#since As Evidenced By The Past Week And A Half
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#kirby#daily kirby#my art#digital#hal laboratory#nintendo#ask to tag#okay I think my cough is mild enough that I'm allowed to go to the store tomorrow!#I need stuff to organize my bows!#also I still haven't gotten to go out with my wife for our 8 year anniversary!#(although that will be for monday if I'm still well enough)#I always wear my mask when I go out anyway for my own safety#since As Evidenced By The Past Week And A Half#where I was near completely out of commission and neither of my partners got more than negligible sniffles#I have to be really careful about all germs not just the ones that I already know wreck my underlying chronic illness#but now it's extra important cuz I don't wanna give strangers whatever germs I had either.#wearing your mask when you are able is both polite and kind.#to people like me who've been kicked out of the world because everyone else is just fine with coughing on each other again.
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Meet Me in the New Year
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader
Summary: Â âWeâre havinâ a baby this year,â voice boyish and shy and full of excitement and love.Â
You peer up at him, cheek smushed against the ball of his shoulder. âWe are.â
âReady?â
You nod, slow, pulling his head down for another kiss. âHappy New Year, Joel.â
-OR-
The New Year's Eve AU
Rating: Explicit 18+
Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; New Year's Eve AU; Devoted Joel Miller; Established Relationship; Ringing in the New Year with your baby daddy like God intended; More fucking in your childhood home shenanigans; Pregnancy sex; Needy behavior; Older man/Younger woman; Daddy kink; Unprotected PIV; Creampie; Meet me in St. Louis is the best Christmas movie ever; Breeding Kink; Pregnancy Kink; Size Difference; How does one tag fingering?; Fluff and Smut; Praise Kink; PWP
A/N: One last post for 2023, and of course, I had to do a few of my favorite things; daddy Joel, creampies and pregnancy sex, yeehaw. Here's to a new year of more of the same, but WORSE and nastier.
I should be put in prison next year probably like omg but whatever. Have fun, I love you all lots!
This is a sort of follow up to Evermore
Word Count: 2.4K
Read on AO3
Ko-fi
MEET ME IN THE NEW YEAR
âJoel, what time is it?â
He looks down at you, tender look in his eye, dragging that big hand of his through your hair. Tresses slightly sleep damp and warm at the roots and gradually growing cooler towards the ends. Your parentâs living room is dark, only the warm shine of the Christmas tree coming from the front hall peering in around the corner into the comfortable, warm den. Meet me in St. Louis plays on mute on the flatscreen, Judy Garland rushing over to give John Truett a piece of her mind on Tootieâs behalf. âLook who it is. Thought Iâd lost you for the night.âÂ
You groan, stretching your legs as far as the couch allows, knees popping hollowly, little toes splaying wide within the sweaty confines of the fuzzy Christmas socks heâd put in your stocking and which youâd been sporting for the past six days. You yawn wide, nose scrunching up at him and turning to nuzzle your face into his lap where youâve been on and off dozing for the evening. Dinner had been so, so good, browned butter steak and baked potatoes and heirloom tomato, mozzarella salad, and you were so full and so warm and so content beyond imagining. âNo⊠Iâm awake,â you mumble against his thigh. âWhat time is it?â
âAlmost midnight, I reckon.â
You turn to look up at him, giving him a scrunchy faced smile, âDidnât miss it, ha. Knew it.â
âOh, did ya?â His palm moves over the bowl of your skull to cup and squeeze the tender nape of your neck, big fingers gently kneading the fine, tight muscles there. âGonna ring in the New Year with me, sweet girl?â Mhmm, you moan, nuzzling further against his sweats and the thick heaviness of his half hard cock.Â
âYouâre hard, daddy,â you whisper up at him while his fingertips slip beneath the neck of your pullover, running down the notches of your spine to reach your waist. He pauses there, his hand curving over the growing swell of your bump.Â
He groans, head dropping onto the back of the sofa, and brings his other hand up to rub across his whiskered mouth. âDonât fucking start.â You know it makes him crazy when you call him that, but youâd told him that you now have the excuse that he is actually going to be a daddy again, and so itâs only nothing but the truth.Â
You press your fingertips to your mouth, hiding away your laughing smile. Your first Christmas as a little family of three. Sarah was away with her mother this year since sheâd gotten Christmas with the two of you last year, and so the two of youâd decided to come to your parents house again, like youâd done for Thanksgiving last year. Youâd been here for a week now, and Joel was starting to lose patience. The lack of alone time was needling as evidenced by the now fully hard and slightly pulsing erection digging into your cheek.Â
He rolls his head to peer down at you, mock, chastising frown as he drags his hand over the small swell and up to your naked breast, squeezing gently. âWeâve been here too fuckinâ long.â And you moan, hiding your face against his thigh as he pinches your nipple, rolling it softly between his fingertips, thumb dragging around the sensitive puffiness of your areola. Your whole body had been, for the past several weeks, a coiled tight ball of nerves, everything swollen, everything wet, everything needing him. Like your skin knew, knew heâd been the one to do this to you, and wanted it more, wanted it again.Â
You squeeze your thighs together, legs shifting and sliding against each other to relieve the knot of want heâs spin, spin, spinning with his fingers plucking at your breast. He switches to the other one, hand sliding beneath the heavy weight to lift it into his palm and squeeze. You turn to look up at him now, eyes wide when you canât control the sound of the moan he forces out of you, mouth falling open, panting. Your breasts, going all tight and hot, needing his sucking mouth. âJoelââ
âWhat?â He teases, pulling his hand from beneath your sweatshirt and shifting to sit you up and press you back the opposite way on the couch, crawling over you to settle between your thighs he pushes open for himself, slightly to the side and sure to not crush you. âIf your father catches us,â he whispers with wet lips moving across your throat, that same hand sneaking its way back under your sweatshirt, tongue against your pulse, âhe canât be mad, sweetheart. Already fucked you fullâa my baby. Damage sâalready done,â he snickers, mouth latching at your carotid, pulling hard enough you know heâs purposely trying to leave a mark.Â
âYouâre so bad,â you moan, arching up into his hand on your breast, his hot, sucking mouth. You want it on your cunt, you want that thick cock heâs rubbing against you, inside. Heâs right, youâve been at your parents house too long, too far into your first trimester to pretend at civility. You need your husband.Â
âNot,â he huffs, damp against your collarbone. âGonna give it to you so good, baby.â He wedges one hand behind your neck, holding you in place, while the one fondling your breast moves down between your legs, center gusset soaked slick already, and you flush at the flutter of muscles wrapped around his jaw when he finds you pantiless beneath your soft sleep shorts. And so what? Pregnancy had made you sensitive and achy. You need to be free, you tell him with an airy laugh.Â
He clicks his tongue down at you, fingers slipping beneath the soft cotton to pet at the soaking wet tuft of curls with the back of his knuckles. âPretty cuntâs all wet and hungry for me, isnât it, baby?â And heâs all teasing grins and sparkly, self satisfied eyes as he searches gently for your clit, parting your folds to pet there slow and steady.Â
Uh huh, you moan, hitching your foot up higher on his back, little heel digging into the padding of muscles over his ribs to find purchase. You let your other leg slip off the couch with a dull thud, socked foot rolling up on your tip toes so that you can cant and rock your hips against his too light touch on your cunt.Â
âMore, daddy, please,â you provoke, all breathless sighs as you roll your head in the cup of his palm, the heat of him seeping through the mantle of your messy hair, against your scalp. You feel him flex his fingers, tugging lightly at the sweaty roots, and he finally gives you more. Thumb sliding down to your weepy entrance, pressing there lightly, petting and circling, moving back up to press against your clit at the same time that he starts to feed you two fingers at once.Â
You groan at him, scrunching your nose, but he just clicks his tongue, tutting you into submission and silence. âTake it,â he says gentle and low. You scratch at his shoulders, slipping your fingertips under his ratty t-shirt to get at his skin, using your bracing foot to rock your hips against his palm, rough callused palm catching a little painfully at your clit. Youâre going to come so fucking fast like this.Â
And fingers hooked forward inside of you, he jostles his hand a little, rattles your cunt so that all your wet rings loud in your parents dead silent house. âHear how sloppy this cunt is for me?â Heâs grinding his cock against your inner thigh, fat, blunt tip thrusting against the crease in your thigh over and over and you want it inside of you. You donât care if you get caught, if someone comes down stairs. You want to soak his hand and then soak his cock and then have him carry you to bed and do it all over again.Â
âYeah,â you breathe. âGonna come.â Your lashes flutter shut as he lowers his head to bite your tit, hard and mean, over your sweatshirt, fingers fucking fast and loud, and your cunt goes tight, tight like a knot and then wet and loose and even sloppier. Youâre so wet for him. Always.Â
Fucking Christ, he groans against your breast, sucks harder, darkening the grey cotton so that the hard tip of your nipple is left molded and obvious beneath the soaked fabric. âThatâs it. Come just like that, sweet girl. Youâre so fucking wet.â And he doesn'tâ gentle his fingers, pressing in a little harder, palm grinding against your clit and shaking his fingers up and down inside of you so that heâs jostling another tiny, almost painful, orgasm out of you. The wet sound of your pussy is so loud and so obvious, if someone were to come down the stairs, the sound of it would be unmistakable. âGonna soak your motherâs nice couch, and then whatâll she think of you? Everyoneâs gonna know exactly what you let me do to you down here.â
Youâre pretty sure thatâs what gets you over the edge that second time. The thought of everyone knowing.
He nuzzles at your breast, your neck, sucking and kissing, fingers still stretching your pussy, while he makes his way up your throat, mouth against the tip of your chin, and then finally to your mouth. Kiss, slow at first, all tongue and hunger, and then soft little pecks. The corner of your mouth, the bow of your top lip, the other corner. Open, he orders, and licks behind your teeth. Bossy man. You love him.
He pets gently at your G-spot, slow and careful because he knows itâll be too much soon, letting your slick spill out and gather in his palm, drip down his wrist. âPretty girl,â he says real quiet, âKeeping my baby so nice and warm in this little cunt. Arenât you?â You whine up at him, bringing your foot up off the floor, trying to toe his arm away. He clicks his tongue at you again, but finally pulls his fingers from you, wet, sucking sound as he leaves your cunt. He brings his hand up to his mouth, fingers slick sticky and sweet, shiny in the dim light and licks himself clean. You watch him as he teases you, all eyes and laughter, wrapping your fingers around his too thick, hairy wrist, not meeting around it, and holding him there as he eats your wet out of his own palm. When heâs done, his mouth is shiny and glossed in you and he presses another kiss to your lips, forces your jaw open, hinged wide and eats you like you know he wants to eat your cunt instead. Later, he says, like he can read your mind because youâre pretty sure he actually can.
When he pushes the loose waist of his sweatpants down over his erection, no underwear either, you roll your eyes at him, and tell him old men arenât supposed to be this slutty. But at the sight of that too thick cock nestled in his neatly trimmed bed of hair, the wide root leading up to the happy trailed covered belly, you concede that easy access is highly to your benefit. And when he wedges that said thick cock inside of you by way of an answer to your brattiness, fat head stretching your well used, wet hole, he slides in way too easy because you want him way too much.Â
You moan open mouthed for him, and he presses your sweatshirt up over your bump, your swollen breasts, and finally gets his hot mouth on your bare nipples, teeth grazing lightly, pushing you into a higher, hotter level of desperation. You rock your hips up to meet his thrusts, close your eyes and listen to the slick sound of his cock fucking your cunt. âLemme see this sweet belly,â he murmurs, cupping the small swell. The changes heâd incited in your body had made him a specific flavor of hungry you were going to miss when this was all over. âYouâre so fucking beautiful, carrying my baby. You know that?â
And youâre all soft sighs and whimpers and his name as nothing but a moan, hitching your knees as high as you can to open yourself further to him. âFuck, youâre gunna come again. Gettinâ tight as a fist,â he grits, hips swinging back and then forward, pelvis grinding so that heâs pressing on your clit and then pressing you into another full blown orgasm. It throbs through you, an almost unbearable heat stirring in your pelvis, walls of your cunt pulsing and milking the too thick, sometimes too big, weight of his cock inside you. It always hurts just a little and you always like it too much.
He pulls out suddenly, tiny flutters still moving through your muscles and sits back on his knees, turning you on your side and shoving your thigh up, pulling the now ruined shorts aside to line up and shove back inside. He braces his foot on the floor, one hand on the back of the couch, the other holding your thigh up and open for himself and drills down into your spasming cunt, mid orgasm, and there are tears in your eyes and you gnaw and slobber on the edge of your motherâs couch as your husband fucks you into one last orgasm. The previous one not even fully over. âTold you youâd fuckinâ take it,â he growls, balls slapping against the curve of your ass, temples shiny with sweat, throat all red and splotchy. âFuckinâ shame I canât knock you up again here in your parents house like I wanted to last time. Weâre gonna have to try harder next time.â
âTold you, youâre so bad.â And you can barely speak as he starts to pump you full of his load, hot and thick so that you can feel it being forced out of your cunt while he continues to shove inside.Â
When heâs finished, cleaned you up and tucked you back into his side, both of you choosing to ignore the wet spot on the couch youâd left and agreed to plead the fifth tomorrow if anyone asks, the movie is just finishing up. Judy and her beau are finally at the World Fair together. The clock below the TV rings midnight and Joel presses a soft kiss at the tender spot behind your ear. âWeâre havinâ a baby this year,â voice boyish and shy and full of excitement and love.Â
You peer up at him, cheek smushed against the ball of his shoulder. âWe are.â
âReady?â
You nod, slow, pulling his head down for another kiss. âHappy New Year, Joel.â
Netherfeildren's Masterlist
Updates Blog!
#vic fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#Joel miller smut#the last of us AU#joel miller fanfiction
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landoscar ao3 stats â 2023 overview
notes
retrieved ~sometime in march 2024
methodology: scraped metadata for every fic in the landoscar tag and...... that's it. however one important constraint is that all temporal data is date updated (not posted), so the above timeline isn't exactly a true representation of fic growth but rather how many fics were last-updated at that time. of course this is still its own reflection of fandom health in a way since dead fandoms don't update old fic but well... it's just not quite the same!
this is just info about general trends, fic content, tags etc... so nothing about kudos/comments or any authors specifically
i decided to focus solely on fics last-updated in 2023 (unless otherwise mentioned) because i wanted a tidy set that i can maybe compare & contrast in a year's time, because i expect a lot of details to look different then (tho as stated above this set isn't exactly static... đ€·ââïž)
ngl i had to re-scrape a bunch of times because i forgot about it for like 3 weeks and then there were 100 new fics đ so if there are some minor discrepancies across the post it's because of that halfskh.
also i wanted to include more global comparisons (aka how 814 stack up against the f1 rpf tag in general), but this is also considerably difficult in some contexts since i can't exactly scrape 31,000+ fics can i... or i didn't even want to entertain the thought of trying to do so!!!
why did i do this? who knows.
anyway here's some viz T__T
ship growth
as evidenced in the opening graph, landoscar have been a very fast-growing ship over the past year â although interestingly enough they didn't really start growing substantially until july / the ~better half~ of the 2023 season. here are two views showing their "growth" (by date updated) alongside two other ships on the fringes of the f1 rpf top 10 (sebchal & galex):
landoscar are very much on-track to surpass them and officially enter the top 10 soon, likely before mid-april âïž :o
ship characteristics
onto the ship content â another thing i was mildly curious about was how landoscar differs in certain areas from other f1 ships, or the f1 rpf "global" average you could say. for example, here's a breakdown of rating popularity in their ao3 tag:
seeing as explicit is their most common rating, and that i don't necessarily expect this to be true for all ships/fandoms, i compared these percentages with the general f1 rpf tag to see whether some ratings are more commonly represented in 814 fic than average, which produced interesting results:
do lando ships simply skew more HornyTM in general? is it oscar? a secret third thing??? who knows... actually i think it would be fun to do more analysis in this direction but that can wait for another time!!!
similarly i also wanted to see which ships are the most "public" on ao3, as in have the highest share of fic that isn't user-locked... i will refrain from peppering in my feelings about the 4th wall too heavy-handedly but i was curious to see whether some sort of perhaps... er, generational gap (?) of sorts between ships that are more public vs. not could be identified. however i don't pretend to have any takeaways from this LOL i conclude absolutely nothing. (for ref landoscar is currently 72% public, vs. a global avg of 63%)
note that this graph is current stats, not filtered for 2023
looking at relationship tags, i also wanted to know whether landoscar suffer noticeably from Second-Ship Syndrome, so i tallied the first-tagged ship of every fic to find out. i know this doesn't necessarily mean that it's always the "main" ship but it's a good enough approximation. the results were quite positive!
filtered to top ships with count of >1 only
i then also calculated the number of ships tagged for each fic to discern the profile of multi-shipping in 814 ficdom; i did have to do a little bit of string standardization (all instances of implied / background / hinted collapsed to hinted for simplicity's sake + removal of other redundancies), but otherwise i left everything mostly untouched.
as you can see, landoscar also have a fairly promising amount of OTP: TRUE fic:
by the time you get to the fics with 10+ ships tagged, landoscar are less likely to be the primary ship, which makes sense just on a basic statistical level... this is also a very small sample size though
i also lazily tallied the 10 most common ships that weren't NOR/PIA or NOR & PIA to diff their shares of the 814 tag vs. of the general f1 rpf tag, to see which other pairings are more represented in the 814 tag than on average (because lestappen are the most popular by pure count but this is also true of fandom in general, so it would be a misrepresentation to say that their popularity is out of the ordinary):
maxiel's gap isn't really that surprising since i think that, generationally, in terms of when both pairings were teammates there is quite a gap; with carlandoâactually let me tally this again but including all instances of "implied" and "past" as being part of the same ship, since that's how ao3 tag-wrangles as well:
Aha ! obviously as a direct ship there is competition between 814 and other lando or oscar ships, but this difference is somewhat less pronounced once we include all formats. tbh none of this really means anything but i thought i'd add it anyway... (it's also very possible that there are several errors in this, in which case my b đ)
before we move on to additional tags, there are a few more basic characteristics of 814 fic we can calculate. i realize i never offered an overview of Super Basic Stats, so here are a few:
plus, looking at word counts, here is a distribution of those in 2023-updated fic, which shows that a majority of 814 fics were under the 5k mark:
85% of landoscar fics were under 10k & nearly 97% under 25k
i don't really have any reason to believe that landoscar's wc stats differ significantly from average ? so this is kind of just Data To Have Data, and it most likely reflects normal ao3 trends in general... but i thought i'd include it anyway because i already made it lol. similarly, here are word count distributions but stratified by rating:
& same info but heat map view:
i feel like this is also probably something you'd find across fandom in general â that gen fic is likely to have a higher share of under 1k works, since Building Up to sexual content often takes... Literal & Metaphorical Foreplay ! and the longer a fic is the more opportunities an author has to include a sex scene or other explicit content (ofc, not necessarily just porn but also graphic violence & so on). but i thought this was fun to visualize haha
additional tags & aus?
back in my old f1 rpf stats post, i made a table comparing fluff/angst "ratios" (not exactly a direct ratio because of how tag wrangling works, but an approximation) of the most popular f1 ships, and now that landoscar are somewhat popular i thought i'd first do an update:
also current data, not 2023 to make things easier
just like before, simi are one of the most fluffy ships and brocedes are by far the most angsty, but it's interesting to see 814 also extremely high up on the charts, with far and away the lowest % of angst. will be exciting 2 see how that holds or changes as the seasons progress !
finally, i also wanted to do a bit of au/additional tag analysis because you can kind of see this when you use additional filters on ao3 but the previews are limited and get bogged down by the prevalence of *checks notes* Fluff, Angst, PWP, Anal Sex and what have you. which are nice stats to have and all but what of the rest !
disclaimer that the set for these tables is a biiiit outdated because by the time i'd wrangled everything i was like I Am Not Changing It Again. unfortunately i clean my data with shoddy queries and regex functions in googsheetz...
