every time I was with her...I couldn’t stop wishing it was you. She’ll never know me like you do.”

And Kreese had better look out because Miyagi Fang’s next big power couple is a force to be reckoned with--the snarky, frighteningly fast-attacking ex-Cobra, and the buff, blue-mohawked Miyagi-Do with more inner peace than anyone would expect.

SOME RANDOM SIDENOTES ABOUT THIS BECAUSE I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE PUTTING THIS ALL IN THE TAGS

~I’m sorry if anyone is OOC in this--I know Johnny is kind of a fuck, but he genuinely WAS pretty crappy to Eli at first and who knows if he would’ve treated him any better if he didn’t “flip the script”??? ~Dark/Evil Demetri is so fun but also so awful to write--I hope you like him being an absolute fuck because the Corruption Arc is REAL ~Yes, I DO in fact fully believe Demetri would go on a crazed revenge quest just like Eli/Hawk did out of his grief for Miguel--the boy absolutely loves Miguel and arguably would want vengeance as much as Eli if their roles were swapped!!! Because Demetri cares about Miguel SO FUCKING MUCH even if it’s not as obvious as it is with Eli but that’s a rant for another post ~I included YasMoon because fuck it, I thought it’d be interesting. That and, unlike the Cobra Kai writers, I am not at all afraid of what conservative audiences will say, so I am not afraid to make things as gay as possible. ~There’s a good chance I swapped Kyler and Brucks’ places near the end solely so I could have Demetri beat the fuck out of Kyler because I just really need that ~Yes, even without formally becoming “Hawk,” Eli could learn how to be a conniving manipulative little shit if he wanted to be. Look at some of the shit he pulls with the counselor in canon Season 3!!! Boy sure as hell knows how to play the victim. ~Honestly not sure if being outed as gay is better or worse than being outed as a bed-wetter, but I had to think of something that would pack the same kind of emotional punch. In Eli’s feeble defense, the West Valley High kids don’t seem like the types to be like...especially violent against queer kids (otherwise NO WAY would Moon and Piper have been able to be that open about their relationship), they’d just be assholes about it. So Eli wasn’t putting Demetri in legit danger here so much as just opening him up to a lot of ridicule. Which is still fucked, but hey, I DID warn you this would be kind of fucked up XD ~Maybe short, concise apologies work for Eli, bUT NOT FOR DEMETRI THE RAMBLER ~Dark Demetri chasing Eli through the school like a goddamn serial killer = 10/10 gave myself a big Spook writing ~Yes, Eli does still have (and always had) his “Hawk” traits, even without the formal “transformation.” I just think his “Hawk” side would be a little more subtle and subdued if he were in Miyagi-Do, but it’s still there for sure.

[stormielikeweather]

We’re Going on a Frog Hunt!

We’re going on a frog hunt

A oneshot - Rin and Shippo have a big frog race coming up, but Rin has no frog! Mom and Dad to the rescue! Lots of Sesshomaru Dad! moments and Kagome Mom! moments. Cheers!

For the BigBang 2021: Theme - Spring

Thank you to @goldie-fawn for their patience. This is short but it took me forever. :”D Check out the super cute art that GoldieFawn made!!!  Squeeeeee!

Mud sloshed up Rin's shoes as she raced along the little stream beside the school. The other kids were in front of her, scanning the soggy bank with keen eyes. 

Everyone had on their rain gear, all shiny colorful coats and hats. 

Rin slapped her hand over her hat to keep it from flying off as she ran to catch up with the others.

She could hear the frogs ribbiting loudly. The last frost only days before, the frogs had just come out of hibernation. 

They had watched a video about it in class. The loudest ones were males trying to impress lady frogs. There must have been a lot of guy frogs sleeping through winter because they were loud!

"I got one! I got one!" Yelled one of the taller boys from her class. He held up the squirming frog high above his head like a trophy. 

"I got one too!" 

"Yay! Look at mine!" 

"Mine's going to win for sure!" 

As her classmates began to catch them a sense of urgency bubbled inside Rin. Maybe there wouldn't be one left for her to catch! 

"I got one! Check out his long legs!" 

"W-Woah!" Rin stumbled over a rotten log, landing on her butt. "Ow..." Mud stuck her pants, but she didn't care. 

Two large yellow eyes blinked at her, and she blinked right back. 

Her hands felt ready. She sucked in a breath, extended her fingers to go for a solid grab. 

"This one's mine!" The bigger girl knocked Rin's hands away and took the frog for herself. 

"Hey!" Rin shouted, "I found it first! That one's mine!" 

“Oh boo hoo!” The girl rolled her eyes, "Go cry about it to your Mom! Oh, wait," She sneered, "You don't have a Mom to whine to!" She stuck her tongue out.

Rin's jaw clenched. Fists balled in the mud. Before she could defend herself someone shouted behind her.

"Woah, that's the biggest frog I've ever seen!" The boy ran over, shouting back at the others, "Hey check out this one Mei found! It's huge!" 

“It’s Frogzilla!”

Excitedly the group circled the girl that had taken her frog. Rin shoved off the ground. 

"Hey, Rin!" Shippo bounded over as she wiped the mud from her pants. 

"I don't really want to talk right now, Shippo. I need to find a frog for the frog race tomorrow." Not that she hadn't already found the perfect one. She glared at Mei's smug grin.

"That's what I came to talk to you about! I caught two! Want one?" He grinned, holding out one of the frogs he'd caught. The puny frog blinked back at her. His stubby legs squirming.

"I..." 

"Hahaha! Look! Rin can't even find her own frog!" Mei pointed right at her. "What a loser!" 

"I am not!" She snapped. She knocked Shippo's hand away, the frog leaped up into the air and splashed back into the pond. "No, wait!" She dove to catch it, but it was long gone. She landed with an oomph! "Shippo,” she looked up at him from her place on the muddy bank, “I'm sorry!"

"It's just a frog," Shippo shrugged, "What do you care what they think anyway? You know you can catch one yourself." He held out his free hand and helped her up.

She clenched her jaw, "It's just that Mei makes me so mad!"

“She makes everyone mad, don’t take it personally.”

Rin looked over at the crowd surrounding the selfish brat, “It sure doesn’t look like everyone is mad at her, Shippo. It looks like they all love her. They think she is awesome.”

Suddenly the light misty air filled with thick heavy rain. 

“Students! Time to come inside! Put your frogs in your buckets for tomorrow!”

Rin looked over at Shippo, panic-stricken. Her large brown eyes near tears, “What am I going to do!? I don’t have a frog!”

“Rin! Shippo! Come inside!” Their teacher called from the door as the last of their classmates scrambled inside. 

“Sorry Rin,” He looked down at his frog as it hopped and splashed inside his small bucket, “I don’t mind sharing with you.”

“It’s a race.” Rin sulked, “We can’t share and race against each other.” 

“Rin! Shippo! Don’t make me come get you!” The teacher scowled, “Get inside! Now!”

With a heavy sigh, Rin trudged toward the school building. Shippo alongside her. 

That night, Rin felt restless. 

She watched out the living room window as the rain came down in sheets. 

Her lip worried between her teeth. 

She jumped at the sudden sound of the doorbell.

Her father’s long strides moved toward the door and she found herself peeking from around the corner of the hall. 

“Kagome?” Her father’s amber’s eyes lit up at the sight of their neighbor. “What brings you here?” He cleared his throat and opened the door wider, “Come in out of the rain.”

Kagome stepped inside, and Rin immediately noticed the green polkadotted rainboots and forrest green rain coat. Their eyes met across the hall, and Kagome grinned at her. “Well, a little fox told me that someone here wanted to catch a frog.”

“A fox you say?” Sesshomaru’s brow rose. He gently shook his head with a chuckle as he caught sight of Shippo right outside. His bright orange and white raincoat stood out in the night. His rainhat had little triangle fox ears. “Perhaps this fox should come inside?”

“So,” Sesshomaru looked at his neighbor and her son, “What is this about catching frogs?”

Shippo told him what happened earlier that day. The man’s ears tipped red with anger for his daughter’s sake. 

Sesshomaru reached out for Rin, “Come here Rin.” 

“Daddy!” She rushed into his arms, tears pouring down her cheeks as she let him comfort her. His chest felt warm and she buried her face above his heart, where it always felt safe. Her hands balled into fists and she let herself cry out the frustration and indignation that she had been trying to hide.

He held her head in his palm as he leaned back to look at her distraught little face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shook her head and clenched her eyes shut, “I didn’t want to.”

“Why didn’t you want to?” 

“It’s humiliating...” She muttered under her breath, “I can get my own frog. I don’t need help.” She looked away from the intensity of his gaze, “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Sesshomaru hugged her tighter then. His little girl. “It is my job to worry for you. Understand?”

When she didn’t respond, he reiterated and she nodded silently.

Kagome’s small but warm hand met Rin’s back, sweeping her hair aside as she gently rubbed soothingly. “Rin, sweetheart, we know you can get your own frog.” 

“Yeah,” Shippo rocked on his heels with a huff of doubt, “I mean I don’t know if you can find one as big as Frozilla, but you can definitely catch a frog.” 

Rin growled, her fists tight as she pulled out of her father’s grasp and narrowed her gaze at her so called friend, “I can so catch a bigger frog than Frogzilla!”

Shippo smirked, “Sure ya can.”

As the children bickered, Kagome and Sesshomaru exchanged a glance and a grin. 

Rin shouted, “I have to get my raincoat and boots on first Shippo!”

“Fine!” Shippo groaned.

Kagome laughed, swinging her umbrella back and forth as she looked up at Sesshomaru.

He had both hands in his pockets and gently rocked back and forth. Rarely did she get to see his ling silver hair loose. It hung over his shoulders as he moved. 

She took a step toward him, her smile faltering as a moment of insecurity broke free, “Are you still sure about Friday?” 

Sesshomaru’s dark brows rose, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She glanced back at their arguing children, and back at him, “You know, if things go well...”

“What?” He closed the distance. “Your son and my daughter will pick at eachother everyday?” His grin, as charming as ever. His head dipped low and his whisper warmed her cold ear, “I could only be so lucky for things to go well.” He kissed her cheek then and leaned back, “I should go put on my raingear.”

Her fingers caressed the place on her cheek where he pressed his lips. Blushing. “W-wait,” She took a breath, her heart fluttering in her chest, “You’re coming too?”

Sesshomaru smirked as he worked his hair into the band he’d had on his wrist, “Of course, don’t you know that I am the Lord of Frog Catching?”

Kagome’s brows rose, “The Lord of Frog Catching?”

“Really, daddy?”

“Seriously!?” Shippo’s green eyes gleamed, “That is so cool! Mom you haven’t won any titles have you?”

“Not for frog catching...”

Shippo snicked, but Rin came to her defence, “She could if she had the opportunity. Daddy was a part of a competition that your mom wasn’t, right daddy?”

Sesshomaru nodded, “Right you are, Rin.”

Kagome rolled her eyes, “Pft. Sure.”

“I’ll have you know I caught a frog when i was a boy and it followed me around for three years.” 

“Oh really?” Kagome scoffed, “What was it’s name then?”

“Jaken.” 

“Jaken? What was it, evil?”

Sesshomaru cocked his head and nodded slowly, “It was a very nastly little frog.” 

Shippo burst into laughter, “Your dad is weird, Rin!”

“Daddy! Stop, you’re embarrassing me...” Rin flushed. The floppy yellow hat atop his head didn’t help her embarrassment. Her nose scrunched as he slipped into a big yellow raincoat and matching boots. 

“How do I look?” He did a turn and placed one hand on his hip for his daughter’s mortification and Kagome’s enjoyment. 

“Fabulous.” Kagome tapped his hat making it drop over his eyes, “Let’s go catch some froggies!” 

“Yay!” Both Rin and Shippo cheered.

Outside the rain had slowed to a light sprinkle. Kagome held the buckets, a smile planted on her face while Sesshomaru’s deep voice overtook the sound of the storm and the resounding ribbits of the frogs coming out to mate. 

Sesshomaru squatted between their kids, a hand on each of their shoulders as they all tucked between the thick reeds at the edge of the stream's bank.

He looked so natural in any element, whether in the office or out in the rain hunting frogs. His button down and tie hidden beneath sun-yellow rain gear. The man could make anything look good. 

She joined them. Her feet crunched twigs and earned her a look from all three of them. “Oops?”

“Quiet, mom.” Shippo whispered.

Sesshomaru visibly preened. “Proper frog hunting etiquette requires stealth.” He dropped his hands and slowly spread the tall grasses. “Watch.” 

The children were quiet. Their movements purposeful as all three of them dipped their noses into the tall grass and peered at the contents. 

"Frog!" Rin squealed in delight before slapping her hand over her mouth, "sorry," She whispered with a wince.

Her shoulders fell as she noticed the frog gone.

"It's okay, Rin." Sesshomaru gave her a gentle pat. 

”That frog was pretty small anyway, you said you were gonna find a big one remember?” 

Rin pinched her lips at Shippo. “I will find a really big one.”

Sesshomaru had moved farther up the bank. As he spread the tall grasses, a large rock lay at his feet. “Rin. Shippo. Come quickly.”

The children shuffled close. 

He looked at them with serious eyes. 

Kagome had seen the same look on his face as he went over his files at the dining table. She had come by to pick up Shippo and the door had been unlocked. He had been so engrossed with the paperwork, he hadn’t heard her knocking. She found herself wondering if he took everything so seriously... and if that meant he took asking her out just as seriously as everything else. 

“When I lift this stone, you must move quickly.” 

The children each nodded their little chins, their gazes just as serious as Sesshomaru’s. 

When he lifted the stone, Rin gave a shriek. 

“Woah, cool!” Shippo gasped, reaching out for the slimy creature. 

“Fasinating.” Sesshomaru mused as he dropped the large rock back to the ground. 

Kagome stepped over clumps of grass and mud. “What is it?”

Shippo turned her way, holding it up like a puppy. “A salamander! Cool isn’t it!?” His wide toothy grin made her smile. “It’s way slipperier than I expected!” He shouted, “want to touch it?!”

Rin backed away, “Gross, no way!”

Sesshomaru reached out and brushed his fingers over the large black creature’s wide head. 

It squirmed. 

“Find a good place to set him back free, Shippo.” 

Her son pouted, “Aw, but I want to keep him.”

“Salamanders don’t make good pets Shippo.”

“Yeah, they are too gross. Get rid of it.” Rin grimmaced. 

“They are not,” He frowned, “This guy’s really cool.” He turned pleading eyes on his mother, “Mom, can you please take a picture?”

“Of course I can,” She shifted the buckets in her hands and pulled out her phone, “Alright, everyone get in the picture!”

Rin began to back away again, but Sesshomaru pulled her close enough to get in the picture. 

Kagome laughed, “Say cheese!”

Shippo and Sesshomaru complied, but Rin was too busy side eyeing the salamander to smile. 

As soon as Kagome lowered her phone the little girl complained, “Can we get back to frog hunting now?” 

“What’s with the sour face, Rin?” Her dad gave her a gentle nudge, “Too serious for fun tonight?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “This is a very serious problem I have daddy.”

“Of course it is. Come here,” He grabbed her up and she squealed, kicking her legs. 

“Daddyyyyy!”

He put her on his shoulders, “Better get an eagle eye on it.” He held her legs to keep her steady.

As soon as she settled, she giggled, “Do you really think I can spot frogs from way up here?” 

“The really big frogs you can.” 

Her grin turned serious as she nodded, “Right.”

Shippo and Kagome watched the salamander slide back into the water. 

“Cute little guy wasn’t her?” She grinned.

“Super cute.” Shippo nodded, “And super cool. I’m going to put the picture on my desk in my room.”

“Good idea.” 

She helped him back up the bank and they followed Sesshomaru and Rin along the stream.

Shippo studied his mother. She looked what his great grandfather called googoo eyed. “Mom?”

“Yeah?” She turned, a light flush to her cheeks from the hiking. 

He pressed his lips together, “Do you like Rin’s dad?”

Kagome paused. “He seems like a good person, don’t you think so?” 

She waited with bated breath as he took a moment to think. Unable to relax until his little chin nodded and he offered a smile. “Yeah. He is weird, but so is Rin, and she’s my best friend.” 

“They are a little weird aren’t the,” She laughed, hugging him by the shoulders as they continued forward “Then again, maybe we are a little weird too, don’t ya think?”

“Speak for yourself.” Shippo scoffed. 

“Hey! Shippo! Kagome!” Rin yelled, “We are going to turn over another big rock!” She pointed down the bank, “Over there!”

When they made it to the small boulder, Kagome’s eyes widened, “are you sure you can lift this one, sesshomaru?”

As if to proof her point, the kids climbed on top of it, giggling. 

He stiffened, “You think I am so weak as to not be capable of lifting a simple stone?”

“That thing isn’t a stone, it’s huge!” 

He rolled his eyes, “Children, remove yourselves.”

“Okay!” 

Rin rubbed her hands together, “I bet this frog is going to be ginormous!”

“Ready yourselves.” He pressed his lips together and placed both hands around the sides of the boulder. 

Kagome winced, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I. Am. Not. So. Weak.” He clenched his teeth as the boulder came free from the ground. 

“Wow, your dad is like superman!” Shippo looked at him with awe. 

“I know.” Rin bragged, “He’s the strongest person alive!”

Unconvinced, Kagome grabbed both children by the collars, “Wait for him to tilt it a bit, you don’t want to get crushed if he drops it.”

His glare didn’t deter her. “Fine.” He grunted as the boulder dropped to it’s side. “There.”

The children rushed in. “Frogs!” The frogs began hopping up the bank quickly. Rin and Shippo gave chase. 

Sesshomaru’s hand went to his side. 

“Pulled a muscle?”

“Of course not.” His eyes clenched shut as he took a step forward, and Kagome bit the ‘I told you so’ on the tip of her tongue. 

“Let me help.” 

Amber eyes cast her a cold look, “There is nothing to help. I am fine.”

She rubbed her hands together quickly. “Nonsense.” 

He winced as she slid her hands inside his rain coat and pressed her palms against his aching side. They had never been so close before. She couldn’t help but admire the length of his dark lashes as he stared into her eyes.

“No need to admit anything.” She grinned up at him. 

For a moment he simply looked back at her silently. His heart beating fast in his chest. Her hands firm yet gentle against him. “Actually,” He whispered, “it is quite sore.” 

“Is it?” Her eyes glittered with both warmth and mirth. She kneaded, “Does this seem to be helping?” 

“It is.” 

“Daddy! Look!” Rin bounded over. 

Kagome stepped back, leaving Sesshomaru’s side cold. 

Sesshomaru looked cool as a cucumber, but her face pounded with heat.

Rin held up a fat frog with thick legs, “I’m going to call him Frogculese!”

“I got... one too!” Shippo gasped, doubled over as he caught his breath. “He was really... fast and hard... to... catch!”

“You already have a frog, Shippo!” Rin reminded him. 

“I’ll...let that one... go!” 

Kagome handed off each bucket, “Good job! One of you are sure to win the race tomorrow.”

“I’m totally going to win!” Rin grinned from ear to ear, “Frogculese is the best!”

“You’ll probably beat Mei, but you won’t beat me and Kanakero!” Shippo held the handle of his bucket close to his chest, looking down at his frog as it tried to hop up the sides and failed. 

“You will both do well.” Sesshomaru patted them each on the head, 

“Daddy!” Rin groaned, fixing her hat. 

Shippo preened. 

The next day each child came home with a big yellow ribbon. And that Friday, Kagome and Sesshomaru had a first date that went very well. 

[nxrthmizu]

| snakes | Suna Rintarou

»»——⍟——««

song | Trust Fund Baby - Why Don’t We 

pairing | Suna Rintarou x Reader 

words | 1.8k 

warning(s) | The reader has undertones of someone who’s sort of mean and sadistic? The story also relates the reader to a snake. I like snakes. I think they’re cool. But if you’re scared of snakes and you’re uncomfortable with the idea of being referenced to a snake,,, don’t read, I guess?  

author’s note | I rewrote this five fricking times and I still hate it but I’m not writing this again so have this 

»»——⍟——«« 

Confidence. 

He could feel it radiating off you in waves. Your presence diffused into the gym, alerting every person in the room of your arrival. Attention was drawn to you like moths were drawn to the light, every pair of eyes magnetised to your form by the gym door. 

Kita instantly rushed over to greet you politely, the details of your conversation too far away to be heard. For a brief moment, Suna registered just how well the two of you looked together. 

L/N Y/N, the representative and top student of his class, the newly-elected second-year secretary of the student council. No one doubted that you would take the president position in your third year, not with the ‘perfect student’ image you had going on. 

Kita Shinsuke, also top in grades, captain of the volleyball club, well-liked by the staff and students alike due to his politeness and nature. 

The two of you looked like a perfect imitation of what a modern royalty would be like. A combination of grace, elegance, and a face that was hardly fazed by anything. Something similar to bitterness ate away in the bottom of Suna’s heart as he turned away, muttering about putting more practice into his blocks. 

“What was she looking for you for?” He overheard Aran asking. 

“Oh, she’s filling in some missing information for our club. She came over to clarify some details.” Kita answered easily. 

Suna wasn’t really surprised when a couple third years, belonging to the student council committee- Showed up on the doorsteps of your shared class, asking to see you. Later on, he learned that the entire council body had brought up your name when asked which second-year should be elected as the secretary. You were well-known, even among the third years, as someone who possessed high intellect and organisation abilities, so it wasn’t a shock that your name was the one that nearly everyone suggested. 

If only they knew. 

If only they knew that you weren’t completely that ‘perfect student’ act that you’d put up. 

If only they knew just how cunning, sly, and sarcastic you really were. 

»»——⍟——««

If Suna had to describe you in one word, it would be snake. 

You were the definition of elegance, grace, and beauty. Every movement you made was meticulously calculated and not a single joule of energy was wasted or passed off as inefficiently used. There was never a hair out of place, and your skirt was never creased, no matter how long you had been sitting at your seat. 

Of course, Suna hadn’t always thought of you as a snake. It was only after that one fine summer day in his first year that his perception of you took a 180 turn, revealing to him what you truly were like. 

He had been on his way home, bag slung over his shoulder, when he caught the slight noise that seemed like a whimper. Never one to leave his nose out of someone else’s business, Suna slunk around, careful to stick to the shadows until the shocking sight befell his eyes. 

“So, you’re the one who’s been bullying [your brother’s name]?” The voice that dripped from your lips was distasteful, as if the junior high student that you had cornered in the alley was a filthy peasant compared to your royal status. “You don’t look very fierce now, do you?” 

If sarcasm was an art, then you’d probably be a DaVinci-level expert. He would even go as far as calling you a prodigy. And if there was a championship for the world’s most sarcastic human being, he would instantly sign you up. There was no doubt that you’d take home the no.1 trophy in that category (not that you weren’t already taking home trophies in other competitions, of course, he overheard that you recently dominated an advanced maths competition). 

“I— I’m sorry!” The student shivered under your piercing gaze. “I— I won’t touch him again, I promise—!” 

The laugh you responded with was overly sweet, combined with something from a Disney movie villain. If the movie also, by chance, happened to have ‘horror’ as its’ genre. Your eyes carried a maniacal threat that Suna believed wholeheartedly that you were capable of carrying out. “Bold of you to assume I’d even let you do it again.” You whispered, just loud enough for Suna to catch your words. 

The junior high student scrambled off, too busy getting away to notice Suna by the entrance of the alley. He slipped away before you reappeared at the beginning of the alley, having fixed your hair and flattened your skirt. 

You looked like a snake that had just finished a very satisfying meal. Suna could hardly believe that he had just heard you— the pride and joy of every teacher, the ‘perfect student’— spitting insults and threats at 200 words per minute, all while maintaining a ‘polite’ and ‘sweet’ tone. 

He was a little breathless after the whole ordeal. He could barely imagine what you would say to him if you’d caught him listening— But damn, part of him wanted to find out if he could withstand your literature-form venom. Truly, you were a snake— A creature that could hold its’ elegance even as your tore your prey apart (verbally). 

Suna always liked snakes. 

»»——⍟——««

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with L/N, Kita.” Aran teased, Suna overhearing as he stepped into the locker room for morning practice. Freezing in his tracks, the middle blocker curved right round the bend, staying out of sight. “There’s been a lot of rumours about how nice the two of you look together.” 

The volleyball captain only hummed in response, which, for some reason, pissed the hell out of Suna. 

“Come on, tell me something.” The other third-year complained. “She’s really pretty, I’d totally see why you’d go for her.” 

Something about the situation made Suna’s blood boil. He bit back his rising anger, setting aside the cause for the moment. Why was he getting so riled up? He never cared much about things in general, anyway, so... So why was the image of you and Kita, matching polite smiles on your lips— Why did it make him so furious he had to physically resist the urge to punch a wall? 

“The two of you do look nice together, though.” Aran continued as Suna pushed down the urge to strangle his upperclass-man. “Gives me the vibes of—” 

Before Aran could finish his sentence, the dark-haired middle blocker marched into the locker room, apologising for how loudly he had slammed the door open. “Sorry.” He drawled lazily, restraining the lava-hot anger in his blood. “I pushed too hard.” 

»»——⍟——««

You didn’t even blink, much less jump when Suna appeared abruptly by your desk. Instead, you simply set down your pencil and gave him a warm smile. “Can I help you with something?” 

Ever the helpful class president, Suna bit back to himself. No, no, he wanted you to like him. Not get a bad impression of him. “Do you... Think you could help me with the physics homework?” 

“It’s due tomorrow.” You said slowly, both of you aware that the assignment was well over forty pages. “Have you... Tried it?” 

“Yes.” He answered. “I’ve got a few questions I need help with. Are you free to stay back today?” 

This raised a tentative eyebrow from you. “Don’t you have volleyball practice?” 

Dammit, why did you have to have such a good memory. 

“Academics are more important than the club sometimes.” He shrugged. “I’ve got permission to skip.” No, he didn’t. 

“Alright then. I’ll meet you in the library after school.” 

»»——⍟——««

He watched you through hooded eyes as you reviewed his work. So you did know how to let loose, Suna murmured to himself in amusement, eyeing your untucked blouse and the beige sweater you’d thrown on in a defence against the library’s air-conditioning. 

“You’ve got most of the parts down, which bits do you need help with?” 

The rest of the time was spent going over the questions, your patience filling the silence along with his occasional ‘ohs’. Your handwriting flooded through his homework in neat rows, providing an easy-to-follow, step-by-step guide on how to work through the questions, for revision purposes. 

“So.” 

You broke the silence, the two of you walking side by side, leaving the school together because he offered to buy you some food as a payment for the tutoring. 

“Are you going to tell me why you faked confusion and asked me to tutor you?” 

He winced. How could he forget that you were always straight to the point? 

“What do you mean?” The look on your face clearly said ‘feigning ignorance, eh?’. 