there were 48 tags with at least 10 instances from 2023 fics, shown below, with ones that are (some ~vaguely) nsfw in red just to kind of get a rough sense of which tags get commonly used in M/E fic:
getting a bit too much into small sample size / specific fic territory so if you're an author i sincerely apologize for that... do not mean 2 put u on blast... TT__TT but i also tried to tally the most popular aus people write for 814, which is a bit dubious because people tag in really different ways and i had to accommodate for a lot of string formats but ... it's close enough ! (?)
i feel like this is very little interesting info but idk what else to add so i will stop here for now... well!!! if you made it to the end i hope u learned something or even vaguely enjoyed reading T__T and most of all thank you :')
#*s#landoscar#in a sense đ#tfw don't have a tableau license so i live life on the edge across multiple unsaved desktop public files......#if ur interested in anything specific pls lmk before my computer inevitably Dies and deletes everything...!#this is so useless nsdflshdfh. Anyway
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 KE AUPUNI UPDATE - MARCH 2024
At the UN in Geneva... For three or four times a year since 2010, I have been attending meetings at the UN in Geneva, and likewise at the UN in New York. The primary purpose for attending these UN meetings is to promote... âHawaiÊ»i. our story and our futureâ... where we have been and where we would like to go. By using the art of diplomacy (talking story and making friends), we have broken down the lies the US had spread about HawaiÊ»i being a US âstateâ (as evidenced by numerous stories in UN and European publications), and we have succeed in developing sympathy and support for the restoration of HawaiÊ»i as a sovereign, independent nation. I am currently at the massive UN headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland attending the 55th Session of the UN Human Rights Council. This past week I have touched bases with diplomats, UN experts, non-governing organizations (NGOs), the press and other stake-holders in the international human rights arena. Next week I will be on a panel on self-determination sponsored by the Kashmiri independence movement. I will also participate in a press conference with Alaska representatives and Dr. Alfred deZayas on calling for review of UNGA Resolution 1469. Here is the short oral statement I delivered at the Human Rights Council asserting our diplomatic protest to the US illegal occupation of our islands and reiterating our status as a sovereign, independent nation in continuity. Aloha Mr. President: This intervention is a diplomatic protest of the ongoing, systematic violations of human rights in the Hawaiian Islands and how the matter can be peacefully remedied. The United StatesÊ» illegal occupation of Hawaii, has caused the people of Hawaii tremendous harm. The tragic fire that destroyed the historic town of Lahaina on August 8, 2023 is a foreboding of where the rest Hawaii is headed should the U.S. maintain its stranglehold on our islands. The U.S. and its settler population has used judicial corruption to dispossess Hawaiians of our lands (as in the current case of Mme Routh Bolomet); robs Hawaiians of our livlihoods, way of life and social structures; creating an environment that is so inhospitable and toxic that more than half of native Hawaiians have fled the islands just to survive. The huge presence of the US military in Hawaii puts Hawaiians in imminent danger of instant nuclear annihilation by enemies of the U.S. But unlike Japanâs sneak attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, the next attack on US Military installations in Hawaii will wipe out everything. The people would be gone and the entire island of OÊ»ahu will look like Lahaina does now. The remedy would begin with the United Nations General Assembly reviewing Resolution 1469 to correct its error, and ending its complicity in the occupation of Hawaii by the U.S.
 âLove of country is deep-seated in the breast of every Hawaiian, whatever his station.â â Queen LiliÊ»uokalani ---------- Ua mau ke ea o ka Ê»Äina i ka pono. The sovereignty of the land is perpetuated in righteousness. ------ For the latest news and developments about our progress at the United Nations in both New York and Geneva, tune in to Free Hawaii News at 6 PM the first Friday of each month on Ê»Ćlelo Television, Channel 53. ------ "And remember, for the latest updates and information about the Hawaiian Kingdom check out the twice-a-month Ke Aupuni Updates published online on Facebook and other social media." PLEASE KĆKUA⊠Your kĆkua, large or small, is vital to this effort... To contribute, go to:  ⹠GoFundMe â CAMPAIGN TO FREE HAWAII âą PayPal â use account email: [email protected] âą Other â To contribute in other ways (airline miles, travel vouchers, volunteer services, etc...) email us at: [email protected] All proceeds are used to help the cause. MAHALO! Malama Pono,
Leon Siu
Hawaiian National
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Ethereum Price Targets $6K as Crypto Community Gears up for Expected Altseason
Key Points
Ethereumâs price is predicted to reach $6K in the coming months due to a potential bullish breakout.
Bitcoinâs rising dominance in the crypto market could lead to a bullish rebound for altcoins in early 2025.
After Bitcoinâs price fell below $70k due to strong resistance around its all-time high, Ethereumâs price maintained a short-term bearish outlook.
Ethereum, a leading altcoin with a market cap of over $296 billion and a daily average traded volume of around $14.5 billion, ended last week with an inverted hammer.
Ethereumâs Potential Bull Run
Ethereumâs price retested a crucial support level above $2,400, which could be the foundation for the next major bull run. According to crypto analyst Ali Martinez, Ethereumâs price is poised to rally towards a new all-time high (ATH), with a target of about $6K in the coming months.
Martinez points out that Ethereumâs price has been on a rising trend since early 2023. From a technical analysis standpoint, Ethereumâs price has respected a rising logarithmic trend, suggesting a possible bullish breakout.
Ethereumâs price has been consolidating in a symmetrical triangular pattern, which often results in a bullish breakout, since the crypto crash on August 5. If Ethereum consistently closes below the support range between $2,150 and $2,293, the bullish narrative for Ethereumâs price will be invalidated.
The Anticipated Altseason
In recent years, the Ethereum market has continued to lose ground to Bitcoin, as evidenced by Bitcoinâs increasing dominance. Latest market data shows Bitcoinâs dominance in the crypto market has risen to about 60 percent while Ethereumâs has dropped to about 13.19 percent.
As a result, the ETH/BTC pair has been in a multi-year falling trend, despite the weekly Relative Strength Index (RSI) being in the oversold area. Crypto analyst Benjamin Cowen suggests that another altcoin correction is likely in the coming weeks before a bullish rebound in early 2025.
Cowen predicts that the Bitcoin market will continue to outperform the altcoin space in the short term before a reversal in the first half of 2025. He has set a target range of between $1,000 and $1,400 for Ethereum in November and December before a spike beyond $6K in 2025.
Market Overview
Demand for Ethereum and most altcoins remains relatively low due to short-term market uncertainties. Last week, US spot Ether ETF issuers reported a net cash inflow of around $13 million, while Bitcoinâs ETFs registered over $2.2 billion in the past seven days.
The Ethereum ecosystem has faced stiff competition from other layer-one networks, led by Solana. Despite this, the Ethereum network remains the undisputed leader in web3, with over $45 billion in total value locked (TVL) and around $84 billion in stablecoins market cap.
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March 17,2023
I cancelled my bank shift today last Tuesday, I think, because I can't really handle working like how hard I worked last week. Last week was a whole new level of tired for me because I worked 6 days straight from Monday to Saturday. Woke up around 8:35am in the morning and had a weird dream which I can't exactly remember. Did a 6/6 attempt in Wordle today and I was quite afraid that my 40 streak win was about to go down the drain. Made myself some pancakes slathered with a protein hazelnut spread and my favorite dry roast from Nescafe. Did my laundry and played 2 rank games in Pokemon Unite and finished the final episode of You S4P2. It was quite good and impressive how Joe got away with everything again. After that gave Lindcae and the family back home a call and went to the gym. Since I didn't do a proper gym session yesterday, today was a super/suffer day for me. Back, chest, legs, and arms. Sheesh! Spent 3 hours in the gym today and was freaking exhausted. Went to Mark and Spencer's after to buy a birthday cake and a few other stuff for Dani's advance birthday celebration. She won't be here next week on her birthday because she'll be in Morocco with a colleague of her so we just planned an early celebration. Laksmi cooked us a very good pasta dish! It was so good and filling that I had seconds and the birthday cake was to die for. Had like 6 shots of tequila while the rest abstained because we me and Dani had a waiting list to do tomorrow with Mr. Hennebry. My friends confronted me about how they noticed that I was underperforming at work evidenced by the needle stick injury that I sustained yesterday and I personally think that I wasn't giving my best this week too. I think that it's the residue from last week's burnout. I'm glad that I have friends who tell me these stuff and not spread stuff behind my back. They're one of the closes people I have here in the UK and I'm beyond happy that I have met them. We just ate and drank and gossiped from 6pm to half past 11. It was quite a nice get together outside of work. Eddie texted me if he could go to a bar with his friends. I said yes and didn't think much about it. I have to trust him after everything. It's not going to be good if I say no on my part. I'm fine and I'm handling it quite well after everything. I also talked with Porcia about my dilemma if I should buy a laptop or a PC or a console just to play Diablo 4 and possibly any other game that I might like. Signs point to buying a Macbook. I hope I make the right decision. I have until June.
Today's thoughts were about me being a version of myself that the younger me would be proud of. I don't think that my younger self would be proud of me right now. It's nothing but a hallow shell of his former glory but I think my younger self would hold my hand and tell me that I'm capable of great things. I know I am. I just have to put myself out there. I'm so afraid of making mistakes that I miss opportunities and chances and let moments slip by. When these things come, I'll try to seize every opportunity to make new experiences and memories.
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Aizawa/Pregnant! Reader - More Domestic Life
Takes places after Aizawa and Toshinori go around to all the families and get the kids in the dorms. They kinda...skipped over how heavy that moment must've been in the show from what I remember. So hopefully this does it justice. I also had a request for Aizawa and a pregnant s/o so 2 birds one stone. Reader is gender neutral - apologies if any gendered language is used. Of course TW for pregnancy and mentions of babies kicking in the womb.
His favorite part of his day had always been when he was able to return home.Â
Crossing the threshold and having the world shut out for even a few hours had always been something Shouta treasured. Being in his own space and able to do things at his own pace was a luxury he was rarely afforded due to his line of work, both in the classroom and out.Â
The relief and comfort of home had grown in recent years as well. While Shouta never cared for having his sanctuary invaded by others, you had always proved to be an exception. It had taken some adjustment, as living with another person always does, but Shouta couldnât imagine these small moments of peace without you now.Â
On a regular day the tension in his shoulders would ease away the moment he opened the door to the small apartment that you both shared, the troubles and stress of work melting away to be addressed for another time.Â
No such luck today. His brain was still buzzing with all of what needed to be arranged to ensure his students safety in the dorms as he entered.
âIâm home,â he called, kicking his shoes off and setting them neatly by the entrance. He noticed the faint scent of the house cleaner that you loved so much and nearly rolled his eyes.Â
He had told you to wait until he returned to get to work on packing and deep cleaning.Â
âWelcome back,â your voice called from the living room. Shouta wasted no time in making his way over to you. Â
Half packed boxes and piles of both of your belongings were strewn about the apartment in an organized chaos that heâd learned years ago to not bother attempting to understand. Normal logic and reasoning never seemed to apply to you anyways.Â
He found you perched on the couch, a book in your lap and a smile on your lips waiting for him. He couldnât help the roll of his eyes as you made a show of scooting over and patting the space next to you, as if he needed the extra convincing.Â
âDonât remember giving that to you,â he said, brow raised in question as he gave a pointed look to the oversized clothes you had on that looked suspiciously familiar.Â
âWhatâs yours is mine, right?â you questioned, looking up at him through your lashes with a slight pout on your lips in some faux display of innocence heâd become all too familiar with.Â
âDid I say that?â you huff as he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your middle with hands flat against your stomach in hopes of feeling the fluttering movements of the baby. It had been a few weeks since you both had first felt the little kicks and he hadnât been able to keep his hands to himself since. He hadnât been very good at it before, as evidenced by your current state, but the comfort of having undeniable proof that his child and partner were both alive and well was something he found himself needing more often these past few months.Â
âEverything go well?â As much as heâd deny it, you could read him like a book. He tried to shield you from his job as much as he could but lately it had become unavoidable for you to be entangled in his professional life. Thereâs no way around it when youâd be moving into the dorms with him and his class.Â
âAs well as they could,â he answered, fingers tapping against your stomach. If you bothered to pay attention to the rhythm youâd recognize it as morse code. âAll of the parents agreed it was the best decision. It went much more smoothly than I expected truthfully.â He didnât voice that he couldnât understand how his studentsâ parents could trust him to protect their children after he failed them so miserably. He didnât have to.Â
âHeyâ your said as you grabbed his hands in your smaller ones, âstop thinkin so hard when youâre off the clock.â Heâd never been able to hide much from you and even less so now after youâve spent so many years picking up on all of his microexpressions. While somewhere deep down in the most selfish depths of Shouta he may admit to being thankful that you were there to share his worries, he mostly feels guilt as your eyebrows knit and your smile dim. Itâs not fair that he brings this stress home to you and the baby.Â
It had been a conversation the two of you have had over the course of your relationship that has ramped up in recent months. Shouta always struggled with the knowledge that he could never keep you entirely protected from hero work. It was a messy business that he could never just dump at the door and forget about. It would stick to him, stick to his clothes, the corner down the street - it bled into all aspects of his life and by extension yours.Â
The guilt would eat him alive if you let it.Â
âSorry,â he mumbled before pressing a kiss to your temple.Â
âNone of that now, thereâs nothin to be sorry for,â you were soaking in his touch as you leaned further into him, âlook, everything will be alright, youâll see. I got parentâs intuition, I know these things.âÂ
âDo you now?â The smile is small, the curve of his lips wouldâve been mistaken as a twitch of a facial muscle by anyone else, but it was more than enough to lift your spirits.Â
You gave a soft hum in affirmation, âitâs a packaged deal with the morning sickness,â your hands move back over his own, the baby tapping its own reply to Shoutaâs message.Â
âYouâll see, all your kids are gunna be fine, they got you lookin out for them after allâ
_____
Some HCs for this cuz I couldn't get it to flow right in the actual story
Aizawa's pretty clinical and analytical in his thinking so while he feels guilty about the stress he put you through before you got pregnant it's next level now. Stress on the pregnant parent can cause so many issues for the kid so while he's excited to be a parent it's really eating him up that something could happen to the baby and you because of his work
he's pretty upset that y'all have to leave your home and move into the dorms too - it's the logical thing to do and the safest option for sure but the home you two had made just felt so perfect to him. You both had met on the cafe down the street, the owner of the family run restaurant on the block always engaged with some small talk with you. When Shouta had to start doing pregnancy craving runs to the place the family always checked in to see how you were - he appreciated that others in the community were looking out for you. That's hard to find these days. Y'all had made a home for yourselves and he was a little annoyed the kid's first months wouldn't be in that home.
the book mentioned was a baby name book. things had been so hectic the last few months that y'all haven't really had a second to even think about names so that night you both toss some back and forth while cleaning and packing
the purples fabuloso is what he smelled when he walked in. IDK if they got that in japan but that's the only smell i've ever associated with a deep clean before so that's what it is
#boku no hero academia#dabi my hero academia#my hero academy#mha#bnha#aizawa#aizawa shouta#shouta#shouta aizawa#aizawa/you#aizawa/reader#aizawa x you#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta/you#aizawa shouta/reader#shouta/you#shouta/reader#shouta x you#shouta x reader#shouta aizawa/you#shouta aizawa x you#shouta aizawa/reader#shouta aizawa x reader#fan fiction#fanfic#my hero fanfic#eraserhead#eraserhead/you#eraserhead/reader#eraserhead x you
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Love at First Grade (18+) - 6
Single Dad!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader; Teacher!Bucky x CEO!Reader
chapter warnings: ehehehehe smut. (also this chapter is over 4k words. i am so sorry lol
Series Masterlist
âAlright, Mr. Odinson, we just need your signature on the lines with the xâs for our contract and then Ms. L/N will sign under that and Mr. Stark will finish us off,â Maria Hill presented the contract to Thor Odinson who smiled brightly as he realized the future of advancing the field of Telehealth would be possible with the buy-in of Stark Industries and L/N Enterprises. He had just taken over as the head of his company following his fatherâs retirement and it was his first large scale deal since.Â
You were proud of him, Thor had come a long way from the party boy he once was, the party boy you once knew very well. You and Thor had belonged to the same social circles since you were children, it was the upside of your parents diversifying their business portfolio and their investments, and the Odinsonâs running one of the largest medicine and health tech companies in the world. When you read what Thor was trying to do you knew it was best to bring in Stark, heâd given you hell and originally argued that you were only doing it because it was Thor, which may have been partially true, but you knew what he was doing was worth it.
After the signing you shook both their hands and thanked them for thee investment opportunity of a lifetime. You passed along the job of preparing a press release to Pepper and Maria, while you took a much needed break in your office, with the lights off, your head resting on the desk. The week had been long. You always felt bad when you had to make Sam or Wanda pick up and drop off Avery but you knew that this deal wouldnât secure itself. You had spent all day Thursday just making sure the language was perfect in the contract, a job that usually fell to legal but you always personally looked over the contracts to make sure nothing was out of place and that nothing had managed to sneak past you in the negotiation stages.
A knock at your door jolted you from your half asleep state. âCome in!â You hurriedly attempted to fix any out of place hairs from your impromptu almost-nap. âOh, itâs just you,â you stated, almost bored.
âJust me, well Iâm offended. Usually when I see a gorgeous woman itâs âtake me Thor, use me for your dastardly ways,ââ the blonde giant joked with a wiggle of his brows causing you to roll your eyes.
âYou can hang that pipe dream up because thatâs not happening happening, Odinson,â you jested with a tone that was just as bored as your first statement. Thorâs body shuddered in fake disgust causing you to roll your eyes once again.
âI just wanted to say thank you, for giving me a chance. I know youâve worked with my father before and that your family has done the some but I appreciate you working with me.â
Thorâs statement resonated with you. When youâre a fresh CEO nobody wants to take a chance on you. It didnât matter how well known your company already was or if you had years of experience under your belt, if you were young then you were dumb according to everybody else, well everybody except your father and Tony Stark.
âThor weâd be crazy not to work with you,â you said with a small smile. Thor was one of the people that you were able to show your softer side to, years of friendship allowed for it. âNow go celebrate with your company, I know youâll probably head to Valhalla tonight anyway,â you teased Thor with the name of the bar his brother had opened a few years ago. The one quirk of the Odinsons was they were very keen on their Norse mythology, as evidenced by their sons Thor and Loki.
After Thor left you spent the rest of the day finishing up the paperwork so that you could leave to pick up Avery. Somehow, Avery, with some help from a very excitable Becca, managed to talk you into meeting with the Barnesâ for a zoo playdate the next day. Anything if it means I get to see this hunk of man again.
As the two of you waved goodbye you could tell that Avery was practically buzzing with excitement. Youâd never seen her this excited to hang out with a friend and it made you realize that this was Averyâs first real friend. And who were you to be upset if Averyâs best friend just so happened to have a hot dad. You treated Avery to her favorite dinner and ice cream for dessert to somewhat apologize for being MIA the last couple of days, you always wanted to make sure that your daughter knew your love for her was limitless.Â
âAlright little miss, remember to behave for Grammie and Grumps and to go to bed at a good time so that we can go to the zoo with Mr. Barnes and Becca tomorrow alright? Mama will be back to pick you up in the morning. I love you sooooooo much, sweet girl,â you reminded her, giving her a squeeze and a kiss as you dropped her off with your parents. Your parents adored Avery. Your mom loved being a âGrammieâ and your dad tolerated being âGrumps.â âWhere the hell did that nickname even come from,â heâd grumbled when Avery had first dubbed him with the nickname. Your mom had just chimed in, âprobably because she knows youâre just a grumpy old man, it fits honey. It just fits.â
Way later in the evening Wanda showed up with Sam in tow, ready to catch a ride to Natâs bar. âThere she is! The woman of the hour! Congratulations,â Tony practically yelled when he collected you in a hug outside the car making the whole group laugh. As you entered the comfortable darkness of Natâs bar you slowly began to relax. Nat always had good music playing and on the occasional Friday nights she would have a makeshift dance floor ready for those who needed to take a load off after a busy week at work. Your group were some of her most frequent fliers.