“I’m going to be frank with you,” You deadpanned. “You’re among the best at physics in our class. Some of the questions you asked me to help you through were ones that had been discussed in classes, and I know that you are listening even though you have your head on the table.” 

Alright, so he had under-predicted exactly how observant and attentive you were. 

“Then why did you agree to help me?” 

“You saw me that day, didn’t you?” 

He stopped walking. “Which day?” 

“That day. In our first year. When I threatened that junior high kid in the alley.” You stopped too, to turn your expressionless gaze on him. “You’ve looked at me differently since that day. I heard someone else’s breathing at the alley, but I didn’t see anyone so I figured they’d ran. I guessed it was you.” 

“... Yeah.” 

“You don’t seem to mind.” 

“Mind what?” 

“The fact that this...” You gestured to yourself. “Is a lie. This whole ‘perfect student’ image is an act that I put up to please my parents. I’m actually someone who has really mean thoughts. I could be a really toxic friend. I’m also probably a sadist.” 

Suna blinked quietly at you, running your words through his head a couple more times for good measure. “You remind me of a snake.”

In that one sentence, you realised that if there was one person in the world that was going to be fine with your personality the way it was, that person would probably be Suna Rintarou. The two of you continued your walk to the takoyaki shop Suna offered to buy you food from, continuing meaningless chatter on the journey. 

“Is that a good or bad thing?” 

“I like snakes.” 

“That’s cool. Me too.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, I think they’re pretty cool. They’re like spiders, except they’re not insects. I don’t like insects very much.” 

“Hmm. I like snakes cause I think they’re really elegant. And pretty.” He paused for a moment. “Like you.” 

»»——⍟——««

taglist. @mrs-kuroojinguji @procrastination-lady @miel-meraki @shoyosun @aka-a-shii @shibayamasbae @churochuu @seijohlogy @dearsukuna @whootwhoot

Haikyuu!! gen taglist. @owlywrites @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @our-tall-slytherin-queen

[ratingtheframe]

I Care A Lot, Malcolm & Marie, Capone, The Life Ahead and the News of the World: Everything I watched in February.

Newsflash ! The cinemas still aren’t open and I’m starting to lose hope in them ever opening. Despite the UK government drawing a step by step guide into lifting the UK out of lockdown (like its flat pack furniture and not a critical pandemic) with cinemas due to open in April, I wouldn’t hold my breath seeing as our own human biology and its resistance is the actual measure of when it is safe to go out and about, not what our government says. So until everyone is vaccinated and has sustained the first few months of vaccination symptom free, I’m having to sift through Netflix and Amazon for something to watch, like I’m looking through a charity shop sale; without much luck. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for these streaming services, I (my dad) pay for them for Christ’s sakes and I know that one day I’ll be eating my words when I’m offered a Netflix deal that I (in a Vito Corleone voice) “cannot refuse”. However, unlike some of the creators on Netflix, I’ll make the most of this opportunity and be incredibly anal about what I want to make, even if it kills me. 

I feel like so many people are given the license to make whatever they want for Netflix and then I look at the trophy wall of Emmys that HBO has garnered over the years and consider their quality writers and casts. I would say most recently, shows like The Crown, Sex Education, Top Boy and Bridgerton are Netflix’s exceptions currently, being both of quality and giving us something we actually want to watch. And guess what all these shows have in common?! Not only are all the casts largely British but all productions of these shows are British too. The British quality of TV programmes for streaming services in the US is a win win for all; Americans get to watch our good quality TV and we get Golden Globes. Most notably, The Crown did exceptionally (as it always does) at this year’s Golden Globes, further proving the show's excellence despite controversy. I thoroughly praise Netflix's resistance to label the show “fiction” and the lengths it took in making the show as authentically as possible, despite the criticism. The awards speak for themselves and the Crown has scooped up several this year so far. 

To conclude, I want the cinemas to open just as much as anyone, but I’m happy to comply with the stay-at-home-and-watch-Netflix-rule for now. For now...Here’s everything I watched this February.

Annihilation (2018) as seen on Netflix

Netflix’s Annihilation starring Natalie Portman, Jennifer Jason Lee, Gina Rodriguez, Tessa Thompson and Oscar Issac was a multitude of things that were difficult to comprehend. This is not me saying this is a bad film, in fact its me saying the complete opposite as the complexity drew a tangible beauty to the film from beginning to end. I reeeaaalllyyy liked the beginning and how the first scene sucked you into the crazy and fanatical story that later unfolded. Natalie Portman as always was wonderful in this role, playing a biologist who enters another world in search of her husband, who’s gone missing on a similar expedition to hers. Like with most sci fi films, it was difficult to gather the meaning of such a film, however this lack of meaning didn’t draw away from the story or how it was portrayed, in slow and enigmatic shots that told the story with a natural pace. If you’ve seen / liked Ex Machina (2014), Annihilation has the same director and I would thoroughly recommend you watch this too as the way Alex Garland merges sci fi with horror is incredibly seamless.

Score: 10/10

Eastern Promises (2007)  as seen on Amazon Prime 

This film starring Naomi Watts, Viggo Mortensen and Vincent Cassel was incredibly dark and gritty. Even though I’m not Russian, I found Mortensen and Cassel’s Russian personas to be rather good for a Dane and a Frenchman. Their on screen chemistry was also really good and its make me wonder why I haven’t seen a film with these two in it before. The story follows Anna (Naomi Watts) a nurse and her hunt for the true identity and life of a baby that was born to a 14 year old girl. Nikolai and Kirill (Mortensen and Cassel) are Russian gangsters living in London and set about covering up this obscene scandal and getting rid of the product of it, a baby girl belonging to the condemned and now deceased child. It's a difficult plot to wrap your head around and like I said, it's incredibly dark. Actor and director David Cronenberg (A History of Violence 2005) directed this film and helped Viggo Mortensen with a nomination for Best Actor at the 2008 Academy Awards. 

Score: 8/10

Fifty Shades of Grey (2015) as seen on Netflix

So remember how I said I was DESPERATE for films this month...I watched Fifty Shades of Grey with zero expectations and I can say definitively that it was worse than I thought. It's a true miracle that both Dakota Johnson and Jamie Dornan still have careers 6 years after such a film was released and I personally wouldn’t rush to cast either acting in my film after seeing this. Harsh, I know but reputation is everything and when you sign onto something that instead of highlighting your acting abilities, highlights your body parts, what am I supposed to think... I’m all for body confidence and what not, but I feel like most of this film sort of abuses sexuality and sexual expressions. The fact is, the BDSM part of this film wasn’t even that bad, it was the characters that pissed me off the most and their LACK of character in fact. They were orchestrated in such a flat way and the only time where either one of them found any character was through the sex itself and the discussion of it, especially Anastasia’s character. The most profound and irritating thing about this film is that Anastasia’s life seemed to only have meaning when she met the so called handsome, charming, wonderful, drop dead gorgeous Christian Grey. What does that teach us about women people? I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, sexualising women in film and media shouldn’t be the only reason for them to be there. And the entirety of Fifty Shades of Grey is built upon that fact. Even though the novel was written by a woman, it definitely missed the point in giving us a strong female character who could both be into sex and taken seriously at the same time. Seems like a really hard thing to do in cinema as filmmakers either go for the over-hyped sexualised prostitute, the caring mother or the nun. Like female professionals have never had sex in their lives… think again. I like to wonder what it would’ve been like had it been Ms Grey and Christian as her submissive. Not only would that mix up the character dynamic and go against gender confirmation, it’d actually be interesting. But maybe I should just write that story altogether...To conclude, the characters in this film were flat and the entirety of the film hyped up sex and the act of it way too much. It's like making a film about walking or breathing. 

Score: 1/10

Malcolm & Marie (2021) as seen on Netflix

Malcolm & Marie received a lot of attention in the media and sadly not for the right reasons. In fact, what’s so childish about the backlash is that hardly any of it had to do with the filmmaking techniques Sam Levinson (Euphoria’s creator) used or the story he wrote. More of it had to do with Levinson’s controversial ideas about how the media likes to view and prod film like a goldfish in a bowl, acting ostentatiously towards the art and appearing woke as opposed to just seeing film for how it is. I gather many film critic’s egos were bruised when Levinson used the lead character, Malcolm (John David Washington) as a butcher to film critics. He says things like “I’m choosing to make a film that’s fundamentally political, but not everything I do is political because I’m Black” in reference to the ignorance of some film critics who stamp politics onto any black directed film, attempting to brand the films with their own understanding of the film as opposed to its real message and story. Malcolm spends the majority of the night loathing a fictional “white LA reporter” and betting on her exact words for his own film, about an African American woman trying to get off drugs. What he says is funny, so funny it's true. White reporters DO do this and instead of embracing Levinson’s satricalism, the real LA white reporters of our media got overly offended and used the “lack of story” card as a backdrop to fuel their distaste at being called out. Had they known Levinson’s intentions with this film, they wouldn’t have reviewed it all together as I’m sure Levinson knew what he was getting himself into when mentioning the annoying “white LA reporter” and making the stereotype central to the lead's frustrations towards the industry. Levinson also graciously mentions that even though Malcolm has such hatred towards the critics, he is their fuel and by making his so-called “art” he only joins them in the argument . Levinson made his bed when he made the film and I think he’s sleeping rather comfortably. No one even bothered to praise both Zendaya’s and Washington’s performances, which were phenomenal considering the circumstances and the added pressure of having to carry a whole story in one room using only each other to fulfil that story. The cinematography was ambitious and overall, it was a simple yet well executed story. What are y’all complaining about? 

Let's put egos aside and focus on the actual film for once, rather than how its perceived the articulation of your opinions towards it. 

Score: 10/10

Coming to America (1988) as seen on Amazon Prime

At this moment I truly was becoming a slave to streaming services. I wasn’t particularly leaping at the opportunity to watch this film, however I chose to watch it as I heard that Eddie Murphy was releasing a sequel this year. As someone who doesn’t like comedy, I found this rather funny in places but it's hard to laugh at the black stereotypes portrayed in such a film even when those stereotypes were perpetuated by a black person. There was also a lot of misogyny, something else that I don’t call comedy but just misogyny. I found it hard overlook these moments and kinda saw this element as the downfall to the film which detracted from any of the other comedic moments.

Score: 5/10

Do the Right Thing (1989) as seen on Amazon Prime

One of Spike Lee’s earlier films, Do The Right Thing is a film I’ve been dying to watch for quite some time. The film is like a fascinating book, with chapters on each of the plights of living in Brooklyn in the 1980s. Though it takes one character’s perspective, there are a multitude of other stories that can be found in this film, with them interlinking seamlessly and coming together at the end. This isn’t a film about race but rather one about anger and its potential to divide people, especially when things become heated and fingers are pointed. It covered a variety of perspectives which I like, almost like an episodic series where each episode is different and takes on a different character. This structure added variety to the film and allowed it to cover a multitude of topics in a small space of time. The structure of this film was only successful because its characters, who were funny, three dimensional and above all, had something to say. Director and writer Spike Lee played Mookie, the lead, a pizza delivery man and quite the f**k up on the streets of Brooklyn, using his mouth more than his actions to get by in life. I really liked the balance of moments of comedy and severity which had me laughing in places and immediately stopping afterwards. Well written and I commend Spike Lee for having written, directed and starred in the same film.

Score: 10/10

The Life Ahead (2020) as seen on Netflix

As an actress, Sophia Loren is one of my all time favourites. On seeing films such as A Special Day (1977) Two Women (1960) Marriage, Italian Style (1964), I began to appreciate the work of Sophia Loren and notice how much of an icon she still is today. Having picked up several awards over an expansive 71 YEAR career, she has been honoured many a time by the Golden Globes and Oscars as one of the finest actresses of all time. Her presence on screen is inspiring and she’s been often referred to as the Italian Marilyn Monroe for her beauty inside and out. Here at the age of 86, she plays a Holocaust survivor and foster mother who cares for a troubled boy in The Life Ahead. Loren’s character, Madame Rosa, eventually saving him from a miserable life thieving and selling drugs on the streets of Italian. Loren’s son, Edoardo Ponti directed this film for Netflix and was generous enough to give us Sophia Loren’s presence on screen once more by casting her in the film as the lead.

Score: 9/10

Gold (2016) as seen on Amazon Prime

I found Gold to be one of those talky, talky films that starts at the end and ends at the end (if that makes sense) which in my opinion isn’t the most courageous structure one could use, but is common in biopics. It either starts on the protagonist’s death bed or at the point where the police have just caught them and for Gold it was the latter. The appearance of women in this film was second to none and that’s not me saying the director should’ve added female characters for good measure or token but why make a film that only appeals to one demographic, despite the intensity of the story...film is universal after all and if a film appeals to one certain group then what’s the point of releasing it? This doesn’t detract from Matthew McConaughey’s performance though as a “prospector” looking for gold in Indonesia. Even saying this, the character was very typical of him and it didn’t truly stretch his ability as an actor, not like Dallas Buyer’s Club (2013), Killer Joe (2011) or Interstellar (2014) did. To sum up Gold into one word it’d be “meh”.

Score: 7/10

Creed (2015) as seen on Amazon Prime

This was one of the most surprising films of the month. I’m not crazy about the Rocky films nor see myself watching all of them anytime soon, but Creed appealed as a more modern take on the hit franchise. Michael B Jordan plays Adonis Creed, son of Apollo Creed, a champion boxer who died during a fight before Adonis was born. After being adopted by Apollo’s wife, Adonis Creed sets out to follow his father’s footsteps by becoming a champion heavyweight boxer himself, much to his maternal mother’s displeasure and his coach’s the one and only Rocky Balboa (Sylvester Stallone). The story is similar to that of Rocky and if anything, is a complete revival, using the son of one of Rocky’s former fighter as a backdrop to tell the story. Director Ryan Coogler (Black Panther 2018, Fruitvale Station 2013 ) brought this story to life and a courageous performance out of Michael B. Jordan. Not only was I fascinated by boxing by the end of the film, but just the whole idea of Adonis Creed, a fighter and not a quitter who thoroughly believes in pursuing your goals until they are obtained. Not only is this film for boxing fans but for those who share that same universal message and refuse to give into their own inhibitions to achieve great things. We should look to athletes more often in this respect and consider the pursuit of our own desires as boxing matches and marathon races more often as it helps put our fight into perspective and teaches us never to give in. 

Score: 11/10

Arrival (2016) as seen on DVD

Before anyone comes for me for not having seen Arrival, before I was a movie buff I had briefly come across the film several times but had never taken the time to sit it out and watch it from beginning to end. I’m glad I did as Denis Villeneuve is one of my favourite directors evah and along with Christopher Nolan, I consider him as the King of Sci Fi. Every single one of his films is incroyable (as the french say) and it's a mystery why he hasn’t been handed an Oscar yet. Arrival is this slow and beautiful story of a linguistics teacher (Amy Adams) who agrees to help on a mission to communicate with extraterrestrial life forms that have landed on planet earth in the form of twelve huge spaceships. Structure isn’t something we typically consider when watching a film, but it plays such an important part in Arrival for time and the manipulation of it is the main theme of this film. Essentially, the language in which Dr. Banks translates from the intelligent life form gives its readers the ability to see into the future, which is when we come to realize that she’ll have a child, who will die of an unnamed disease. Despite this fact, she decides to live the life fate intended for her. The reason why Arrival is a highly credible film is because of the coverage it has as a film in terms of what it's trying to say as a film. From someone who finds it hard to bring out the emotion of a screenplay, Arrival is a great example to me as a film that combines both a cinematic feeling and a strong emotional presence throughout the film. It doesn’t abandon emotions or relationships just because the film is about aliens, but instead embraces them into the story and intertwines them with the aliens who’ve come to planet earth. At the end of the day, we can have explosions, spaceships and aliens galore, but if we’re unable to connect with characters on an emotional level then the film becomes boring. Arrival is far from boring and may bring a tear or two to your eye by the end.

Score: 11/10

The News of the World (2020) as seen on Netflix

I feel like it's impossible to hate a film with Tom Hanks in it and The News of the World definitely fits into that.  Five years after the US Civil War, Cpt. Jefferson Kyle Kidd (Tom Hanks) spends his days travelling around the US ‘reading the news’ to anyone who’s willing to listen. The majority of the US was illiterate in the 19th Century, meaning it was up to people like Jefferson to inform others of the ongoings in the world by reading them the paper. It’s a wondrous thing to think about, how information was once spread throughout the world in such an archaic format. Jefferson did this off his own back, not asking for much and finding fulfilment in the reactions to the news that he “broadcasted” to them. Whilst on his travels, Jefferson comes across a young girl (Golden Globe nominee Helena Zengal) who’s negro family had been killed by lynchers. The girl was originally from a Native American tribe but had been separated by them, leaving her to fend for herself. When Jefferson comes across her, he’s reluctant to take her in at first but decides to take her to some relatives across the country. It’s definitely the role you expect of Tom Hanks and his heart warming nature is captured for us in this film for Netflix.

Score: 9/10

The Mask (1994) as seen on Netflix

It's hard for me to label The Mask as a good film as that would mean shaking off the horrendous amount of misogyny it has and the lack of diversity within its characters. Films mean different things for people, but ultimately most of them reflect an element of humanity and explore it on screen with originality and authenticity. Cameron Diaz’s character was only there to fulfil the sexual appetites of the men around her, which is something I loathe in female characters. Originality The Mask has, authenticity, not so much. That's probably the reason why I hate comedies so much, most of them are written by men and are about men so it can get quite boring to watch at times. I liked the idea of The Mask but it definitely could’ve been executed in a less misogynistic way. 

Score: 5/10

Jackie (2016) as seen on Amazon Prime

One word; perfection. This film was hands down one of the most beautiful, genuine and honest films I’ve seen in my entire life. It had me reminiscing Todd Haynes’ Carol (2015) in a number of ways, from the similar filmmaking techniques to the slow and melancholy atmosphere that was being created on screen. The AMAZING Natalie Portman plays Jackie Kennedy, wife of John F. Kennedy who was brutally assassinated on a visit to Dallas, Texas in 1963. The fact that I didn’t even KNOW that his poor wife was in the car with him at the point of the assassination is shocking. On watching the film, I learnt Jackie was a remarkable, brave and intelligent woman who after her husband's death put so much into preserving her husband’s legacy despite his lack of popularity. The way the film is shot and the music by the brilliant Mica Levi (Under the Skin 2013 , Monos 2019) just ties everything together into a enigmatic and wonderful film. Natalie Portman was nominated for Best Actress at the 2017 Academy Awards and rightly so. This film has further proven my thoughts on her as one of the greatest actresses of our time. I seriously cannot EXPRESS how much I love this film, directed by Chilean director Pablo Larraín, who’s also made another film that I can’t get enough of Ema, which was released 2 years ago.

Score: 12/10

Foxcatcher (2014) as seen on BBC iPlayer

When we first think of Steve Carell, our minds probably drift to his most notable performance as Michael Scott from The Office or even Gru in Despicable Me. It's rare for a so called “comedy” actor to find his way into films with a more dramatic substance and over the last few years, this is what Carell has been showing us on screen, with this role in Foxcatcher and more recently, in Felix van Groeningen’s Beautiful Boy (2018). Foxcatcher is the true story of a wrestler offered the opportunity to train with a private wrestling team owned by a huge chemical corporation. Channing Tatum plays Mark Schultz, a quiet and reserved wrestler who trains alongside his brother David (Mark Ruffalo), also a champion wrestler. What's sad to see in this twisted story is how validated Mark feels once the powerful and wealthy John Du Pont (Steve Carrell) begins to take an interest in him and takes him under his wing. This relationship drives a wedge between Mark and his brother David, but much to John’s displeasure, it doesn’t last long. This is definitely a story of power and how people can react in bad ways when they are owed too much of it. Every performance in this was astounding and the slow and subtle telling of the story was truly beautiful to watch. Foxcatcher is a film I’ve been dying to watch for some time and it DID NOT disappoint. Period. The film was also nominated for five Oscars back in 2015, including Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor. 

Score: 11/10

In Fabric (2018) as seen on BBC iPlayer

Based on the current reviews of In Fabric, I deem the film a poncy experimental spectacle. Not only did it not say much, but what it was trying to say was rather disturbing and quite frankly bizarre. However, it's not a film I can necessarily hate on as it is experimental, meaning from the get go, I shouldn’t be expecting any sort of clear cut narrative, with relationships, protagonists, conflict or hierarchies. Experimental films are more about exploring a central idea and having all its “characters'' not essentially prove the idea, but just talk about it, like a debate but everyone agrees in the end. A debate where everyone agrees would be boring, which is why I find experimental films to be boring as most of the time they don’t have a meaning and sadly as humans, we’re obsessed with finding the meaning of things or else we’ll go crazy. And I would say this film definitely left me crazy at the end, proving the idea of man’s constant need to find meanings in things. In Fabric wasn’t really relatable, funny, clever or bold. It kinda just...was.

Score: 5/10

Delicatessen (1991) as seen on DVD

I love how the world likes to think that the American film market is the only film market when in actuality the French created the actual concept of cinema and the idea to project “movies” onto a large screen. With this has come a plethora of incredible movies from France that have gone onto to change the film industry forever. There’s a reason why the most prestigious and exclusive film festival in the entire world is held in the South of France and not LA. Jean-Pierre Jeunet is the auteur behind Amélie (2001) one of the most well known independent films ever to be made and before Amélie came Delicatessen. This film is Tim Burton meets Wes Anderson but in French and tells the story of a man working for a butcher and the crazy characters he meets in the same apartment as him. By the end it's clear that The Butcher is selling more than pork and beef down in his store and that the new tenant is due to be the next item on sale. I loved how weird and larger than life the characters were and the otherworldly set design used for this film. There were so many moments that are quite hard to explain the beauty of them and if you’ve seen Wes Anderson or Tim Burton’s work, you’ll notice the similarities between this film and their work, perhaps showing a french influence on the current American market.

Score: 10/10

Amélie (2001) as seen on DVD

Continuing on with the French theme, I was reminded this month of the beauty of Amélie. Every, single, shot in this film is pure perfection and I bet all my money that Wes Anderson was a mega fan of this film when it came out. It's truly a film like none other and it’s only this time around did I realise how much I RELATE to Amélie. The way she sacrifices herself for others and gets nothing in return, the lengths she goes to tell someone something instead of JUST SAYING IT, her lack of friends, I can definitively say that there isn’t a character on screen that I’ve related to more than Amélie (besides Elio from cmbyn). If you haven’t seen Amélie have a word with yourself.

Score: 11/10

Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) as seen on Amazon Prime

Pan’s Labyrinth was a surprisingly amazing film and I wonder why I hadn’t seen it sooner. I was astounded to see it was in Spanish which I thought made the story somehow better. It's rare that we see such high budget and well known film that’s in a foreign language but I’m glad this film got the noise it did when it was released. Guillermo del Toro (The Shape of Water 2017) tells us the story of 10 year old Ofelia and her discovery of magical creatures in the woods that inhabit the outskirts of her new home. Not only that but it’s 1944. The Spanish Civil War has been over for five years but small groups of guerrilla rebels continue to fight against the new fascist dictatorship led by Francisco Franco. This is a well structured film that shows two strong worlds and combines them in a satisfying way, which isn’t an easy thing as sometimes films can get lost in the facts of history instead of the emotions and dynamic relationships. The set design in this was UNREAL as always and I really felt for the characters and their given circumstances. And that’s what we call a film.

Score: 11/10

I Care A Lot (2021) as seen on Amazon Prime 

For a full review of I Care A Lot, follow the link: https://ratingtheframe.tumblr.com/post/643763403606867968/a-strong-performance-from-rosamund-pike-that-we

Score: 8/10

Interview with a Vampire (1994) as seen on BBC iPlayer

We were doing SO WELL until I made the costly decision to watch this waffle of a film, directed by Neil Jordan. Not only was the story all over the place, but the dialogue itself was incredibly on the nose and self explanatory throughout. It feels like there was more talking about the film instead of showing the film, which just made me switch off from early on in the film. I hated the casting of Tom Cruise in this and there were moments when I believed his character, but none of them outweighed the overarched and over bearing performance he was attempting to give. Brad Pitt was marginally better but the performance of Kirsten Dunst who was 12 years old at the time this film was released, outdid both actors. She was the only character that I truly felt for / cared about and her on screen presence was both enviable and wise beyond her years. Personally, I can’t explain what this film was even about because I truly didn’t get what was going on, however if you’re a fan of Kirsten Dunst’s work, this would be a suitable film to watch in that respect. 

Score: 4/10

Fargo (1996) as seen on Amazon Prime

Fargo is probably most known as a Netflix series, but before that, it was originally a film directed by the Coen Brothers and starred the likes of Frances McDormand, Steve Buscemi, William H Macy and John Carroll Lynch. I’ve been meaning to watch Fargo for quite some time and I was not disappointed with the outcome of it. It's one of those good old fashioned crime films, with lots of twists and blood split throughout the film. The film won two Oscars in 1997; one for Best Actress which was handed to Frances McDormand playing a police officer investigating a string of murders in Minnesota and another for Best Original Screenplay. A really well constructed story with a fantastic cast and great cinematography work from Roger Deakins (1917 (2020), Blade Runner 2049 (2017) The Shawshank Redemption (1994). 

Score: 10/10

The Darjeeling Limited (2007) as seen on Amazon Prime

The Darjeeling Limited further proves to us Wes Anderson’s ability to create entire new worlds and show us stories that take place all across the world. Three brothers, Peter (Adrien Brody), Jack (Jason Schwartzman) and Francis (Owen Wilson) have travelled to India in an attempt to bond with one another “spiritually” after the death of their father. Peter and Jack aren’t too keen on this little expedition, irritated at their brothers' intrusiveness over the trip. The majority of the film is set on this fanatical train travelling across India and yet again, we are blessed with some phenomenal production design to tell us a fun and uplifting story. What’s more is that the boys’ mother (Anjelica Huston) lives in India as a nun at the foot of the Himalayas. This becomes the real reason for their venture and such a thing changes the character dynamics between the three men. India is shown in all its beauty in this film using the backdrop of three men’s relationship with one another as a story.

Score: 9/10

The Life Aquatic of Steve Zissou (2004) as seen on DVD

Another one of Wes Anderson’s lesser known films but equally as good as the rest, this film follows a group of marine explorers travelling across the pacific to try and kill a shark that supposedly ate a member of Steve Zissou (Bill Murray) ’s crew. With an all star cast composed of Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Cate Blanchett, Jeff Goldblum and Anjelica Huston this film was entertaining, enlightening and cinematographically ambitious. Steve Zissou is a fictional character who makes a living off of extreme and dangerous marine explorations. He makes films of his travels using his crew and after screening his latest film, he meets a young man (Owen Wilson) claiming to be his son. Evidently, Zissou is reluctant to accept that this man is his son and uses his presence as financial gain to the project. I appreciated all performances in this film and the set design (as always with Anderson’s films) was exceptional.