The redhead in question must have a sixth sense because the next thing you knew you felt hands wrap around your waist as a voice whispered in your ear, âyou got the Odinson contract didnât you?â
You couldnât help but smirk as you whipped around to face the owner of the bar. Nat grinned like a cat that got the canary and you shook your head yes excitedly. She practically squealed and the sound itself was enough to make you laugh. âCongratulations, sweets! First round is on me!â Natasha exclaimed, her excitement rubbing off on the rest of the group as they all put in their orders. Not like they needed to since she had them all memorized anyways as she liked to remind you.
âSometimes I like to branch out!â Sam cried to which Natasha just responded, âSam youâve never ordered anything other than a rum and coke or a beer from my bar and I donât think youâre about to start now.â
You offered to help Nat bring the drinks back to the table and followed her to the bar when your eyes caught on a certain someone nursing a rocks glass and looking at the tall blonde next to him. Your mouth spoke before your brain could stop you, âMr. Barnes, is that you outside the classroom?âÂ
His head whipped away from the conversation he was having with Mr. Rogers as his eyes appeared to widen at the sight of you. His tongue poked out to wet his bottom lip and he must have found a newfound confidence in the bottom of his glass because he was smirking and tilting his head in your direction with an answering, âIt is, Ms. L/N. But I think if weâre gonna be seeing each other outside of the schoolhouse you should probably call me Bucky.â
Your eyebrow raised at the nickname, your whole conversation garnering the interest of Steve and Natasha as they had a silent conversation with their eyes. âHmm, I thought it was James,â you added a fake breathy voice to his name to mock the mom you had heard call him that at the car pickup and he just snorted in response but before he could clarify you finished, âbut I guess you should call me Y/N then, if weâre to be on a first name basis before our zoo date tomorrow.â
Steve and Natashaâs eyes both widened and they must have been confused because Bucky said, âyeah Iâve got one happy girl who is looking forward to being on her best behavior for her Nana to go see the polar bears with her best friend.â
âOh so you two know each other?â Natasha interrupted with a pointed look in Bucky and Steveâs direction before turning back to you.
âBucky is Averyâs teacher, Nat,â you answered with a small smirk. Natâs eyes blew wide and a wicked grin grew on her lips. She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by Steve.
âSo, Ms. L/N, Iâm Steve Rogers. Beccaâs teacher and Bucky and Natâs best friend, itâs nice to meet you,â he extended his hand to you.
âNice to meet you, Steve. Please, call me Y/N. Any friend of Natâs is a friend of mine,â you added as you shook his hand, a fond smile appearing on the redheadâs lips.
âMy hot mama here, just scored a deal with the Odinsons and sheâs out celebrating with her crew,â Nat bragged not so humbly causing you to feel your cheeks heat up. You always hated when your friends bragged on you to others but Nat never seemed to be able to stop.
âIs that so, well a congratulations are in order. Put her drink on our tab, Natasha,â Steve spoke a little too amusedly to which Natasha just rolled her eyes and continued making drinks for your group. Askthemaskthemaskthemaskthem YOU IDIOT, you thought to yourself before saying, âwould you two like to join us? Weâve got plenty of room and you know what they say, the more the merrier.â Steve and Bucky looked at each other, then back at Nat and she just tilted her head at them, before they answered positively and grabbed their drinks to join your group.Â
Introducing Bucky to Tony and Sam was a mistake. Sam knew who he was, having dropped Avery off at school a few times already but Tony? The second you introduced him as Averyâs teacher his eyes were alight with a fire. A fire that told you you would never get over what he was about to say.
Tony gave the man a once-over, then did the same to Steve before saying, âyou know, I thought youâd be moreâŠcardigan-y, with glasses. I definitely wasnât expecting you to be so big. What do they FEED first grade teachers nowadays, steroids? Iâm lookin at you too, Dorito!â
Sam made sure to add fuel to the steadily growing fire you felt under your skin, âRight? Heâs also suspiciously tree-like.â
âHE IS!â Tony exclaimed, Pepper just put her face in her hands and shook her head while Wanda watched the whole thing with a growing grin on her face that you knew sheâd try to cover up with a sip of her margarita.
âOur friendship is hanging by a thread you two, watch it,â you snarked at the two who held their hands up in defeat before taking a sip of their drinks and launching into questions for the newcomers. As the night went on, more drinks were had and more secrets spilled, loose lips sink ships and all that. Eventually Tony even requested shots. At one point you were practically sitting in Buckyâs lap as your friends talked shit about Brock, one of Tonyâs favorite pastimes.Â
âHe never deserved you,â that was Wanda, âIâll kill him the next time I see him,â that was Tony, âStill canât believe he went after the maid what a scum bag,â and that was Steve.Â
âGood fucking riddance. The only good thing that man ever gave me was Avery. I didnât need him then, I donât need him now. Iâm a strong independent woman and a fucking CEO of a Fortune 500 company,â you slurred as Bucky laughed next to you, your hand reaching up to play with his hair. That got his attention because the next thing you know you had blue eyes rimmed with red staring right into yours. Thatâll sober you up. You backed away a little, scared that you had gone too far when Buckyâs face softened and he leaned back into his seat, giving you access to more of his hair to play with.
Alright, so he likes to have his hair played with. Store that under useful information for later.
It got later and later and you and Bucky got flirtier and riskier. Nat seemed to have gotten spicier because next thing you knew she had her late night playlist on and Wanda was pulling you to the makeshift dance floor. You felt the pull of the alcohol starting to subside in your head as you danced with Wanda until she was pulled away from you. You opened your mouth to argue but saw it was Steve that had pulled her away to dance, a satisfied quirk of her lips showed you that the dance was all a game that Steve Rogers had just lost, or won depending on how you looked at it.Â
You were about to leave the dance floor when you felt an arm slip around your waist. A scent that you had gotten familiar with throughout the night, whiskey and good cologne, filled your senses as a voice whispered low in your ear asking for your consent. You nodded your head and continued swaying your hips along to the beat of the music, Buckyâs arm tightening around your waist as he pulled you into him. You should have noticed the sound of your friends howling and whistling but all you could focus on was the way that Bucky felt pressed up close to you. The way he smelled as you leaned your head back and picked up your rhythm. The feel of his chest as he breathed unevenly behind you. The next thing you knew he was spinning you around to face him, the movement making you dizzy and causing you to lose your balance, throwing your hands onto his chest to catch yourself. The moment that followed in your head was like the cartoons with the angel and devil on your shoulder.
Donât look in his eyes. Donât do it bitch. Donât do it. You know youâll be done far if you so much as LOOK at his face.
Do it. You wonât. I triple dog dare you. Come on, donât be a loser. You feel these chest muscles?? Imagine what heâd look like with his shirt off, come on come on come onnnnnn.
âŠthe later thought won and next thing you knew you were swimming in his gaze. You swallowed heavily, your mouth suddenly dry as you thought about your closeness to your daughterâs first grade teacher. You thought long and hard about the next thing you wanted to say. And then the words were out, âyou wanna get out of here?â
Apparently Bucky wasnât expecting that because his eyes widened but his head quickly made up for his lack of words by nodding enthusiastically. As the pair of you exited the dance floor and made your way back to the table to get your stuff you were calling your weekend driver Stan to pick you up at Obsidian. The two of you threw out hasty goodbyes and as you headed to the exit you heard Tony and Sam yell out the following âgo easy on him, black widow! He hasnât had his pre-workout this evening!â (Tony) and âclimb him like a tree, princess!â (Sam). The rest of your friends howling with laughter and if you had thought twice about it you probably would have been a little embarrassed at their behavior. On another day that probably would have been the act that cut the friendship ties altogether. But tonight you had something else on your mind.
The whole ride back to your place was tense, for some reason you decided to avoid looking at Bucky. Well. It wasnât just some reason, you knew youâd want to jump his bones in the back of the car if you so much as looked at him. After you pulled up at your building you both shouted thanks to Stan who responded, âdonât do anything I wouldnât do!â as he drove away. You and Bucky rode the elevator all the way to your penthouse and being on your turf must have brought back the confidence you were known for. Because the second you stepped foot in your apartment and Bucky shut the door behind himself you turned around and cornered him at the door.Â
Your hands moved to his chest as you looked him in the eye. His pupils had blown wide, you could barely see the blue in his irises. He raised his eyebrow at you in question so you leaned forward and slotted your lips over his.Â
Kissing Bucky Barnes was the hottest thing you had ever done in your life. He was a fucking professional. He made sure to engage every part of you as if his life depended on it. Your lips moved against his in a frenzy as he moved his hand to tangle in your hair. Bucky heated up the kiss by snaking his tongue into your mouth, one hand squeezing your hip, the action causing you to moan.
God you sound like a teenager. He doesnât need to know the last time you were laid was FOREVER ago. Now stop moaning like a kid.Â
But then the kiss was paused as Bucky wrapped his arms under your thighs and pulled you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he came back in to continue the kiss. It just kept getting hotter as your tongues fought for dominance and you reached a hand up to experimentally tug on Buckyâs hair, the action eliciting a loud moan from the man. He pulled back from the kiss and leaned his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, before asking âwhich way to your room?â
You directed him and as he carried you down the hall you started pulling at the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning them one by one until eventually he was standing there looking like Fabio on the romance novels your mom used to read. Bucky dropped you on the bed abruptly, his eyes hungry as he eyed you. Slowly, you began to lift your tank top off, and then you stood up to take your pants off but were stopped by Bucky.
âLet me,â he whispered as he sunk to his knees in front of you, the sight of him on his knees would have brought you to yours. Bucky slowly took off your shoes and your pants, peeling them down your legs til you were clad only in your underwear.
âOne of us is significantly more clothed, Mr. Barnes. And I think thatâs a problem,â you stated with a quirked eyebrow to show fake annoyance. Bucky took that to heart and promptly took off his clothes faster than any other man you had ever been with til he was of matching nakedness. You made eye contact, neither of you daring to move first, until you caught his eye wandering over your body. That was it.Â
You surged forward, capturing his lips with yours, and you whispered into the kiss, âjust fuck me already, Bucky. You know you want to.â
Thatâs all the urging Bucky needed. He laid you down and laid kisses to your lips, then your jaw, then your sternum, before he was reaching under you to take your bra off. He stared at your breasts for a solid minute, your chest heaving under his gaze before he was lavishing them both in light kisses, the stubble on his jaw making you ticklish. Then he was laying light kisses and light bites to the inside of your thighs untilâŠ
âFucking hell Barnes stop teasing me already,â you breathed, your voice catching in your throat as he stopped right where you needed him most. With a cocky smirk, he hooked his finger around your lace underwear and tugged them down your leg before moving his face back. Bucky Barnes eats pussy like a man starved. He licked a flat strip along your entrance, stopping to add pressure at your clit, making your toes curl in the process. His tongue lapped at your clit in all sorts of ways that had you breathless and moaning in seconds. And then he added his finger. And then another. And then a third. At one point you swore he was spelling his fucking name on your clit with his tongue. Almost like he was invisibly marking you as his. It didnât take long until you were cumming on his tongue, Bucky cleaning up your release with a pleased hum.
You pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his mouth, and rolled him over to his back to offer him a courtesy blow for the mind-blowing orgasm heâd just gifted you but before you could even reach down to take him out of his briefs he stopped you and said, âhoney, just fuck me.â And so, after reaching over him to grab the condom from your bedside table, you did. You straddled Buckyâs broad thighs and lined your entrance up with your cock, looking him in the eye, before easing yourself down. You both moaned at the feeling of Bucky filling you up and after a minute you move your hips experimentally, Buckyâs eyes falling closed with a hiss on his lips. With that you moved.
And oh boy did you move. You lifted yourself up, almost the entire way off, and slammed back down. The move causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head. Bucky took that to mean he could move and he began to thrust up into you, meeting your hips as you both chased your highs. At one point his hand reached up in between you to play with your nipples, offering varying pressures that just brought you closer and closer to release. âFuck do that again, Bucky, Iâm gonna cum. Please, Iâm gonna cum,â you shouted as you felt your walls pulsing around his cock⊠when he pulled you off him suddenly.
âWhat the fu-,â your argument was cut off with a hasty and hot kiss as he flipped the two of you over, the second your back hit the mattress Bucky was entering you harshly causing you to scream in pleasure. The wet sound of sweat slick bodies meeting again and again, thrust for thrust, and the feeling of Buckyâs hand reaching in between to thumb at your clit made you cum again.Â
âFuck sweetheart youâre gripping me like a goddamn vice, just a little more. One more time, honey. One more and Iâll cum for you,â Buckyâs voice growled low in your ear as he moved one leg over his hip and spread the other to give him deeper access, hitting that soft spongey spot juuuuuust right untilâŠ
âFuckfuckfuckfuck!â you came with a scream, your vision clouding with the euphoria of your orgasm. Bucky wasnât far behind you, a couple more pumps as your walls pulsated around him had him cumming with a groaned, âthatâs it, fuck honey Iâm cumming, Iâm fucking urgh.â Bucky came with a huff. He leaned down to trap your lips in another kiss, neither of you saying anything as you both came down. He rolled off the condom and walked to your connected bathroom, you took a minute to appreciate his body from afar.Â
You heard the water run and Bucky was reappearing a minute later with a wash cloth as he cleaned both of you up. You sighed at the gesture and laid on your side to watch him return. The way you were laying must have been what he wanted to see because his eyes widened at the sight of you, eyes hooded as you practically purred, âthink youâve got it in you for round two, Barnes?â Buckyâs eyes narrowed and he stalked towards you, catching you by surprise and forcing a giggle through your lips. He definitely had it in him for round twoâŠand three..and round four was your ruining. You fell into a deep sleep and only faintly remembered the feeling of his lips on your ear and his arms wrapping around your waist as the two of you drifted off to sleep.
But it might as well all have been a dream because when you woke up the next day Bucky wasnât there. All that was left to even prove you had slept together was the soreness between your thighs, the dark hickey on your collarbone, and the smell of his cologne on your sheets.
taglist (to be added just let me know! * means i couldnât tag properly):Â
@youlightmeupfinnââ
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#bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x yn#single dad bucky x single mom reader#teacher bucky barnes#teacher!bucky x ceo!reader#BuckySimp101#love at first grade fic
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Holy Ground (Spencer Reid x Reader)
summary: reader moves into the apartment next to spencer's and begins an exchange of sticky notes on doors when she canât ever seem to meet her new neighbor. series summary: a series of oneshots to celebrate the release of red (taylor's version). 19 songs, 19 fics. pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff, tiny tiny bit of angst in the middle content warnings: language, spencer being self-sacrificing, allusions to sex word count: 4.3k a/n: we made it. tonight red is being re-released and iâm so ready. thank you all so much for supporting this series. i mean it when i say it never would have gotten done without all of your kind words. youâve made me an incredibly happy person over the past two and a half weeks. iâm so happy i got to share this project with you all, and iâm so proud of this. iâm going to take a break through thanksgiving from full-length oneshots/series because this was so much work and took a lot out of me, but iâll be finishing up blurb requests so feel free to send more in. thank you all so much again, and letâs celebrate red tonight â€
series masterlist masterlist send me a request!
â'Cause darling, it was good, never looking down and right there where we stood was holy ground..."
Itâs the job of people to live as completely as possible and as such, it is the job of the home to preserve the evidence of this life. When all is said and done, the home keeps the memories of a life well-lived for your loved ones to find and cling to.
This apartment had done its job if evidenced by how long it was taking you to pack away. You never thought it would be this bittersweet to leave this place behind. It was always meant to be temporary; a place to sleep in while you got your life started. Now you were pulling paintings off of walls and stowing away your belongings, almost wishing you had a little more time to say goodbye.
Even years later, you would still remember this place with its leaky kitchen faucet and drafty bedroom window because it was the place you felt the most alive in since becoming an adult. It was your first home since college, the first place you lived alone. The apartment had been there for you when you got your job offer, the wooden floors creaking as you danced around the place. It had also been there for you during your most crushing heartbreak, the walls muffling your cries and providing a safe place for you to sleep after.
It was the place you met your first serious boyfriend. If someone had told you how youâd meet, you never would have believed it. Youâd laugh them away and never give the relationship the chance to blossom. You were here though, sitting on the floor of your nearly empty apartment clutching a small box of memories and trying not to cry at the thought of leaving the place all of these memories were made in.
You picked up a sticky noteâthe first of manyâand smiled at the looping words of your own handwriting.
No, you never would have guessed it would happen like this.
When your landlord stopped by to tell you the apartment next door was being filled, you were ecstatic. It had been two years since youâd moved in, and not once had it ever been occupied. You had to wonder what was wrong with it, considering how difficult it had been for you to find this apartment to rent in the first place. It certainly wasnât the best place to live but there were definitely worse buildings in D.C. to pick from.
Despite your excitement, it had been a month and you have yet to meet your neighbor. It wasnât for a lack of trying though, just he never seemed to be around. In fact, you hadnât even seen them once. If your landlord hadnât told you, it would be easy to assume the apartment was still unoccupied. Hardly any noise ever came from there, and you almost never seemed to hear the front door open or shut.
Most people would rejoice at having a seemingly perfect neighbor, but it became your new mission to befriend this elusive man. Not seeing any other choice, you grabbed a sticky note from your desk and wrote out the greeting in as nice handwriting as you could manage.
âHello! Iâm your new neighbor, Y/N. I hope this isnât weird but welcome to the building :)â
Scrambling so you wouldnât be caught, you sprinted out to the hallway and slapped the note on the door before sprinting back to the safety of your apartment.
It took two days to receive a response. Honestly, you hadnât been expecting anything at all so waking up to a purple sticky note stuck perfectly even and in the center of your door.
âItâs not weird. Iâm sorry I never introduced myself, Iâm not a hermit I just work a lot. Iâm Spencer.â
He sounds cute. The scrawl was a little shaky, some letters capitalized where they neednât be, but that said a lot about him as a person. Was it true that messy handwriting could be indicative of intelligence? What kind of job would have him leaving early and not coming back until late? There were so many questions you had, and it all culminated in your wanting to get to know your neighbor more. So, you smiled and grabbed your own light yellow sticky note and wrote another message for him. This time, you walked leisurely to stick the note upon his door, a little crooked.
âGood to meet you, Spencer. What do you do for work?â
Weeks went by, and suddenly you had a box of purple sticky notes piling up in your living room. Most were simple questions, you and Spencer getting to know one another through little messages on your doors.
You learned Spencer worked for the FBI as a profiler and that he got permission to paint the walls of his apartment a deep forest green because it was comforting to him. He likes to play chess so much that sometimes heâll play solo games, which sounds harder than it actually is. He reads all kinds of books, even YA books that adults always told him he was âtoo smart forâ because according to him, no one could ever be too smart for books. He runs exclusively on coffee and sweets, and because of his work often forgets to stock his fridge.
As the days passed, you also learned some more personal things about your neighbor. His mother was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia before he was born and now heâs the only one left to visit her. Heâs from Las Vegas but heâs come to adore the snow because it reminds him of how far heâs come since being that little kid in the desert. Heâs still new to the FBI and is scared he wonât live up to their expectations for him.
In all that time, you never once saw his face. Somehow that made your relationship with him seem stronger. The two of you were able to connect without ever seeing or hearing one another, and you couldnât wait to actually be able to place a face to the interesting person youâd met.
It was you who made the first move. Youâd stuck a sticky note on his door, for the first time in weeks feeling nervous about it. Your hands shook as you pressed it there, feet moving a little quicker than normal to the safety of your apartment.
âHey, would you want to get coffee with me one morning before you have to work? You can say noâ
That was how, two days later, you ended up standing out in the hallway shared by your apartments before the sun was even peeking through the skyline. When you heard his front door open and subsequently shut, you tried not to give away your excitement by whipping around to face him.
Spencer was gorgeous. His hair was messy but seemed to fall into place perfectly, brown eyes a little tired but kind. He was wearing a lot of layers; a button-up and vest, a winter coat, and scarf draped over his neck, but it worked for him.
âHi,â he said a little awkwardly, giving a shy wave and muted smile.
âHi,â you returned, feeling the same shyness creep up in you, âthanks for changing up your morning routine for me. Itâs great to finally meet you.â
âIâm sorry it took so long,â Spencer apologized as the two of you set off down the street for the coffee shop. It was only a few buildings down from the complex, so soon enough you were sat down across from one another in strange silence.
âWhy is this so weird?â you asked with a laugh, holding onto your cup of coffee for support. âWeâve been talking for weeks.â
âItâs strange to associate a face with everything I know about you,â Spencer admitted, âIâve tried to imagine what you would look like.â
âI hope I lived up to your expectations,â you stated playfully, though there was a ring of truth to it. Spencer was so cute, way cuter than you had ever thought to imagine. It was impossible not to feel nervous about what he was expecting out of you.
âYouâre as beautiful as your personality made you seem.â Spencer flushed a bit pink then, lips pursing a little as he looked down at his coffee.
âSo where did work take you this time?â There had been no notes for five days, indicating that heâd recently taken a case. It was sometimes strange to imagine that his job was to catch the killers that other law enforcement teams couldnât, that he was risking his life every day and then coming home to stick a silly note onto your door about the best way to chop an onion without crying. In your mind, these were practically two separate people: the hero, and the guy who enjoys talking to you.
âAtlanta. Our unsub was specifically targeting architecture majors.â
âHuh, freaky,â you answered, a shudder running down your spine at the thought of something so innocuous setting someone off in that way.
âHow was work? Did you get that article turned in?â
You could feel the way your expression lit up at the mention of your article. It felt even better that Spencer had actually remembered you mentioning it. âI did! Sandra said there was a good chance it might make the front cover.â
âThatâs fantastic, Y/N. Iâm proud of you.â And you never thought hearing a practical stranger saying that would make you feel so good, but the warmth spreading in your chest was evidence enough.
âThanks. It wouldnât have been possible at all without your input on the history of college majors in the US.â
Talking with Spencer became as easy as writing notes. By the time he had to leave for work, it was easy to connect the person you knew from the sticky notes to the incredibly adorable man in front of you. You wanted to know more about him, wanted to continue getting closer to him.
And when you woke up the next morning, you knew Spencer thought the same way from the note stuck to your door.
âI had fun today. Would you like to go on a date with me?â
Between both of your messy work schedules, it took two weeks to actually plan a date. The anticipation of it all was killing you, and by the time the night finally came around you were a nervous wreck. Dozens of outfits sat discarded around your room, none of them seeming good enough to go on a date with Spencer.
Because Spencer was sweet, and he was so perfect for you it was scary. Youâd only been talking to him for a few weeks but it felt like youâd known him for years. There was no way you would mess this up, it couldnât happen.
Eventually, you made it out to that same hallway, a strange fluttering in your stomach when Spencer wasnât there. In the few coffee dates youâd had since the first, Spencer had never been late. In fact, he was more often early than anything else. Had he forgotten? Did he realize he didnât see you that way?
Just as the disappointment was settling in, a flash of purple caught your eye on your door.
âMeet me at the park across the street :)â
You shook your head, a small smile forming as the anticipation built again. What did Spencer have planned? So you set off walking, reaching the little park quickly enough.
This time of night, it was easy to find Spencer. He was standing there, a blanket spread out in the little parking lot of the park. He looked as nervous as you felt, fidgeting until he noticed you approaching. âYou look beautiful,â he told you, voice soft enough to take your breath away.
âThank you, youâre stunning too,â you told him, smiling wide at the pure surprise and happiness on his face. Youâd tell him that every day until he was no longer surprised by the idea that someone could find him pretty. âIs this a picnic?â
âI was going to set it up under this really gorgeous tree, but I kept thinking about the pathogens that develop in the soil so now itâs here. Is that okay?â Spencer spoke quickly, eyebrows lifting a little and eyes studying your expression. He was a profiler, you knew, so itâd be impossible to turn off the studying of micro expressions.
It was a good thing you werenât lying then. âItâs absolutely perfect, Spencer,â you reassured him, taking his hand and sitting yourselves down on the blanket. Sure, it wouldnât be quite as comfy if you were set up in the padded grass, but if this was you two then it was beautiful.
âI also was going to cook but then I realized you shouldnât be subjected to my cooking this early on so I got takeout from that place you talk about a lot.â
âSpencer, you donât have to be nervous. This is perfect,â you told him, squeezing his hand before letting it go so the two of you could eat.
And eating dinner late at night in the middle of a dark parking lot was somehow the most wonderful date youâve had in a while. Spencer was funny in a way that wasnât expected, and you loved watching the way he slowly grew more comfortable with you. His laugh was infectious and his smile stole your heart.
Eventually, you ended up sitting across from him at a chessboard in the park. Your ankles were entwined together, his arms folded on the board and your elbows up so you could hold up your head in thought.
âAha! Checkmate,â you cheered, grinning proudly when Spencer knocked over his king piece.
âGood game,â Spencer returned, his features relaxed into such a soft look that-oh.
You smiled back, a knowing little look that he caught onto far too quickly. Spencer was a genius, you already knew as much, and while you were brilliant in your own right there was no way youâd actually win a game of chess against him. âSo, how long ago could you have won?â
âApproximately twenty-two minutes ago,â he admitted, reaching across the board to grab your hand, âbut you looked so gorgeous when you were focused.â
âWell, Iâm glad I could be a piece of art for you,â you teased, squeezing his hand and adding, âbut next time Iâll win fair-and-square.â
âIs that so?â He seemed surprised, amused even as his lips parted and eyes widened.
âUh-huh, so no holding back this time,â you challenged.
âOkay, but donât say I didnât warn you,â he laughed, and you lost within minutes but it didnât matter because you were with Spencer. He was smiling, and looking at you with those brown eyes and even though this was the first date, you knew the truth. You loved him.
Life moved quickly, after.
You would have a lot of sleepovers, sitting up talking, or watching each of your favorite movies. There were still notes though, little good mornings and sweet dreams offered up to each other. It should have scared you how quickly things were moving between you too, but instead, you could only picture how happy youâd be in the future if you were already this smitten with him.
It was a few months after your first date that you wound up cuddling in bed with Spencer. While your lips knew his intimately, the skin around your hips was surprised to feel his hand pressed against it, brushing over your abdomen with so much care it made your heart ache.
âI want you,â he whispered into the space between you, revealing his clear intentions.
It was terrifying, having something so wonderful that you cared about so much. Never once had you felt this way about another person. Still, you wrapped your arms around him and invited Spencer in with a quiet, âThen have me.â
And when you two laid nearly breathless wrapped up in each other, Spencer spoke the words youâd been thinking since that first date. âI love you, Y/N.â It sent your heart soaring, far above where you ever thought it could end up. You loved Spencer and he loved you.
The moment was broken with a quiet noise of panic from him though. You could feel his breath hitch in his chest as he moved so he could look you in the eye. Amber eyes wild, he quickly added, âIâm so sorry. I didnât mean to just say it like that, I had this whole plan that I would t-â
âDonât apologize, please. Not for that,â you stopped him, resting your hand on his cheek so he understood how much you cared about him. âI love you too, Spencer Reid. We donât always need plans, weâll figure it out together.â
And you would never admit it, but you cried the next morning when you saw the note heâd written for you.
âI canât believe I get to tell you how much I love you every day.â
âBelieve it, Spence. I love you, have a good day at work.â
Nothing could be perfect.
When you love someone as much as you loved Spencer, there would always come a time when it starts to scare you. That time came when Spencer came home from a case and immediately shut himself into his apartment, not once stopping to say hello to you.
He always checked in after his cases, he knew how much it scared you that he was running straight into danger all of the time. It didnât matter how many times Spencer reminded you that he wore Kevlar, you still didnât quite take in full breaths of air until he was safely stood in front of you.
So the next day, you went to check on him. When he opened the door, you could hear the gasp of air you took at the sight. There were bruises and cuts all over Spencerâs face, none of it seeming like it should belong on such a beautiful, sweet man. You knew he risked his life daily, you just never expected to see the physical evidence of it.
âWhat happened to you?â you gasped, hands gently resting on his face, thumb running over one of the bruises on his cheek.
âItâs nothing,â Spencer told you, but it suddenly made sense why heâd avoided you last night. He knew how bad this was. If his face was this bad off, how about the rest of him? He seemed stiff, shoulders tensed and trying not to move too much. How had he gotten this hurt?
âLike hell itâs nothing,â you shot back, âyou got hurt.â
âThatâs part of the job, Y/N,â Spencer sighed, but he wasnât looking at you. There was guilt in his eyes, he knew damn well what he was doing. Playing it off like this was meant to comfort you but all it did was frustrate you endlessly.
âI know, but I hate seeing you so hurt,â you told him, âTell me you caught the guy who did this to you?â
âWell, considering it was my boss I donât think thatâs possible.â
âWhat?â you practically shrieked, face morphed into an expression of horror. In what world would one of his teammates ever need to hurt him like this?
âWe were held hostage. We needed a way for me to grab the gun at his ankle, so he pretended to side with the unsub and kicked me around a little. Itâs okay, Y/N, Iâve had far worse than this before.â
And you knew that, you did. Heâd told you late at night all about the horrors heâd experienced in high school, which only served to make this situation worse. It didnât matter that it was a plan, someone he loved and trusted still made him hurt like this.
âThis isnât okay, Spencer,â you sighed, trying not to look too hard at the injuries. Honestly, the image of his unit chief doing this to him was making you sick to your stomach. âYou shouldnât have to be hurt like this just to catch a guy.â
âIt was worth it,â Spencer snapped, his own frustration building in his chest. âYou donât understand. Iâd do anything for this job, to catch these horrible people.â
âYouâd let this job kill you?â
âIf thatâs what it takes to make the world a livable place, then yes,â Spencer answered resolutely, taking a step back so your hands were no longer on him. âIf you canât understand that, then weâre a bad idea.â
âI agree,â you whispered, tears building in your eyes. It was terrifying to love someone so much and know you could lose them so quickly. What would happen a year or two down the road? Would Spencer throw everything he had into this job so much that he got hurt? That he got killed? âI canât sit around and wait to hear that you were killed. I canât, Iâm sorry.â
For the first time since that night spent in each othersâ arms, youâd be going to sleep alone with only a wall separating you from him. Youâd cry, knowing he could likely hear it through the thin material between you.
And in the morning, youâd awake to no note.
It took a week.
In that time, you tried to return to life as you knew it before Spencer Reid. Everything reminded you of him though. Youâd shoved the box of sticky notes under your bed, you shoved the book on profiling so far to the back of your bookshelf that you hoped youâd one day forget about ever wanting to study up on his job.
Still, reminders of Spencer were everywhere in your apartment. The stack of sticky notes youâd bought in bulk sitting on the floor beside your desk, the kitchen where you taught Spencer how to cook all of his favorite meals so heâd be self-sustaining.
Every time you stepped foot in your apartment, it felt a little like you were on sacred, holy ground. You couldnât help but reflect on all of the good you shared together, how Spencer had lightened your life like you hadnât known was possible. You laid curled up on the couch and prayed that youâd someday find a love as beautiful as the one between you and Spencer.
And a week later, just as you were beginning to realize it was over, a purple note stuck to your door reawakened your faith.
âIâm sorry, can we talk?â
You would. The next morning youâd beat the sun awake and sprint to the coffee shop where youâd first met Spencer in person. Youâd get coffee for both of you and hurry back, knocking on his door wildly.
Heâd answer with the same wild expression, relieved to see you were actually standing there in front of him. âIâm sorry,â youâd both say at the same time, and then, âI missed you.â
âI shouldnât have said that,â Spencer told you, âI donât want to die on this job, not when I have you to come home to.â
âIâll take the risk,â you told him in return, knowing deep down that a love like this was worth it. âI know youâre saving other lives, just be careful with yours too.â
âI will, I promise.â Spencer kissed you then, filling you with so much love your body could hardly stand it. âI love you, Y/N, I donât want to lose you.â
âI love you too. Iâm right here, Iâm not going anywhere.â
âAre you ready?â A voice surprised you out of your head, pulling a smile onto your lips as you recognized the voice. âYou know, that doesnât look like packing to me.â
âI was looking at the sticky notes,â you explained, watching as his face melted.
âYou kept them?â
âOf course, I did,â you returned, pulling one from the top before closing the lid on the box and standing up, âthatâs our story, I had to keep it.â
Spencer grinned, taking the note from where youâd extended it out on the tips of fingers. âI think this one is my favorite,â he admitted. It was impossible not to notice the way his brown eyes softened as he read the note. He had a reading speed that was nearly superhuman, but his gaze still lingered on the words for much longer than necessary.
âItâs my favorite too,â you answered, pressing a kiss to his lips and taking back the note when he was distracted enough. You placed it back in the box with all of the rest, mournful that this part of your story was over but so ready to begin the next chapter. âIâm ready.â
âYouâre sure?â Spencer asked, picking up one of the few boxes you had left in the apartment.
âIâm so ready, Spencer.â So the two of you walked out of the apartment, you locking it up for the last time. Heâd lock up his for the last time too, and youâd drop off your keys together with a grin. You would pile into your car and head off for the apartment youâd found for two.
âI love you. Move-in with me? YES, ABSOLUTELY. â€â
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@samuel-de-champagne-problems @alexlovescriminalminds @reidsbookclub @givemeth @eurydice-but-gay @fightingdragonswithreid @girloncorneliastreet @silverhetdanes @just-a-human-witha-pen @shemarmooresfedora @rexorangecouny @awesomebooklover17 @safespacespence
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#loving you was red#spencer reid one shot#spencer x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#my fics
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midmorning, a few days post tower attack, dulceâs fancy ass cambridge home ( @catclystââ. )
Going from living utterly alone, to having four covert houseguests, only one of whom he actually knows well, meaning there are a half a dozen people coming and going constantly to visit them, is an adjustment to say the least. With Shadowâs own unexpected new live-in guest, he doesnât feel like itâs fair to escape to Shadowâs townhouse to take refuge from the chaos overnight, and thatâs without considering, of course, that he had promised to play security for the defectors, and so play security he has. All of this, and he still hasnât managed to figure out a good time and place to meet his brother to discuss the still very real target on his back, considering the manor no longer feels safe, thanks to his own involvement in the grand Tower happenings, and Whiteâs well-founded concerns over that.
Peace isnât really possible in the house any longer, even if there is enough space that itâs possible not to see any of the others for hours at a time. Overloadâs always been terribly loud, though, and there seems to be a constant sting of coming and going of people visiting his houseguests, or the more independent of the four leaving, against his advice, to meet others elsewhere. Mostly, though, they donât directly bother him, besides Overload, which heâs glad for, thrilled to have her around, even if she could use some work on boundaries, and the odd need to force Specter into taking care of himself with a command or two since it still feels too dangerous to let him free of his command entirely.
So itâs no shock that, sitting at the table in the sunroom at the back of his house, doing a bit of light reading, with a cup of perfectly brewed tea, enjoying the very brief moment of silence, that itâs interrupted just as he brings the cup to his lips for the first sip.
He looks up, expecting Overload, but is greeted by Catalyst instead, apparently stopping for a chat for some reason, instead of leaving immediately after her visit with whichever of the four refugees he was currently housing in his guest wing. With a little sign, he puts down his cup of tea, ignoring the way his wrist twinges with the motion, both wrists still feel just slightly wrong, despite the healing, the phantom sensations of the gunshots very much sticking around. He doesnât very well feel like having this argument nowââin fact, he was hoping that she might be busy enough with the fallout of her almost annoyingly, certainly impressively well-executed plans that she wouldnât have time to find him to pick a fight. But nothing is simple, as evidenced by literally everything thatâs happened in the past several weeks, so he doesnât bother to try to put it off any longer if that is what sheâs seeking just now.
âHas the time come to listen to the list of complaints regarding how I handled my part of your mission at last?â he asks blandly, folding his hands over the book sitting in front of him on the table.Â
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I started working on this idea over a month ago, but I scrapped it because I couldn't get the words right. This time around the words just flowed easier. I decided to keep it non-gendered, my first attempt at writing something intentionally non-gendered throughout the writing process. Please forgive me if it didn't work and I'll go bury my head in the sand. đ
Disappear
A Jake X MC one-shot
â ïž Mention of a date rape drug.
You weren't even sure what you were doing there at the local night club costume party. Somehow your friends convinced you to go, to get you out of your rut.
âItâs been months since you even considered another human being, never mind the last time you had any!â they said.
So what? What was wrong with that? Other people just didnât appeal to you anymore, not like he did. You tried connecting, but it was never the same. How on earth was a stupid costume party going to change that?
âYou can be whoever or whatever you want to be! Be free!â they encouraged.
Yet you were low on cash so the thrown together black cat costume was literally the best thing you could come up with. So nuch for being whatever you wanted to be. You didnât expect much out of the other costumes... until you got there.
Oh the costumes! You wondered if everyone else had personal tailors and make-up artists. You instantly felt worse in your cheap cat costume, but your friends wouldnât let you back down. They dragged you over to the bar for the special cocktails of the night.
âNo one cares! A few drinks and neither will you!â they pushed.
Sure, a couple of drinks in, you started to feel the buzz. As your friends dragged you to the dance floor something on the opposite side of the venue caught your eye.
The mask.
No, it couldnât be. It was your mind playing tricks on you. You were seeing what you wanted to see. He was in the wind and running from his pursuers. He wouldnât be at this silly event.
Or someone else had the same shoe string budget you had and the Guy Fawkes mask was the best thing they could come up with. Yes, that was it. That made perfect, logical sense. Logic was the only thing that kept you from going crazy.
The alcohol was flowing through your system now, you began to relax and fall into the rhythm with your friends on the dance floor. Your friends encouraged some guys to join in despite your hesitation. The music, the alcohol, the pressure, it all started to become too much. You had to leave the floor to get space.
Your friends, the guys, they followed.
More drinks were bought as the small, introduction chat started. Slowly they started partnering up. Yours kept trying on you. He seemed nice enough, but you knew it wasnât the same. Your friends kept egging you to give him a chance. One by one, the partners split off to either go back to the dance floor or elsewhere. You were stuck with yours. He was really trying hard now, but the alcohol still wasnât making you forget your past. It sat on you like a fog that wouldnât lift. Another drink was bought. Your head started to swirl, so many voices in your head telling you to just leave, stop trying to move on, it will never be possible. Just a bit more drink, then you would forget, right?
A hand blocked you from taking that next sip.
âDon't drink that,â the voice connected to the hand spoke.
The hand pulled the glass from you and dumped its contents on the ground. Your eyes followed the hand, which was connected to a black hoodie and the mask.
âHey! Get lost, loser!â your âpartner' yelled, getting right into the face of the mask.
âThe only loser here is the one that feels the need to use drugs,â the mask hissed. âThe police have already been informed you are up to your old tricks.â
The guy reeled back, âWho the fuck are you?â
âMy identity is irrelevant,â the mask replied, the words rung in your head. âYou have chosen the wrong mark. I have everything I need to destroy your life. Donât waste our time. Just go.â
âI'd do as he says,â you sneered. âBecause heâs not kidding, even if I think his end for you is too tame.â
âWhat, are you working together!?â The guy spat on the mask, then left.
You grabbed a napkin and wiped the mask as best as you could with your hand shaking with anger still.
âThank you,â you muttered.
He took your hand. One pulled the napkin from you and wiped the mask himself while the other held yours. You tried to catch the eyes behind the mask, but the lighting was too poor. Your heart raced. You oh so wanted it to be him behind the mask, but you were so afraid of it not being him. That was a level of pain you couldnât handle on top of everything else tonight.
âSorry, I was reading your messages again,â the voice spoke quietly. âA costume party provided a unique opportunity.â
âTo hide your identity,â you smiled.
âAnd be anonymous,â the mask nodded.
âIf thatâs the case, I'll gladly go to every costume party out there,â you said hopefully.