Score: 9/10

Life of Pi (2012) as seen on Amazon Prime

A highly visual and emotional film that carries beauty throughout in both performance and story, Life of Pi was directed by Brokeback Mountain (2005)’s Ang Lee and tells the story of Pi (Suraj Sharma and Irrfan Khan) a young boy alone in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with a fully grown Bengal Tiger. Winner of 4 Academy Awards including Best Director at the 2013 Academy Awards, this film does a phenomenal job of reminding us why cinema is such a superior and infinite art form. Pi’s family are on their way from India to America, exporting a large number of their zoo animals in hope of selling them once they reach the other side of the world. After a horrendous storm ravages their cargo ship, Pi is left all alone in the ocean with what only appears to be a small dingy, but to his horror, he comes to find that the zoo’s tiger Richard Parker is keeping him company in the middle of the ocean. Now if that ain’t a viable story, then I don’t know what is. To make a film look like it was set in the middle of a Pacific and with a Bengal Tiger is no small feat. Suraj Sharma’s performance was both truthful and powerful, despite the film being mostly shot in a studio with nothing but animation for Richard Parker. This is one of very few films that does the original novel justice. 

Score: 11/10

Capone (2021) as seen on Netflix

Yikes. Capone has not been getting a lot of love in the media since its release on Netflix on 24th February. Personally, it's not the most god awful, offensive film I’ve seen and yet I wouldn’t have been the one to have made such a film either. The film is supposed to depict the last year of the infamous and notorious Al Capone, who suffered from numerous illnesses at only the age of 48. Tom Hardy plays the blood thirsty gangster and I have to say, this was a thoughtless casting choice. Hardy doesn’t have an ounce of Italian in his face and he put on this larger than life caricature of an accent that had me feeling rather sorry for him at moments when I shouldn’t have been. The acting was exceptional, but believable and interesting? That’s another argument altogether. Cinematography and sound wise, I thought the film was excellent in those respects but again, those should be additions to the integral story of a film. I get why Hardy signed up though, what actor wouldn’t want to play a mob boss? Maybe the point of Al’s life in which this film was built upon was perhaps wrong for the screen and I’m sure most would have preferred Hardy to play Capone at his peak. This film is a clear example of people getting ahead of themselves when they first explore an idea for a film. This film could have easily been saved in the development stage had someone said let’s not do this.

Score: 5/10

Creed II (2018) as seen on Amazon Prime

Obviously a prequel will always outdo a sequel, however I found Creed II to be just as meaningful as the first film. Maybe even more so as Adonis Creed (Michael B Jordan) is becoming a father his responsibilities have shifted dramatically. He’s also desperate to fight Viktor Drago, a Ukrainian ruthless boxer whose father accidentally killed Creed’s father in a match decades before. Drago is tough, beyond what he and his coach Rocky (Sylvester Stallone) could ever imagine and because of this, it drives a wedge between Adonis’ relationship with his coach. Creed thinks Rocky doesn’t believe he can beat Drago but Rocky insists not fighting the bull of a boxer would benefit him greatly, after all, look what happened to his father. The character dynamics have shifted in this sequel, but the structure has remained largely the same. We kind of knew what we were being served at the end and the change in character was there for everyone.

Score: 10/10

...and that’s it! Everything I watched this February, you do not want to KNOW how long this list took to compile. Thanks for reading and see you next month!

ig: @ratingtheframe

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 10: The Midnight Duel

The purple light from a fading sun gave every burnished piece of gold the effect of being on fire. Trophies, awards, medals, and several plaques all kept a highly polished look about them and stuck to their walls to the exact degree they'd been placed on even as a crash erupted and slightly shook the glass casings.

"That's it, new rule!" Sirius growled as he unstuck his face from a glittering cup boasting of some long ago Transfiguration award. "If you get close to the end of the chapter, you have to warn the rest of us!"

"Seconded," James groaned, having landed in the cradle of a statue, and sure he'd have a bruise for it later.

"Err, I'll agree with whoever gets me down," Alice squeaked from atop the tallest case of a life sized trophy of the school's first, and last, troll wrestler, except someone had the brilliant idea to have the prize be the size of the opponent rather than the student. The misting reflection from her breathing on the face of the bronze statue wasn't leading her to the confidence of getting herself down, considering she feared if she moved a finger to grab her wand she'd topple right off.

Frank tried to instantly jump forward and help, but in his haste hadn't taken note he'd landed on a precariously shaped hourglass award and knocked it over as well as himself, creating a domino effect that ended with the one she was on anyways. Thankfully her perch didn't so much as shiver even with the others now leaning against it. Still unbroken, the leaning cases now resembled an odd staircase.

She shrugged, taking this in stride by edging to that side of the lopsided head and now awkwardly shimming herself down each level, testing her weight before trying the next so as not to further upset anything, and finally making it onto level ground and patting Frank on the shoulder as he got to his feet with a blush.

"Well then," James sighed as he got to the floor and pulled the book out of a display of a dozen other books...leading him to ignore the question of who won a book as an award? "Now that that's settled," he only cast one more look around to make sure everyone was present as he started, rolling his eyes at Sirius now checking his reflection to make sure his hair was still evenly parted from his fall.

He had to hold the book just slightly awkwardly from his hand that still didn't enjoy anything being brushed against it, but was instantly pulled in by the chapter title alone. This was easily going to be the most interesting thing Harry would be doing yet, a duel! He found quickly this to be his favorite chapter just from listening to Harry explore their world even more through so much talk of Quidditch.

"That Malfoy," Sirius rolled his eyes and scoffed at him. "As if he even knows what a helicopter is, let alone bragging about getting away from one."

Lily looked at him in complete disbelief, which only doubled when his friends nodded along in agreement. It had been maddening enough listening to Dudley do all that to Harry and their mutters about that, but she really couldn't believe they couldn't see the hypocrites they were being now.

Torn between continuing to ignore their presence, especially in light of the last chapter, and giving them such a piece of her mind they wouldn't have any of their own left, she was grateful when Alice gaped open mouthed at them for a moment before bursting out laughing and turning to Frank, "you ever seen a bigger lot of idiots?"

"Not in all of my years," Frank agreed as he browsed further away from them, pretending to admire some Special Awards to the School given to a student rather than keep staring at such imbeciles.

Sirius spluttered with indignity, Remus and Peter exchanged a look and chose to say nothing, while James rolled his eyes without remorse and kept going, he wasn't going to defend himself to two people he'd never really spoken to, instead he just gave an anxious look at Evans and didn't want to linger on the subject.

It didn't help that the more Malfoy continued to antagonize Neville, the more filthy looks she shot him, as if picturing his messy black hair instead of the sleek blond. When the Remembrall was stolen for a second time and all Malfoy did was laugh as the poor kid was taken away for a broken wrist, James couldn't help but snap at her scoff of disgust, green eyes still lingering on him, and not because he'd been the one to say it.

"Honestly Evans, you really think so low of me? I've never nicked someone else's stuff, certainly not laughed when they were injured!"

"No, but you certainly cause plenty of the injuries," she refused to give in.

"This could go on for a while," Sirius sighed as he wandered over next to Remus, who'd gone over to look at some Defense Against the Dark Arts awards.

Remus agreed noncommittally, he was watching Alice Smith and Frank Longbottom. They were holding hands and whispering to each other, and he found it sweet how clearly worried they were for a kid sharing Frank's last name, whereas James and Evans were bickering loudly over Harry surely about to do the same thing as he mounted his own broom for the first time in chase of a much better flyer.

Peter was watching the bickering pair eagerly, looking at any second about to jump in and save James, though as he'd never actually stepped in between any of their fights neither of them were sure why he kept bothering.

That was all the looking Sirius did before he leaned in to Remus and muttered, "bored yet?"

Remus gave him a sideways look, glanced around at the spacious room that had a few darker alcoves, and shrugged before walking as if checking to see that both doors to this room were locked as well. Obviously he didn't want to go right past the two sparring, so he should check the one around the corner first.

Sirius followed with a curious smirk in place, only a step behind as he turned the same corner, but still wasn't expecting to be seized and pinned to the wall. Remus was still being gentle, holding his shoulders as their lips met, as if still politely asking if this was okay to be doing while not exactly waiting for permission to do it while keeping Sirius pinned. Sirius was having none of that.

The rush from this seized him, he pulled him in tighter, pressing their lips heavily together and only remembering to breathe through his nose when he had to at the slight catch of his breath. He'd already had his fun testing the waters of just kissing with another, and he wanted this to go further like he had before. Now that his first male companion would be leaving at the end of the year, he was going to enjoy this new company, and was still easily pushing aside who exactly he was doing this to lest things get awkward.

A groan he at least tried to muffle escaped him as Remus seemed to instantly understand like always, his hands sliding down tantalizingly slow towards his hips, when he realized what he'd forgotten at the same time he interrupted.

"Unless you two are planning on snogging over there, do you mind if we keep going before time actually ends us."

"I forgot about Regulus," Sirius hissed, pulling away at once and watching the corner with a leer as if expecting him to come bursting around and spot exactly what he'd just said. He in fact hadn't taken note of where his brother had been this whole time, he could have been in this very spot and they likely wouldn't have noticed!

"You tend to do that a lot," Remus said in an honestly conversational tone of voice, releasing him at once and stepping away as if to actually inspect how many trophies a school could hold for the largest Shrivelfig bush.

Sirius hadn't been expecting that, and his first instinct was to reach out and pull him back in arm's length, or even keep going just to prove that they could, there was no reason to stop, when Prongs came around the corner instead with Peter, the first still looking ruffled despite how much he was trying not to.

"Can you believe her?" James muttered, loud enough the whole place could likely still hear anyways. "A bully, honestly, why doesn't she ever go after Snape as often as he curses me! He started it. What's Regulus doing anyways, never seen him bother to say anything before this even while he's been hanging around Snivellus more than she has lately."

"Can't imagine the idea of being interrupted like that," Sirius huffed while crossing his arms.

James seemed to miss the sarcasm.

Peter gave Prongs a reassuring clap on the shoulder, still looking inexplicably pleased by all of this like he'd just seen a great show. "It's alright James, she'll come around."

James gave him a sideways look, like he was trying to detect mocking in that, while Remus finally looked at them and said, "ever tried using some reverse psychology on her?"

"I told you Remus, you can only take two electives, and why would you want to take more anyways-"

"No you idiot," Remus cut off with an eye roll, "I mean, if you don't want her to think you a bully, than try to stop cursing her friend for a bit."

James just looked at him before looking to the other two, "you ever wonder if Moony invented his own language without sharing it with us?"

"All the time," Sirius agreed.

James kept going then just to ignore Remus rolling his eyes at them again.

His excitement grew heavily almost at once, easily blowing off the still foul grumblings he could hear from the redhead at reading of Harry with such a natural on a broom! He was twirling through the air with ease, without a trace of fear, and then he actually caught that little glass ball without a scratch on him! Even McGonagall's arrival couldn't dampen his suddenly good mood, one little detention no matter what the kids fear was trying to tell him otherwise wasn't going to ruin his pride at hearing his Quidditch abilities being passed on!

Somehow the moment got better the longer it kept going!

"I think he actually stopped breathing again," Peter said conversationally as James didn't quite seem able to spit out the reason of why Wood was in the room.

"Probably shouldn't have been letting him get so excited, what with recently being electrocuted and all," Remus agreed with a touch of concern.

"Alright Prongs?" Sirius asked cheerfully, finally heaving himself off the wall with one last look at Remus before going to his best friend and patting him forcefully on the back. "I'm happy for Harry to, he'll be a shoo in for Quidditch in his next year-" he froze though as he glanced down at the words James couldn't get past his lips but Sirius then shouted at the top of his lungs.

Evans actually face palmed at the news of Harry being made Seeker. All four Marauders were over there laughing, applauding each other, and generally pleased beyond all measure for such an accomplishment. Even Alice and Frank looked politely startled at such a feat. Regulus just huffed and sank even lower next to the roster of all past Quidditch players and the various trophies earned over the course of the school. Of course no one was going to mention that he'd made the team in his second year. Obviously his older brother had done nothing more than look on at him in surprise when he'd seen him in the last few games as if he'd forgotten his only brother's existence except when they were playing. He'd show him though, when they got out of this crappy time, whatever was going on here, and played their Quidditch finals that weekend.

The din was deafening from the four and Regulus was honestly tempted to get up all over again and shove that book up Potter's arse if he didn't keep going. Thankfully his image needn't be used, this time, when he kept going at shouting levels all the way up to and past Harry getting into a midnight duel, and only ended with that little Hermione girl getting in the way of their merriment.

"What a little shit, threatening to tell a Prefect on them," James said, that smile finally slipping from him at such a turncoat move.

"She's as bad as Snivellus, more so than Malfoy," Sirius agreed, his nose turned up in disgust.

"Nosy little bugger, hope Harry or Ron shake her off before they get there," Peter nodded along.

They were all sure Lupin agreed as well, though his quiet mutter didn't carry as far like Potter did when he kept going.

Alice and Frank got a moment to smile again when they heard Neville was alright, and had inherited his father's memory problems, and they were all listening unabashedly to the duel about to come when the four kids got there, which meant they all said something quite unique to the little pint not even showing up.

"What a little shit."

James nearly fell over he turned so hard to get his head back around the corner to see Evans looking in his direction, arms crossed, and face still just as red from their fight, though clearly she was putting that aside for now to curse while saying, "never heard such a cowardice move, the least he could have done after starting the fight was finished it!"

Regulus frowned at her though, interrupting whatever fool hearted comment Potter was fixing to agree with. "I found it rather clever actually, why get yourself in trouble when you can just as easily setup your enemy?"

"I can see the merits of both sides," Frank agreed, "the underhanded tactic while he's just saving his own skin from really having to face the fight."

"It's purely ridiculous is what it is," Alice scoffed as she looked at her boyfriend. "There was no winning side in any of this and I'm honestly surprised it went this far instead of all the kids backing down."

"You lot have never been in a real fight have you?" James said aghast at all of this.

"And you've been in too many," Evans snapped testily, causing him to back down and go right back to Harry's problem.

It was a bit entertaining honestly, watching the kids panic and treating getting away from Filch like such a harrowing journey, but the amusement died instantly when the three headed dog entered the picture. Then no one was smiling, minds honestly frozen from shock of hearing of such a monster in their school and if it was really going to get away with eating a bunch of first years!

No one spoke, the rooms shadows feeling more vast than ever and the echo of a massive dog barking in all of their minds until James finally declared all four kids safe no matter what they tried to discuss afterwards.

"That was unbelievable," Peter was the first to find his voice, his light brown eyes still a little wider than normal. "Absolutely ghastly! Whose ruddy idea was it to have that thing in the castle!"

"Du-Dumbl-" Remus stuttered as if a child trying to speak the name for the first time.

"He wouldn't," James said at once. "The Forest he can't really control what comes in and out of there, but he'd never have that thing where so many students could so easily get to it."

"Well this certainly wasn't all Hagrid's doing," Sirius disagreed.

Remus flinched and no one really had much more of an argument, but the mystery still lingered like nothing they'd ever experienced in school. Just what was going on around there?

"Well here's my warning," James sighed as he read the final lines of this chapter.

[fairymadnessyeah]

A Poisoned Heart

Shigadabi week day 6

AO3 Link

Summary: Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, lived a young, kind prince and a young, powerful mage. This is their story...

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Deadly / Magic / Distance

"This way, guys!" Midoriya guided them through the dense swamp.

If Shouto was honest, he hated this place. He preferred forests or open fields than the humid and smelly swamps. But his friends were in danger, and he would do anything for his friends.

A few months ago, their group and Bakugou's had separated. Shouto along with Uraraka, Midoriya, Iida and Tsukuyomi headed north while Bakugou, Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari and Ashido went west. The two groups had different objectives and so their paths separated. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence though, and it wasn't like they had no way to contact each other, which had lead them here.

Two days ago, Sero contacted them and told them Kirishima had gotten hurt by hunters. They were in the middle of nowhere, but they had luckily found a mage who agreed to heal him. Not ones who turn their back on their friends, the group forgot about their quest and went to their friend's aid. If somebody had told him that he, Prince Shouto of the Fire kingdom, second heir to the throne, would find himself travelling to a swamp, he would have thought they were unhinged. But here he was, doing, exactly, that. Accompanied by a young blade master, a witch apprentice, a knight in training and his personal mage on a journey to make sure his dragon friend wasn't in danger. Who would have guessed that the quest to help his brother would leave him to here?

"I see something!" Uraraka yells, pointing towards a line of smoke in the air ahead of them.

They followed it, cutting through trees and greens and stepping on slippery muddy terrain. They knew they were in the right path when the party heard the loud screams of a barbarian they knew. The arriving group soon came to a clearing where a small cottage was situated and outside of it, Bakugou and his companions were there. Once they saw him, they all ran to greet them in their loud and excitable nature. Kirishima didn't though, the bandages over his abdomen stopping him, and neither did Bakugou, the Barbarian King deciding to stay by his dragon's side.

"I can't believe you guy came all the way over here!" Kirishima says as they all gather around him.

"Kirishima! You are one of our friends, of course we would come to your aid!" Iida tells him, moving his arms in a chopping manner and making a clanking sound with his armour.

"So, who did you find to help you?" Midoriya asks, and they hear footsteps and movement in the cottage. The door opens, revealing a skinny man with platinum hair in a dirty hooded robe.

Suddenly, a blade is drawn as mismatch eyes widen in surprise. Before it can strike though, it's path is blocked by another sword. Todoroki and Bakugou faced-off against each other, blade against blade, as the rest of the group stared in surprise at the scene. Todoroki was not someone who attacked without a reason or provocation. Maybe the Barbarian would, but not the prince. The roles had been reversed, and nobody knew what to do.

"What the Fuck, Icy-Hot!? What do you think your doing!?" Bakugou demands an answer.

"Step aside Bakugou," is the only thing he gets. "You can't trust this man," he glares at the man who the blonde was protecting.

"Is nice to you see you too, Shouto..." the mage with crimson eyes says. His voice soft and rough, barely a whisper.

"Do not call me that! To you, it's Your Highness," the royal says making his companions gasp softly. Never before had they heard their friend demand someone referred to him by his title.

The two warriors are slowly separated, but none of the drops their stand. Ready to pounce at any minute, Todoroki's eye don't leave the hermit mage. Bakugou steps between them as a warning. He knows he should be siding with his friend the bastard, but he can't. Not only is it out of character, but also the swamp mage saved Kirishima's life. He owes him enough to protect him from the weird-acting prince.

"Todoroki, this isn't like you," the greenette tells him, trying to make him lower his sword. "He hasn't done anything,"

"But he has," Todoroki says. "It's because of him that my brother is only a shell of the person he used to be,"

"I see," the mage says, the small light that his eyes held gone. "I can give you an antidote for him, but you need to know the consequences it might cause,"

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Everybody had the ability to practice magic. Some more than others. But the only way for one to practice the art legally, you needed to acquire a certificate seal. And the only way to get one was by being taught by a certificated master.

Shimura Tenko, after an accident with his magic, got accepted into The Draiocht, one of the most famous institutes of magic. He aced all of his classes, and once he graduated, he was given the most prestigious of positions a mage his age could achieve. The Personal Mage of a Crown Prince. And not any prince but the heir to the throne of the Fire Kindom, Todoroki Touya.

Kings and Queen, as well as any other royal or council member who mattered, had a personal mage by their side. They acted as bodyguards, advisors and magic experts. He was thrilled to be in such a position. He had become a powerful mage, with the ability to tame the dark arts, and he even had a new name to prove it. From rags to riches, Shigaraki Tomura went from the son of a simple merchant to one of the wizards in the palace of Caith Capital in the wealthiest kingdom. And then he met the prince.

Now, he didn't have anything against royals, but he knew what to expect with most of them, boring lessons, boring high-class parties, boring meetings. He had the plan of practising his magic more and even mastering the subjects his alma matter deemed forbidden when he was a student. But the Todoroki brat he was given to, however, didn't care for any of that. The elder prince spent his days and night avoiding his lessons his father tried to force him into. He would hide in the gardens or the castle's secret tunnels, waste his time in the stables or map-room and fool around with his siblings. Tomura, for the most part, didn't care if the bratty royal wanted to be an irresponsible heir. What bothered him was that as his personal mage, he was dragged to all the problems the prince got into.

"Why are we here again?" the mage asked one day as he was, once again, taken to the map-room of the royal library by the prince.

"I just need to find something before the trip tomorrow," the redhead says as he rummages through cabinets and shelves.

"Can't you be a normal prince for once?" he moans as he watches the royal take out a rolled map. "You are supposed to go on this trip to learn about the old kings of history! Don't you want to be a good king?" he crosses his arms.

"And you think that's the way to learn how to be a king?" Touya rolls his eyes and takes one of the cylindrical cases. "They only teach about dead guys in boring books or documents. That's not what a king is supposed to be," he places the map he took in the case and opens a trap door. "A king should be a servant to his people, and I doubt the guys they tell me about, knew anything about their people,"

That interaction was the beginning of all. The day he learned there was more to the prince than a careless and bratty attitude. The next day, as planned, King Enji took his son to learn about the old kings of the kingdom. They were accompanied by a knight of the palace, his squire and the mages of each royal. On the second day of the trip, the prince tried to slip away from the camp. Tomura was woken by a rustling sound inside his tent, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the prince was packing a bag.

"Where are you going?" he interrupts the guy, tapping his foot annoyed.

"Hunting for food... ?" Tomura sighs frustrated.

"You can't just leave in the middle of the night," he whispers loudly not to wake anybody else. "They're going to think you were killed, or kidnapped, and they are going blame me for it! I'm the one keeping an eye on you-"

"Listen," he interrupts him. "If you want to stay here, fine, but I'm not going to spend another day with my old man. Besides, I'm going to see you all in that 'grand library place'. I'm just going through a more... fun route," the teen says and continues packing.

Tomura, meanwhile, wants to rip out his hair in frustration. He opts instead to scream into his pillow. Once he is done with that, he starts packing too. The teen stares at him for a few seconds before Tomura speaks again. "My job is to keep an eye on you, which means I need to stay close to you, unfortunately," his answer makes the prince smile though, and the two leave camp undetected.

They ended going through a breach in between two mountains that was full of exotic birds. Tomura, when he saw the path the prince showed, though he wanted to hunt some of the fascinating animals and keep them as trophies. But he didn't. The heir to the throne quietly watched amazed and didn't bother the beast or their nest. He took a few feathers, but only those he found on the floor. The two somehow made it to the town before the king and his party, and once there they had fun. They visited the market, played in the woods and spent their night on a local tavern. It was the most fun Tomura had had in a long time.

The king wasn't happy, of course. But the mage believed he would let it go. The prince lived for getting into trouble, and his father's rage seemed to be rewarding enough. He learnt how wrong he was when Touya revealed the truth to him. Ever since he started working for the palace, Tomura healed the fire prince of multiples wounds. None of them were fatal, but he did get hurt on a daily basis. He always believed it was due to his recklessness, but one night as he applied a healing salve on the princes' bruises, Touya started talking. The mix had a dizzying effect on people, so he doubted he would have said anything if it wasn't for its side effect.

"When I become king, things are going to change... My mom is going to be happier... and my brother and my sister and my brother... we are all finally going to be free of him... he won't hurt us anymore..."

That trip had been eye-opening for him.

He understood that the prince was nothing more than a bird in a golden cage. He longed for freedom and happiness. And if he wanted to, he could get it. If he decided to, he could escape the castle walls and run free. Yet, he didn't. For he knew that if he got away, he would be the only one to do so. His mother and his sibling would have to stay behind with his father. Touya tried to make the hell they were living in bearable. He goofed around with his sibling, he pasted a smile on his face for everyone to see, but longed for something he couldn't have. Something, he would have to sacrifice his family to achieve.

Instead he waited, he remained in the dark and took the hard hits for his family. So that when he becomes king, his family could finally live in peace.

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As the years went by, Tomura stayed by Touya's side.

After their first successful trip on their own, King Enji allowed Touya to quest. He would be sent on the kingdom's behalf and only to those the king approved. And as his mage, he accompanied the prince in all of his adventures. The two had become friends over time. Touya still drove him up the wall with his messes, and he had had to save his behind more times than he could count. Touya took him to see the world and treated him like a person. All of the people he met in his life always expected something of him. His biological father expected a perfect son, his professors and mentors expected greatness and power and the king expected loyalty and servitude. And as a poor bastard looking for approval, he tried to meet those expectations. But with Touya, all of that was gone. He didn't have to be Shigaraki Tomura, the royal mage or the best alumni. He only needed to be himself. That was more than enough for the redhead.

"Is everything okay?" he asked as they set up camp near the road. The two were coming back from a successful quest and were in no hurry to return to the palace. "You've been really quiet lately," Touya hums.

"Have you noticed that lately we have only been sent to places with royal and noblewoman of marriageable age?" he says, looking at nothing.

He had. They were always offered a room to stay in by the people in charge of the places they went. They didn't accept all of them, but whenever they found themselves in one, Touya would be doted on by the female heirs of the family. It probably didn't help that the redhead was naturally charming and loved to flirt. Tomura ignored the way his chest tugged in pain whenever he caught him.

"My birthday is coming, and father is going to throw a ball to celebrate it," he says after a while.

"But he does so every year. It doesn't mean he is looking to betroth you," Tomura tries to look at the positive side as the pain in his chest festers.

"I saw the guest list," Touya says defeated. "All bachelorettes of the region will receive an invitation," he sighs and leaves to hunt something for them to eat. When he returns, they don't talk about it, and Tomura suggests they take a longer route back to the castle.

When Touya's birthday comes, just like the eldest prince predicted, princesses in uncomfortable and flashy ballgowns infest the ballroom. The royal family greets and welcomes the guest, and then Touya is presented once everybody arrives. Beside him, as he always had been, is Tomura. The presentation is over quickly, and once they join the guest, Touya is introduced to all the females interested in him. Tomura can see how much the prince wants to run to the nearest exit. He eyes them as a dried man searches for a drop of water.

The ball is boring. Tomura would rather lock himself in his quarters before attending. But as part of the royal court, he has to. He usually spends the night talking to the other mages who show up (which aren't a lot), eating the delicious food made for the occasion or taking care of the youngest prince. The prince Todoroki Shouto was still mageless at his young age, and Tomura liked him enough to keep an eye on him during the more formal events while Touya played Proud Heir. He was with the youngest prince when King Enji called him.

"Have you seen my son, mage?" he demands, belittling him like he always did. "The dance is about to begin, and he has suitors to please,"

'No wonder he left...' Tomura thinks, repressing the urge to roll his eyes.