The mask laughed, âIâm afraid they'll start to notice your strange behavior.â
You frowned, âJust tonight?â
âI'm afraid so,â he nodded solemnly. âTheyâre still monitoring you.â He saw your depressed expression. âHonestly, I wasnât planning on making this more difficult for you. I wanted to see you again, but I couldnât tolerate what I saw him do.â
âYou expect me to forget tonight!?â you narrowed your eyes at him. âI could never!â
He sighed, âI suppose not.â
âTheyâre not watching in here? Take me with you! Make me disappear with you!â you insisted.
âMC! You have your whole life. I could never take you from that!â he protested.
âWhat life? I've been a walking zombie since youâve disappeared! Nothing in my life has felt real anymore!â you argued. âJust a few days! Just so this isnât just a blip!â
âMC, my life isnât easy. It is full of unknowns,â he lowered his head. âBut if I say no, youâre going to recklessly follow me, arenât you? Even if it puts you in danger?â
âYou bet!â you smiled.
He groaned and looked around the room, âThen we better leave while itâs still crowded. Stay close to me.â
You followed your hacker as he weaved through the crowds. He glanced behind a few times to make sure you were keeping up as he led you to the backstage area and out the side exit to the alleyways. There were a few people mingling there. Some were involved in their own illegal affairs so no one was too interested to look at the other. You shivered as your body started to acknowledge the cold, night air. Your hacker noticed and immediately took off his hoodie to give to you to wear. He still wore his mask, but now you could see his chin-length black hair draping on either sides of his mask. You longed to run your fingers through it.
You were led through a maze of alleys and abandoned buildings to a half-constructed office building. The construction had been abandoned, but had housed a number of drifters and vagrants as evidenced by the remains and graffiti. He led you up so many flights of stairs that you had lost count. Somewhere near the top, he opened the stairway door to a half-completed level. In the completed side you could see his computers and monitors set up with wires snaking along the floor, connecting to the constructionâs power supply. In the uncompleted half you saw his meager furnishings overlooking the city skyline. The view took your breath away.
While you stood in awe of the view, he reached for his mask and pulled it away. You turned to look at him finally. His eyes met yours and he was so much more than you couldâve imagined.
âItâs nice to finally meet you, Jake,â you smiled.
He smiled back, âThe pleasure is mine.â His expression suddenly soured. âThis is very selfish of me. I donât know what I was thinking.â
âJake, I havenât felt this alive in a very long time and we've interacted for less than an hour,â you assured him. âI told you it doesnât matter where we are.â
Jake smiled shyly and moved towards you slowly, still a bit unsure. You moved in as well to meet his lips halfway in a tender kiss that sealed your fate. That was the moment you knew you had made the right choice and no one could tell you otherwise.
In the days and weeks that followed, your identity slowly vanished, records disappeared into the ether. You became an unknown that couldnât be traced. None of your family and friends ever saw you again, but you did leave them subtle messages to let them know you were ok. As more challenging as life was on the move, you were never more nor alive than you were with Jake. It was a life you'd never give up.
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The Problem with Perfection Chapter 10 spoilers!
Hey all! So, a couple people asked for this, so I figured Iâd post it. Itâs chapter 8 of the companion to TPWP, The Problem with Mondo, which corresponds with chapter 10 of TPWP. Yes, this confuses me a lot too, the fact that the chapters donât align. -.-
Anyway! Donât read this if youâve not read TPWP chapter 10, since it will definitely spoil that chapter, ha. Warning for an overabundance of foul language and some sexualized thinking, as well as an absent thought of suicide, same as in TPWP. This chapter is super long, about 20,000 words, and Iâm posting all of it because... why not, am I right? Ha.
I did cut a few sentences from this chapter because they might spoil things for later chapters of TPWP, but they donât really contain anything major.
The chapter is below the cut! Hope yâall like. :-)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mondo is angry. Blindingly angry. So angry he doesnât know why heâs angry, but honestly, what else is new? He just knows that heâs angry and the reason he is angry is that goddamn motherfucking kid and his goddamn motherfucking glasses-
 âThey! Are!! Glasses!!! Just!!! Wear them!!!â the boy grits out, thrusting his goddamn hand out towards Mondo, looking like he is about five fucking seconds from bashing his head against the goddamn wall. Mondo almost wishes he fucking would, to save him the fucking trouble! Unable to help himself, he scowls and crosses his arms, shaking his head firmly, so fucking pissed it ainât even funny.Â
 âNo! I ainât no fuckinâ nerd!â Mondo yells back, glaring like he was born to do it. Unfortunately, it seems so was Ishimaru, as the kid is glaring like his life depends on it, as fiery and beautiful passionate as ever. That goddamn motherfucking...Â
 âJust! Wear them! The doctor says you need them! You donât have to wear them all the time! Just when youâre reading! Stop! Being an idiot!â
 âMe?! I ainât no fuckinâ idiot, youâre a fuckinâ idiot! If ya think Iâm gonna wear that shit, yer outta yer goddamn mind! Now get that shit outta my face, ya fuckwad, or Iâm gonna bash yer head in!âÂ
 âLike heck you will! Youâre all bark and no bite, Owada! Now just! Wear! The! Glasses! You said you were okay with them when you bought them! I will force you to wear them, donât think I wonât!âÂ
 âOh, you motherfuckinâ-!â
 âU-uh, g-guys?â
 Mondo and Ishimaru turn, as one, to glare at the intruder on their private fucking conversation. Okay, so maybe theyâre in the middle of the hallway outside their dorm rooms, but fuck! That donât mean shit! Eavesdropping is a nasty fucking habit and if this goddamn motherfucker doesnât butt the fuck out right the fuck now-Â
 âShut up!â the pair shouts in unison, before turning to glare at each other again.Â
 Mondo doesnât know why heâs so angry. He doesnât know why heâs doing this, or why he has been doing this for the past week and a half. From hot, to cold, to hot, to cold, again and again and again, never fucking ceasing. One minute heâs fine, relaxed as shit and not at all angry, maybe even feeling kinda good, and then the next...
 And he doesnât know why. Why heâs doing this. Why heâs fucking ruining this shit, like he fucking ruins every fucking thing. He... h-he just...Â
 Things had been okay, you know? Between him and Ishimaru. At first. Sure, they werenât really friends, evidenced by how they are still referring to one another by last name, but theyâd been friendly enough. Mondo had taken care to keep his anger in check, andâ to his surpriseâ it... it hadnât actually been that hard. It seems that Ishimaru can be pretty fucking cool when theyâre not at odds.Â
 Heâs also a great fucking tutor. He somehow manages to not sound sanctimonious and pretentious when explaining shit, instead looking so fucking earnest and like he genuinely wants to just... help.Â
 Because of that, theyâd gotten along pretty well those first few days. Ishimaru had been determined to get him brought up to speed before they started the fucking novel, so heâd taken care to spend a couple hours a day hanging around Mondo, at various times. The pair usually spent an hour or so in the library after class ended, but more than that, they just... they would walk together between classes, Ishimaru rambling on and on about what theyâd just learned about in class. Mondo doesnât know why heâd allowed it, usually not caring about shit like that, but somehow... somehow, it had been nice. Hearing Ishimaru talk about the shit theyâd learned, the kid better able to impart knowledge in the ten fucking minutes they had between classes than the teachers were able to in the hour plus they had. Itâs not at all the sorta shit Mondo would have expected himself to enjoy, let alone look forward to, but shit. There they were.Â
 But then... Mondo got stupid. He overstepped his bounds and got fucking scared, fuck.Â
 Theyâd been in Ishimaruâs room. Mondo doesnât know why heâd made the offer to go to the kidâs room rather than the library, like they usually did, like was safe, but he... he had. And the kid had fucking accepted, and so there they were, sitting on the hall monitorâs fucking couch, sitting too fucking close. The kid was reading the short story Teach had assigned to the class, the pair realizing it was just... easier, while Mondo waited for the nurse to contact the eye doctor for him, since it turned out that yeah, his eyes were kinda fucked up, shit.Â
 He had felt so fucking weird inside, the first time the kid had read to him, since theyâd been in the library and heâd been nervous someone would see them and think Mondo was an idiot who needed to be fucking read to, but... shit. This time it had just been... different. Without the fear of being judged (since Ishimaru never fucking judged him, not ever, god fucking damn), he... heâd been able to listen to the kid reading without any fucking reservations. And heâd had to admit that- that he... he liked it. A lot. Like... fucking a lot.Â
 So fucking much that it had made him feel relaxed for the first time... shit. Prolly ever. Ishimaru just had a nice sounding voice, ya know? It was strangely deep, at times, when he got lost in the story, his words not too fast but not too slow. He actually emoted when he spoke, too, the sound not a dull and dry monotone like so many fucking other people heâs heard read before. It just... made him feel so fucking calm inside, like the monster inside of him had been fucking purring.Â
 And... and then...
 Mondo had let his head drop down onto Ishimaruâs shoulder, eyes closing in contentment, the kid faltering for one split second, breath hitched, before heâd smoothly continued, like it had never happened. And with his eyes closed and his head resting on a warm, comfortable shoulder, hearing that wonderful cadence from that wonderful, beautiful mouth... he hadnât been able to stop the thought. And the thought he had was...Â
 God, his voice is so fucking nice, isnât it...? Wonder what it would sound like screaming your name as you pound the fuck outta him. Heâd prolly be loud as shit, so fucking passionate, clawing you to all hell, but damn if youâd mind. Shit... wouldnât that be fucking nice...
 He had been, to put it mildly, freaked the fuck out.Â
 His eyes had shot open the second the thought had crossed his mind, heart fucking pounding as he wondered where the goddamn fuck that shit came from. Ishimaru had been startled, looking at him with his wide fucking eyes, lips opened softly in shock, voice faltering for the first time and Mondo... Mondo couldnât fucking handle it, holy fucking shit.Â
 Heâd immediately stood and stammered out some bullshit about needing to check on his hog, before fucking bailing, eyes wide and heart an absolute mess. He had, indeed, gone out to his hog and rode around for a bit, not wanting to think, but heâd been unable to help it. To stop it. And it... it made him feel...
 Heâs not gay. Okay? Heâs fucking not. Thereâd be no fucking problem if he were, but he just ainât. He likes chicks, something he knows better than anything else, something heâs known since he was a fucking kid, goddamn. Heâd even made sure to look at his porno mags that night, reassured when he felt his dick harden so fucking hard as he saw the tits and pussy that always made him so fucking hard to see.Â
 So, he wasnât gay. He fucking couldnât be gay, and itâs not possible for him to like both, so he figured that the thought had meant... meant Mondo wanted to fucking pound Ishimaruâs head in, not- n-not any other meaning of the word that it could have meant. He guessed that he didnât like being around Ishimaru as much as he had assumed and that he actually hated him, after all.Â
 As freaked out as heâd been, he took hold of that idea and fucking ran with it. He told himself that he hated the kid, of course he hated him, his voice was fucking annoying as shit, not nice, not nice at all!Â
 And so, the next day, heâd been cold to the kid. So fucking cold. And when the kid had tried to approach him after home room ended, looking open and earnest and so fucking cute-
 Mondo hadnât been able to handle it. His stomach had clenched, and his heart had fucking lurched, and he told himself it was hatred he felt, it had to be fucking hatred. And so, heâd snarled at the kid, telling him to âget the fuck away from me, freak!â before heâd run off, heart aching so fucking stupidly.Â
 He had considered skipping class, getting on his hog and fucking booking it, but he needed to give his girl a break, and he still kinda wanted to try the whole âgiving school a chanceâ thing, so heâd eventually decided to storm into class, even if heâd been five minutes late. Heâd refused to look at Ishimaru, though, thinking that seeing his stupid fucking pathetic face would fucking destroy him infuriate the shit out of him, and as soon as class ended, heâd shot out, not needing to pack anything up since heâd not fucking brought anything, shit.Â
 That had kept happening the rest of the day. Every class they had together (which was pretty much every fucking class, god fucking damn this school) Mondo would carefully keep his eyes off the kid, ignoring the feel of sad, hurt, bright red eyes as they bored into him. After the second class, the kid had tried to chase after him, tried to talk to him, but Mondo would fucking turn and head the opposite fucking direction of their next class, and he knew the kid wouldnât dare risk being late, so heâd give up pretty quick. Heâd constantly be looking in class, though, lips pulled down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Not that Mondo was fucking looking! Shit!Â
 It wasnât until Ishimaru had cornered him outside his dorm room that night, looking so fucking hurt and upset and not a little bit annoyed that theyâd managed to resolve things.Â
 In that Ishimaru had been so fucking annoying that Mondo had immediately started yelling, causing Ishimaru to yell back, his words bleeding hurt, making Mondo feel like absolute scum. They had been loud enough to garner the attention of most of their classmates, even fucking Togami gracing them with his condescending presence, which had made Mondo even more pissed, honestly, wanting nothing more than to be anywhere fucking else.
 It was when the kid looked about ready to fucking cry that Mondo had had enough. His insides were squirming, and he felt so fucking scared, for reasons he still doesnât understand, but he... h-he hadnât wanted to make Ishimaru cry again. After spending several days interacting with Ishimaru, having a lot of fucking conversations that hadnât actually ended in the kidâs tears, he... he hadnât wanted to go back to that.Â
 And so, with all the confused fucking emotions swirling inside him, heâd yelled âfuckinâ fine, ya goddamn bastard! Iâll fuckinâ meet you and do that goddamn fuckinâ assignment tomorrow! Now leave me the fuck alone!â before storming into his room and slamming the door shut so loud it made even his ears ring.Â
 Heâd then promptly stormed into the shower, turning the water on as hot as it could go, the water fucking hurting, but heâd wanted it to. He just... heâd felt so... so...
 Confused...
 Heâd never felt this way for anyone before. So angry and scared and confused and yet also so fucking happy, so bizarrely, stupidly happy. Ishimaru fucking... he made him happy. And he didnât know how to handle that, because clearly, he still hated the kid... right? Right? What other option was there? Why did he want to hit Ishimaru (and he had to want to hit him, it was the only fucking option that made any fucking sense) if he didnât hate him?Â
 But heâd agreedâ stupidlyâ to meet with the kid for another fucking tutoring session after class the next day. And while the thought had made his insides squirm, he... fuck. He hadnât wanted to make the kid cry again. God, did he not want that. Even if he did hate himâ which he must, he mustâ he... fuck.Â
 He couldnât make him cry.Â
 He wasnât his goddamn old man.
 And so, when he got out of the shower, heâd resolved to contain his anger the next day. Heâd push it down, keep it locked up tight tight tight, and he wouldnât let it hurt Ishimaru. Heâd gotten into bed (still hated it, but he was slowly getting use to the ridiculously plush material) and fallen into a fitful sleep, dreams full of wide, hurt red eyes, a sad voice begging him to explain why he was hurting him so. Heâd woken an hour early with a start, heart pounding, and had spent the remaining time until he usually got up doing push-ups again and again and again, until he didnât remember the dream anymore.Â
 And then, when he went into class, carrying his supplies for once... heâd given the kid a small, sheepish smile, stomach roiling with all the emotions within it. Heâd then spent the rest of home room doodling absently on the notebook Ishimaru had helped him pick out from the school store, doing his best to not think of everything and psych himself out. Heâd even managed to feel almost calm as he let himself draw, something he rarely allows himself to do, but always has kinda enjoyed, even if heâs shit at it.
 Once home room ended, heâd waited for Ishimaru at the door, telling him as casually as he could that the nurse had contacted him the day before, saying sheâd scheduled an eye doctor (he still canât remember the official name Ishimaru called the dude, shit) appointment for 3:00 the next day, hesitantly asking the kid if he had wanted to come along. He could tell that the kid was taken aback, clearly not having expected such a thing, but heâd still stammered out an acceptance, looking so flustered it wasnât funny when Mondo turned to look at him with a small, soft smile. Heâd not meant to look at the kid like that, but heâd just... been unable to help it.Â
 The rest of the day had gone well, the tutoring session going nicely like it had before that stupid fucking bullshit two days prior. It had happened in the library again, which Mondo figured would be safer. Heâd almost started to hope that things would stay that way, stay as calm and easy and nice, but then-
 Mondo got angry. Again.Â
 He doesnât even know why, he never fucking does, but the kid had just... heâd been so fucking patient, helping Mondo pick out a pair of âreading glasses,â since the doc had said he had pretty bad close-up vision and would be benefited from having prescription reading glasses, not just the over-the-counter stuff you find at drug stores. Mondo had felt so fucking lost, no idea what any of the bullshit meant, but Ishimaru had... heâd been so fucking helpful, explaining the complicated terminology and shit, helping him find a pair that didnât make him look too much like a fucking nerd. And the pair he settled on was honestly kinda nice. It was a rectangular silver metal frame that had deep purple plastic on the sides, and it actually make him look kinda cool... if a bit nerdy. Heâd given the salesperson his school insurance card and was pleasantly surprised to find heâd not have to pay a penny for the frames, since the school covers shit like that.Â
 It was then, as he and Ishimaru exited the shop and the kid absently commented that the glasses made him look very smart that Mondo just... fucking lost it.Â
 And he doesnât even know why.
 It just... it made him feel weird inside. Being around the kid. Being soft with him. And he was. Soft. Soft and kind and fucking gentle. And the kid was the exact same back. The entire time theyâd been in the shop, Mondo had been thinking how nice it had felt. How domestic. The panic and fear had been slowly rising in him the entire time theyâd been in the store, and heâd done all he could to push it the fuck down, but he... he hadnât...
 Heâd left the kid standing there, looking so fucking confused, as he hopped on his hog and drove away. Heâd not cared how the kid would get back to the school, he had refused to ride with Mondo since it made him ânervousâ anyway, so it wasnât his fucking problem.
 And that pattern just... kept repeating. Mondo would get angry, say something toxic to the kid, and storm away. The kid would wait a couple of hours, maybe try and talk with him after class or something, only to eventually corner him and force him to talk to him, looking so fucking fed up, but also so fucking upset and sad and confused. Like he didnât know why Mondo was doing this to him. Like he didnât know why Mondo was being so fucking difficult. Like he... he didnât...
 Didnât know why he fucking bothered...
 And⊠honestly? Mondo didnât know why either. Why he kept trying. Why he was so stubborn, always chasing after Mondo even after Mondo fucking shoved him away, sometimes literally. Even when Mondo would get so fucking nasty, making tears build up in the kidâs eyes, frustration clear in his every movement.Â
 For almost two weeks this occurred, again and again and again, and Mondo... Mondo doesnât know why the kid doesnât just leave him already. Why he doesnât just say âthe hell with it,â realize Mondo isnât fucking worth it, and leave his ass. Like every other person on the face of this goddamn planet...Â
 Itâs only a matter of time until he does, though. Leave him. Itâs what always was going to happen, since Mondo couldnât ever hope to hold onto someone so very, very good. So very, very nice. Mondo is poison. Heâs gas. He only knows how to destroy and break and hurt.Â
 Heâs not allowed something nice.Â
 Heâs not allowed someone nice.Â
 Heâs just...
 Not worthy of it.Â
 Case in fucking point...