"I believe he is freshening up, your Majesty. Should I fetch him?" he actually hadn't seen him for a while, but he knew him enough to guess where he was.

"You seem close to my son," the older man grumbles and glares at him.

"I spend a lot of time with him. It's my job, sir," he doesn't understand where the inquiry is coming from.

"Good. Remember that. You are only a mage, and Touya is a prince. Nothing more. Now bring him here." he bows and leaves. He had learned long ago not to talk back to the king.

Just as he expected, he found Touya hiding in the castle gardens. There was a small area hidden between the green bushes and trees. The rest of the family often spent time together there, without Enji breathing down their backs. With a giant tree they could climb on, a swing set, a fountain and flowers, it was the perfect place to get away from your problems. The prince was sitting in one of the swings when he got there.

"I figured you'd be here," he says and sits in the swing next to him. "It's a lovely night, don't you think? As lovely as the women making a line to meet you..."

"Psshh, you don't mean that," the guy grumbles. "Have you ever been in love, Tomura?" he asks after a pause.

"Wha- what?"

"Have you ever fallen in love with somebody?" he askes again, something in his eyes glimmering through the sadness.

"I- I guess not," he looks aways as his cheek turn hot. "I think I would notice if I did,"

"My mother told me she once loved my father," Touya tells him. "That they met in a ball like this and a year later they were getting married. Do you think it's weird that, even if I know it didn't work out for them, I still want to marry for love?"

"Do you love someone?" Tomura doesn't know why, but that hurts.

"I think I do, but I have to dance with everybody and not them," Touya admits.

"I thought you liked dancing," he knew he did. He saw him smiling with his sister and mother whenever they practised.

"Being forced to kind of sucks the joy out of it," he grumbles, and an idea struck his head. "Would you dance with me?" he turns to him, his spirits lifted.

"Huh!?"

"I know it sounds stupid, but..." he gets up from the swing and offers him a hand. "I want to enjoy some part of tonight," Tomura stares between his pleading eyes and the extended hand and, before he can think about it, he accepts.

Touya pulls him to his feet, and he suddenly founds himself in the prince's arm. Their formal wear is tight and uncomfortable, and he feels like he is in a costume when he wears it. As if he is pretending to be someone he is not. But while he is in Touya's embrace, body against body and an arm holding on to his waist, he feel alive. He feels like he belongs there, that he fits. He feels his heart jumping in his chest, beating against his skin, trying to get out. The two sway with the silence. Their music composed of crickets, the flowing water, their silents steps on the grass. Touya stares into his eyes as he rises over him. He gets lost in those blue eyes, shining like sapphires and penetrating his soul. He feels cold shivers run up his back and he knows his cheeks are turning pink.

He is overwhelmed. His pounding heart is deafening him, his head is spinning, and his palms are sweaty under his gloves. He feels as if he is about to pass out or throw up or both. Swallowing down his nerves, he tries to centre himself. He is a powerful mage. He can't get nervous over some moonlight silent slow dance.

Suddenly, the hood over his head falls down.

"You should wear your hood down more often," Touya whispers as he caresses his face gently.

"TOUYA!" a scream cuts through the moment, like a cold blade.

"That's- That's Natsuo," Touya says as they slowly separate. "We- we better get going," Cold filtering through Tomura's bones as he puts his hood back up.

The night goes on as planned by the king. Once Touya is back, he dances with all the ladies that Enji has deemed worth his time, he chats with the monarchs from far away places and Tomura watches as he tries to calm his heart. The royals gush over the prince, complimenting his manners and praising Enji for raising such a great heir. The princesses gossip and fawn over his charm. And soon enough the guests leave and the ballroom is cleaned by the servants.

But as he lays in his bed awake at night, Tomura is shaken. He keeps going back to that moment. With Touya under the moonlight, dancing and being safe in his arms. He had never felt so held, so cared for, so... loved.

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Everything went to hell a few months later.

Touya and Tomura went on another quest to a neighbouring city. It was supposed to be an easy one, just deal with some pest who was eating some of the crops. They expected to be back by nighttime with how simple it was, which ended happening, but not for the reasons they anticipated.

The pests, which were described as small lizards by the townspeople, were actually wyvern hatchlings. And when the prince and his mage started attacking the baby wyverns, the mother retaliated. Even if at the end they defeated her, they had not been ready for a fight like this. Touya had ended badly injured and Tomura, who was fighting against falling unconscious, brought him over to the palace in a rush. Natsuo and Shouto had been waiting for them luckily. The moment Tomura saw them, that he realized his the prince would be okay, he fell down.

When he woke up, Uwabami and Kido, Fuyumi and Natsuo's mages, were at his side healing him. It took him a few minutes to get over the drowsy feeling the restorative salves gave. But once his mind was capable of coherent thoughts, the first thing his head conjured was Touya. It wasn't unusual that the heir haunted his brain, but the last time he saw him, the man was at the brink of death.

He tried to get out of bed quickly. But his fellow mages stopped him, Trying to prevent him further hurting himself and explaining what happened since he arrived. He wasn't paying much attention to them, as he was too busy trying to get out of there, but he got enough pieces. Touya was out of danger but still unconscious, and he was being treated by the king's mage, Ending. It helped calm him a little knowing that he would make it, but he still tried to go with him. His fellow mages had to tie him to the bed to stop him from moving so that he could heal properly. Though, it was kind of pointless to do that since he could do undo the binding with his magic.

He knew they were right. He knew he had to rest so that the magic could heal him. But Touya needed him. He needed him, and he wasn't there. He had to be there. He should be the one in pain, no Touya. They fought like that for a few minutes until the king's mage arrived. Ending told him he could see him, if he stayed one more day resting. If not, he would be quarantined in his room until the king decided he could go back to Touya. Tomura didn't let anybody boss him around or give him ultimatums. But with the threat of Touya in the line, he obeyed.

The next morning, before even the servants entered his room, Tomura was by Touya's side. He didn't leave until his the prince woke up. He missed all meals and only talked with the ones who also came to visit the heir. Queen Rei and Princess Fuyumi were the ones who stopped by the most, along with their mages. The two brought him food and assured him this hadn't been his fault. Prince Natsuo came a few times, when he found the time between his lessons. Prince Shouto stopped by once. King Enji had begun his training, and the kid could hardly move without his father barking out orders. The king neglected the whole matter and not once dropped by.

After a week of sitting by his bed, watching and changing bandages, the redhead woke up. He first heard some painful moaning, and then those two blue eyes that tormented his dreams opened up. And the first thing the heir to the throne told his mage when he woke up after almost dying was a small and weak: "Hey..."

"You, IDIOT!" Tomura did not take that response too kindly. He had been reeling in his emotions for the last couple of days. "Why don't you ever listen to me!? I told you to run! I told you to escape! That it was too much for us! And yet you ignore me and head straight into danger! You could have gotten yourself killed! Do you understand that!?" the mage snaps at the man.

"Calm down. Everything worked out-"

"Doesn't it register in your thick skull that you could've died!? That you almost did!? Don't you understand you can't die, you dumbass!?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the heir and all that-"

"I could've lost you, Touya!" Tomura yells and the dam breaks. Tears fall freely out of his eyes, wetting his cheeks, as he hiccups and sobs uglily. "I a- a- almost lost- st- lost you! You ca- can- can't die! W- wha- what wi- will I d- do without you!"

Touya doesn't answer. He only pulls him closer and leans him his shoulder to cry. Tomura holds on to him tightly, as if he would disappear if he let go. Touya strokes his back lovingly with one hand and with the other grasps his silver hair as he wails out his worry. They stay there for what feels like hours, but it was only a few minutes. It wasn't enough for him, though. He could spend a lifetime in Touya's arms, and it still wouldn't be enough. When his sobs start to decrease, Touya takes his face with his hands and places their foreheads together.

"I'm not going anywhere, alright?" Touya reassures him.

He doesn't know who leans in first or who made the first move. But as they hold each other, their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It's everything Tomura could have hoped for and even better than he imagined. It's perfect. It's the best moment of his life. But the beautiful moment is shattered when Touya separates from him and grasps his chest in pain.

A second later, the prince is twisting in pain as black veins grow out of his heart and start to cover his body. Tomura is panicking, trying to heal him with his magic and not understanding what's wrong.

"I- I don't understand, why can't I heal you?" Tomura cries in hysteric as he sees his loved one suffer.

"Because you are the one causing the pain," a voice answers him as the door slams shut.

"What do you mean? What did you do to him?" He asks as King Enji glares at him from the doorway and slowly makes his way to the other side of the bed.

"I told you to remember your place, mage. You are nothing compared to us, just filthy scum we use for protection. Your love is poison, and it will slowly kill him as long as you stay close to him," the king tells him.

"No... no..." he starts backing away in shock and notices the black veins stop growing. "Why- why are you doing this?" he asks the older man.

"My lineage will be remembered as the greatest and most powerful there was. My kingdom will remain a symbol of strength for generations. And I will not let you or anybody get in between my plans," the royal glares. "Now leave, mage. Leave and never return, unless you rather watch your beloved prince die,"

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After his story, Shouto apologized, dropping his sword to the ground, and explained that his father told him the mage had cursed his brother and then ran. "Is the poison what changed him?" Shouto asks him. His brother, a man who once enjoyed his life and smiled, became an emotionless ghost when the mage left. His father had always said he saved Touya from the mage when he was attacking him, but the family didn't believe him. The only thing they were sure about was that whatever had happened, changed his elder brother.

He got married to Princess Moe Kamiji of the Volcano Islands, and a few months later he ascended to the throne. His crowning should have been a good thing for them, but it quickly turned sour. In his dead-like state, Touya was more susceptible to suggestions, and their father was controlling him like a puppet. He made Touya fund his campaign to gain more territory and accept a rotating co-ruling system. On winter, his father would dictate as king while Touya continued the attacks on the rest of the land. On summer, they changed again. He didn't have many memories of his brother from before he traded mages, he was really young when it happened. But in the little ones he had, he remembered his brother was happy. They would pull pranks on the squires, steal pastries from the kitchen and play in the secluded part of the garden. He remembers how his brother would tell him about his adventures with Shigaraki or the time he taught him about the secret passages of the castles.

"No, that's not what changed him," Shigaraki says. "Your brother wouldn't have let the poison stop him. He would have come looking for me and would have gotten hurt in the process. I- I couldn't let him get hurt... because of me..." the mage explains, his voice breaking down. Shouto, now that he had a clear head could see how crushed the mage looked. He had heavy bags under his eyes that had no hope or sparkle left, and his actions seemed to lack motive. He was wholly and utterly defeated and was just as broken inside as his brother. "Before I left, I made a potion for him to forgot all about me..."

"And that included his feelings," Shouto concludes. "But there has to be a way to help him. He is nothing more than a puppet for my father to use now," he pleads with the mage. The skinny hooded man sighs and goes back to his hut. He then comes out with a flask with purple content.

"This will restore his memory," he gives him the concoction. "but you have to promise me you'll stop him from coming near me. He will die if he does," the broken mage warns him.

"I promise,"

It took him a week to reach the castle. His friends had been thankfully alright with taking the small detour on their journey. Shouto had been very lucky to have founds friends like them. Friends that would lend a helping hand for when it mattered the most. His mother was the one who welcomed them since it was spring. On winter and autumn, she stays in her birth kingdom, where now Natsuo resides. Shouto can't blame her for leaving, since he did the same, the moment his father wasn't looking. The only one who stayed the entire year on the castle was Fuyumi, her husband and Queen Moe.

As his mother takes his friends to their quarters where they can stay, Shouto begins his plans. He takes two goblets from the kitchen and fills one with wine and the other with the concoction the mage gave him. His father is away right now, fighting against some small kingdom and spending all the gold they own. However, he is a problem for later.

The obstacle he has to get rid off first is Touya's mage, Hawks. As prince and heir, Touya couldn't be left mageless. Shigaraki's replacement was a graduate from the Hverv Magical School, born from the fire kingdom. (He did come with an apprentice though, Tsukuyomi, who later became Shouto's mage.) He was a good mage, but his loyalty laid with Enji. He wasn't a bad man, far from it actually. But if it didn't work, then he would tell their father, and they needed to keep him in the dark for a bit to take the old king away from the power he still possessed.

"I'll distract Hawks while you do it," Tsukuyomi tells him.

"Thank you, Tsukuyomi," he watches the bird-man walk away with his raven on his shoulder.

Shouto puts the two cups on a tray and heads to his brother's study. When he arrives, the man is signing documents. He doesn't even acknowledge he is there until Shouto slams the door close. "Hello brother, how was your journey?" the young king asks in a monotonous voice.

"Good, we came across something interesting in the swamps of sikker død," he tells him, placing the tray with the two cups on the desk. "A mage, a powerful one, he gifted my companions and I some wine," he offers the cup with the concoction to the full redhead. "Care for some?" Touya grabs the cup without taking his eyes off the document he is going through and gulps it down in one go. He then leaves it on the wood again and return to what he was doing. "Are you feeling okay?" Shouto asks. Shouldn't his brother start to feel something? Was the potion not working.

"No, I ... I guess I took it too fast..." his brother slurs as he starts clutching his head. "What... did you... give me?" he tries to stand up but stumbles, holding to the desk to keep steady. Shouto rushes to his side. His brother let out one scream of pain before he gasps and tears form in his eyes. He suddenly looks at him, his eyes clearer than ever. "You said- you said he was in the sikker død swamp?" he asks, his tone not emotionless anymore, but desperate and on the verge of breaking.

"I can't let you go there. I promised I'll keep you away from him, that'll keep you from dying," Shouto tells him.

"Then I'm sorry about this, Shou," and before the young prince can react, his brother grasps his arms tightly and pushes him with all his force against the table. The young king runs, slamming the wood doors behind him. The noisy struggle catches the attention of the mages close by and when he catches sight of bright red wings. "Hawks! I need you to take me to the sikker død swamps! Now!" he orders the mage, and dragging him down the hallways and disappearing through a room.

Shouto, along with his mage, is hot on his heels behind him. When the two reach the bedroom the two entered, the redhead and his mage are already in the air. They can see them flying on the back of Hawks falcon, Keigo. Tsukuyomi calls forward Dark Shadow and the small raven grows in size. They get on the now giant bird and keep on their pursue, leaving the castle behind. They don't catch up with the two older men until nightfall, and by then, Touya reached the small cottage.

The redhead doesn't even wait for the bird to land. He jumps to the muddy ground and sprints towards the door, calling for his love. Shouto follows him, but he is only by the doorway when he hears the heart-wreaking scream of brother.

"TOMURA!" he sees his brother is kneeling by the bed, next to the unmoving body of the mage. "Please, open your eyes, Tomura! Don't do this to me! Please!" his brother begs as he holds the body of the mage, trying to wake him. "I love you! I don't know what to do without you! Please! Don't leave me!" he kisses the mage's forehead before hiding his face on his neck and loudly sobbing and crying.

Shouto suddenly notices a small bottle with a label and a letter next to it on the table. The bottle is empty, and it says  'white laurels extract' . The message is addressed to Touya. Shouto takes it and moves closer to his brother. His brother is still crying on the mage's body, weeping his heart out over his lost love. He slowly touches his shoulder to catch his attention and offers him the letter. Tears stream down his elder brother's face as he turns to look at him. With a shaking hand, he grabs the piece of paper and starts reading. When he is done, the flow of his eyes doubles and his sobs harden. He places a tear-filled kiss on Tomura's hand and continues crying, grieving the death of his dear mage.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To my prince,

I knew your brother wouldn't be able to stop you. Nobody could ever hold you back from getting what you wanted, not even me. It drove me insane sometimes. Your persistence knew no limit, and many times it got us into so much trouble. Yet it was one of the many things that made me fall for you.

I love you, Touya. You are my world, my everything. It pains me not being able to hold you or be by your side. But it will kill you. And I can't let that happen.

The people need you. You are their king. You need to guide them to a brighter future and be light for them to follow. I know you can do it. You will be one of the greatest Kings your kingdom will ever have, even if I'm not beside you.

Goodbye, Touya. I love you.

With all my heart,

Tomura

[dalekofchaos]

Why I always hated Harry becoming an Auror

I always hated Harry becoming an Auror, it just doesn’t work character wise and it strikes a raw nerve that a boy who I always stood by grew up and became a cop for a Ministry Of Magic that has never done anything right for him or anyone else in the Wizarding World.

He spent the entirety of OOTP realizing that the Ministry Of Magic is corrupt to the core and the fact that SIrius was pretty much sentenced without a fair trial, just shows how the system is broken and there is no chance to change. But even aside the fact, Harry pretty much becomes a cop. Harry James Potter has complete All Cops Are Bastards attitude and I can never ever envision that for Harry. 

He spent his entire childhood and teen years fighting Voldemort and fighting a damn war and  A WAR HE WAS BORN INTO!

Plus The Death Eaters gave up after Voldemort's defeat. The majority lost faith and those who stayed loyal, died or was captured. There is no need for Harry and Ron to become Aurors. There literally is no need for Aurors

It makes as much sense as Toph Beifong becoming a cop

Harry always desired a life of quiet peace or even a boring life. He did not like the fame that came with his life, he did not want to be the chosen one nor did he want the to be with the Ministry(A Ministry who that slandered his name did nothing about Voldemort, FALSELY IMPRISONED HIS GODFATHER. Harry just wanted a quiet and peaceful life with his friends and family and a life without fame or conflict. JK did the exact opposite of Harry’s desires.

Here’s the future I would’ve prefered for Harry. Becoming Ginny’s Trophy husband, Being a stay at home father, or going back to Hogwarts and become the permanent Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor.

Harry loved teaching in Dumbledore’s Army. He loved teaching his friends and you can damn  well bet he would love teaching kids how to properly defend themselves. Harry would have loved being a teacher and watching his students improve throughout the years. Revamping the curriculum because if he could teach kids as a child himself how to cast a patronus, perhaps everything they think of as only NEWTs levels and beyond really just weren’t taught well before.

Making him become an auror just makes him continue the fight he was forced into as a child and didn’t enjoy, Harry enjoyed teaching the DA. Why wouldn’t he chase after doing something he loves with his life????? And then he’d be able to train the next generation to make sure that they can protect the world, too.

And just imagine Professors Potter and Longbottom joking about students and the other teachers during meals, playing mini pranks on Headmistress McGonagall, who’d purse her lips and remind them that they were adults, then look away before they could catch the twinkle in her eye. All the students would either have a massive crush on them or admire them or both. Harry is the only teacher capable of taming Teddy (who became known as the prank king, comparable to the Weasley’s twins) and eventually James, Al, and Lily. He develops connections with each of his students and teaches them according to the way he’s noticed they learn best and his classroom becomes a usual hangout for students, as he’s always got food and a “lame dad joke” that everyone secretly loves.

Voldemort cursed the position so no one could stay for over a year, and Rowling said that the curse broke upon his death. It would have brought the Prophecy’s plot line to full circle, because it shouldn’t have been anyone other than Harry who became the first un-cursed DADA professor. It would have been just another part Harry vanquished.

And how important would it be to the students as well, and to him being able to progress with a comfortable, normal life? Because every witch/ wizard in the UK  goes through Hogwarts. The first year after the war, he starts, and the students all come home at Christmas or in the summer and their parents are all ‘WOW you’ve been taught by HARRY POTTER what was he like?” And all these students who are totally over it already like “I don’t know, just… he’s just Professor Potter. He’s just Harry. He makes shit jokes and hands out chocolate in lessons. He’s just a really great guy.” And over the years it stops being people yelling ‘The Chosen One’ or ‘The Boy Who Lived’ in the streets. He goes in to Diagon Alley with his family and everyone’s like ‘Oh my god, Sir! Hi! Look, it’s Professor Potter!’ And no-one wants to know how it felt to die or what vanquishing Voldemort was like- they want to tell him how their doing, and chat with him about how they want to go into the Aurors or Dragon taming, or what they’re doing now. They want one of their favourite teachers to meet their kids, reminisce about old lessons.

But of course, everyone still knows it’s Harry Potter. And it becomes like a thing among the students, whenever anyone feels low on confidence or like they’ll never achieve things in life, and someone’ll cut in like ‘Of course you can. Harry defeated the greatest Dark Wizard in memory, and he’s a massive dork who’s a little bit frightened of his wife and kids, still trips over the trick step, didn’t get the date he wanted to the Yule Ball and spills pumpkin juice all over his robes regularly. He’s human just like you, and if he could do that, you can sure as hell make the DMLE if that’s what you want.”

Like Harry and Neville being constant reminders to all their students that heroes are just people- just real, normal, faulty people.

(And then can we also have Ginny Weasley, taking some time off from playing professional Quidditch so she comes to do a few years as the flying coach. And her first year Harry goes down to the pitch with a few of the 7th years he has under his wing, and Ginny being, as always, vaguely terrifying but in an incredibly attractive way. And all these 7th years just gaping at her like ‘Woah. You are married to her?!” And Harry just massively smug like ‘Yeah, I know right?’)

#but it would be so perfect??? #bc it would help normalize his life so much #like there would just be this generation of kids who are like #‘ugh who cares that he killed the dark lord he gAVE US HOMEWORK OVER BREAK’ #like the beginning of every year there would be the new first years who would freak out a little #but then it would calm down #and most of the students would literally forget #until like clockwork the fifth years would have their history of magic class on the second war #and they’d all show up to DADA looking a little awestruck and everyone would be extra quiet #and harry would give this kind of annoyed sigh—except it’s fake bc he TOTALLY knew this was coming #bc binns is a bro and he totally gives him a heads up every year #and harry wouldn’t have any lesson plans for the day and instead he would just sit at the front of the room and answer everyone’s questions #but otherwise everyone would just be like ‘professor potter!! i can’t get my patronus to work! help me!’ #and like they’d go home at the end of the year or for break and their parents—who ARE still starstruck by harry james potter #would pester their kids with questions#and the kids would just be like ‘merlin i don’t know?? potter’s such a huge dork you should hear him talk about proper wand movements’ #but they would all love him #and he would feel safe and normal and utterly accepted

Why would he continue fighting and supporting an oppressive system afterwards instead of teaching students how to defend themselves?

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 10 paragraph xvi

Gyuri left us out in the Sixties, not far at all from the Barbours’. “This is the place?” I said, shaking the rain off Hobie’s umbrella. We were out in front of one of the big limestone townhouses off Fifth—black iron doors, massive lion’s-head knockers. “Yes—it’s his father’s place—his other family are trying to get him out legally but good luck with that, hah.” We were buzzed in, took a cage elevator up to the second floor. I could smell incense, weed, spaghetti sauce cooking. A lanky blonde woman—shortcropped hair and a serene small-eyed face like a camel’s—opened the door. She was dressed like a sort of old-fashioned street urchin or newsboy: houndstooth trousers, ankle boots, dirty thermal shirt, suspenders. Perched on the tip of her nose were a pair of wire-rimmed Ben Franklin glasses. Without saying a word she opened the door to us and walked off, leaving us alone in a dim, grimy, ballroom-sized salon which was like a derelict version of some high-society set from a Fred Astaire movie: high ceilings; crumbling plaster; grand piano; darkened chandelier with half the crystals broken or gone; sweeping Hollywood staircase littered with cigarette butts. Sufi chants droned low in the background: Allāhu Allāhu Allāhu Haqq. Allāhu Allāhu Allāhu Haqq. Someone had drawn on the wall, in charcoal, a series of life-sized nudes ascending the stairs like frames in a film; and there was very little furniture apart from a ratty futon and some chairs and tables that looked scavenged from the street. Empty picture frames on the wall, a ram’s skull. On the television, an animated film flickered and sputtered with epileptic vim, windmilling geometrics intercut with letters and live-action racecar images. Apart from that, and the door where the blonde had disappeared, the only light came from a lamp which threw a sharp white circle on melted candles, computer cables, empty beer bottles and butane cans, oil pastels boxed and loose, many catalogues raisonnés, books in German and English including Nabokov’s Despair and Heidegger’s Being and Time with the cover torn off, sketch books, art books, ashtrays and burnt tinfoil, and a grubby-looking pillow where drowsed a gray tabby cat. Over the door, like a trophy from some Schwarzwald hunting lodge, a rack of antlers cast distorted shadows that spread and branched across the ceiling with a Nordic, wicked, fairy-tale feel. Conversation in the next room. The windows were shrouded with tacked-up bedsheets just thin enough to let in a diffuse violet glow from the street. As I looked around, forms emerged from the dark and transformed with a dream strangeness: for one thing, the makeshift room divider—consisting of a carpet sagging tenement-style from the ceiling on fishing line—was on closer look a tapestry and a good one too, eighteenth century or older, the near twin of an Amiens I’d seen at auction with an estimate of forty thousand pounds. And not all the frames on the wall were empty. Some had paintings in them, and one of them—even in the poor light—looked like a Corot.

I was just about to step over for a look when a man who could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty appeared in the door: worn-looking, rangy, with straight sandy hair combed back from his face, in black punk jeans out at the knee and a grungy British commando sweater with an ill-fitting suit jacket over it. “Hello,” he said to me, quiet British voice with a faint German bite, “you must be Potter,” and then, to Boris: “Glad you turned up. You two should stay and hang out. Candy and Niall are making dinner with Ulrika.” Movement behind the tapestry, at my feet, that made me step back quickly: swaddled shapes on the floor, sleeping bags, a homeless smell. “Thanks, we can’t stay,” said Boris, who had picked up the cat and was scratching it behind the ears. “Have some of that wine though, thanks.” Without a word Horst passed his own glass over to Boris and then called into the next room in German. To me, he said: “You’re a dealer, right?” In the glow of the television his pale pinned gull’s eye shone hard and unblinking. “Right,” I said uneasily; and then: “Uh, thanks.” Another woman—bobhaired and brunette, high black boots, skirt just short enough to show the black cat tattooed on one milky thigh—had appeared with a bottle and two glasses: one for Horst, one for me. “Danke darling,” said Horst. To Boris he said: “You gentlemen want to do up?” “Not right now,” said Boris, who had leaned forward to steal a kiss from the dark-haired woman as she was leaving. “Was wondering though. What do you hear from Sascha?” “Sascha—” Horst sank down on the futon and lit a cigarette. With his ripped jeans and combat boots he was like a scuffed-up version of some below-the-title Hollywood character actor from the 1940s, some minor mitteleuropäischer known for playing tragic violinists and weary, cultivated refugees. “Ireland is where it seems to lead. Good news if you ask me.” “That doesn’t sound right.” “Nor to me, but I’ve talked to people and so far it checks out.” He spoke with all a junkie’s arrhythmic quiet, off-beat, but without the slur. “So—soon we should know more, I hope.” “Friends of Niall’s?” “No. Niall says he never heard of them. But it’s a start.”