 âLook. Owada-kun,â Ishimaru spits, hands clenched around the stupid glasses case that he for some reason has (Mondo doesnât even know how heâd gotten a hold of them, shit), looking like he wants to crush them, shit. âI donât understand why youâre being so stubborn about this! You picked them out! You said they were fine! Why! Why have you changed your mind!â
 Mondo scowls at the words, heart racing and swirling and hurting, hurting, hurting, and he doesnât wanna be doing this, wants to stop, but he canât, he canât, he fucking canât! He doesnât know how to stop this, doesnât know how to make this go away, all he knows how to do is break and hurt and destroy, destroy, destroy-
 âI ainât changed shit! I never fuckinâ agreed ta wear fuckinâ glasses, now get the fuck outta my face!âÂ
 Itâs a lie. They both know itâs a lie, he can see the anger rising on Ishimaruâs face as he processes the abject lie. Mondo had, in fact, agreed on the glasses, had even kinda liked them, but he canât concede that, canât say he does, if he does then- then that means heâs okay with this, this weird thing he has going on with Ishimaru, and he doesnât know if he can handle that, handle the proof that Ishimaru is so fucking amazing, the proof that Mondo doesnât fucking deserve him, proof that... t-that he...Â
 Mondo canât take it. He canât fucking take it! He tries to leave, to get away, to fucking end this shit already, but then Ishimaru is grabbing hold of him, holding so fucking tight, and Mondo tries to break free, tries to get away, but the kid just doesnât fucking let go, and Mondo is so fucking freaked out, he just wants to leave, please god, let him just leave, donât let him break this fucking kid again, god, please-Â
 âYou-! You are the most infuriating, pig-headed, arrogant... jerk I have ever had the misfortune to meet! If I never saw your face again, it wouldnât be long enough!â
 âOh, Iâm so wounded, please donât call me anymore fuckinâ names like that, how the fuck am I ever gonna recover?!â Mondo snarls, sarcasm so thick heâs sure even Ishimaru will be able to pick up on it, wanting to stop but not being able to. âGrow the fuck up, ya cock suckinâ assfucker! Learn some better fuckinâ insults or donât even bother tryinâ ta play!â
 âJust because I am too sophisticated to resort to such foul language does not mean anything! You may be a lowly, classless heathen, but I, for one, refuse-â
 âOh, so now ya think yer fuckinâ better than me?! I told ya already, yâainât goddamn shit, Ishimaru! Ainât no shit at all!â
 âI am one hundred times the man you will ever hope to be! And if Iâm not... feces, then youâre not even worth anything at all! Y-youâre... youâre an amoeba, so tiny and insignificant that itâs a miracle you think youâre relevant at all!â
 âWhat the fuck did ya call me, ya son ofa bitch?!â
 Mondo sees the kid open his mouthâ likely to fire something back, barely any space between themâ holding onto Mondoâs arm so fucking tight, like his life depends on it or something, looking so fucking pissed and angry and hurt and fucking beautiful, so fucking beautiful, god fucking damnit-
 But before the kid can say anything, another voice pipes up, the same voice as earlier, making Mondoâs rage reach a paramount, oh god-
 âAw, come on! I thought you guys resolved things already, do you really have to do this?! Please!âÂ
 Mondo turns to the fucking eavesdropper, snarling at the beyond fucking average boy. Naegi turns super fucking pale at the look, but he doesnât cower away for once. Mondo doesnât care. Heâs far passed the point of caring.Â
 âI told ya ta stay the fuck outta this!âÂ
 Naegi frowns, but Mondo doesnât give him a chance to say any other stupid ass thing before heâs turning back to Ishimaru, eyes practically spitting fire as he stares so deep into Ishimaruâs that it feels almost like a physical embrace. It makes Mondoâs breath hitch for some stupid fucking reason, his stomach swirling as he looks deep into the most gorgeous fucking eyes heâs ever fucking seen-
 But he canât feel things like that, so he pushes it firmly away.Â
 He can hear their eavesdropper fucking sigh, soft and almost disappointed, and that should make Mondo even angrier, but something in Mondo is feeling so fucking weird now. G-god... he doesnât even know how to begin to describe it, other than it feels like heâs on fire, but not even in a bad way. Ishimaru is staring at him, eyes wide, anger in them, but also something else, something Mondo canât understand, no matter how much he fucking wants to.Â
 He canât let this end here. He wants to let it end, but he fucking canât. He... h-he needs to figure out how to settle this, how to make this stop, how to not be as fucking pathetic as he knows he is. He... he needs to prove that heâs not as worthless as they both know he is, as weak, as nothing, so fucking nothing. Everyone knows it, knows he doesnât belong here, knows that Ishimaru is so much better than him itâs not funny, but he- he needs to prove that he has something going for him, that he... he can do something, even if heâs worthless in every other regard, every other aspect, even if Ishimaru is better than him everywhere else he just needs to prove he can beat him at fucking something, god-
 Heâs issuing the challenge before he can stop himself.Â
 And god, is he so fucking afraid.Â
 âYou think yer so perfect, donât ya, Ishimaru? Think yer better than me? Well... well, yer not, anâ I can fuckinâ prove it. I bet I can beat you, hands down, any day of the fuckinâ week. Yâainât better than me, ya shit fuck. Yâainât nothinâ,â Mondo hisses, lying through his fucking teeth. Ishimaru is better than him. He knows it. Heâs always known it. He hates it, though. Not being good enough. Not being worthy. He... he wants to be. Good enough. For... f-for...Â
 Ishimaruâs eyes are shiny again, even despite his glare.Â
 Typical.Â
 âWhat?! Y-you guys arenât going to- to fight, are you? Guys-!â
 Mondo breaks his stare down with Ishimaru to shoot that goddamn fucking bastard a single, solitary sneer, before turning back to Ishimaru, chest heaving with all the emotions he carries within him.Â
 âNah. Ground floor, thereâs a sauna. Ya know it?âÂ
 Ishimaru blinks slowly, sluggish, before nodding slightly, looking very fucking confused. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his lips are pulled down, and he looks so fucking cute stupid, god. After a moment, though, it seems he understands what Mondo is getting at, the challenge he is suggesting, as his face lights up, eyes bright and passionate once more, an honest to god grin on his face.Â
 Holy fucking shit...Â
 âAha! A simple endurance challenge! If that is your gauntlet, then I happily accept! I will wipe the floor with you!âÂ
 Despite the anger that is still flowing through him, Mondo canât help the small smile that passes on his lips, something about the enthusiasm so fucking... not cute, not cute, not cute at all, but maybe, a little, teeny tiny bit... endearing? He pushes it away, though. Itâs not helpful, here.Â
 âYer fuckinâ on. And you,â Mondo points blindly to Naegiâ who âeepsâ at the gesture, fucking coward he isâ not able to look away from Ishimaru for a single fucking second, âwill be our witness. Got it?!âÂ
 As intently as Mondo is staring at Ishimaru, he doesnât see the other kidâs response, but he can hear how Naegi splutters, the kid clearly not as enthusiastic about the idea as Ishimaru and himself are. Bastard.Â
 âW-what?! Now?! B-but itâs so late... g-guys, are you sure this is a- a good idea-?!â
 âYes, ya fuckinâ moron, itâs a fuckinâ great idea!â Mondo snarls, at the exact same time Ishimaruâ eyes bright and feverishâ exclaims, âyes! It is an excellent idea!âÂ
 Uncomfortable at their agreement, Mondo finally tears his eyes away, ignoring the churning feeling in his chest as he storms down the hall to where the bathhouse is, mere meters away. Ishimaru stares after him for a stunned second, but quickly spurs himself into motion, using his long-ish legs to catch up quick, head held high as they march determinedly on. God... heâs so fucking...
 Shit.Â
 When they reach the bathhouse a few moments later, Mondo firmly pushes aside the rational voice inside him that is screaming at him not to do this. He knows his limits when it comes to endurance. While heâs not the best at running, he has great endurance for other things, especially pain and discomfort. (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~)Â
 But Ishimaru... fuck. Heâs so fucking passionate, so fucking determined, but who knows what his endurance is like? If heâll be able to keep up? And it shouldnât matter, shouldnât give Mondo pause, but he... he canât help the stab of concern that fills him as they enter the room, Mondo grabbing a âclosed for repairsâ sign and putting it in front of the entrance, not wanting anyone to interrupt.Â
 He hates the feeling and pushes it away as he turns to glare at Ishimaru, pointing a finger, not wanting to deal with such weakness, but he... he canât quite manage to force it fully away...Â
 Shit.Â
 âAlright, hereâs the fuckinâ terms. First ta tap out is a fuckinâ bitch ass loser who ainât worth shit. The one who lasts the longest is the official winner. We ainât allowed ta touch the other or do anythinâ ta them directly, this is strictly an endurance challenge. Oh, anâ weâre gonna do this fully clothed. What do ya say?!âÂ
 Mondo sees Ishimaruâs eyes widen when he gets to the last term, the kid fucking shaking his head sharply in denial. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Heâd added that last clause in last minute, realizing as he detailed the rules that they were gonna be fucking half fucking naked in there, and his mind had shorted the fuck out. Heâs been in saunas fully clothed before, he knows he can handle it, but he isnât fucking sure he can handle sitting nearly nude beside Ishi-fucking-maru...
 But of course, the kid wouldnât fucking agree. Of fucking course...
 âI do not agree to that last term, but I agree to the rest!âÂ
 Glad his angry flush fully disguises the fucking embarrassed flush he can feel rising on his face, Mondo just nods tensely, sneering, as he storms over to the water cooler in the corner.Â
 âAlright, whatever, fucker. Ya got five minutes ta prepare. Then, weâre fuckinâ doinâ this shit.âÂ
 With that, Mondo grabs a paper cup and downs some water, feeling so impossibly tense. He can feel Ishimaru staring at him, mouth partially open, but he gets spurned into action when Naegi shifts awkwardly beside him, chasing the kid away to one of the lockers, where he... he fucking...
 Starts taking off his fucking clothes...
 Holy. Fucking. Shit.Â
 Mondo is staring. Mondo knows he shouldnât be staring, knows itâs wrong to be staring, but he canât fucking help it. His eyes are like magnets, drawn to the kid, watching as he takes off all of his fucking layers, folding each one so neatly and carefully as he sticks them in the small fucking locker. The kid hesitates a little when he gets to his fucking tighty-whities (of course the kid wears that shit, of fucking course), but ultimately, he doesnât take them off. Instead, he bites his lip and grabs a white towel, wrapping it firmly around his waist before putting the rest of his stuff away. Mondo firmly pushes down the stupid as shit rush of disappointment and tells himself to stop staring, to look away, but god, he fucking canât. Ishimaru, he...
 Heâs so fucking gorgeous, so fucking hot, so fucking sexy-
 Mondo feels himself heat the fuck up when Ishimaru turns abruptly and looks him straight in the eyes, looking fucking startled at something. Feeling strangely caught, Mondo looks away as quick as he can, pushing away the stupid as shit thoughts, marching over to a locker stiffly. Shit... heâs gotta fucking get laid one of these days. The tension is doing fucked up shit to his brain...Â
 He takes his time putting some of his more fragile shit away, like his crappy cellphone and his key card. He does, honestly, consider taking off his uniform, or at least taking off his duster, but he just... shit. Canât. Not with how strange he feels inside, his mindâs eye still stupidly forcing him to think of Ishimaru, his stupidly muscular back flexing with every move he made. It means nothing, fucking nothing, but he... shit. It prolly would be better to remain fully clothed, duster included, even if it does put him at a disadvantage. But ya know what, whatever. Doesnât matter. He knows his limits and knows that he can last longer in the sauna than Ishimaru, even when fully clothed. Shit...
 When the five minutes he gave them are up, he meets up with Ishimaru outside the entrance to the sauna, fully intending to slide it open and step inside, when-
 âOwada-kun, you cannot seriously be considering entering the sauna fully clothed! Itâs suicide!â Ishimaru exclaims, sounding fucking concerned as shit. His eyes are wide, and his brows are furrowed, and heâs biting his fucking lip, god fucking damn, and itâs messing with Mondoâs head so fucking much. Why... why the fuck would he care?! Huh?! Theyâre not fucking friends! Why would he care if Mondo did try and kill himself, huh?! World would fucking be better off for it, shit!Â
 Deciding to definitely not say that, Mondo just sneers at the kid, crossing his arms stubbornly.Â
 âJust âcuz yer a fuckinâ pansy ass bitch donât mean I am! Now, ya ready ta do this, or are ya a fuckinâ chicken?!â Â
 His face flushed, Ishimaru doesnât even bother to answer, instead just yanking open the door and entering the sauna with a stubborn tilt to his jaw.Â
 Staring after the kid for a split second (pushing down the disappointment that he didnât press the issue harder, proving to Mondo how fucking right he is), Mondo enters on Ishimaruâs heels, the heat not even bothering him one bit.Â
 Itâs nothing compared to the fire that constantly burns within him.Â
 Sliding the door shut behind him, leaving Naegi outside to do whatever the fuck he wants while the contest takes place, Mondo marches over to where Ishimaru is sitting, taking a seat an armâs length away. He can feel bright red eyes on him, but he determinedly pushes the feeling away, trading a few snide comments with the kid, not even feeling the heat really.Â
 About ten minutes in, Mondo will admit the heat is getting to him a little, a thin sheen of sweat making its way onto his skin, which is more uncomfortable than anything. Ishimaru looks a little woozy, so Mondo taunts that the kid should just give up now. Ishimaru just laughs, saying how he never gives up, ever. Fucking pretentious bastard.Â
 After half an hour, he can admit he is feeling kinda uncomfortable, the heat becoming somewhat unpleasant, but heâs still feeling pretty good, all things considered. Ishimaru looks flushed as all hell, though, his cheeks bright red and sweat clinging to his muscles. The kid tells himâ unpromptedâ that heâs doing fine, and Mondoâs brain feels too stupid to allow him to do much else than glare, shit...Â
 After around fifty minutes, the kid... he looks fucking awful. Mondo isnât doing too hot, the uncomfortable feeling spreading to be extremely uncomfortable, but he knows he can handle it. The kid, though... he looks like heâs starting to lose it. Ishimaru mentions absently that heâs starting to feel cold, which honestly concerns Mondo, since he knows that shit is a bad sign, but his head is too stupid to remember why, so he just says itâs prolly not good. The kid doesnât call it quits, though.Â
 Instead, he actually... talks... huh.Â
 âY-you can take off your uniform... if you w-want... I- I wonât judge...â the boy mumbles, sounding super fucking exhausted. Mondo tries to snort, but itâs a lot harder than it should be, shit.Â
 âN-nah... Iâm... Iâm... Iâm good,â Mondo finds himself muttering back, looking at the kid intensely, wondering why he isnât giving up when he so clearly feels sick. Mondo finds himself muttering about how red Ishimaruâs is, likening him to a hot spring monkey, of all things. The kid mumbles back about being born with a red face, which makes no fucking sense, but ya know what? Heâs too tired to waste energy on this shit. Heâs got a challenge to win.Â
 After what he figures is an hour and five minutes, the warning bell rings, telling them they have five minutes until curfew. Mondo figures the hall monitor will end this now, since he wouldnât dare stay out past curfew and risk breaking one of his âprecious rules,â but the kid doesnât seem to even notice the bell had rung. S-shit... that... thatâs not good, is it...?Â
 Mondo gets distracted from his stupid as shit concern when a new voice pipes up, shocking Mondo. Huh... he hadnât realized the kid was still out there. Shit.Â
 âU-uh guys? Itâs almost curfew, shouldnât you... stop? I know you both want to prove how big of badasses you are but... donât you think youâve done enough?â
 Mondo scowls at the meaning of the words, knowing that he sure as shit ainât gonna back down first. Heâs already so worthless. Heâs gotta prove that he can at least do this, of all fucking things.
 âShut up!â he barks, at the same time Ishimaru does, making him feel fucking wigged out at how theyâre both on the same page again.Â
 Naegi replies back to them, saying something about it being nighttime, and a tie... it honestly offends Mondo, but before he can reply, the kid is... talking... saying something about how in a true competition, there are no ties. That you either win or you lose, and that... thatâs the only thing that matters. It honestly kinda pisses Mondo off, even if he agrees fully, so he fires back how he will push the kid right up to the gates of hell, meaning it fully.Â
 He tells Naegi to leave then, knowing that this might drag on a lot longer than he had anticipated. Shit. He knew Ishimaru was fucking stubborn as shit, willing to do absolutely anything to reach his goals, but this... this is just madness. Utter madness. As Naegi leaves, Mondo cannot help how he stares at the hall monitor, who looks so fucking sick right now. He does his best to ignore it, to wait the kid out, but when roughly fifteen more minutes pass and the kid isnât tapping out, despite looking half dead, he... he canât help the worry that he feels. And then, when the kid closes his eyes, barely breathing, Mondo... s-shit...Â
 âHey... man... are you... are you okay...? Ya donât... donât look so good...âÂ
 Mondo listens, getting really kinda freaked, when Ishimaru lets out a soft puff of air, almost like heâs trying to laugh but canât find the energy. He lolls his head over to Mondo, the first movement heâs done in minutes, but his eyes are still closed, which looks so fucking freaky. It takes him far longer than it should to open his eyes, and when he does, they... shit. They look glazed, like the kid isnât fucking in there, like he... heâs...
 Already dead...
 F-fuck...Â
 It really does look like that, though. Eyes glazed, mouth partially open, chest so scarily still... o-oh, shit. Shit, what if he... what if he is dead...?! Y-yeah, he just moved, but he- he looks so still, it... Mondo...Â
 But then the kid is speaking, and he sounds so very out of it, but at least heâs alive, thank god...Â
 âI- Iâm... Iâm fine, I...âÂ
 Oh, shit... no, he... heâs not fine, is he...? Shit... s-shit...
 âShit... man... no, yâainât. I know my... my limits. Iâve got some time... left in me... but you... shit. Just give up, dude. Just... just give... up...âÂ
 It makes something in Mondo clench when he sees the kidâs face screw up, like he wants to cry but just has no tears left within him. And then he... heâs speaking...Â
 âNo... n-no, I canât... I- I canât... give up... I have to... have to...â
 The kid stops, then, and Mondo feels so fucking confused, his head all stupid because of the heat, making it hard to think. What? He has to... what?Â
 âHafta... what? What... is so important... ta ya?â
 The kid blinks, like he hadnât expected to be spoken to, before opening his mouth and muttering words. It... itâs like the kid doesnât even know heâs speaking, the words sounding so fucking slurred and soft. Mondo has to strain to hear them, even though the silence is oppressive between them.Â
 âI canât... give up... must... restore... honor... family... f-family name...âÂ
 Mondo furrows his eyebrows, his lips turned down in a frown, not... not understanding...
 âYer family... name? What⊠what about it?âÂ
 Ishimaru blinks, like he can barely understand what Mondo is saying, and fuck is that scary...Â
 âI must... fix his mistakes. I must... I must bring honor t-to... to our name... my grandfather...â
 Okay, that... that doesnât make any fucking sense... his grandfather? The fuck? Shit... Ishimaru needs to stop this, he... heâs not making any sense...
 âWhat? The fuck... the fuck ya talkinâ âbout, man? Shit... Ishimaru, yer âbout ta... ta fuckinâ pass out... why canât ya just... just give up, man?âÂ
 Ishimaru isnât looking at him anymore and is instead staring blankly at the steam that is billowing around them, looking like heâs not aware where the fuck he is. It makes Mondoâs stomach clench, the concern rising. He... he doesnât wanna give up, needs to prove himself, but he... Ishimaru... f-fuck...Â
 And then... Ishimaru starts talking again...
 âIt... itâs all up to me to fix it... t-to make it better... m-make it- it right-! I... I canât... give up, I... Iâm not... not allowed to... give up... giving up is- is wrong... and immoral, and- and I am not wrong! I... Iâm not- not immoral... I... Iâm better... better than my grandfather... better than myself... better... than...âÂ
 Okay. Okay. Okay, itâs official. Mondo is fucking freaked the fuck out. What... what does any of that even mean? He... Ishimaru...
 âFuck, dude, yer- yer scarinâ me... what the hell does⊠does any aâ that even⊠even mean? Yer the fuckinâ... Ultimate Moral Compass... âcourse yer not- not... immoral...âÂ
 Ishimaru is shaking now, eyes still glazed, staring at the steam as if it holds the answer to life itself. And fuck... itâs so fucking creepy...Â
 âBut I am, I am... Iâm worthless, Iâm nothing... my grandfather... heâd done so many terrible things, had hurt s-so many people... heâd ruined... ruined Japan... e-everyone hated him... hated me... I have to do better... to be better... to fix... my grandfatherâs... mistakes...â
 His grandfather? Who the fuck is his grandfather? And why... why does he even matter? Even if he was so fucking terrible, Ishimaru... he ainât... he...
 âDude... yâainât... ainât yer grandfather... yer yer own person... anâ frankly... I kinda... kinda like... s-shit. Just... stop this, man. Just admit it. Admit itâs... too much...âÂ
 The kid shakes his head, and Mondo doesnât know how heâs able to even hear him, as far fucking gone as he looks, but fuck, heâs clearly responding, ainât he...?Â
 âNnnn- n-no! I- I... I canât... canât admit... weakness... god Iâm so... so weak... pathetic... the children, theyâre right about me, theyâre all so... so right... Iâll never... amount to- to anything... Iâm worthless... pathetic... scum...âÂ
 H-holy shit... Ishimaru he... he canât fucking believe that... can he? No... n-no, he... he ainât none of that shit, Mondo is, Mondo is, but not- not Ishimaru! He... heâs fucking... he...Â
 âIshimaru... Ishimaru, stop... s-stop! Yâainât... none aâ that is... is true... yer the best... goddamn person I ever... ever met, ya... ya never gave up on me... no matter how horrible I treated ya... ya just... wouldnât leave... I tried ta make ya leave, why... why wouldnât ya leave...âÂ
 He hadnât meant to ask the question, voice so fucking soft, but he couldnât help it. Itâs been plaguing him for weeks now, wondering why... why Ishimaru bothered staying... why he didnât just leave his ass... why he didnât just... give up on him... like everyone always does...Â
 âMe... leave? Why? Where would I... go...? Iâve n-never... had a friend... if this is... is friendship... then what else can I... do? I donât... w-wanna... be...... alone.........â
 Oh... oh, shit... suddenly, so many things make so much fucking sense. Why the kid always seems so fucking nervous and awkward around people, though he tries his damndest to hide it. Why he is always alone, never seen really talking to anyone, not without a reason. Why he always... always does his best to extend olive branches to people, offering to tutor or help or do whatever is needed to... to get them to talk to him... g-god... he never would have thought the kid would have no friends, even though itâs so fucking obvious when Mondo thinks about it. Heâs just... heâs just so fucking bright and full of sunshine... Mondo canât imagine people seeing that and not... not wanting to...Â
 Itâs right then, in that moment, brain stupid from heat, halfway gone but not fully gone yet, that Mondo... Mondo makes a decision.Â
 If they survive this stupid fucking challenge... he... he will be Ishimaruâ no, Kiyotaka, his name is- is Kiyotaka... he will be Kiyotakaâs friend... and he will be a fucking good one, the friend that the kid... that he fucking deserves...
 If the kid even wants to be friends with him...Â
 âFuckinâ... shit, man. Yer not... alone... Iâm here. Ishimaru... Kiyotaka... Iâm right... right here...âÂ
 The kid shakes his head, breath still shallow, but now itâs wavering, shaking... trembling... g-god... fuck...
 âNo... no... Iâm alone, Iâm alone. Everyone... always leaves... my mother... my grandfather... even my father would leave... if he could... heâs never... never understood me. No one... understands me... I donât... even... understand...... myself..........â
 Oh. Oh. Oh. This... this poor fucking boy... he... s-shit. Shit... this... they gotta fucking stop this... they...Â
 âI... I understand ya. Yer... yer like me... ainât ya? Shit. We gotta... gotta stop this, man... what are ya... tryinâ... ta prove?âÂ
 Kiyotaka is shaking again, looking like he wants to cry but just... canât. God... god... fucking... god.
 âEverything. Everything. Every⊠everything⊠I have to prove them... wrong. I have to prove... that I can do this. If I... if I give up... i-if I let myself give up... then I fail. I fail, I fail, I fail, I fail, I fail. I c-canât... fail, I canât... g-give up... or else... what is... the point... of me...?âÂ
 Point? The point? Why... why does he have to have a point? Shit... heâs so fucking amazing, he... he doesnât have to have a point... no more than just... just being...Â
 âAinât gotta... have a point man... ya can just... be. Be... Kiyotaka. Whatâs so wrong... with that?âÂ
 The blank look on the kidâs face grows, his voice soft, weak. Trembling, like he doesnât mean to say it, like he doesnât even know what heâs saying. Mondo has never heard someone sound so... so... dead before... h-holy shit...
 âEverything. Everything. Everything. E-everything... is wrong with... me... I- Iâm too... too much. T-too passionate... too vibrant... I- I hurt... hurt my own eyes... I hate... l-looking at myself... hate... b-being myself... if I could... be someone else... I- I would... gladly...âÂ
 No. No. No, fucking... no! Ish- Kiyo... Kiyotaka canât fucking believe that... yeah, heâs so fucking passionate, so fucking bright, but that... thatâs not a bad thing... he... heâs so fucking good... so fucking... amazing... and he... Mondo wouldnât...
 âI wouldnât. Want that. Yer... fuck. Yer somethinâ... somethinâ special... I thought I... I hated that âbout you, but... man you... you shine... I donât deserve... someone as... as wonderful... as you...â
 Kiyotaka is shaking his head again, barely breathing, looking so dead, so very, very... dead...
 Oh, god...
 âI- Iâm not... wonderful. Iâm not... anything. T-the children... they hated me... t-they all... hated me. My f-father... hates me. My mother... if she could s-see me... now... s-sheâd hate me... too. Why... w-why do I bother... trying...? W-why... why donât I just... g-give up...âÂ
 N-no... no, no, god, please... no... Mondo feels pressure behind his eyes, and he doesnât think he has ever felt such pain. Because that... that sounds so goddamn familiar... he always has seen Kiyotaka as so different to him, so much better, so much brighter. But if the kid is to be believed... he... he thinks of himself like... like Mondo thinks of himself, and he... he canât... canât fucking stand that thought, oh god...Â
 âKiyo... Kiyota- Taka. Kiyo... Taka. Just... ya donât hafta... give up... but yer... yer gonna kill yerself if ya... keep this up... s-shit...â
 Mondo feels himself go cold when Kiyotaka responds, sounding half dead, looking so... so nothing...Â
 âKill... myself? No... Iâm not- not that weak... not anymore... not... n-not again... but maybe... maybe... m-maybe it would be better. If I werenât... werenât...â a pause. âAlive...â
 What?! No... no, no.... nonononononononononono-!!! He... he canât... he canât-
 âWhat?! Dude... no... god... fuckinâ... dammit! Ya canât be... serious... Kiyo... Taka, ya canât...â
 âI am. I am. I- I am. If I wasnât... so weak. If I wasnât... s-so afraid. I know... k-know how to fix it... a-all of it. How to... t-to make it better. My father... would be happier. The children... w-would be happier. And I... I... Iâd be... Iâd be...â
 A pause. Inhalation of breath. And then... softly, so fucking softly...
 âDead...âÂ
 No. No. No, fucking-! No. This... this is so fucking stupid, why is Mondo doing this, he... he has to stop this. This kid ainât gonna stop, he canât fucking stop, he wonât stop until he is fucking dead, and Mondo... Mondo canât... he fucking canât-
 He canât lose someone else... not during another fucking challenge that he fucking issued... he just... canât.
 âOkay. Thatâs it. This ainât... fuckinâ worth it. If yâainât... gonna quit... then I! I fuckinâ... I fuckinâ will. Ya... ya win... Kiyo... Taka... ya... ya win. Now, câmon, man. Letâs⊠letâs get outta here.â
 With all the strength he has left, Mondo stands and hobbles over to where Kiyotaka is sitting, looking like a puppet with its strings cut. Heâs not moving, barely breathing, and his eyes are so glazed over Mondo doesnât think he can even see right now. Mondo has never seen someone look so still before, and it scares the ever-loving shit out of him. Especially now that he... he knows that... that the kid has tried... or at least wanted...
 Fuck.Â
 Fuck.Â
 Fuck.
 But he doesnât have time to hate himself for issuing this stupid ass challenge. He doesnât have time to waste. Gathering all his strength, he bends down, and he wraps an arm around Kiyotaka, heart stopping when he feels how boneless he is, not moving at all. But then, as he starts moving towards the door, he feels the kid start to struggle. Itâs weak and doesnât sway Mondo even a second, but fuck does it relieve him. The kid is even able to walk a little, barely. It... itâs good.Â
 The second he manages to get the door open, however, the cool air almost torture on his overheated skin, he feels Kiyotaka gasp, all the fragile strength he had gone as his knees buckle, making him deadweight. But Mondo hasnât spent the majority of his life lifting weights for nothing, so he just adjusts his grip, taking on more of the kidâs weight. He doesnât lift him, doesnât have time for that, but he drags him bodily over to the bench, accidentally throwing him on it since heâs not really at a hundred percent himself. He sees the kid start to topple, then, and he immediately moves forward to steady the kid, the skin under his hands far, far too warm. Oh... shit, thatâs not... not good, oh fuck...
 âGoddamn shit. Ya look... fuck man. Why didnât ya just... dammit. Ya need water... Iâll be right back.â
 Mondo stand abruptly then, feeling clumsy and wrong. His chest feels so fucking painful, like itâs being sat on by an elephant, and he doesnât think heâs ever felt more concerned for anyone. Well... other than one person... but shit, he canât think of him, not now. Not now. Not when Kiyotaka needs him. He takes off his duster as he strides forward, tossing it carelessly on a bench, too fucking hot to deal with that shit. He needs to go quick, needs to... to get back to Kiyotaka... and he needs to drink some water himself, fuck, heâs so fucking dehydrated... fuck.Â
 However... once heâs at the water cooler, filling up one of the paper cups for himself to drink, he hears the kid muttering again, the words making no goddamn sense, but damn if it doesnât make his heart clench...
 â...they wonât, they wonât, they wonât... Iâm alone, again... all alone... everyone has left... everyone leaves me in the end... why would I expect anything different... why would I expect-â
 Shit. Shit. Shit. Mondo quickly finishes filling the cup and downs it, filling the second one as quickly as possible while the kid rambles on about being alone again. As soon as the cup is full Mondo practically teleports back to the kidâs side, an odd sense in him that he never, ever wants to be anywhere else...Â
 âShit, Kiyotaka, Iâm here. I just... had ta drink myself, shit. Now câmon. Drink this. Please, man. Fer me. I canât... ya canât fuckinâ die on me, man... f-fuck...âÂ
 He carefully places his hand on the back of Kiyotakaâs neck, lifting it gently up, so he can get the kid to drink some water. He knows that the boy is prolly dehydrated as fuck, and he seriously hopes thatâs the only thing wrong with him, because if it isnât... s-shit. He can feel Kiyotaka struggle as he moves him, his lips moving, muttering those fucking words again...Â
 âW-why am I so weak, I need to... to be stronger... to be... better...â
 God, is everything this kid says gonna make his heart break? God... heâs not equipped for this, he doesnât know how to be kind, to be gentle, but after all the shit he has done, all the pain and misery he has needlessly made this wondrous, incredible, sad fucking boy go through... he owes it to him to not only try, but to succeed.Â
 Even if it fucking kills him...Â
 âShh... hey, itâs okay. Yâainât fuckinâ weak, man, yer goddamn incredible. Now câmon. Stop fightinâ me. Let me take care aâ you. You... youâve been so strong fer so long. Let me... let me help you...âÂ
 With that, he slowly presses the cup against the kidâs lips, and he feels as he struggles, whimpering softly, scared. Shit, he... he prolly has no idea what the fuck is going on, is so fucking disoriented...Â
 He begins whispering to the kid then, not knowing what to say, but just... knowing he has to say something, something soothing. He hums softly as he decides to just... let the soft words that heâs been gathering for weeks now out of his heart, telling Kiyotaka that he is there, that he will always be there, promising that heâs not alone, that heâll never be alone again, that Mondo will take care of him, he promises... he promises...Â
 And then he... he says...
 âOpen up, Kiyotaka, shit. P-please... Iâm begginâ ya man... just... drink some water...âÂ
 The kid... Kiyotaka stops struggling then, and finally, finally opens his lips. Itâs just a little, a small amount, but itâs enough for a small trickle of water to get passed his dry and cracked lips, which is so fucking relieving. But then... then the kid startles again, a soft sound of distress getting released as he panics, taking too much water too quick. Oh, shit...Â
 So fucking scared, not knowing what to do but knowing he has to do something, Mondo lowers the hand holding the cup but doesnât put it down, moving his other hand to rub soothing circles on the kidâs back, shushing him softly.Â
 âAw, shit. Slowly, man, slowly. Thatâs it, nice anâ easy... Iâm gonna try that again, okay? Go slow this time. Idiot.â
 With that, Mondo moves his hand back to Kiyotakaâs neck and brings the cup back up to his lips, praying that he will drink this time. Heâs so fucking dehydrated and if he wonât drink, Mondo is gonna have to call an ambulance or some shit, because he needs liquid, and fast.Â
 Luckily, this time when he asks the kid to open up, he does so immediately. And then, when he tips a little of the liquid into his mouth, the kid doesnât panic and just... sips it. Slowly. Mondo can see his throat working, moving slowly, swallowing the water, and fuck... heâs never felt so relieved in his life, watching the kid drink some fucking water, god...Â
 However, then the kid is letting out a sound of desperation, seeming to realize that he is so fucking thirsty or something. He sees the kidâs hands try to come up, wavering so fucking much as they try and force the water down faster, but Mondo stops him, knowing he needs to go slow.Â
 âAw, shit man, stop! Ya gotta go slow. Yer dehydrated, ya canât drink it too fast... trust me, man. I got you. I wonât let you down. Not again. I⊠I promise.â
 And he means it. He fucking means it. He has failed this kid so many fucking times, but he wonât this time, and he never will again. Because now he... he knows that this kid fucking matters. Heâs always known that, from the minute the kid had run into him and knocked his world on its side, but- but he... heâs always been so afraid of it. Of the feeling. Of what it means.Â
 But heâs not afraid of it. Not now. Not... not anymore. He doesnât know why he feels this way, why this boy matters so fucking much to him, but it just doesnât matter now, and he refuses to let his goddamn fucking nonsense ruin this shit anymore. This kid has faced some truly horrible fucking things, things that Mondo has barely scratched the surface of but can tell have damaged the kid so fucking much. He has scars all over his chest and back, which Mondo has noticed before, of course heâs noticed them, but now heâs really starting to realize what exactly they mean, and it just... itâs fucking him up inside, and all he wants is to bundle this kid up and never let him get hurt again, keep him safe from all harm, and Mondo has always felt like that, always wanted that, but now, for once...
 Heâs not afraid of it.Â
 And he wonât back down.Â
 Not unless Kiyotaka wants him to...
 (But even then. Even then, Mondo will do everything he can to keep him safe. He wonât stalk the kid, but he will make sure that no one dares to lay a finger on him. Heâs firmly under Mondoâs protection now. Nothing will change that. Absolutely nothing.)Â
 Knowing that Kiyotaka needs to drink more, so heâs not so weak (physically. Heâs so fucking strong emotionally, so fucking strong) anymore, he presses the cup back to the boyâs lips, his heart lurching softly when the kid immediately opens up and drinks, slowly, not even needing Mondo to remind him to go slow and steady. Mondo is so fucking proud of the kid, like a fucking mother hen, but he doesnât care. This kid deserves all the softness in the world. If thereâs one thing Mondo is sure of, itâs that.Â
 It doesnât take long for the cup to run empty, but the kid needs more, so Mondo gets up to refill the cup. But then heâs fucking crying, sad and pitiful, and Mondo immediately returns, holding him close, saying to him, âaw, shit, Iâm just getting more water, alright? Iâll be right back, I promise.â
 And when Mondo is forced to leave againâ though god does he not want toâ he keeps talking. Promising that heâll be right back, that heâs not leaving, that he will never leave again... promises that he will never break, and not just because he doesnât break promises, but because he fucking means the shit out of them. More than any promise heâs ever made before.Â
 Heâs back soon after, bringing two cups with him this time, helping Kiyotaka drink, and drink, and drink. Mondo doesnât know much about severe dehydration, just knows that itâs important for the person to be given fluids, preferably sports drinks, but since he doesnât have that shit, water will have to do. If Kiyotaka doesnât get better after the third cup, Mondoâs gonna try and see if he can take him to the nurse if the lady is still there. If not... shit. Heâll prolly have to call an ambulance, since he doesnât think Kiyotaka could handle riding on his hog to the hospital, which is at least a ten-minute ride away. Heâs hoping he wonât have to do that, though. Hopes that drinking the water will be enough to help him. He also hopes that itâs just dehydration thatâs the problem... fuck.Â
 The good thing is that Kiyotaka is drinking willingly. And the more he drinks, the more lucid he appears. He still seems very out of it, but about halfway through the third cup, he starts blinking rapidly, like waking himself from a dream. His eyebrows furrow, and he starts looking around a bit. He takes in the bathhouse and even looks down at his chest, like heâs just then noticing that heâs half naked. Mondo allows him to do this, but always makes sure the kid is still drinking, wanting to make sure he gets at least three cups in, since he had to have lost a lot of water while sweating. Mondo himself isnât feeling too hot and knows he needs to drink more, too, but heâll be damned if he doesnât ensure that Kiyotaka is okay before doing anything else for himself.Â
 Mondo knows the exact second that things slot into place for the kid, since one second heâs loose and pliant in his arms, allowing him to hold his neck and give him the water, and the next heâs sitting ramrod straight, eyes wide. It startles Mondo a bit and he straightens up from the hunch heâd found himself in, so fucking relieved to see some lucidity in those bright red eyes. Fuck, but was that glazed look terrifying...Â
 âOh, shit. Are ya back? Ya really fuckinâ scared me there, dude, the fuck...? I was âbout ta take yer ass ta the nurse, consequences be damned. Shit, should I still do that...? Kiyotaka?âÂ
 The kid is just staring at him, his skin far too pale, his eyes moving back and forth over Mondoâs face as he seems to try to be figuring something out. They then widen somehow further and then-
 âAw, shit! Fuck, man, what the hell!â
 Mondo stares wide eyed at the kid as he abruptly stands, his body shaking horribly, looking like he just saw a ghost, shit... Mondo is afraid the kid is about to collapse so he stands quickly, hands hovering to ensure he doesnât fall, but the kid doesnât seem to notice him. Oh... shit... heâs not better, is he? God fucking dammit...
 âW-w-w-what... w-what... h-h-happened?! I... I didnât... oh god...âÂ
 Mondo sees Kiyotaka sway then, looking like heâs about to faint, scaring the absolute shit out of Mondo. Rushing forward, he grabs the kid by his shoulders, holding him upright. Part of him wants to pull him close, to wrap him up and never let him go, but he can tell the kid is super fucking freaked out, and he doesnât want to make him panic, shit.Â
 âWhat the fuck... aw, shit, yâainât better. Okay, thatâs it. Iâm takinâ ya ta the fuckinâ nurse. Goddamnit...âÂ
 Mondo tries to move Kiyotaka, then, carefully guiding him over to the door so they can make the stupidly long walk to the nurseâs office, mind racing a mile a minute as he tries to determine if it wouldnât just be better to call the ambulance now. On one hand, he doubts the nurse is still there, since itâs well after curfew, but on the other... calling for an ambulance means he might have to explain this shit, and he just... shit. But he needs to do right by Kiyotaka, and if that includes getting himself in trouble, heâll fucking do it. He doesnât care what happens to him, just as long as this wonderful, incredible boy is safe. Huh...
 As distracted as Mondo is, he doesnât expect any resistance to his movement, expecting Kiyotaka to be as pliant as he previously had been. As such, when the kid fucking pulls away from him, weak as it is, Mondo isnât expecting it and thus is unable to keep his grip. And he watches, heart stopping, as the kid slams into the row of lockers, collapsing immediately to the ground with a soft noise of pain.Â
 Shit!!!