The wine was bad: supermarket Syrah. Because I did not want to be anywhere near the bodies on the floor I drifted over to inspect a group of artists’ casts on a beat-up table: a male torso; a draped Venus leaning against a rock; a sandaled foot. In the poor light they looked like the ordinary plaster casts for sale at Pearl Paint—studio pieces for students to sketch from—but when I drew my finger across the top of the foot I felt the suppleness of marble, silky and grainless. “Why would they go to Ireland with it?” Boris was saying restlessly. “What kind of collectors’ market? I thought everyone tries to get pieces out of there, not in.” “Yes, but Sascha thinks he used the picture to clear a debt.” “So the guy has ties there?” “Evidently.” “I find this difficult to believe.” “What, about the ties?” “No, about the debt. This guy—he looks like he was stealing hubcaps off the street six months ago. “ Horst shrugged, faintly: sleepy eyes, seamed forehead. “Who knows. Not sure that’s correct but certainly I’m not willing to trust to luck. Would I let my hand be cut off for it?” he said, lazily tapping an ash on the floor. “No.” Boris frowned into his wine glass. “He was amateur. Believe me. If you saw him yourself you would know.” “Yes but he likes to gamble, Sascha says.” “You don’t think Sascha maybe knows more?” “I think not.” There was a remoteness in his manner, as if he was talking half to himself. “ ‘Wait and see.’ This is what I hear. An unsatisfactory answer. Stinking from the top if you ask me. But as I say, we are not to the bottom of this yet.” “And when does Sascha get back to the city?” The half-light in the room sent me straight back to childhood, Vegas, like the obscure mood of a dream lingering after sleep: haze of cigarette smoke, dirty clothes on the floor, Boris’s face white then blue in the flicker of the screen. “Next week. I’ll give you a ring. You can talk to him yourself then.” “Yes. But I think we should talk to him together.” “Yes. I think so too. We’ll both be smarter, in future… this need not have happened… but in any case,” said Horst, who was scratching his neck slowly, absent-mindedly, “you understand I’m wary of pushing him too hard.” “That is very convenient for Sascha.” “You have suspicions. Tell me.” “I think—” Boris cut his eyes at the doorway. “Yes?” “I think—” Boris lowered his voice—“you are being too easy on him. Yes yes—” putting up his hands—“I know. But—all very convenient for his guy to vanish, not a clue, he knows nothing!” “Well, maybe,” Horst said. He seemed disconnected and partly elsewhere, like an adult in the room with small children. “This is pressing on me—on all of us. I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you. Though for all we know his guy was a cop.” “No,” said Boris resolutely. “He was not. He was not. I know it.” “Well—to be quite frank with you, I do not think so either, there is more to this than we yet know. Still, I’m hopeful.” He’d taken a wooden box from the drafting table and was poking around in it. “Sure you gentlemen wouldn’t like to get into a little something?” I looked away. I would have liked nothing better. I would also have liked to see the Corot except I didn’t want to walk around the bodies on the floor to do it. Across the room, I’d noticed several other paintings propped on the wainscoting: a still life, a couple of small landscapes. “Go look, if you want.” It was Horst. “The Lépine is fake. But the Claesz and the Berchem are for sale if you’re interested.” Boris laughed and reached for one of Horst’s cigarettes. “He’s not in the market.” “No?” said Horst genially. “I can give him a good price on the pair. The seller needs to get rid of them.”

I stepped in to look: still life, candle and half-empty wineglass. “Claesz-Heda?” “No—Pieter. Although—” Horst put the box aside, then stood beside me and lifted the desk lamp on the cord, washing both paintings in a harsh, formal glare—“this bit—” traced mid-air with the curve of a finger—“the reflection of the flame here? and the edge of the table, the drapery? Could almost be Heda on a bad day.” “Beautiful piece.” “Yes. Beautiful of its type.” Up close he smelled unwashed and raunchy, with a strong, dusty import-shop odor like the inside of a Chinese box. “A bit prosaic to the modern taste. The classicizing manner. Much too staged. Still, the Berchem is very good.” “Lot of fake Berchems out there,” I said neutrally. “Yes—” the light from the upheld lamp on the landscape painting was bluish, eerie—“but this is lovely… Italy, 1655‥… the ochres beautiful, no? The Claesz not so good I think, very early, though the provenance is impeccable on both. Would be nice to keep them together… they have never been apart, these two. Father and son. Came down together in an old Dutch family, ended up in Austria after the war. Pieter Claesz…” Horst held the light higher. “Claesz was so uneven, honestly. Wonderful technique, wonderful surface, but something a bit off with this one, don’t you agree? The composition doesn’t hold together. Incoherent somehow. Also—” indicating with the flat of his thumb the too-bright shine coming off the canvas: overly varnished. “I agree. And here—” tracing midair the ugly arc where an over-eager cleaning had scrubbed the paint down to the scumbling. “Yes.” His answering look was amiable and drowsy. “Quite correct. Acetone. Whoever did that should be shot. And yet a mid-level painting like this, in poor condition—even an anonymous work—is worth more than a masterpiece, that’s the irony of it, worth more to me, anyway. Landscapes particularly. Very very easy to sell. Not too much attention from the authorities… difficult to recognize from a description… and still worth maybe a couple hundred thousand. Now, the Fabritius—” long, relaxed pause—“a different calibre altogether. The most remarkable work that’s ever passed through my hands, and I can say that without question.” “Yes, and that is why we would like so much to get it back,” grumbled Boris from the shadows. “Completely extraordinary,” continued Horst serenely. “A still life like this one—” he indicated the Claesz, with a slow wave (black-rimmed fingernails, scarred venous network on the back of his hand)—“well, so insistently a trompe l’oeil. Great technical skill, but overly refined. Obsessive exactitude. There’s a deathlike quality. A very good reason they are called natures mortes, yes? But the Fabritius…”—loose-kneed back-step—“I know the theory of The Goldfinch, I’m well familiar with it, people call it trompe l’oeil and indeed it can strike the eye that way from afar. But I don’t care what the art historians say. True: there are passages worked like a trompe l’oeil… the wall and the perch, gleam of light on brass, and then… the feathered breast, most creaturely. Fluff and down. Soft, soft. Claesz would carry that finish and exactitude down to the death—a painter like van Hoogstraten would carry it even farther, to the last nail of the coffin. But Fabritius… he’s making a pun on the genre… a masterly riposte to the whole idea of trompe l’oeil… because in other passages of the work—the head? the wing?—not creaturely or literal in the slightest, he takes the image apart very deliberately to show us how he painted it. Daubs and patches, very shaped and hand-worked, the neckline especially, a solid piece of paint, very abstract. Which is what makes him a genius less of his time than our own. There’s a doubleness. You see the mark, you see the paint for the paint, and also the living bird.”

“Yes, well,” growled Boris, in the dark beyond the spotlight, snapping his cigarette lighter shut, “if no paint, would be nothing to see.” “Precisely.” Horst turned, his face cut by shadow. “It’s a joke, the Fabritius. It has a joke at its heart. And that’s what all the very greatest masters do. Rembrandt. Velázquez. Late Titian. They make jokes. They amuse themselves. They build up the illusion, the trick—but, step closer? it falls apart into brushstrokes. Abstract, unearthly. A different and much deeper sort of beauty altogether. The thing and yet not the thing. I should say that that one tiny painting puts Fabritius in the rank of the greatest painters who ever lived. And with The Goldfinch? He performs his miracle in such a bijou space. Although I admit, I was surprised—” turning to look at me—“when I held it in my hands the first time? The weight of it?” “Yes—” I couldn’t help feeling gratified, obscurely, that he’d noted this detail, oddly important to me, with its own network of childhood dreams and associations, an emotional chord—“the board is thicker than you’d think. There’s a heft to it.” “Heft. Quite. The very word. And the background—much less yellow than when I saw it as a boy. The painting underwent a cleaning—early nineties I believe. Post-conservation, there’s more light.” “Hard to say. I’ve got nothing to compare it to.” “Well,” said Horst. The smoke from Boris’s cigarette, threading in from the dark where he sat, gave the floodlit circle where we stood the midnight feel of a cabaret stage. “I may be wrong. I was a boy of twelve or so when I saw it for the first time.” “Yes, I was about that age when I first saw it too.” “Well,” said Horst, with resignation, scratching an eyebrow—dime-sized bruises on the backs of his hands—“that was the only time my father ever took me with him on a business trip, that time at The Hague. Ice cold boardrooms. Not a leaf stirring. On our afternoon I wanted to go to Drievliet, the fun park, but he took me to the Mauritshuis instead. And—great museum, many great paintings, but the only painting I remember seeing is your finch. A painting that appeals to a child, yes? Der Distelfink. That is how I knew it first, by its German name.”

“Yah, yah, yah,” said Boris from the darkness, in a bored voice. “This is like the education channel on the television.” “Do you deal any modern art at all?” I said, in the silence that followed. “Well—” Horst fixed me with his drained, wintry eye; deal wasn’t quite the correct verb, he seemed amused at my choice of words—“sometimes. Had a Kurt Schwitters not long ago—Stanton Macdonald-Wright—do you know him? Lovely painter. It depends a lot what comes my way. Quite honestly— do you ever deal in paintings at all?” “Very seldom. The art dealers get there before I do.” “That is unfortunate. Portable is what matters in my business. There are a lot of mid-level pieces I could sell on the clean if I had paper that looked good.” Spit of garlic; pans clashing in the kitchen; faint Moroccan-souk drift of urine and incense. On and on flatlining, the Sufi drone, wafting and spiraling around us in the dark, ceaseless chants to the Divine. “Or this Lépine. Quite a good forgery. There’s this fellow—Canadian, quite amusing, you’d like him—does them to order. Pollocks, Modiglianis— happy to introduce you, if you’d like. Not much money in them for me, although there’s a fortune to be made if one of them turned up in just the right estate.” Then, smoothly, in the silence that followed: “Of older works I see a lot of Italian, but my preferences—they incline to the North as you can see. Now—this Berchem is a very fine example for what it is but of course these Italianate landscapes with the broken columns and the simple milkmaids don’t so much suit the modern taste, do they? I much prefer the van Goyen there. Sadly not for sale.” “Van Goyen? I would have sworn that was a Corot.” “From here, yes, you might.” He was pleased at the comparison. “Very similar painters—Vincent himself remarked it—you know that letter? ‘The Corot of the Dutch’? Same tenderness of mist, that openness in fog, do you know what I mean?” “Where—” I’d been about to ask the typical dealer’s question, where did you get it, before catching myself. “Marvelous painter. Very prolific. And this is a particularly beautiful example,” he said, with all a collector’s pride. “Many amusing details up close—tiny hunter, barking dog. Also—quite typical—signed on the stern of the boat. Quite charming. If you don’t mind—” indicating, with a nod, the bodies behind the tapestry. “Go over. You won’t disturb them.” “No, but—” “No—” holding up a hand—“I understand perfectly. Shall I bring it to you?” “Yes, I’d love to see it.”

“I must say, I’ve grown so fond of it, I’ll hate to see it go. He dealt paintings himself, van Goyen. A lot of the Dutch masters did. Jan Steen. Vermeer. Rembrandt. But Jan van Goyen—” he smiled—“was like our friend Boris here. A hand in everything. Paintings, real estate, tulip futures.” Boris, in the dark, made a disgruntled noise at this and seemed about to say something when all of a sudden a scrawny wild-haired boy of maybe twenty-two, with an old fashioned mercury thermometer sticking out of his mouth, came lurching out of the kitchen, shielding his eyes with his hand against the upheld lamp. He was wearing a weird, womanish, chunky knit cardigan that came almost to his knees like a bathrobe; he looked ill and disoriented, his sleeve was up, he was rubbing the inside of his forearm with two fingers and then the next thing I knew his knees went sideways and he’d hit the floor, the thermometer skittering out with a glassy noise on the parquet, unbroken. “What…?” said Boris, stabbing out his cigarette, standing up, the cat darting from his lap into the shadows. Horst—frowning—set the lamp on the floor, light swinging crazily on walls and ceiling. “Ach,” he said fretfully, brushing the hair from his eyes, dropping to his knees to look the young man over. “Get back,” he said in an annoyed voice to the women who had appeared in the door, along with a cold, dark-haired, attentive-looking bruiser and a couple of glassy prep-school boys, no more than sixteen—and then, when they all still stood staring—flicked out a hand. “In the kitchen with you! Ulrika,” he said to the blonde, “halt sie zurück.” The tapestry was stirring; behind it, blanket-wrapped huddles, sleepy voices: eh? was ist los? “Ruhe, schlaft weiter,” called the blonde, before turning to Horst and beginning to speak urgently in rapid-fire German. Yawns; groans; farther back, a bundle sitting up, groggy American whine: “Huh? Klaus? What’d she say?” “Shut up baby and go back schlafen.” Boris had picked up his coat and was shouldering it on. “Potter,” he said and then again, when I did not answer, staring horrified at the floor, where the boy was breathing in gurgles: “Potter.” Catching my arm. “Come on, let’s go.” “Yes, sorry. We’ll have to talk later. Schiesse,” said Horst regretfully, shaking the boy’s limp shoulder, with the tone of a parent making a not-particularly-convincing show of scolding a child. “Dummer Wichser! Dummkopf! How much did he take, Niall?” he said to the bruiser who had reappeared in the door and was looking on with a critical eye. “Fuck if I know,” said the Irishman, with an ominous sideways pop of his head. “Come on, Potter,” said Boris, catching my arm. Horst had his ear to the boy’s chest and the blonde, who had returned, had dropped to her knees beside him and was checking his airway.

As they consulted urgently in German, more noise and movement behind the Amiens, which billowed out suddenly: faded blossoms, a fête champêtre, prodigal nymphs disporting themselves amidst fountain and vine. I was staring at a satyr peeping at them slyly from behind a tree when, unexpectedly —something against my leg—I started back violently as a hand swiped from underneath and clutched my trouser cuff. From the floor, one of the dirty bundles—swollen red face just visible from under the tapestry—inquired of me in a sleepy gallant voice: “He’s a margrave, my dear, did you know that?” I pulled my trouser leg free and stepped back. The boy on the floor was rolling his head a bit and making sounds like he was drowning. “Potter.” Boris had gathered up my coat and was practically stuffing it in my face. “Come on! Let’s go! Ciao,” he called into the kitchen with a lift of his chin (pretty dark head appearing in the doorway, a fluttering hand: bye, Boris! Bye!) as he pushed me ahead of him and ducked behind me out the door. “Ciao, Horst!” he said, making a call me later gesture, hand to ear. “Tschau Boris! Sorry about this! We’ll talk soon! Up,” said Horst, as the Irishman came up and grabbed the boy’s other arm from underneath; together they hoisted him up, feet limp and toes dragging and—amidst hurried activity in the doorway, the two young teenagers scrambling back in alarm—hauled him into the lighted doorway of the next room, where Boris’s brunette was drawing up a syringe of something from a tiny glass bottle.

[sammiexwtf]

DIO Sounds About Right

Hi please enjoy my shitty JJBA fic (You can find it on AO3 and Wattpad with the same name) NSFW

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“Giorno I am so sorry that you haven’t been on good terms with your father practically since your birth, but I am NOT failing this project just because you want to avoid him,” You huffed. The blonde man on your phone screen shot you an annoyed look, which most likely mirrored the one on your own face.

“I don’t know why you’re so damn adamant on staying at my house to finish this project Y/N. I’ve already stayed over at your place countless of times and as a plus you’re closer to the library, we could just walk over when we need to,” Giorno let out a deep sigh as he leaned against his bed frame. “You know how I get when he’s around and since his business trip was cancelled he’ll be here for the whole weekend.”

“Look Gio, I know you try and avoid him as much as possible and I’m not clueless about your feelings towards him,” you mumbled with a small frown. “It’s just that my roommate is planning on using the apartment for one of her ridiculous parties and we’re not going to have any peace for our work if you come over here. Besides, even if your dad is going to be home all weekend you always tell me he locks himself in his study, so it’s not like we’re going to be graced with his presence anyways.”

“Still it’s just the simple thought of being under the same roof as him that’s bothering me. Plus, I don’t think you’ve even met my dad, so you wouldn’t really understand why I’m so against it.”

“You make it sound like he’s some sort of monster, maybe we should start calling him Count Dracula or something.” Your friend snorted at your stupid joke, trying to hide his smile by turning his face away from the screen.”Either way you won’t be completely alone with him if I’m there, and I know you wouldn’t be able to put up with a bunch of drunk college girls trying to get you into their panties.” At your last remark the blonde made a look of disgust and knew that you basically won the argument. If there was one thing that bothered Giorno the most, it was those self proclaimed ‘fans’ of his that were scattered throughout the university that you both attended, your roommate being one of them. Trying to avoid their affections while they were drunk would cause him even more displeasure than usual.

“Fine then. I’ll text you the address.” You couldn’t hide your excitement as you jumped out of bed to start packing your bag. This would be the first time going over to Giorno’s house since you’ve met him, and you weren’t going to waste any time if he decided to change his mind last minute.

“Alright I’ll see you soon then. Bye Giogio!”

“I told you not to call me that!” You playfully stuck your tongue out at the blonde before ending the FaceTime call to finish packing.

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

You couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at the enormous house before you, flicking your head back and forth between the address Giorno had sent to you and the one plated in gold above the large double set doors. You even asked the boy more than once if he sent you the wrong address by mistake, earning you a barrage of middle finger emojis and obscenities at having to repeat himself over and over. Gingerly you lifted your hand to the doorbell and rang it, hearing the chime as clear as day echo inside. Your eyes shifted above the doorbell and noticed a plaque with the name ‘Brando’ etched across it. The sound of one of the doors opening gained your attention once more as a gorgeous young woman stepped out from them. She was wearing what looked to be a tight fitting maid’s uniform, with long brown hair swept to the side and cascading down one of her shoulders.

“Welcome to the Brando residence,” She said with a polite smile. “How can I help you Miss?”

‘Brando residence?” You thought to yourself. ‘I thought Giorno’s last name was Giovanna?’

“Uh hi...I’m looking for Giorno? I’m not sure if I’m at the right address.” The young woman perked up at Giorno’s name and stepped aside, holding the door open with a warm smile.

“You must be Y/N! Please come inside, Mr.Giovanna is indeed expecting you tonight!” At the confirmation you let out a breath of relief before stepping through the threshold, only to stop at the sight of the marble staircase before you. The house was far from being considered a mansion, but nonetheless did it look like something straight off of one of those celebrity reality shows. You jumped at the sound of the large door closing behind you, forgetting momentarily about the girl as she quickly made her way towards you. “Just give me one moment to go get Mr.Giovanna for you, he was insistent about showing you the house on his own.” All you could do was nod your head as words seem to fail as she hastily made her way up the stairs. You didn’t have time to look around though as Giorno came around from the top of the stairs and smiled down at you.

“This would be the part where I’d say welcome to my humble abode, but there is absolutely nothing humble about this monstrosity, my father made sure of that,” He sneered. He motioned with his hand for you to come up and you quickly began to ascend the stairs. Once you were at the top it didn’t seem as scary as before, but the rest of the home was just as beautiful. You honestly weren’t paying attention to where you were going, you were trying to take in everything at once from the amazing artwork that lined the walls, to ornate furniture, and even taking a moment to look at how pristine the hardwood floors were that you could practically see your face through it. Ok, maybe they weren’t that clean but still.

Before you knew it, you were in Gio’s bedroom as he made his way to his bed and opened his laptop. His bedroom was a simple creme color, a coffee brown bookcase filled with novels and trophies was lined next to a window that reached from the floor to the ceiling. Directly across from his bed was a flatscreen T.V sitting on top of a matching brown dresser. His walls were covered in paintings that looked as if they belonged in an art museum and a map of the world hung above his headboard. You stared down at his bed then, afraid to sit down as you didn’t want to wrinkle the deep purple duvet atop it. It took Gio a moment to realize that you were still standing by the doorway, his eyes following yours as they danced across his room as well before stopping right back at you.

“What?”

“Why am I just finding out now, after 2 years of friendship might I add, that you’re fucking loaded? I mean I knew you came from a family with SOME money but holy shit dude!” You stared into his green eyes, looking for an answer. Only to be met with a smile.

“Well technically I’m not rich. My father is. Hence there was nothing to find out.” You gave the blonde a dirty look, earning a chuckle from him before deciding that the bed was no longer intimidating and sat down on it.

“You know what I meant. I know you said your dad had a busy job, but what does he do to be able to own a house like this? Is he part of the mafia?” This time your question earned you a hearty laugh from your friend and you felt your ears get hot, not liking to be laughed at when you were being serious. You threw your duffle bag at Giorno, only for him to catch it with ease before placing it next to him on the bed. “I’m not trying to be funny Gio! Answer me!”

“First and foremost, you should know the mafia is MY forte, and I probably would respect the man if he actually was a member. It would make getting in a bit more easier.” You snorted at his answer. If you had a dollar for every time the boy mentioned dropping out of school to join the mafia you’d probably be as rich as his father by now. “However, every now and then he gets one as a client, if they’re willing to pay good that is. He’s a lawyer.” You looked around once more and out the open door as the maid walked by carrying a basket full of laundry. If this is what a lawyer could afford, maybe you were studying the wrong major.

“I have one more question.” Gio simply nodded his head for you to continue as he began typing on his laptop, pulling up the notes for the project you were assigned. “Why did that maid say this was the Brando residence? There was a plaque outside too with that name. I thought your last name was Giovanna?”

“It is Giovanna,” he answered without looking up from the computer screen. “That was my mother’s maiden name. My father’s last name is Brando. They were never married.” His curt reply told you that there was definitely more behind the story, but you decided not to press the issue for now and kept any more questions to yourself.

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

Roughly three or four hours had passed since you and Giorno had begun working on your project, satisfied with the work so far you both decided to take a break. The due date wasn’t until a week from now, but this project was for your marine biology class and the professor was known for being a hardass when it came to grading so the sooner you could work on it, the more time you could use to perfect it before it reached him. You tossed your pen onto the bed, cracking your fingers and stretching your arms. Giorno had brought out his espresso machine an hour into the session and was now brewing himself another cup. You honestly never heard of anyone who kept a spare coffee machine in their bedroom, but Giorno mentioned that while he lived in Italy, it apparently was a normal thing. You called bullshit but decided not to break your head over it anymore.

“You sure you don’t want another cup of coffee Y/N?” You covered your mouth to stifle a yawn, wagging your finger at him.

“No thank you, if I drink too much caffeine I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Besides,” You added while hopping off of his bed. “Another cup of anything and I think my bladder will explode. Where’s the closest bathroom in this maze?”

“Down the hallway on the other end of the staircase, turn right.”

“Grazie!” He simply shot you a thumbs up as you made your way out with his, albeit vague, directions. Soon you went down the hallway and passed the stairs. “Alright he said turn right and we should be in business…” As soon as you turned the corner you stopped to see three doors, one on the right side closest to you and two on the left. All three were closed and Giorno hadn’t mentioned there’d be more than one door. “Well...only one way to find out.” Without another thought you naturally went to the single door on the right and opened it without hesitation. Not the brightest idea.

You halted in place, mouth going dry. The door you opened led not to the bathroom but to an older looking study. The three walls in front of you were lined ceiling to floor with bookcases, a small globe in the corner. In the center of it was a large mahogany desk, covered in scattered papers. What made you really stop however was the tall and muscular blond man casually leaning against the desk...with the maid on her knees facing him. The moment you had opened the door he had slowly looked up from the woman to you, not even startled by your intrusion. At first the only sounds you could hear was your own rapid heartbeat echoing in your ears, but now you were focusing on the sounds coming from the maid and noticing how her head was bobbing. A blush began to creep up your neck to your face as it looked like he made no intentions of stopping her either.

“Is there something I can help you with? I’m a bit busy if you couldn’t tell.” His deep voice had wrapped around your mind, slowly dragging you out of your thoughts. It sounded so calm, despite the current situation. You had to basically tear your eyes from the scene in front of you, your face burning more.

“I-I’m so sorry! I was just looking for-” You began to stutter, but he raised a hand stop you mid sentence.

“It’s the door across.” You quickly bowed and practically slammed the door shut, missing the sinful look on the man's face as he watched your retreating form.

You bolted into the room across, thankful this time for it actually being the bathroom as you locked the door letting out a shaky breath. You had no doubt in your mind that you had just met Giorno’s father, and unceremoniously at that.

“What a great first impression,” You thought aloud. You made your way to the sink to run some cool water on your face in hopes of getting your flustered look back to normal. After you were done and completed your original business you just stood at the closed door, you were a bit nervous to step foot outside the bathroom if god forbid HE was to come out at the same time. Unfortunately, god decided to dislike you at this moment as you heard a small knock on the restroom door. “Just a second,” You shakily called out. Deeply hoping it was Giorno wondering what was taking you so long. When you finally had the gall to open the door you were instead met with the sight of the young maid, her hair this time was a bit disheveled and a small pink tint was hinting at her cheeks.

“Hello again Ms. Y/N,” She squeaked out. This time she would not meet your eyes, looking towards the ground instead. “Mr. Brando would like for you to join him in his study for a moment. I will be taking my leave for the evening, please enjoy the rest of your stay.” She bowed and sped away and out of sight, not giving you a chance to apologize about walking in on them. You swept your eyes over the closed door to the study across from you, feeling a cold sweat begin to form on your brow. You inhaled deeply before settling your nerves and walking over. This time you knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

“Come in.” With another deep breath you slowly edged the door open, once again being welcomed by the dimly lit study. This time the man, whom you now knew was in fact Giorno’s father, sat behind his desk patiently, fingertips pressed together right above his wide chest. “I’m glad you learned how to knock this time,” He teased with a grin.

“Trust and believe I learned my lesson, again I want to properly apologize about intruding on...something so private.” You could hear your voice falter under his intense gaze, and he let out a deep chuckle. The sound was so alluring, and you felt your throat beginning to dry.

“That’s quite alright. I wanted us to start over on that first impression. Given the maid explained to me you’re a friend of my son, I didn’t think it appropriate for your first meeting of me to be in the middle of having my cock sucked,” He stated as if he were just talking about a small inconvenience. Your eyes widened at his crudeness and you couldn’t help but blush and look away, positive that you were as red as a cherry now.

“Well then...I appreciate the second chance then Mr. Brando.”

“Dio.”

“I beg your pardon?” You turned your face back to him, now he had his arms resting beside him on the chair. There was an almost playful look in his eyes.

“You can call me Dio. Mr. Brando is far too old for my taste.”

‘Of course his name would be something like Dio...how well it suits him too,’ You thought to yourself.

“Alright then...Dio. I’m Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You bowed to formally greet the man, and when you looked back up he was beckoning you with his finger to come forward. You thought about just staying put but in the end began walking towards him. As you got closer, you were able to notice his features more clearly. His vibrant blond hair sat at neck length, small fringes of bangs reaching right about his thick brows. His eyes almost looked cat like, predatory even yet strikingly alluring. You assumed they were a light brown color but with the dim lighting they almost looked red, adding a supernatural aura to him. He was gorgeous, and now you knew where Giorno got his looks from. Once you reached the edge of his desk, he held out his hand for you, almost as if he were asking for a handshake. You reached out your own to reach his, taking notice at how incredibly large his hand was to yours. However he gently wrapped his fingers around your hand and leaned over, placing a warm kiss on your knuckles. The small action immediately sent a wave of heat through your entire body. He looked up at you through hooded eyes, not moving your hand away from his face. Your blush had never left, and the heat began to grow unbearable as you watched his eyes slowly sweep down your face, stopping for a moment at your lips before coming back up to lock once more with your own.

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Y/N.” His voice dropped to a seductive whisper, the breath from his words ghosting over your knuckles and sending a shiver down your spine. Slowly he slipped his hand from yours, lingering on your fingertips for the briefest of moments before resting it on his thigh. You followed his movements with your eyes, noticing how thick and muscular his thighs were, straining against the fabric of his beige dress pants. Your eyes crept up, landing on the small amount of skin peeking out from his shirt he hadn’t bothered to tuck back in. The white button down seemed to be a second skin, as it clung to every contour and muscle on his body, the first two buttons undone to give you a glimpse of just what lies underneath. Finally, your journey stopped on his lips; deliciously pouty and upturned into one of the most devilish smirks you’d ever seen. “See something you like?” You dragged your eyes up completely to meet his, only to be greeted with an intense gaze that burned through your entire body. He had watched you ogle him shamelessly like a horny school girl, and couldn’t look more proud about it. At that moment the door to the study swung open, snapping you out of your trance.

“I was worried you got lost, looks more like you got trapped.” Giorno’s familiar voice was laced with venom, his face contorted to one of disgust. He stayed at the entrance of the study, holding the door open to allow the light from the hallway to seep through. He was focused solely on Dio, who sat relaxed in his chair unbothered by the angry blonde boy.

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise my son.” He emphasized the last two words, earning an eye twitch from the younger. “ I was just introducing myself to your exquisite friend here. I’m quite hurt that you hadn’t introduced me to her sooner.” Giorno simply scoffed at his father’s words.

“Well now that you’ve met, I’d like to have her returned to me now. We have a project to finish.” Giorno then turned his eyes to you, his gaze softening immensely. “Come on Y/N, I ordered us some takeout and it should be here soon so we can get back to work.”

“O-oh. Uh thanks Gio,” You mumbled. Your mind was still in a bit of a haze, but you were beginning to get your bearings. You turned to look at Dio and bowed once more. “It was nice meeting you Mr...I mean Dio. Please have a great rest of your evening.” With that you turned and began high tailing towards the door. Giorno moved back into the hallway as you approached, but before you could close the door that seductive voice reached out to you once more.

“Y/N,” he purred out. Slowly you turned towards him, hand still in the door knob. “If you need anything at all tonight, please do not hesitate to come look for me. You are our guest here and it would be my...” his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, “greatest pleasure to assist you.” You couldn’t help but swallow at the second meaning behind his words. Afraid to hear your own voice you simply nodded your head before softly closing the door behind you.

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

Giorno had interrogated you for a bit on your meeting with Dio, and you lied and told him you simply got curious after finding the bathroom and stumbled upon the study. You could tell he knew you were leaving something out but you would be damned if you actually told him the real way you found his father. After making sure you were ok enough for him and confirming that the man never touched you he dropped the subject and you both went on with the project while enjoying the food he had ordered. At around 1 AM you both agreed on turning in for the night and to continue in the morning. Giorno showed you to the guest room right next to his and bid you goodnight, finally leaving you alone with your thoughts. You laid on top of the bed just staring at the ceiling for a while. No matter how hard you tried, you kept replaying the meeting with Dio over and over again to the point that the memory of the maid slowly morphed and it was now you on your knees in front of him instead of her.

“Get out of my head!” You angrily whispered, not wanting for your friend to hear you through the walls. You glanced at your phone to see the time, ‘1:30 AM’ mocked the bright numbers. You got up from the bed and dug through your duffle bag and pulled out your pajamas. You thought about just changing and forcing yourself to sleep but you felt too warm and wanted a shower. Immediately you thought about going to the one down the hall but your stomach dropped, you did NOT want to run into you know who. “This house is huge, there’s definitely another bathroom somewhere.” You slowly made your way out of the room and into the quiet hallway. You checked the other rooms near yours only to find another guest room and a movie room, which you knew you were going to beg Giorno to set up a movie night after all of this. You walked down the hall and stopped at the stairs, looking at the hallway across from you where you knew the bathroom was.

“Maybe he’s not there anymore and went to bed?” You said to yourself. You shook your head and continued on your mission of finding another bathroom and descended down the stairs, you weren’t going to take any chances. Finally after finding the kitchen, two more guest rooms and a billiards room, you found a second bathroom. It was smaller and less ornate than the one up stairs but it was still a decent size and had a stand up shower. You mentally cheered before placing down your items and quickly began stripping. Soon you were in the shower letting the cool water bounce across your skin, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away. Occasionally your mind would wander onto the relationship Giorno had with his father, yes the man was indeed intimidating and there was something below the surface of that beautiful face that felt a bit dangerous, but there was nothing else that struck out to you as to why your friend couldn’t stand him. He’s told you about how egotistical the man is and how they always lived on edge of a fight, but never actually gave you hard proof or reasons for the intense dislike. Giorno had told you about his mother and how a complete bitch she was while he was growing up and everything she had put him through so you understood his feelings towards her completely. Eventually she dumped him off onto Dio one day and just disappeared from his life, ‘good riddance’ he had told you. Yet the mechanics of his relationship with his father was still kept a mystery to you and he would close up about it if you started asking too many questions. The only answer you’ve gotten so far was that they shared a difference in morals, and that was it.

After a good while you finished your shower and started to dry off. You felt as if a thousand weights were lifted from your shoulders and quickly put the events of the evening to the back of your mind, finally feeling sleepy. You began to get dressed but noticed something odd. You could have sworn you brought a clean pair of underwear to change into along with your pajamas. You looked around the bathroom floor to see if maybe it had fallen but found nothing.

“Maybe I left them in the bag by accident?” You shrugged your shoulders and just decided to just slip on your night shorts without underwear , you’d put some on when you got back to your room. You opted for a simple tank top as well to complete the look, your body was still a bit wet so the shirt became damp making the material a bit see through. You didn’t really care much, not like you were going to run into anybody like this..

You made your way out of the bathroom, the air inside the house suddenly felt a lot more colder and you began to shiver. Scurrying your way through the first floor you finally made it back to the stairs and started to climb them. You hadn’t noticed the extra pair of footsteps walking the hall until you were half way up, stopping completely in your tracks and if you hadn’t met him tonight the sight before you would’ve been a terrifying one. Dio stood at the top of the stairs, his back facing the little bit of light from the hall so all you could really see was the outline of his body, his face was completely hidden in the shadows. It felt like you were looking at a ghost and not a man.

“What a coincidence, I was just on my way down to look for you, Ms. Y/N..” His voice was as smooth as ever, but you noticed there was something else there that you couldn’t quite pick up on. “What on earth are you doing up at this hour?” You were feeling a bit uneasy with how calm he sounded, and the fact that you couldn’t see his face was making it worse.

“I was just taking a bath..” You answered meekly, your throat feeling tight.

“And why would you go through the trouble of going all the way down there? You already know there’s one upstairs.”

‘ Because I didn’t want to run into like I just did now.’ You thought to yourself. You swallowed hard before answering.

“I-I didn’t want to disturb you in case you were asleep.”

“Aren’t you the thoughtful one.” He let out a chuckle. “No matter, I actually was looking for you to see if you forgot something.”

“Not that I know of..why?” You wanted for this conversation to be over already, the tension that you had just showered away crawling right back to you. Dio let out another chuckle, this one sounded a bit huskier. He didn’t say anything but lifted his hand out to the side, and your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. In his hand were your missing panties, where as he was still in the shadows they were illuminated VERY clearly in the light. You felt your embarrassment multiply as he laughed at your reaction.

“I found them on the floor up here by the stairs and figured they were yours, unless Giorno has changed his sense of fashion recently which I doubt considering he’s never liked polka dots to begin with. Then again I’m not one to judge.” You could hear the teasing tone in his voice and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously at his joke.

“This is just outright embarrassing, but thank you for trying to return them to me.” You kept mentally cursing to yourself about this whole situation, and how this happened in the first place; you should’ve just let Giorno come to your apartment to study like he wanted from the beginning. You began climbing the stairs to retrieve your underwear from the blond, but as soon as you reached the last step he took one step back just out of your reach. You furrowed your brows and stepped forward again, and once more he took another step back. “Um...what are you doing?”

“Playing your game, Ms. Y/N.” You rose a brow in confusion, you were honestly getting annoyed now.

“What game?” He let out a ‘hmph’ before turning around and walking down the hall, still dangling your underwear over his shoulder for you to see. “Hey!” You shouted and followed after him as he disappeared around the corner, once you reached it you stopped to see the door to his study was wide open. You made your way over and stood in front of the open door, on top of his desk were your panties, but Dio was nowhere in sight.

‘ I would have to be a complete idiot not to realize this is a trap.’ You stayed in place, just staring at the underwear that was mocking you. He had to be somewhere in there, but the dim lighting made it hard to see into the small shadows in the corner of the room, and the light from the hallway wasn’t helping much either. You contemplated just leaving them there, it wasn’t like you had no more underwear at home, but deep down you wanted to see what would happen and the moment that thought crossed your mind you felt a warm sensation through your body. Your fantasy was getting the better of you and before you realized it you were walking towards the desk. You reached the desk and still no sign of the man, so you reached out to grab your underwear without hesitating.

*Click*

The light from the hallway completely disappeared as the door was closed, you didn’t turn around but you could feel someone staring at you from behind. His footsteps echoed in the room, surprised that you could even hear them over the sound of your own heartbeat blaring in your ears. He stopped right behind you, his chest practically pressed against your back. A large hand reached out from behind you and took hold of the clothes that you were still clutching in your hands before tossing them to the side. Once more the hand came into your line of vision and tenderly cupped your face and turned it to the side to meet Dio’s hot gaze. His hand was cold in comparison to your hot face as he slowly traced circles on your bottom lip with his thumb. He bent his head down to your ear, pressing you against his body in the process and feeling his hardness rub against your ass. You let out a gasp, earning you a chuckle from the large man, his warm breath tickling your ear.

“I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you, that you’d be a special treat.” His voice felt like velvet as he whispered into your ear, the sound along with his breath was beginning to make your body betray you as each word he whispered sent a throbbing heat to your core. He kissed the spot right behind your ear, slowly ghosting his lips across your jaw, then your cheek before hungrily taking your own lips with his. His lips were softer than they looked as they caressed your own, earning a moan from you. Dio took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You should’ve pushed him away, bit his tongue, elbowed him to make a run for it or something instead of just giving in. His other hand had wrapped around your waist, but was now moving up and under your tank top grabbing a hold of your right breast and massaging it. Dio finally pulled away from the kiss and aside from the lustful look on his face he seemed unaffected, unlike you who was a panting red faced mess.

“We shouldn-'' Was all you were able to breath out before he pinched your nipple hard eliciting another moan from you as he began rubbing the sensitive bud between his fingers.

“Your voice sounds so sweet when you moan for me Y/N, I want more of it.” His other hand left your face as it travelled to the waistband of your shorts before slipping through easily, running a long thick finger across your slit. Your hips on their own accord bucked at the sensation, making Dio laugh darkly. “My, my, all I did was kiss you and you’re already so wet. You’re a very filthy girl aren’t you Y/N?” You turned your face away from him and bit your lip to hold back another moan as he slipped his finger inside you and began pumping it slowly. Your knees began to buckle from underneath you, so Dio pushed you both forward effectively pinning your legs between him and the desk to stop you from falling.

“I can’t do this,” You whined to him. “Your Giorno’s father..” You squeezed your eyes shut in pain as he added two more fingers and began pumping at an obscene pace, not allowing you to stretch around them first.

“I’m well aware of who I am to that boy.” He answered gruffly.The hand that was on your breast moved and was cupping your face a bit more rough than before, his fingers now hitting your sweet spot causing your breath to stop in your throat. “I’m also aware about his feelings for you and how blissfully ignorant you are to them. Which makes this so much more sweeter for me.” He kissed you again, this time more feverishly. As he pulled away again he withdrew his fingers from your heat at the same moment, leaving you feeling empty. That feeling was short lived however as he pushed you down onto the desk, your chest was completely pressed against it making your ass push out towards him. Dio pulled your shorts down to your ankles, the cold air rushing to your wet core making you shiver. You could hear him unzipping his pants and the ruffling of clothing, before you felt the tip of his dick tease against your entrance. Slowly he inched it into you, stretching out your hole. It had not hurt as much as you thought it would but there was a dull pain nonetheless from how big he was. You’ve had partners before so you were by no means a virgin, but you’d be damned if you had anybody with his size.

“Such a nice and tight cunt you have my dear Y/N. I can’t wait to ruin it.” Without wasting another moment he gripped your hips with both hands as he began to fuck you roughly, the lewd sound of his skin slapping against yours were drowned out by your loud moans. His chest was pressed firmly against your back, his head right next to your ear and you could hear every groan and grunt that escaped his lips. “I wish you could see the look on your face right now,” He panted into your ear, not once stopping his relentless pace. “Such a dirty look for a dirty girl.” You had no response, the only thing falling from your mouth being your own incoherent screams and moans. Soon you felt a hot pressure beginning to build, each thrust bringing you closer to your edge.

“Dio please!” You couldn’t recognize your voice, it sounded so hoarse and needy. He took notice and snaked a hand down between your legs, pressing a finger onto your clit but not moving it.

“Please what, my dear Y/N?” He began to slow his pace, getting you on the verge of tears as you felt the pressure begin to fade. “I want to hear you beg for it.” You tried to bring your hips to meet his but he only pulled farther away. Finally you gave in.

“Make me cum from your cock Dio, please!” Satisfied he picked up his pace, slamming into you as he began rubbing your clit in tight circles. The pressure began building up again causing your vision to go in and out.

“I want you to scream my name when you cum. Be a good little girl for me.” His voice is what sent you over the edge as his name ripped from your throat as you orgasmed. As you came your core squeezed around him, bringing him close to his. He pulled out with a final groan as he emptied his load onto your ass. As your high began to die down, you felt the pain on your thighs from being pounded into the desk. You were going to have bruises tomorrow for sure. Slowly Dio lifted himself from on top of you, lifting you off of the desk as well. “I apologize, but it seems I may have made a bit of a mess on you.” His breathing was back to normal, but when you turned around you looked down and nearly choked. He was still as hard as a rock. “Why don’t I join you for a another shower, Ms. Y/N?” The devilish look on his face was enough to tell you that your little romp was far from over.

[aaniiki]

Something I wrote for @jimmyneutronfan4life I’m realizing how horribly out of practice I am, but I hope you still like it. I used some of my own headcanons.

Rating: K Word Count: 3182 Pairing: Jimmick

Nick kicked his skateboard up and caught it in his hands as he reached the end of Jimmy’s driveway. The sun had just begun to set and cast an orange hue over the neighborhood. He exhaled sharply as he walked up to the door, giving a quick look around the area to see if anyone was around, stopping momentarily at Cindy Vortex’s bedroom window. She was nosy. If she saw him there, she would surely ask about it the next day. Luckily for him, her curtains were drawn shut and her house seemed silent. He knocked a few times on the front door and waited for what seemed far too long until it was opened for him.

“Oh, Nick.” Jimmy stood in the doorway, a plate of food in hand and dressed in comfy sweats. He seemed momentarily confused until a light sparked behind his eyes in realization. “I’m sorry, I lost track on time. Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing Nick to cross through the doorway and into his home.

Nick looked around. Funny, he hadn’t stepped foot in Jimmy Neutron’s home since that party he’d thrown when they were in elementary school. As far as he could remember, not much had changed. “I’m glad you made it.” Jimmy spoke up behind him.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Nick asked with a chuckle, leaning his skateboard up against the wall beside the door. Jimmy said nothing, just smiled softly. At that moment Nick realized the house otherwise seemed lifeless. “Your parents are out?”

Jimmy took a bite of the food he was holding. “Date night,” he answered. “They left right before you showed up. Gotta keep the romance alive, I guess.” He finished with a swallow.

“I guess.” Nick repeated. He actually thought that was kind of sweet. His parents didn’t do things like that, at least as far as he knew. They were just content with each other’s company, but that was about it.

“I’m sorry, do you want anything?” Jimmy asked, gesturing to his dinner. “There’s more than enough in the fridge.” Nick peered into the plate. Grilled chicken, veggies, some kind of brown rice and a orange sauce. No doubt a little kick of spice to it. Looked appetizing, but he was feeling antsy.

“No thanks,” he answered with a hand up in protest. “I had something on the way over.” If you want to call a questionable empanada from the gas station down the street ‘dinner’. Jimmy only shrugged and didn’t push further. He placed his dinner down and held a finger up to Nick, implying he’d be back in a minute. With that he ran up the stairs and head to what Nick could only assume was his bedroom.

He was alone. Nick felt an uncomfortable tightening in his chest. It was an unusual, kind of irritating feeling. He wasn’t used to it. Letting another deep exhale escape him, he began an unsteady pace around the living room. He stopped when he reached the fireplace, which clearly hadn’t been used in some time. Framed pictures of the Neutron family decorated the mantle, spanning across years. They documented family outings and holidays, but most were Jimmy with various trophies and ribbons he had won from different contests and science fairs. Nick could not help but smile. They all seemed so normal. So happy. A true ideal of the all-American family. He had wondered how nice it might actually be to get a little closer to this family.

The sudden slamming of a door and the hurried steps down the staircase jerked Nick from his train of thought. Jimmy approached him, out of breath and handed him a small plastic case with the words Day of Vengeance II written sloppily across the top. “Here it is.”

Nick had almost forgotten why he even came here in the first place. Earlier in the week he’d somehow gotten caught up in conversation with Jimmy, and learned that, when he wasn’t inventing something ridiculous and possibly dangerous, he was able to use his state of the art technology to access impossible to find media and rip them on DVDs. He looked down at the disk and smiled. “This isn’t supposed to hit theaters for three more weeks.” He looked up, and met Jimmy’s gaze. “It’s really cool of you to do this for me, man.”

“It’s no big deal.” Jimmy shrugged, feeling a little bit proud of himself. Someone like Nick had been impressed with something he had done, and that doesn’t come around very often. “It’s actually fairly simple to hack into video feed from the Korean film festivals. Especially since they went from physical film to digital.” He laughed a little and raised a brow. “Nothing is ever truly offline anymore.”

Nick felt his breath catch in this throat and turned away, slipping the case into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. “Well, thanks.”

Jimmy’s expression faltered a bit, and he looked down at the floor. “I hope you enjoy it. I’ll have to give it a watch at some point.” The tone is his voice softened to sound almost sad.

There was a moment of silence between the two boys. Why does he have to use such a sad tone? Nick’s heart beat was singing in his ears. With a loud throat clear, he spoke out “if you’re up for it, we can watch it together.”

Jimmy’s head immediately shot up. “Right now?” A genuine smile spread across his face. Nick’s heart skipped.

Keeping composure, Nick relaxed a little and removed the disk from his pocket. “Totally. If you’re not busy causing chaos in that lab of yours.” Shaking his head, Jimmy took the disk from Nick’s hands and gestured to the couch for him to have a seat before starting it up on the television.

The sun had completely set at this point, and the TV was the only source of light. Nick could barely see as Jimmy came to the couch and sat beside him. “I was also able to get the deleted scenes and director’s commentary,” Jimmy started, reaching for his food he’d set down earlier. “If that interests you.”

It didn’t, but Nick wouldn’t tell him that. Something about his eagerness and unbridled joy made it hard for him to do so. “Thanks.” He sat back into the couch, the leather of his jacket making noisy friction with the fabric.

“You can take your jacket off.” Jimmy never took his eyes off the screen, but somehow still sounded very inviting. Nick obliged and threw it on the adjacent chair. The movie had only been on for a little over ten minutes, but to Nick it felt like days had passed. He wasn’t even fully paying attention. He could hear Jimmy’s light chewing and occasional soft chuckles when something funny had happened. The earlier feelings of slight paranoia crept back in. What if Jimmy told his friends that he sat alone in the dark with Nick Dean and watched a movie? Seems innocent enough to some, but not to Nick.

“Hey, Neutron…” He began, almost whispering. He felt a slight sweat begin the break. “Can you…” He adjusted himself and sat straight up. At this point he had Jimmy’s full attention. “Can you not tell anyone I was here tonight?” No matter how he thought about it, there was no way to request that without sounding like a complete jerk.

Jimmy froze. His features softened and he looked down at his lap. “Oh.” It wasn’t what he was expecting, but he should have. “That’s fine.” His response was short, and he looked back up trying to seem unbothered. No such luck.

A sudden pang of guilt washed over Nick as he saw how Jimmy reacted. “It’s nothing personal, it’s just-“

“No, I get it.” Jimmy cut him off, holding a hand up in his face. He raised his voice a little in defense. “I guess hanging out with me would damage your image.”

Jimmy’s words spat out like venom. In that moment Nick felt so unbelievably small. It’s true that he had managed to carry the cool and popular status all the way through to the beginning of high school. Even in a completely new building with dozens of new classmates, he never had any competition in that area. It wasn’t even something he tried to do intentionally, but it always just happened for him. He didn’t share many classes with Jimmy, considering the obvious gap in academic excellence between them, but he still considered him a friendly acquaintance. The fact that Jimmy thought of him as nothing more than an image to be kept honestly really hurt in that moment. He understood, though. At least, he tried to.

Jimmy took a deep breath, and realized that what he had said may have come out harsh. “Look, I know I’m not the most popular guy in school. So, no hard feelings. I promise.” His tone wasn’t the least bit convincing, but he refused to let his face show what he was really feeling.

“That’s not what I meant.” Nick responded in a soothing manner, trying to diffuse. He took in a sharp breath and ran his hands through his hair. “I know you know there’s been rumors about me…” His voice trailed off slightly, realizing he could never come back from what he was about to say.

Jimmy waited for a minute for him to continue, but nothing came out. He just shrugged. “Rumors?”

BZZZ….BZZZ

There’s no way Neutron didn’t know, Nick had thought. He must be jerking me along. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” His eyebrows furrowed as he maintained eye contact with Jimmy, trying to read him.

BZZZ….BZZZ

Jimmy shook his head in protest. “I honestly don’t know what you mean. Like I said, I’m not that popular.”

BZZZ…BZZZ

“Please answer that.” Nick pressed his fingers to his temples. He was starting to stress himself out. He watched as Jimmy dug his phone out of his pocket and read the chain of messages that had interrupted their conversation. He didn’t mean to peek, but he saw that they were all from Cindy. Or rather, ‘Vortex’ with a flame emoji next to her name. It could be a jab at the fact that she’s such a hot headed inferno. Or maybe she ignited a fire within Jimmy.

Something in Nick hoped for the former.

Without replying, Jimmy put his phone back in his pocket. “Just Cindy,” he confirmed. “She left her notebook here.”

Oh. That was all Nick could think. He felt a sudden knot in his stomach. “You guys hang out?” He wasn’t sure why he asked that. An urge came over him. Jimmy nodded matter-of-factly at that. He’d thought it was obvious that him and Cindy still held a decent relationship through all the years that passed. Cindy would come over around the times of big exams, and they’d hole up in the lab to study. They were still able to salvage something from the ruins of their romantic relationship that had ended towards the end of Junior Highschool.

“Are you working things out again?” Nick asked bluntly, turning away from Jimmy and pretending to watch the television that had still been going in the background this whole time. A chill ran over him once the words left his lips. I should mind my own business.

Jimmy laughed audibly, caught off guard at that. He shook his head and held a hand to his mouth to stifle more laughing. “Absolutely not.” He finally answered, in the most confident tone Nick had probably ever heard from him.

“Why not? She’s cute.” Nick replied, digging a playful elbow into Jimmy’s side.

“Well, you can date her.”

There was a silence. Jimmy felt the energy in the room shift almost instantly as soon as he said that. He looked at Nick who had sunk back down into the couch and glued his eyes back on the television. They had been talking all this time, so there was no way he was retaining what this movie was about. It was just noise at this point. He was afraid he’d said something wrong, and let it be.

“So you really don’t know?” Nick had finally spoken up again after several minutes. “You really haven’t heard any rumors?”

“I swear on my lab.” Jimmy could hear Nick’s breathing become heavier, but he sat patiently and waited for him to speak.

“You heard about what happened with me and that cheerleader?”

After a moment of digging through his memories, Jimmy recalled a moment in time where Nick was regularly seen hanging around a pretty blonde cheerleader. Emma was her name? Heather? Jimmy couldn’t remember. He’d never really spoken with her, but he also never thought anything of it. Just Nick being friendly and popular with the girls, as always. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen Nick around her much lately. “Sort of,” he answered, more like a question.

“She was a friend,” Nick began, “someone I was really close to. I cared about her a lot.” His sentence seemed to trail off, but then he noticed that Jimmy’s striking blue eyes were glued to him. “She wanted something more and I wasn’t interested, so I turned her down. Things escalated and she started a rumor that I-” his breath caught in his chest. His face turned hot and he felt his fingers trembling in his lap. “That I’m…into dudes.”

Though it felt good to get out, there was an uncomfortable stillness in the air. Jimmy never took his eyes off Nick, and he could feel them burning into the side of his face. “Why’d you turn her down?” Jimmy’s voice was serious, and curious. Nick felt in that moment that he was being studied, and he kind of hated it.

“Not my type.”

“Well, what is your type? Now that I think of it, I’ve never seen you with a girlfriend.”

Why is he looking at me like I’m one of his stupid experiments? Nick wasn’t sure how to answer that. He didn’t think Jimmy would be this invested. “I don’t know.” It was a lackluster response, but he was afraid of divulging too much.

"So...are you?" Jimmy's words filled the empty void of space between them in the darkness.

"Am I what?" The end of the sentence shot out sharply.

"Are you attracted to men?"

That was it. Nick's entire being felt like he'd been hit head on by a truck. It was a question he'd been struggling with for a while now.

“Whatever, dude.” Nick couldn’t think of anything else to say. He felt utterly defeated. He leaned back into the couch, as far away from Jimmy as he could manage without falling off.

“You brought it up.” Jimmy answered in a small snicker.

Studying his face, Jimmy could tell more and more that Nick was embarrassed and vulnerable. It was a heavy topic to put out in the world, especially to someone he didn’t know all too well. He felt a little pang of guilt in his chest for pushing. The only thing he could think to do was extend a hand out to his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Nick tensed up at the feeling of Jimmy’s hand on him. “You can tell me, you know.” Jimmy knew everything. Behind every rumor there had to be a little bit of truth, he figured.

“Hmm..” Nick only mused gently and slouched in his seat, almost collapsing into his own body out of sheer embarrassment.

“You can trust me.” Jimmy initiated, trying to lighten up the palpable tautness in the air. “I know we may not be extremely close, but I hope you know I wouldn’t…” His words trailed off. He’d stopped dead when Nick moved his hand and placed it gently on his own.

“I need to work it out myself.” Nick’s voice was trembling. He refused to meet Jimmy’s gaze, and his cheeks were flushed. Good thing it was still somewhat dark in the room.

Jimmy didn’t pull away. If anything he thought it good to be comforting in that moment. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about, Nick.”

“I’m not ashamed.” Nick replied sternly. He really wasn’t. It was just a lot to handle in short time. He knew that his classmates may not be as accepting as Jimmy was right in that moment, and he didn’t feel like putting up with that for the remaining 3 years of  high school. Even telling Jimmy was a risk, but he owed it to himself to let it out to someone. “I just want to be totally sure of myself before I say anything about it to anyone else.”

Jimmy decided it was best not to say anything. He looked down at Nick’s hand that was still positioned over his own and smiled. “You know, you’re still the coolest guy I know.” In a swift motion, he swapped places with Nick’s hand, earning a small gasp from him. “I don’t think any less of you.”

It was sincere. Nick knew that much. He felt his hand start to sweat a little under Jimmy’s touch, and drew it away. “Thanks, Neutron. I’m really surprised you’re not grossed out.” Nick gave a light hearted grin.

“Not at all. It’s perfectly natural and occurs in almost all living species.” Jimmy was practically giddy.

Of course he’d find a way to relate it to science. Nick caught himself smiling. He felt an indescribable heaviness lift from him. He’d shared something that had been weighing severely on his mind for a long time.  He was supposed to just come here, grab a movie and leave. He probably would have just gone home and stew even further in his own thoughts.

“Hey, Nick?” Jimmy spoke, returning to his original crisscrossed position on the couch. “I really appreciate you telling me something so important to you.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me, dude.” Nick’s voice toughened a little, but he smile never faded.

“Did you completely lose track of what’s happening in this movie?” Jimmy questioned, turning to him with an almost cunning expression.

Nick only shook his head and exhaled. “I can just watch it at home.”

“Am I boring you?” Jimmy asked brazenly, already seizing the remote and stopping the film to return it to the first scene. Nick didn’t argue. He just sat back and watched as the opening titles flashed across the screen. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

Nick looked at him quizzically. “Huh?”

“You said you didn’t pursue a relationship with her because she wasn’t your type. What’s your type?” Jimmy never bothered to look at him, but he knew Nick had turned impossibly red.

Without even noticing he had done so, Nick scooted closer to Jimmy to where they were almost touching. He casually swung an arm over the back of the couch and relaxed, feeling the most content and sure of himself he’d had in quite a long time. “I think you’ll figure it out.”

[bookandcranny]

Stone Heart Gambit

 Part 1 - Chapter 4

“Is it me, or is trying to walk down stairs in the dark kind of not fun.”

The librarian- the faerie, the liar, her friend- whatever he is to her now, he casts her a backwards glance and raises a hand, which begins to glow. It’s not like the light of a bulb or even a flame dancing on the wick of a candle, it’s like bottled daylight, the serene glow of a merry spring day. All Soso wants to do is stare at it, bask in it. It brightens the stairwell, but doesn’t make watching her step much easier. Surehouser grins knowingly at her. She huffs.

“Show off.”

Eventually she does manage to tear her eyes away and look around. The library basement is a proper dungeon. The stairs seem to go on forever, the stone walls are streaked with mildew, and as they delve deeper she notices tapestries and even an old battle-axe mounted on the walls. They’re marked with a variety of emblems, intricate and beautiful, but none the least bit familiar to her. Part of her wonders if it would change her opinion of them, knowing whether they are relics of the humans or the fae.

She’s still processing the overwhelming amount of information Surehouser has placed on her, the knowledge that not only are the creatures of myth real, but apparently are her ancestral enemies. Surehouser himself doesn’t seem bothered by it, so maybe she shouldn’t be either. After all this war he speaks of was so long ago that she can hardly conceive of it. On the other hand, for Adamantius, humankind’s champion, the wounds seem to be a lot fresher. He won, but it doesn’t sound like he got to reap many of the rewards.

That’s the part that puzzles her most. Both sides had to lay down their arms for the sake of creating peace, but she doesn’t understand why that would lead to Adamantius being sentenced so cruelly. If he was truly humanity’s saving grace during the war, why did no one before her come to rescue him?

The passageway opens onto a subterranean archive of sorts, which darkly mirrors the charming little library directly above it. The shelves here are far less welcoming, set in rigid lines like rows of headstones in a military cemetery. It’s lit from a above by hanging lanterns which flicker to life upon their entry, as if they were expecting the pair’s arrival. And still, the stairs don’t end, rather continue to a lower sublevel, and another below that, far further down than Soso can make out.

“How deep does it go?” she asks.

“As deep as you can imagine and deeper. There’s an entire floor set aside for illegal poisons, and a special wing for forbidden texts on summoning demons.” He isn’t quite gleeful as he says it, but neither does he seem properly horrified. Soso sure is.

“Why even keep all this stuff? Why not destroy it, if it’s so dangerous?”

“Everything you can find down here is a part of history,” he explains. “The darkest part of our shared history, but history none the less. So much knowledge was lost when the world was split, so much that most humans no longer even remember us outside of stories. The idea of sacrificing even more was unthinkable, and between you and me, I think some people feel better knowing they could theoretically still access this garbage should we ever go to war again.”

He walked through the aisles, pointing out spots of interest as he went. “Books of banned spellcraft here, manuals for the construction of basic torture tools, recipes for Gnomish explosives. Someday I must show you the section for djinn containment bottles, it’s quite the treat. Of course, you’ve already met the crown jewel of the entire collection.”

She resists the urge to argue the point again. She’s coming to suspect that he only brings the former gargoyle up to try and rile her, maybe trick her into confessing that this was all some plot of long-belated human vengeance after all.

“How did I not know about this?” she asks instead with a slight shiver. “How does no one know about any of this?”

“I wouldn’t say no one, but as for most, I think you can guess. It’s because it was better that way. When the human forces won and claimed our shared world as their own, the fae assembled a council of powerful magi to split the world and create the land of Underhill, where the fae could live peacefully, unseen in humanity’s shadow. Apart, each side was free to heal, free to forget the past. Still, not everyone has that luxury. Now you’re one of those in the know. How’s it feel?”

She swallows. “Kind of like riding a rollercoater with a full stomach.” She looks at the librarian. “How do you deal with it? How do you deal with having this huge secret just sitting inside you like dead weight?”

“Drinking mostly,” he says cheerfully. The joke falls flat. He sighs. “You know, before this I was living a wonderful carefree life in Underhill, enjoying all that the endless summer had to offer. Then I was told that because my family line descends from some faerie noble that was on the peace council nigh millennia ago, I was expected to live up to my pedigree. It was either take over watching the vault of wartime horrors or go into politics, and if there’s one thing I hate more than wasting away in this nothing town guarding a pile of dusty relics, it’s politics.”

“And they didn’t tell you ahead of time that the job included watching a prisoner of war who also just so happened to have razor-sharp teeth and horns?”

The man broaches this next subject carefully, uncertainty writ plainly on his face. “I knew about Adamantius- vaguely! I just didn’t expect that he would ever be quite so… alive.”

“Isn’t turning a soldier into some kind of life-size trophy post war against the Geneva convention?”

“It may seem cruel to you, but you must remember that he isn’t human. He may claim to be a son of man, but even the human side didn’t want him when they had nothing more for him to kill. He was built for destruction. He can’t be allowed to wander freely.” His voice takes on an uncharacteristically grim note. “As I understand it, the terms of the treaty exempted him from execution, but he was, and is, too dangerous to just be let go. This, this should have never happened.” He fidgets nervously. “But it has, which means, Soso, that a great burden, a great responsibility has fallen to you.”

She takes a reflexive step back. “Responsibility? Me? What am I supposed to do? Put him back in the rock?”

He shakes his head. “Perhaps there might still be a way, but for now, just keep him occupied. You set him free. That means, in his eyes, he owes you a debt greater than his very life. You are the only one who can control him. And you must, or he’ll be the end of us all.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, Adami might have some… quirks, but he’s not some mindless monster. He- he helped me.” Granted it had been because of him she had nearly passed out on the kitchen floor, but he had caught her and carried her to bed. He’d been gentle despite the sharp shape of him. “I think he wants to do right, he’s just sorta confused about what that means.”

“Are you claiming since he’s been awake he hasn’t done any harm,” he asks, disbelieving.

The image of clawmarks and frightened frat bros flashes through her mind. “Well…”

The man nods. “Come with me. I want to show you one last thing before we go up.”

Down they go to one of the lower lower-levels. Surehouser counts shelves and follows the cryptic keys until he finds a thick book of yellowed parchment. It’s almost too large for him to maneuver open on his own while keeping the ball of magic light aloft and the cover is inscribed in something that, to Soso’s inexperienced eyes, looks like a cross between German and Old English. Thankfully the inside looks to be more pictures than words. The illustrations remind Soso of the decorated margins of medieval bibles and bestiaries. The linguistic aspect may be lost on her, but art history had been one of her more preferred courses in school.

The design Surehouser flips to is much larger, taking up the bulk of both pages. It depicts armored soldiers being besieged upon by a familiar figure. Here, Adamantius is painted in red, making him look like a classic Christian devil. He’s tearing the retreating knights limb from limb, and smiling as he does it. Soso isn’t inclined to believe everything she reads in strange old books, but the altered likeness is disconcerting.

“He was called by many names back then, I’m told,” says Surehousr, breaking her thoughtful concentration. “When I first heard the story as a child, Adamantius the unmerciful was the popular title.”

Soso shakes her head. “I thought you said you were a neutral party,” she accuses. “You said it yourself, it was horrible for both sides. He was a soldier, not some gleeful mass-murderer.”

“Oh dear, do you still think there’s a difference?”

No more words are exchanged as they begin their ascent back up to the main floor. Soso is pensive, her head full of questions she doesn’t trust herself to voice. Not a day ago her biggest concern was building up the courage to talk to her parents, now she was supposed to be responsible for some sort of living breathing war machine? She doesn’t seem to have much choice other than to defer to the librarian’s relative expertise. After all he’s a real life faerie and until quite recently she hadn’t known that faeries existed. Still, the situation doesn’t sit right with her.

Adamantius is waiting where she left him in the doorway. He seems anxious, or as anxious as a formidable creature like him can be, and she wonders if he’s been like this ever since she left his sight. When he said he would stay by her side, she’d thought it was a sweet, if a little strange, declaration. She doesn’t know what to do with the reality of his dedication.

“Told you I’d be back,” she says, trying to keep her tone light. She shoots him a reassuring smile and it actually doesn’t feel as forced as she might’ve expected. Somehow, seeing him waiting for her is still a comfort to her. Maybe it’s all those days of spilling her guts to him in statue form. Somewhere in the back of her mind she can’t shake the feeling that this man is her friend, no matter what some people a thousand years ago had to say.

“I believed you,” he says lowly, casting a sideways glance at the librarian. “But faeries can be tricky.”

“Well I’m fine, and I’ve done some thinking too. Adamantius, I know you think you owe me something, but I don’t want you to serve me. Instead, if I ask you for a favor, can you please try your best to do it for me?”

Instantly the warrior lights up. If he had a tail he’s surely be wagging it, she imagines. “Anything. I would do anything to please you, Lady Willoughby.”

He’s missing the point, she thinks, but the enthusiasm is nice. With a great deal of caution, she takes his clawsome hands in her own. “Then here’s what I’m requesting. Stay here at the library with Mr Surehouser.”

Both of them look at her with alarm. “What?”

“I know there’s some bad blood between you two, but I consider you both my friends and I don’t want you to fight. Besides,” she admits. “I can’t really put you up at my place without someone finding out, and I’m pretty sure you’re a wanted criminal by now.” Anticipating his protests, she adds, “I’ll still come by every day. It’ll be just like before, except better because you’ll be free.” She lets her eyes drift over to meet Surehouser’s troubled gaze. “You’re going to stay free.”

Adamantius bows his head, although it seems to be just as much about hiding the sour look on his face as it is about any sense of fealty. “As you wish.”

“It’s going to be fine,” she assures him. “Just try not to kill each other when I’m not around.”

As she does her best to console the beast, Surehouser walks away shaking his head. She doesn’t stop him. She knew he wouldn’t like her decision but it’s the only thing that makes sense. This way she can keep Adami from terrorizing the neighborhood without having to take the responsibility of ordering him around. He’ll come around, she just knows it.

[chaniters]

Fallen

Sidestep makes his case against Elyise before Reaper, and reveals the data rod. Things take a twist for the worse.

Following @kruk-art Awan’s fiction i’m writting! Only a few more parts to the end.

_____________________________________________

His empty skeletal sockets stare right into you, a red shimmer the only indication that there’s something inside. He listens to you without saying a single word. You can sense his mind rushing to assimilate all the information you’ve brought to him.

Reaper’s angry… no, he’s furious, but doing everything he can to remain calm. 

You’ve told him everything, laid out all the evidence. He’s the one who handed Elyise her new costume, gadgets, a new suit, a movie, sponsored her to join the rangers... 

Of course, he’s mad at the possibility that he got played. 

“I’m glad you brought this to me first Sidestep” he in a glacial, calmed tone. “But there must be some other explanation… Anyone could have just bought those drill drones, my company sells them everywhere.”

“I’m sorry. I know how much you appreciate her, but you have to face the facts…  I wish it didn’t have to be like this”

“No. I refuse to believe this Sidestep. It’s can’t be...!”

“That’s not all Reaper. I’ve got this,” you say extending your hand. “The Loanshark had a data-rod with her name on it. It’s encrypted and I couldn’t open it so far”

He runs a hand through his white forehead, before letting out a long sigh. 

“This just keeps getting worse,” he says frustrated, shaking his head. “Fine. Give me that” he states in the end.

“Here,” you say passing it over. He studies it with his skeletal fingers, before pushing the lever that makes his wheelchair move forward towards the mainframe. A panel opens revealing a slot, in which he inserts the rod.

“Charon, can you identify the encryption in this rod?” he asks.

“Of course master. Processing.” it states. It takes much less time than you’d expect. Charon must be more advanced than anything the farm had before you left. 

“It corresponds with an outdated version of an encryption system originating in the Ministry of State Security of China, master”

“Good. Please begin decryption protocols and show us the contents once you are done.”

“Processing” Charon replies, the red logo on the screens flashing a few times.

He seems really devastated. You can’t bear to look at him in this state, trying to deny Elyise’s involvement with all his being. You wander through the room instead. 

You’ve never seen an Artificial Intelligence before, and Charon does not disappoint. Your hacking toolkit of a phone looks childish compared it with the futuristic mainframe. So this is what money can do...

As the story goes, this one was created by the Defenders Society former scientist, Vitruvian, before he decided to switch to the dark side. 

There are all kinds of memorabilia in the old Headquarters of the Defenders Society, including old pictures of the team’s composition through the years. 

Reaper looks… skeletal, just like now in them, though his bones look whiter in the past. He’s surrounded by legendary heroes. Miss Luck, Vitruvian, Hood before he joined the Rangers, Captain Blaze,  Lady Airstrike… the list goes on. The last one has only a handful of members, the year Hood left to turn into a Ranger, and then there are no more pictures, as the team dissolved after Reaper retired.  

He waits by the mainframe while you examine the trophies until Charon announces the decryption’s complete.  

“Let’s get this done,” he says disgusted “Charon… whenever you’re ready”

“It would seem to be video footage master. Allow me to play it”

_____________________________

The screen lights up with a black and white video, displaying an unsteady visual from what seems to be some sort of hovering drone camera, filming an alley with a small store on the left. 

A limousine stops on the street at the far end, the doors opening. A man and a woman come down, their backs to the camera. The man wears a suit and a round clear mask, and as he turns to say something to the driver, you can see  it’s a smiley mask. 

He wraps an arm around the woman, who seems rather reluctant, motioning her to walk forward. She looks back at the limousine with concern in her face… and there’s no doubt about her being a younger Elyise. She says some words to the man, who simply shakes his head and keeps motioning her forward, his other hand in his pocket…

Suddenly the glass window of the shop explodes, as a hulking figure comes trough, falling flat on the pavement. It tries to incorporate letting you take a good look at it. It’s a man inside a power suit that becomes easily recognizable. Psycopathor. 

Another figure comes trough, walking over the glass. Marshall Hood, arms raised. His powers make the debris start floating around Psycopathor, who looks to be about to get it. Hood doesn’t seem to have noticed Smiley man or Elyise…

The Smiley man shoves Elyise forward, and she stumbles a few steps ahead. She looks back at the Smiley man as if to plead for something, but he simply looks at his watch. She has a defeated look on her face as she turns to face Hood. 

Extending both palms towards him, she advances, making all of the floating debris falls down back to the floor. Hood turns to her, startled, but quickly responds, waves his own palm in her direction forcefully. The camera shakes violently. The Smiley man takes one step back, as everything in the alley seems to be vibrating. 

Hood and Elyise stare down at each other as their powers clash. Several empty glass bottles on the ground explode under pressure.   Hood looks as if he was exerting an incredible amount of strength. 

Elyiss falls on her knees, visibly screaming something, but the Smiley man steps behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder as if to encourage her to continue. 

She stands up and manages to advance again onto Hood, who seems to be weakening by the second. Finally, it’s Hood who stumbles backward, his abilities negated. 

Psycopathor, having had time to recover, gets to his feet and leaps at  Hood, who’s too slow to avoid him while resisting Elyise… Psycopathor takes Hood into the arms of his power suit, in a brutal bear-hug, crushing him. Hood seems to be screaming something… 

Psycopathor finally lets go of him, his suit bloodened. Smiley man pats Elyise’s hair, satisfied with her work, advancing onto the fallen Hero as he tries to crawl away from Psycopathor. Smiley sends a few kicks at Hood’s stomach. 

Elyise leans on a wall and throws up on the floor as he does.  

Smiley forces Hood to roll over with his shoe, as he screams in pain. He kneels to whisper something in Hood’s ear before standing up again. 

He puts on a pair of gloves from his pocket… and then produces something else… a gun. 

Two quick shots, one to the chest, one to the head, and Hood is put out of his misery.  It’s over.

Smiley hands over the gun to Psycopathor, who crushes it with his powered gauntlets and throws it aside. Smile walks up to Elyise, pointing at the limousine. 

Elyise takes a last look before rushing behind them.  

The car starts, and they are gone. A few minutes after, you can see another man walking up to the fallen Hood. It’s Charge, who tries to reanimate him. You can see him looking for a heartbeat in his chest… crying for help… 

The drone turns and flies away, following the limousine. It comes down to its level, next to the back seat. Smiley opens the window, catching the camera with his hands, and the video ends.  

_____________________

You are speechless.

“Who… “ you start.

“Hollow Ground”. Reaper answers drily. “Smiley mask was his thing for a short while back then. He likes to follow trends”

“So Elyise…”

“And Psycopathor yes…”

The slot opens once more and the rod comes out, Reaper taking it back in his hand. 

“Alright, you’ve made your case Sidestep. We need to arrest her. Do you believe she’ll resist?”

“Given everything she’s done…” you say still looking at the black screen. “If she’s using her own mother as a weapon then I wouldn’t take my chances.” 

“I understand. Tell me, does that gun of yours, have a stunning setting?”

You nod slowly.

“Let me see it… I’m not sure it can go through her suit” he asks, his mind unsettled by the idea of shooting an ally.

“Here,” you say.

He fiddles with it for a moment, before raising his glowing gaze.

“I’m sorry, Sidestep”

“For what…?” 

Too late you realize his thoughts of regret were never about shooting Elyise. 

The blast is almost instantaneous, making you recoil with every muscle as you watch him hold the smoking gun, still aimed at your chest.

“I’m afraid I already knew about Riley’s past sins. She was so eager to achieve some form of redemption… Her mother used her, then Hollow Ground did the same... and when she decided to stop running and face her demons, she came to me. People looking for a savior are very easy to manipulate you know? She was the perfect tool, but it was her mother who became the true star in the end.” 

You try to move, but your arms are legs don’t respond as they should and your suit smells of burnt plastics and nanofabric. You are struggling as it is to cling to consciousness and the words coming from Reaper’s mouth aren’t helping. 

“I’m sorry for the charade... should have knocked you down sooner, but I needed to see how much you knew… Also, I had never seen how my friend actually died,” he adds looking at the data rod. “This was a good reminder of what’s at stake”

You try to speak, but your mouth’s completely numb. 

“I’m impressed that you went this far, even if you were following the wrong lead. Didn’t think the Loanshark would be in good enough condition to rat on Elyise, I mean Catastrofiend hit him really really hard! Got to love the miracles of modern medicine, right?  This will force me to rush my plans quite a bit”

“W.. why?” you manage to gurgle, your tongue still numb with static.

“That’s really your question right now?” he says rising from the wheelchair he clearly doesn’t need. “What happened to the more obvious stuff like ‘What are you going to do with me, Reaper?’ Shouldn’t you be worried about that instead?”

“Tell me… w... Why…”

You can sense he is smiling, as he kneels down to talk to you.

“I really like you kid. Why… alright, I’ll tell you why. I’m doing this because this country is going straight to hell, and I’m the one who’s going to save it. I’m doing this because people like Hollow Ground...” he says pointing at the screen “...still exist unchecked! But no more. In just one month I’ve slaughtered his entire organization and run him out of town. This city is now drug-free. Catastrofiend is the future! It can sense the drugs wherever they are! Just Imagine the possibilities.”

There is something different in his mind as he speaks. Something new, unraveling like a nightmare that had remained hidden… 

“Y..ou are … mad.”

“That’s a funny word Sidestep. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I’m mad with rage. Perhaps these drugs ruined everything I’ve done in my life. All my friends, dead or turned to criminals and murderers. All my aspirations ruined. I don’t even have a face to look in the mirror thanks to them…  And I tried to convince myself I could achieve my goals through peaceful means, but you saw how that ended, right…? Didn’t it make your blood boil? I sensed the fire in you, that day the hospital burned down. It’s time to take the gloves off and let everyone get what they have coming. The Corporations, the politicians, the cowards like Hollow Ground and Psycopathor… I will make them all pay. Their power comes from drugs, so I’ll take it away.”

“You can’t... do that...” you say almost in whisper. 

“Oh I can. With the Catrastrofiend’s help, I’m going to ignite the flame and start a war on drugs the likes this country has never seen. I’ll save the whole world If they let me, Sidestep. I really hope you’ll want to be on board with it.”

His mind is different. Something happened to him… something bad. It reminds you of… that monster’s thoughts. Whatever he’s planing it will make the massacres look tame. 

 “I trusted… you…”

“I haven’t changed. It’s this world that keeps sinking lower and lower. You must have seen it already…”

F… fu... ck… you…” is your best answer, given the circumstances.

“Shame. That’s the same thing Elyise said. You have really bad timing, you know? If you had joined forces this could have gone very differently. I just hope that the two of you’ll come to your senses eventually. I’ve got places to be so sweet dreams” he says pointing the gun at you once more. 

All you can do is close your eyes as the second painful blast puts your lights out.

______________________________________  

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[find-the-eyes]

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 46

Written by: Sol, Beth, Allegra

Edited by: Sol, Allegra

Bob woke Paul up in a rush, shoving a suitcase at him. “We have to go in an hour! Start packing!” Bob ran frantically from room to room, gathering more essentials that he would need to bring with him. 

Paul sighed and sat up, pushing the suitcase aside. “Are you feeling alright, Bobbo?”

Bob stopped in his tracks in the doorway. “Why’s that?”

“I’ve never seen you this frantic before.”

“Well, you’ve never seen me pack for a trip then,” Bob laughed to himself as he continued to pack his bag.

“Is this about coming out?”

Bob froze once again. “Uh…yeah. It is.”

Paul smiled as he finally got up. “Aw, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not that easy,” Bob sighed. “It’s my parents. If they don’t accept me…”

“You’ll always have me if anything goes wrong.”

“But that’s… that’s different,” Bob sighed again. “I don’t want them to think any differently of me, or that I’m not a good son, or…”

Paul nodded, trying to understand Bob’s point of view. Paul had only ever known himself as a bad kid, one who wasn’t going anywhere in life. Being bisexual was nothing on top of being a failure by default.

“Bobbo, you’re the sweetest boy I know. No matter what, they’ll still love you,” Paul advised Bob, trying his best to be supportive. He had no idea what Bob felt like. He couldn’t even imagine it.

—

Once their bags were packed and they had wrangled Alvy into the car, Bob and Paul were ready to head out to Bob’s parents’ home in the countryside.

“Do you miss being back home, Bobbo?” Paul asked, admiring the green fields passing by along the motorway.

“Yeah, I miss how quiet it was.” Glasgow was nice, but Bob missed being able to wander around the fields across the street from his house with Alvy. 

They pulled up to Bob’s parents’ house a short while later. Alvy, who had nestled himself into the blanket on Bob’s backseat for the ride, scrambled into Paul’s lap and began barking. Paul stared at the house in wonder. It looked idyllic, like a painting on the front of a Christmas card. The house’s pale yellow siding and dark green trim stood in stark contrast to the bare trees and brown grass surrounding it. A large wreath with a red bow hung on the front door. The aura of the house was cozy and comforting. Bob had grown up here? Paul thought back to his own upbringing, in a disheveled flat in one of Glasgow’s rougher neighborhoods. It was so quiet here, so unlike the bustling city he grew up with, cars and trains whizzing by on the streets below and blinking lights flashing into his bedroom when he was trying to sleep. Paul looked over at Bob and sighed, a bit envious that he could even go back to his childhood home.

“You ready?” Bob asked, knocking Paul out of his reverie. Paul nodded and opened the door, letting Alvy hop out. “Don’t do anything that would indicate that we’re together in any way until I tell you, alright? For now, you’re just a friend.”

They trekked up to the front door with their suitcases, Bob clutching Alvy’s leash. Before the boys could reach the threshold, the door opened and a smiling face appeared. “Robert!” his mother said as she pulled him in for a bear hug and a kiss on the cheek, which he gratefully accepted. After a few moments, she pulled back and looked Paul up and down, her mouth pulling into a smile once again. “And you must be Paul!”

Paul nodded and awkwardly held out his hand. “Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Hardy.” 

As soon as Paul stepped into the house, he felt out of place, his dark hair and clothes contrasting the pastel colors and cozy furniture around him. Even Alvy matched the warm, comforting interior of the house.

“Is Dad home?” Bob asked. Alvy trotted back and forth in the front hallway, happy to be home.

“He should be in the kitchen. He figured you boys would be hungry after such a long drive. You should go say hi,” Bob’s mother said. Paul felt a pang of jealousy at Bob’s normal relationship with his parents.

“Alright,” Bob said, nearly grabbing Paul’s hand to lead him to the kitchen before thinking better of it. They headed down the hallway side by side.

The kitchen was just as cozy as the rest of the house. Paul sighed as he stepped in, almost considering running upstairs to change into the one yellow sweater he brought, just to fit in a bit better. Bob’s dad turned and nodded as they entered. “Hello, Robert. And this must be Paul.”

“Hey, Dad,” Bob said, cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. Paul raised his hand in a nervous wave.

As soon as he and Bob sat down at the kitchen table, Bob’s dad brought over two bowls of steaming hot soup for them.

“How’s school, you two?”

Paul glanced at Bob. “It’s good,” he lied, looking back down at his bowl of soup.

Bob looked a bit confused at first, but decided to go along with it. “Yeah! It’s been great, and I’m barely even homesick!” He laughed to himself, “not that I don’t miss being home, though.”

After a few moments, Bob’s mum came into the room. “Paul, I brought your suitcase up to Bob’s room. I’m sorry we don’t have another bedroom… are you okay with sharing a bed?”

Paul and Bob exchanged a nervous look. “Y-yeah, that’s fine,” Paul said, feeling his palms growing sweaty. “I mean, we already share a room, so, y’know, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry to have to do this to you, Paul, it’s just that we don’t have anywhere else for you to sleep, really - the sofa’s not very comfortable, and we wouldn’t want to do that to a guest in our house!” Bob’s mother smiled and looked at her son. “You don’t mind, Bob, do you? I suppose I could go out and buy an air mattress…”

“No! No, that’s okay,” Bob interjected. He took a deep breath. “Paul’s right, we’ve been sharing a room for the last few months, it’s fine!”

Once they had finished their soup, Bob led Paul up to his room, which was painted a pastel yellow color and felt just as warm and cozy as the rest of the house. Paul admired the soft quilt on Bob’s bed and smiled when he realized he would be sleeping in it for the next week. As he sat on the bed, Paul noticed a shelf of sports trophies dating back from when Bob was a kid to just a few years prior to moving to Glasgow. "You played football?" he asked.

"Yeah. Ran cross country, too." Bob replied, the bed sagging as he settled down next to Paul.

"You didn't strike me as a sports guy!" Paul laughed.

"Why, because I'm chubby?"

"No! No, Bob, it's not that,” Paul said, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. “I just...I mean, you're an art student and all. Those two worlds don't usually…overlap." 

Bob shrugged. "I mean, yeah, I know. It was my parents' idea when I was a kid, and I really enjoyed it for a while. Just not my thing anymore, I guess." He took a breath, then looked at Paul with a sly grin. "I liked watching the other guys, though."

Paul laughed softly, reflecting on just how much love he felt in Bob’s home. Bob’s parents were proud of every single one of his achievements, from primary school football games to surviving his first semester of art school. He's so lucky.

“Did you play sports as a kid, Paul?”

Paul thought for a moment. “Maybe when I was really young. I’m not sure. I didn’t really do much of anything.”

"Oh?" Bob moved closer to Paul. "What do you mean…?"

Paul tensed and looked at Bob. “I didn’t have a normal childhood, I guess, and we never had money for that sort of stuff anyway.”

Bob nodded. “I get that.” He flopped down so he was lying on the bed, and Paul soon joined him.

“It’s… it’s not really an easy thing to just ‘get.’ I’m still dealing with it now. I haven’t even spoken to my siblings in years.”

"Oh," Bob said nervously. He had no siblings to speak to anyway, so he couldn't exactly relate, but he'd had no idea what Paul had been through.

“Yeah. Haven’t talked to my parents for even longer. Sometimes I feel bad for moving out and cutting myself off from my family, but…” Paul sighed, “it’s what I had to do.”

Bob nodded, unsure of what to say. He turned onto his side and wrapped himself around Paul's lithe frame, squeezing him in a hug. "It's okay. If this all goes well my family can be your family too.”

At that remark, Paul laughed and hugged Bob back. They laid there in silence for a few minutes before Bob suddenly sat up. “I think we should go back downstairs,” he sighed. His usually rosy cheeks looked pale.

“Are you getting nervous again?”

Bob nodded and cupped his face in his hands. “I don’t know if they’ll still love me…”

At that moment, Paul finally understood why Bob was so nervous. He was all his parents had. There were no other, more successful or wanted siblings to fall back on. It was just Bob, a former athlete now in art school, about to come out as gay. “I think they’ll still love you, Bob. It seems like they love you more than anything.”

Bob smiled and wrapped his arms around Paul once more. Paul could only see Bob’s blond curls and the yellow walls of the room and wondered how someone could possibly match their home so much. Why wasn’t their flat enveloped in pastel colors and cozy blankets?

“Ready to go downstairs now?”

“Yeah, but…” Bob sighed, “I think I don’t want to come out yet. I can wait a few days.”

“That’s ok,” Paul tried his best to reassure Bob, gently stroking his back. “If you’re not ready yet, then you don’t have to.”

“Maybe I can drop hints, to try and gage what they think?” Bob asked nervously.

“You could try,” Paul said thoughtfully. “But maybe it would be better to just get it over with, you know? Like how you’re supposed to rip off a plaster all in one go so it doesn’t hurt so much?”

Bob took a deep breath, pulling Paul closer, nuzzling his hair. “You’re right. I need to bite the bullet. I just need to work out what I’m going to say.”

“You can practice on me, if you want.”

“No, I…” Bob smiled as he stood up and walked cautiously towards the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Bob walked to the large bathroom across the corridor and quietly closed the door. Standing in front of the sink, he noticed that his hands were shaking; his heart thudded so violently that Bob was sure it would launch itself out of his body. He closed his eyes, taking in slow, deep breaths to calm himself. After a few minutes, his heartbeat slowed down and his trembling had largely ceased. Bob opened his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror in front of him. His body had calmed, but dread still radiated from his eyes. Despite the waves of panic resurfacing, he knew that it was time. 

He unlocked the door and walked cautiously down the stairs. These could be the last normal moments of his life. He took a deep breath and calmly approached the living room, where his parents were sitting and watching TV. 

“Oh, hi, Robert!” His mother greeted him with a beaming smile. “Are you both settled in?”

“Um, yeah, we are, thanks.”

Just do it. Just say it.

“You’re sure you don’t mind sharing a bed? There should be enough room for the both of you, but we just couldn’t think of anywhere else that would be comfortable for you both.”

“No, we don’t mind. There’s plenty of space.”

Spit it out, for fuck’s sake.

“That’s good,” Bob’s dad chimed in with an equally cheery expression on his face. “It’s lovely that you’ve made such a close friend at uni already.”

Is that a hint? Do they know?

“Yes, he’s seems like such a lovely boy, Robert.” Mrs. Hardy gave her son a comforting smile, and Bob relaxed, just a little. He had missed his parents a lot since he left for uni. They were caring people, and it was obvious that they loved him dearly. 

It’ll be ok. Just do it.

“I’m gay.”

Mr and Mrs Hardy took a double-take as their son blurted out these words. They stared at him blankly for a moment, and Bob’s anxiety reappeared; he felt as if it had its hand around his throat, squeezing and choking him.

“What did you say, Robert?” Bob had frozen still at his mother’s words. Usually he found her so easy to read, but he had no clue what either of his parents were thinking. With what little breath he had left, he almost whispered his response.

“I’m gay. What… what do you think?” 

Mr and Mrs Hardy looked at each, then returned their gaze to their only child.

“Robert…” Bob closed his eyes in anticipation at his father’s words, bracing himself for the worst. “That’s ok, Robert.”

Bob reopened his eyes to find both parents once again smiling at him. The hand around his neck vanished, but a lump in his throat remained.

“It… it is?” 

“Of course!” Mrs Hardy stood up from the sofa and approached her son. “We’ve always sort of known, Robert. Don’t look so panicked, darling!”

Before he knew it, Bob felt hot tears streaming down his face. His mother wrapped him in her arms, slowly stroking his soft, golden hair, the colour that matched her own. 

“We love you. You know that we always will.” Robert’s father joined their embrace, and held his small family close. Bob had never felt so light now that the weight of being in the closet was lifted from his shoulders. 

The three stayed in their embrace for a long time, until Mrs Hardy interjected.

“Wait, so does that mean Paul…” She struggled to find the right word, not wanting to press him too hard.

The words left Bob’s mouth before he could stop to consider them. “He’s… my boyfriend.”

His parents squeezed him even more tightly, a little too tightly for his liking, and his mother let out an excited squeal.

“I’m so glad! Why don’t you go get him? I’ll bake cupcakes! Does he like cupcakes? I can make them rainbow!” Bob giggled at his mother’s flurry of words.

“Yes, he loves cupcakes. Although he’ll pretty much eat anything.” Bob smiled shyly as he thought about Paul. “I’ll tell him to come down.”

As Bob ran up the stairs two at a time, Mrs. Hardy just as quickly ran to the kitchen, but not before sending Mr. Hardy to the shop for a surprise for the two boys. Bob’s dad smiled proudly as he walked to the car, pleased that his home was once again full of excitement.

---

“You told your parents I’m your boyfriend?” Paul grabbed Bob’s arm and sat him down on the bed as soon as they got to Bob’s room. “Your mum really thinks we’re getting married.”

“That’s the goal, isn’t it?”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“So I’m just a hookup to you, or something?” Bob said a bit louder than intended.

“No, Bobbo… you mean more to me than anything, but… you really had to call me your boyfriend? I don’t think I’m your boyfriend yet.”

“I didn’t really know what else I could say—”

“Maybe we could use that label one day, but—” Paul sighed, “not yet.”

“Why not? What are we, then?” 

“I don’t know, Bob. I don’t think we’re anything yet.”

“Are we dating? Could I at least say we’re dating?”

Paul laughed shakily. “Well, we’ve been on dates…”

“So, what, they didn’t mean anything to you? You’re just Dino’s little bitch boy!” Bob huffed and flopped on his back. “That’s why you won’t say we’re boyfriends. Because you’re being controlled by his stupid, ratty—”

“Y’know what, Bob… let’s just forget about this for now.” Paul was taken aback by Bob's sudden outburst. He bit his tongue to keep himself from lashing out any more.

"Yeah, you never want to talk about anything," Bob grumbled, rolling over to face the wall. The air was tense for a few moments before Bob let out a sigh. "I'm sorry," he said, quieter this time. "I guess I'm still all fired up from coming out."

"It's okay," Paul said, his voice quiet as well. He turned to look at Bob, tentatively placing a hand on his back. "We'll talk about it when we get home. I promise."

Bob rolled onto his back to look at Paul, his blue eyes shining. He nodded meekly.

"I'm proud of you, Bobbo," Paul continued with a smile. "You did great out there." He ran his fingers through Bob's hair, messing it a bit.

Bob couldn't help but let out a giggle. "Couldn't have done it without you, Paulie." He paused, then added, "So, we're okay, right?"

Paul laid down beside Bob and wrapped an arm across his stomach. "Yeah. We're okay."

“Let’s hope everything’s still the same in the morning.”

“Don’t worry. It will be.” 

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 148

Episode: Futari wa Precure Splash Star 49 - “In Top Form! Forever Friends Under the Starry Sky!” Date watched: 29 July 2019 Original air date: 28 January 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/LingrF5? Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

words don’t do this justice

note: I may revise this later if i look back and think of more to say. I probably will, bit i wanted to push this out now for personal reasons.

This is it. The finale. We finally made it! From November to now, Splash Star has been a long road plagued by personal difficulties and stubbornness and some lost sleep along the way, but I made it! And boy do we have a lot to discuss!

The Plot

When we left off, Saki, Mai, Michiru, and Kaoru, were infused with the power of spirits and transformed into Cures Bloom, Egret, Bright, and Windy. Gohyaan mocks their resolve and points out how all life is gone and there’s no light, no wind, nothing. It’s a world of ruin, except for the four of them, and he’s about to fix that. They battle, and as the girls again try to explain why they consider life so valuable, Gohyaan explains his backstory. He is an existence predating the universe, and he doesn’t like the commotion of life, so he wants to go back to the quiet. The girls won’t let that happen, because they have so much to live for. Gohyaan destroys the entire Earth, and thinks this is the end for them, but no! Saki explains how she needs to lead the softball team to victory. Michiru wants to try baking bread, because Saki’s is so delicious. Kaoru wants to draw with Minori and Mai, Choppi wants to live in the Land of Fountains, Flappi wants to confess his feelings, and Mai wants to keep drawing everyone’s smiles. They stand up, gather their power, and all together they perform a brand new four-person finishing attack: Precure Spiral Heart Splash Star!

This is too much for Gohyaan to handle and as the girls proclaim the strength of their hopes and futures, he is blown away.

The spirits of the various fountains and the Fairy Carafe reappear, and they restore everything to its original, beautiful state. We see all six fountains one final time, as the girls stand in front of the Sky Tree as they realize that it’s connected to the World Tree in the Land of Fountains. Princess Filia is fully restored to power, and Korone returns to being a normal, non-talking cat. However, Michiru and Kaoru have exhausted the last of their remaining energy, and they begin to fade away. Saki, Mai, Flaapi, Choppi, Moop, and Foop all cry deeply, not wanting to let their friends go, and even Filia seems sad but unable to do anything. However, a miracle occurs as the spirits of the Land of Greenery flow into the two, and Filia deduces that the spirits themselves want to live with the Michiru and Kaoru. They’re restored to life, and Princess Filia finally returns to her place in the Tree of Life.

At this point the first ending theme begins to play as we get a montage of events: All four girls visiting the Fountain of the Sky at long last, fulfilling that promise. Waving a tearful goodbye to their fairies. Mai and Kaoru drawing in school. The girls sitting on Gourd Rock in the spring. Saki and Michiru baking. And then, the softball tournament. Kaoru and Minori have drawn a picture to support Saki, while Michiru baked some bread in the shape of Saki’s head. Kaya, Miyasako, Kenta, Hitomi, Yuuko, and Mai are all in the stands anticipating the game. Saki looks into the stands and sees Izumida, the former captain, and suddenly gets nervous. She walks out of sight, and Mai walks up to her. They hold hands and Saki comments about how holding hands lets Mai’s energy flow through her, a callback to an earlier episode.

Then Saki walks out onto the field. Next thing we know, we’re treated to a few of Mai’s drawings: Saki holding the championship trophy, indicating they won. Everybody gathered together with Saki: Mai, Michiru, Kaoru, Kenta, Miyasako, Kaya, Hitomi, Yuuko, Izumida, Ms. Shinohara, Saki’s parents, Mai’s parents, Minori, Kazuyua, Korone, and all the fairies. Basically, every major character in the series. How nobody saw the fairies is not answered, and I have to assume it’s actually a photograph that Mai copied but details aside, it’s a great picture.

We zoom out to see Saki and Mai sitting beneath the Sky Tree, closing the sketchbook, and the real credits roll.

The Analysis

I absolutely love every minute of this. Even with the powers of all four spirits, Gohyaan is a formidable opponent, but the girls hold their own and manage to overcome him in the end. What is the power of destruction next to an indestructible will? He underestimates the power, the value, of life, and that is his ultimate undoing. He gets the peace and quiet he wants.... at the cost of his existence. And, indeed, this explains the Uzainaa’s name. It’s derived from “Urusai na”, which means “it’s annoying”. Gohyaan is an existence that predates the universe, and he doesn’t like the commotion created by life. It’s a darkly mundane reason to want to try to destroy everything, and frankly he should find a new hobby, but maybe in the end he learned that life is precious. Doesn’t seem like it, though. Honestly I don’t have much to say about the battle itself. There’s some good scenes, like this part where the cures all flip Gohyaan, but it’s more of an exchange of wills than a physical fight. Both are important aspects, as I’ve commented many times, I just want to note that the physical stuff was done last episode.

Let’s talk Michiru and Kaoru. Officially, they don’t get new designations even with the powers of Moon and Wind, because the idea at the time was still that Precures were only ordinary girls, but I think they deserve to be called Cure Bright and Cure Windy. Their journey is heartbreaking, even if their death was an inevitability and they were given a new lease on life very quickly. They never deserved what they got, but their tragedy is a part of this show I honestly forgot about, and I think it makes it more powerful. I knew Splash Star was an underrated gem but I had forgotten the depths of tragedy the Kiryuus were in, I kind of thought everything was pretty hunky-dory when they got back. Their journey escalates this show to a higher tier in my view, and I’ll have to remember that when making recommendations.

Obviously, they already had powers from being Dark Fall denizens, and getting Cure abilities doesn’t make them innately better, but it’s a great next step for them, epitomizing the journey they’ve undergone from mindless servants of Akudaikaan to friends and sisters who have a network of people who care about and support them, discovering their own interests, and getting to live life. They are every inch heroes in the way that Saki and Mai are and they have been done dirty by the franchise writ large.

The epilogue gives us a lot of things I really wanted. Michiru and Kaoru finally get some casual clothes, and they are really stylish.

Also, we fast forward to spring and see them in spring outfits and Michiru’s outfit is extremely similar to Nagisa’s spring clothes.

I’m happy to see them living normal lives, practicing baking and art and getting to experience life, finally. They seem so happy and I’m sure they have a bright future ahead of them and GOD DAMN IT TOEI WHY DO YOU IGNORE THEM. They were lucky to get Figuarts.

The softball championship game is something else I honestly forgot happened. I commented back in the last softball episode (35 I think) that we would never see Saki lead the team to victory the next year, because the show didn’t get a second season. Well, they took care of that here, and Saki did live up to her promise to Izumida by winning the championship.

In general it’s a lot of tying up loose ends that I really appreciate. Flappi finally confessed his feelings to Choppi and they’re a couple now, Kenta and Miyasako are still going strong as a manzai duo, Yuuko feels inspired by his encouragement even if they don’t seem to be a couple, and... well, the last closure we got on Saki and Kazuya was in the Christmas episode, but that’s just as well because Saki’s only love is Mai. For real though I love that the episode closes out on them being close, and you can choose to interpret their friendship any way you choose. It’s just perfect for this show.

Oh and there’s a little epilogue after the ending theme. On the TV broadcast it was probably a preview for Yes! 5, but we don’t get that here. Instead we get  , some stills of Saki and Mai thanking everybody for watching, and saying that Precure will continue for a long time! And boy, truer words were never spoken.

Next time on precure Daily, I’m going to revisit a little Splash Star something that I forgot to do sooner. After that, I’m going to try to push out a retrospective on the entire Futari wa era, before we change up the formula big time with Yes 5. My goal is to finish Yes 5 by the end of 2019, but if I’m really good I might even be able to start GoGo this year. I don’t want to drag another show out for 8 months, so we’ll see where we end up. I hope to see all of you again soon!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 1 Zekkouchou Nari!, in the title of the episode.

[losingmymindtonight]

So like, Peter having a Razor scooter and then Tony wanting to be a part of the fun and getting one too.

“Aw.” Tony held up a pair of Iron Man pajamas, grinning as widely as if he’d found a rare treasure. “Cute, kid.”

“Hey.” Peter blushed, snatching them away from his mentor and carefully storing them in the box they’d dedicated for things to keep. “Don’t mock me.”

“Don’t worry, Pete. I’d never mock my biggest fan.”

They were standing in the Parker’s small storage compartment on the outskirts of the city, going through years worth of items that had piled up. Neither May nor Peter had been in it since Ben died, but now the facility was closing, which meant that they had to go through everything.

Which meant that they had to sort through dozens of bins weighed down with memories, marked by pieces of duct tape bearing Ben’s messy scrawl.

Peter had dreaded it, and the fact that he could see May dreading it too made him dread it even more.

A never-ending cycle of dread and repeat.

That was, until Tony broke it by offering to help.

Peter had nearly cried with relief when he’d offered that he and Peter could go through the items together. 

“You’ve got enough to worry about, May.” His mentor had offered with a charming grin. “The kid and I can handle it. It’ll be a fun boy’s activity. You’d like that, right Pete?”

And so far, he had liked it. They’d eaten greasy fast food while leaning against the outside of the storage shed, summer breeze tugging at their clothes. They’d taken a few breaks to play Uno on a stack of rib-height boxes. Tony had even brought a speaker, and they’d played loud 80s music while shifting through piles and piles of anything from school trophies to dishtowels.

Peter had dreaded these excursions at first. Had dreaded the concept of stumbling across thoughts he didn’t want to think. 

Now, though, he loved the trips. Loved the hours of comfortable banter that they threw lazily around the shed. Loved the sunshine, the music, the comfortable silence.

He could face the boxes crammed with ghosts, so long as Tony was standing at his side.

As if sensing the solemn direction of his thoughts, the man he’d just been thinking about poked him in the side with a yardstick. “Why do you have, uh,” he held up three more, a look of indignation on his face, “four yardsticks? Who needs four yardsticks?”

Peter laughed. “I think Ben got them free when an old Home Depot shut down.”

“That still doesn’t excuse it.” His mentor shifted a box, peeing into it. His face instantly lit up into a grin. “Jackpot.”

“What?” Peter’s head snapped up, suddenly on high alert. “What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

“Mister Stark.” He moved to yank the box away, but Tony pulled it back, grin only growing.

“Oh, kiddo. You were so cute with that bowl cut.” He tugged out a photo and held it up. “Ever thought of going back to that style?”

“Oh no. Is that a box of…?”

“Yep. Embarrassing childhood photos.” He shifted through a few more stacks, face softening from mischief to fondness. “You had braces? And glasses? Oh my god, you were adorable.”

“I’m actually begging you to stop.”

Tony continued as if Peter had never spoken. “There are tapes in here, too. This is the best day of my life.” He selected one, and glanced at the label. “Peter B. Parker. End of Year Performance. 2005.”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll wash one of your cars. I’ll play sick and get you out of one of those board meetings you hate. I’ll-”

“Peter B. Parker. First Soccer Tournament. 2006.” Somehow, his mentor’s smile got even bigger. “Peter B. Parker. Halloween: Iron Man. 2007.”

“Mister Staaaark.” He dragged out his mentor’s last name petulantly. “Please.”

Tony relented, setting the box aside. “I’ll spare you for now, kiddo. But don’t think we aren’t watching those later.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He tossed a stuffed rabbit in his direction. “Yes, I do.”

Tony threw an old, peeling soccer ball back. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I-”

He stopped dead when he saw what Tony had just pulled out from where it had been wedged between a stack of bins and an old Science Fair poster board.

His mentor grinned. “A Razor scooter, huh? Wow, Pete. You never told me you were a cool kid.”

“Oh my god!” Peter lunged for the scooter, childlike excitement jumping in his chest. “I wondered where that went! Uncle Ben got it for me at a Police Auction.”

Tony smiled gently, understanding the weight of the reference as he passed the old toy over. “Wanna keep it, then?” He winked. “Maybe Spider-Man can re-brand himself as a scooter riding viglante. Leave the webslinging in the past. Now this is how you get around in style.”

Peter giggled, using the few feet of empty space around his feet to coast for a second. “It is pretty cool. More people should use them.”

“They should.” Tony crossed his arms, expression leaking with a kind of parental indulgence. “Know any tricks?”

His face fell a little as he pondered the question. “No. I-I never really rode it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the best part was supposed to be scootering around with your friends, y’know?” Peter shrugged, trying to conceal the childish pang of rejection. “I didn’t, well, have friends. Not really.”

Tony frowned, hand clenching like he wanted to reach for Peter but had stopped the motion before it could begin. “What about Ned?”

“I didn’t meet Ned until Middle School, Mister Stark.”

“Well,” Tony said, taking the scooter from his hands and setting it beside the box of photos and tapes, “we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”

A text popped up on Peter’s lockscreen early the next day.

TS: Meet me in the lab at 3:30. It’s important.

That afternoon, he’d rushed to the Tower in a flurry of excitement, possibilities jumping around in his head like heated popcorn kernels. Was it a mission? A new project with one of the suits?

The first thing he noticed when he ran into the lab was that it was empty.

Like, completely empty.

All the work tables had been taken somewhere. The only evidence of the old layout was the beaten up couch, still pressed in the corner of the room.

And sitting on the couch was Tony Stark himself, a lazy grin on his face as he watched Peter’s bemusement.

“Uh, Mister Stark?”

“Yes, Mister Parker?”

He took a few steps in his mentor’s direction, eyes still sweeping around the barren room. He hadn’t realized how big the space was before, with all the clutter. “What, uh, what did you do to your lab?”

Tony stood, then, and pulled two Razor scooters out from behind the couch. A brand new one, and Peter’s old one. “I made us a makeshift scooter arena.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Tony Stark, on a Razor scooter? “You can’t be serious.”

“I never learned how to ride one either, Pete.” He shoved the worn handles into Peter’s hands. “So, we’ll learn together.”

“It’s not hard, Mister Stark.” He pushed off, and glided a few feet before stopping. “You just do it.”

Tony followed, purposefully bumping into Peter but snapping a protective arm out to steady him when he wobbled. “Yeah? Wanna race, then?”

I can’t believe that this is my life. 

Despite the thought, his face lit up with a playful grin. “Oh, you’re on.”

They ended up splayed out on the couch, sweaty and tired but still smiling like little kids. Peter’s hair was curling in a way that would have made him self-conscious just a year ago. Now, however, he just basked in the looks of obvious affection that Tony was shooting his way.

Tony threw a lazy arm over his shoulders. “Have fun, Pete?”

“Yeah.” He rolled his head so that he was looking up at his mentor’s face. “Thank you.”

A pause. Then, a voice filled with something quiet yet genuine. “You’re welcome, kid.”

They sat in a silence for a while, happy to just breathe and exist and be contented by each other’s presence.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Peter leaned forward and riffled around in his pockets before pulling out a folded piece of paper. “This is for you.”

“Oh?” Tony took it from his hand without a second thought. “You got me a present?”

“I didn’t really get it, exactly.” He shifted awkwardly as the man unfolded the paper. “You can throw it out, if you want.”

He studied the drawing even as Tony did. The childish lines, scrawled out in crayon. Iron Man, flying over a shoddy New York skyline. The message, letters big and blocky in the way only children could accomplish.

My favorite superhero is Iron Man. He is the best and bravest superhero. I love him.

Peter Parker 

His mentor blinked a few times, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, he tugged the teenager back into his side, ruffling his sweat-damp hair in the process.

“Throw it out?” His gaze flickered between the smeared crayon and Peter’s hopeful eyes. “There’s gotta be laws about defacing pieces of classic art, kid. And do I look like I’d survive in jail?”