 âShit! Kiyotaka, are you fuckinâ alright?! What the hell, man?! Stop beinâ an idiot and let me take ya ta the nurse, fuck!âÂ
 He doesnât mean to sound angry or anything, heâs just so fucking scared, needing the kid to cooperate so he can just get better already and not make Mondo worry heâs gonna fucking die or something... but given the way that Kiyotaka glares at him (or tries to glare, Mondo can tell heâs still a little out of it and canât quite put the usual amount of passion into it), he can tell the kid intends to be difficult, looking at him like he doesnât want Mondo to come any closer or something. Mondo immediately says, âfuck that,â though, and rushes to the kidâs side, kneeling down, his eyes bleeding with his concern. He watches the kid blink, some more lucidity rising within the red, as he opens his mouth to speak.Â
 âW-wait! I donât... dang it. I donât need to go to the- t-the nurse! Iâm just... confused. Give me... give me a moment to... collect myself!â Kiyotaka says, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking. Mondo looks at him firmly, ensuring the kid means it and that heâs not just saying random, nonsense bullshit again.Â
 Once heâs satisfied that the kid is, in fact, lucid enough to make that decision, he nods stiffly, still feeling so very, very concerned.Â
 âAlright... shit, fine. If ya say so. But ya gotta drink some more water, alright?! Slowly. I should drink more too, fuck...â
 Mondo stands, then, and walks over to the water cooler again, hands tingling unpleasantly as he leaves Kiyotakaâs side. He quickly fills up two fresh cups of water and hurries back, handing the kid one of the cups as soon as he is by his side.Â
 As soon as the kid takes it, Mondo flops down to sit beside him, so close they touch, and begins to drink his water, finding comfort in being able to feel the kid warm against his side. He is honestly thirsty as fuck, wanting to gulp it down again, but he forces himself to go slow, not wanting to be a hypocrite. He notices after a second that Kiyotaka isnât drinking and is just staring at him blankly, eyes glazing over again, which scares him more than he is willing to say, fuck.Â
 âDude. Drink. Or Iâm dragginâ ya ta the nurse, kickinâ anâ screaminâ. Donât think I wonât,â Mondo rumbles, startling the kid out of whatever fugue heâd entered into. The kid glares at him lightly, not nearly as strong as Mondo knows it could be, but at least he doesnât try and counter him. He just brings the cup to his lips and drinks the cool water slowly, his eyes darting back and forth as he thinks hard about something. They donât glaze over again, though, so Mondo lets him be and just drinks his water, every cell in his body so fucking aware of the kid sitting directly beside him. It honestly would scare him, how much he cares about this kid, if heâd not already decided to not care about that shit anymore. He cares about the kid. He doesnât know why, he just does. End of fucking story.Â
 Mondo doesnât know how long they sit there drinking their water, and he doesnât really care. He usually hates sitting still for so long, his skin crawling to get up and do something already, but strangely... he doesnât really mind it too much. Sitting here, beside Kiyotaka. It... despite the worry he still feels, thereâs also a strange calmness inside him now. Like... like something inside him that had been out of place and broken for years is just... gone, allowing him to breathe easy for the first time. Itâs so strange but also... so very, very nice...
 Eventually their cups run empty, and Mondo is about to offer to get them both some more water again when the kid speaks. His voice is low and shaky, but it sounds a lot better and more lucid than it had before, which relieves the shit out of him. But then he comprehends the words, and he...
 âO-Owada... back in... in the, uh, sauna... I didnât, um. Say anything strange. Did I?â Kiyotaka asks softly, looking very nervous. It concerns Mondo a lot that the kid apparently doesnât remember what happened in the sauna, but he supposes it makes sense. He had been super fucking outta it...Â
 He still takes his time to think about it. He usually just blurts out his words, no thought put into them at all, but this... shit. This matters. And he has to be so fucking careful if he doesnât want to hurt the kid again. And god, does he not wanna do that...Â
 Finally, he figures heâll go the safe route and figure out what, exactly, the kid does and doesnât remember. If he remembers nothing, then maybe... maybe it would be better to keep it that way, shit...Â
 Ignoring the way his heart clenches at the thought, he sets his face into a carefully neutral expression, revealing nothing as he speaks, voice a low rumble.Â
 âThat depends. What do ya remember?â
 Mondo watches, heart clenched strangely again, as Kiyotaka bites his lip gently, eyes unfocused as he thinks. Theyâre not glazed, though, so Mondo thinks heâs just concentrating, not zoning out. After a few moments, the kid glances up at him, expression open and searching. It makes Mondo want to gasp, everything in him swirling, and when the kid speaks, still looking at him, he... h-he...Â
 âIâm⊠Iâm not sure. Itâs all... fuzzy. I canât quite tell... what is real or not. I have no idea what I said during that last part, though... just fragments of old memories and thoughts.â Kiyotaka pauses, his hands shaking lightly. He looks away then, down at the ground, and Mondo feels so strangely bereaved... âBut I... I remember you... you said... things. About- a-about me. Y-you... you called me... wonderful. Special. H-heh! H-how r-ridiculous! I must... must have been- been hallucinating! Aha!âÂ
 The kid sounds nervous, frantic, like heâs afraid Mondo will hurt him, like heâs afraid Mondo will laugh at him, will tell him that he... heâs wrong, that Mondo hadnât said that, that he... he doesnât believe that...
 Which is bullshit. Because he did say that. And heâd meant it. Means it. Fully and completely.Â
 Mondo consciously forces his shoulders to lose the tension that had entered them unbidden at Kiyotakaâs frantic words, sighing softly, a wry smile rising on his lips as he looks at the kid. The kid looks so fucking scared, so desperate, like he doesnât believe that Mondo had said that shit, but that he wants to believe it.Â
 And, shit... even if he hadnât said it, he sure as shit would say it now. Because Kiyotaka truly is wonderful and special, ainât he...?Â
 Heh...Â
 âNah. That, uh. That happened. You really donât remember what you said?â he asks as casually as he can, his head tilted in question, hoping heâs hiding the way his heart is racing well enough, but honestly not really caring if heâs not. He... he doesnât want to keep shit from this kid. Not... not anymore... he watches as Kiyotaka shakes his head weakly, moving his eyes to stare at his hands again. It makes Mondoâs smile widen, eyes soft as silk. Heh. So... so fucking cute...
 âHeh. Makes sense. Ya werenât exactly all there, ya know. Kept mumblinâ bits aâ nonsense. Could barely make sense aâ ya myself, tell the truth. Somethinâ... somethinâ âbout yer grandfather. âBout needinâ ta right his wrongs. Anâ then there was somethinâ âbout other kids? Anâ hatred? Ya mentioned how yer da donât understand ya, how he hates ya, or somethinâ. Anâ âbout how... how ya... ya hate yerself. Which I think is fuckinâ bullshit, ya shouldnât fuckinâ hate yerself, yer incredible, but whatever. There was a lot aâ other stuff too. âBout not givinâ up, âbout havinâ ta prove people wrong. Some other shit, too, but I donât really âmember it all, sorry. But... shit man. Is that... is that real? Did ya... did ya really mean allaâ that?âÂ
 Mondo doesnât really mean to ask the question, knowing the kid needs to be allowed to rest and relax, not be asked stupid fucking questions, but he canât help it. Heâs not lying when he says he doesnât quite remember everything. Itâs all starting to blur in his head, and while heâs fairly certain he remembers the most of it, some details are starting to slip away, and he just... did the kid really say all that shit, or had he imagined it, too? Shit...
 But then... then, after a moment, Kiyotaka, he... h-he...
 âAw, shit,â he mutters under his breath, which seems to just make the kid cry harder. It breaks Mondoâs heart so much, hating seeing his tears. God... this kid just always fucking cries around him, doesnât he...? Shit... shit! H-he didnât want to make the kid cry! G-god, he... he wants so badly to hold the kid, to keep him safe from the sorrow within him, but would the kid even want that? After everything heâs done, all heâs taken from him, would he actually want to be held in his arms? Itâs his fault heâs crying, his fault heâs in this situation, and he doesnât know if Kiyotaka would want to be anywhere near him, let alone in his arms! But he... he wants so, so badly to... t-to...
 âPlease, man, donât cry, shit, Iâm sorry! I... aw, fuck it. Come here.âÂ
 Mind made up, Mondo darts forward andâ carefully as he possibly canâ wraps an arm around the kid, pulling him gently to his chest, firm and tight. He can feel the kid struggle against him, and it kills him inside to feel it, especially when the kid starts frantically apologizing, like he thinks Mondo is going to hurt him or something. He thinks it might be best to let him go, to apologize and never touch him again, but he... h-he thinks the problem isnât that Mondo is hugging him, but that the kid thinks Mondo is upset. So maybe... if he can reassure the kid that itâs okay, that he wants this, maybe... m-maybe heâll stop struggling so hard... and maybe... m-maybe...
 âShhh. Shh, câmon. Itâs okay, Kiyotaka. Iâm here. Yâainât alone. I got you. Ainât got nothinâ ta âpologize fer, ya got it? Yer okay. Weâre both okay.âÂ
 He keeps his arms steady on Kiyotaka, praying to any god that will listen that heâs doing the right thing, that heâs not hurting the kid more, that this is okay, and then... after a minute... after a minute...
 The kid stops. Stops struggling, stops apologizing. His chest is heaving, and his eyes are still leaking tears, but he doesnât seem distressed at Mondo holding him anymore. At least... Mondo hopes he isnât. And then... t-then...
 Kiyotaka buries his head in his chest, firm and present, hiding his face. His arms come up too, fists curling into Mondoâs tank top, clutching it like his life depends on it. And then he... he just...
 Lets go.
 The kid is crying so fucking hard, chest heaving, sobs loud and noisy, and fuck, does it hurt. Mondo feels so fucking helpless as he holds the kid, doing all he can to rub soothing circles on his back, whisper soft words in his ear, doing all he can to remember the shit Daiya would say when he was little and he still allowed himself to cry, not yet realizing it was wrong of him to do such a thing. He feels like itâs not enough, never enough, but he doesnât know what else to do. Heâs never seen the kid cry so hard before. Before he- he would always stifle it, keep it in.Â
 Mondo hadnât realized it at the time, but seeing the kid truly let go now, he can see just how hard he would fight to keep his tears and true sorrow contained, and he feels so much for the boy that he canât even begin to describe it. Itâs like... a sad kind of pride. Like heâs proud the kid was able to keep going despite the sorrow and despair he clearly feels, but also so, so fucking sad that the kid had to do it. That he had to keep this all in, unable to have anyone to share his burden with, to shoulder the pain and anguish he so clearly feels inside. Mondo... M-Mondo knows what that is like, what itâs like to have to always keep everything in, never let it out, and he... he hates that Kiyotaka knows it, too. The pain. The loneliness.Â
 Maybe they really arenât so different... are they?Â
 Fuck... and who knows? Maybe thatâs why heâs always cared so much about this kid. He... he just reminds him of him so goddamn much. Of... of the kid he used to be, before he built up walls so high around that child that heâd never see the light of day again. Of the scared little boy that he was, wondering why his parents hated him, why he was never good enough, why he didnât fucking matter. Heâd always been so scared and sad back then, so small and weak. Kinda like Kiyotaka is now, even with how fucking strong he knows this kid to usually be.Â
 But...
 But he had Daiya, didnât he? Even when the whole world was against him, (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~) he... he always had Daiya. Daiya, who loved him. Daiya, who cared for him. Daiya who raised him, Daiya who taught him, Daiya who sacrificed fucking everything for him. (This sentence was removed due to ~~spoilers~~). It didnât matter that he was scared, or that he was weak. Daiya loved him regardless, and he always, always kept him safe.Â
 Kiyotaka... Kiyotaka never had that... did he? He canât say for sure, but the kid has never mentioned a sibling, either older or younger, which makes him think heâs an only, no sibs, bro or sis. Which means that he... he didnât have anyone always on his side. Someone who would protect him no matter what. Or someone that he could protect, no matter what. His da is clearly not that great, if Kiyotakaâs words about him hating him were to go by, and his ma is gone, who knows for how long, or what his relationship was to her when she was around. He... he didnât have someone to protect him... to keep him safe, from all harm... to... t-to love him...
 Eventually the kid stops crying so hard, the desperate sobs petering out into soft, quiet ones, his breath hitching only slightly every few seconds. And then, a little while later he... he stops sobbing entirely. The tears have run dry, his body has stopped shaking, but he... he doesnât move away. He just stays there, in Mondoâs arms.Â
 Like he belongs there...Â
 âYa feelinâ better?â
 The words are said softly. Gently. He doesnât wanna spook the kid, knowing how fragile he prolly feels right about now. Mondo gets it. He hasnât let himself cry fully in years, not even... h-heh. Well. Point is, while heâs not truly cried in years, he remembers how fragile it leaves you feeling afterward. How shaky.Â
 And when he sees Kiyotakaâs eyes dart up, looking scared and afraid, Mondo doesnât tense up. Doesnât try and hide the openness on his face. He lets the kid see it. The softness. The care. The... the affection, because god, does he feel affection. He lets the kid see it, and he feels the kid settle against him, the fear vanishing, though the lingering sorrow remains. God... how Mondo wishes he could take that away...
 âYes. I... yes. M-Mondo... t-thank you. I... Iâm sorry...â
 Mondo canât help the way he reaches out at that, hand gently grasping a warm, wet cheek. He realizes absently that thatâs the first time the kid has said his name, and god is it making his insides squirm. And he can see the kid look at him with wide, watery eyes, lips open on a soft gasp, looking almost... dazed... shit...
 âDonât. Thank me. Apologize. Ainât nothinâ, got it? I... I didnât mind. At all. So, donât... donât apologize. Itâs alright. Youâre... youâre alright.âÂ
 And he means it. God... does he mean it. It... it had felt nice. So very, very nice. Holding Kiyotaka. Comforting him as he cried, somehow not fucking it up as badly as heâd been fearing. Heâs always been so fucking shit at comforting people, feeling like he has to be tough all the time, unable to comfort since tough people arenât soft and sympathetic. But here, with Kiyotaka... h-heâd been able to be soft. Kind. Gentle. All the things heâs secretly yearned to be for so fucking long, but never was able to, since he doesnât lead a life that is suited for such things. He always has to be so tough, so strong, but... but with Kiyotaka... with this wondrous, amazing, incredible, beautiful boy...
 He can be soft.Â
 And he will never be able to thank Kiyotaka enough for giving him that ability.Â
 And when Kiyotaka smiles at him, wide, bright, unrestrained...? Mondo canât help how he smiles back, wider than heâs ever felt it go before, heart beating so softly and yet meaningfully, feeling so very much for this precious boy. He... heâll never be able to repay him for this... will he? For what he has given him this day... even if they are never this close again, even if Kiyotaka doesnât want anything to do with him after this, heâll never forget what this felt like. What it feels like to be soft. And gentle. And... and kind.Â
 But... shit. Shit.Â
 Now that they have this... now that heâs tasted this... what happens now? He... he doesnât wanna...Â
 âShit, man. The fuck we do now? I... I donât wanna go back ta how it was. I... shit. I was a goddamn monster ta ya these last few weeks... since we met, shit⊠I... goddamn it,â Mondo mutters, feeling his smile fade as pain fills him, remembering all the shit he has done to this poor, amazing kid. The shit heâs said. The way heâs acted. Kiyotaka gave him so much today, but he hadnât earned any of it, had he...? He can see the kid shaking his head, looking frantic, like he doesnât agree, and Mondo canât help how he glares. Lightly, but it still makes the kid flinch back, proving how much heâs hurt him, and how much he can still, potentially, hurt him. God... he doesnât wanna ever hurt him... not again⊠âNo, donât deny it. I was a fuckinâ moron. I just... I ainât ever... I donât get you, Kiyotaka. What I feel... when you- you look at me...âÂ
 And itâs true. He still doesnât quite get it. What he feels. Why he feels it. It... he thinks he might kinda get it, might kinda realize what this feeling is, why he wants to protect this kid so badly, but it... it doesnât quite feel like it fits. And he just... he just doesnât know... but... if not this then... what else? H-heh...Â
 Sighing softly, feeling so confused but strangely not angry about it, Mondo allows a wry smile to rise on his lips as he presses closer to the kid, as close as heâs always secretly longed to be, since that first day when he held him but not ever close enough. One of his hands is curled loosely around Kiyotakaâs waist, while his other is still gently cupping his cheek and has been for a little while now. He notices dimly how they are almost bare, Kiyotaka wearing only his underwear while Mondo is in his thin tank top and loose black pants, and he can feel the kidâs heat as it presses against him, oddly intoxicating. Mondoâs hair is down from its pomp, having been knocked loose sometime in the sauna, and itâs been years since someone outside his gang saw him without it up, it makes him feel so naked to have it down, but he... he doesnât really care. Not when itâs only Kiyotaka who sees it.Â
 He... he wants Kiyotaka to see all of him... every last part.Â
 Because he... he views the kid like... like a...Â
 âItâs like yer my brother or somethinâ. Like... my nerdy, dorky little brother. Someone I gotta take care of. Protect. Keep safe, from all harm. I never... shit. I had my brother, but he... heâs gone now. I canât... I couldnât protect him, fuck. Anâ I⊠f-fuck. I canât protect you, either, can I...? No, I⊠I canât... I canât... a-and why the fuck would you want a fuck-up like me, anyway? You... god, you could do so much better... why would you want someone like me as your brother, s-shit...âÂ
 The thought stabs Mondo through the heart, the realization that as much as he may want to have this with Kiyotaka, to have a brotherhood with him, they... they likely never will. Because Mondo has messed up too much. Because Mondo ruined their chance before it ever even had the opportunity to live. Because Mondo is so fucking broken and damaged that no one in their right mind would ever want him as a brother. Daiya was forced to have him, and he was so fucking amazing that he chose to love him anyway, but Kiyotaka... he doesnât have to be stuck with him. He doesnât owe Mondo anything, anything at all. In fact, Mondo is the one who owes Kiyotaka. So much. So very, very much. Kiyotaka wouldnât want him. He just... he wouldnât.Â
 And as he feels the kid freeze against him, breath stuttering and harsh, he... he knows heâs right, isnât he? S-shit... he shouldnât have said that, shouldnât have thought himself good enough to deserve such a gift. Kiyotaka, wanting him like that... wanting him at all... while he may have been soft and pliant in his arms a moment ago, seeming like he was at ease, that doesnât mean it was because of Mondo or anything that Mondo did. Heâd been through an emotional time and heâd needed comfort, and Mondo had just been the nearest warm body. Doesnât mean he trusts Mondo or that he wants anything from him at all. Heâd have to be the worldâs biggest fool to think Kiyotaka could ever want him, want him at all.Â
 And Mondo... he may be a fool, but he ainât that big of a fool.Â
 Heart aching painfully in his chest, Mondo canât help how he pulls away, not wanting to force Kiyotaka to be near him when he doesnât deserve it, doesnât deserve it at all.
 âShit, I was right, goddamn it, aw shit! J-just forget I said anything, I- fuck!âÂ
 Mondo hands come up to clutch at his hair, then, the grip tight and painful but he doesnât care. He wants it to hurt. To ache. Itâs what he deserves for fucking this whole thing up, for being so woefully unworthy of being close to such a bright and beautiful boy. Maybe, had he been betterâ a better person, a good personâ he could have been worthy of it. Had he never let his insecurities get in the way, had he just accepted what he felt as true the minute he felt it, not pushed it away in fear, maybe... maybe then, he could have had this. Kiyotaka, as his friend. Kiyotaka, as his brother.Â
 But no. No, no. He had pushed it away. Had been afraid of it, so very afraid. Had let his fear turn to anger, like he was so wont to do, and ruined everything before it even began.Â
 He deserves all the misery he feels for how stupid heâd been...Â
 Mondo gets jolted out of his thoughts when he feels a soft, tentative hand touch him, his eyes wide and manic as he looks at Kiyotaka, who looks so fucking afraid, god. H-he scares the kid so goddamn much, like he scares everyone, because heâs a monster, a senseless beast that only ever hurts people. Breaks people. Heâs not allowed nice things, not allowed good things. Not allowed to be gentle, or soft, or kind. He... heâs just not...Â
 To his utter shock, he can see Kiyotaka smile at him. Itâs soft, and hesitant, and... and beautiful... but it canât be real. It... the kid is trying to be kind, trying to hide his fear to make Mondo feel better, because heâs so goddamn nice, so fucking good, shit-Â
 âN-no! Donât worry! I was just- not expecting that! But I- I feel- the same. I feel- the same! I would be honored, Mondo Owada, to be considered your brother! Iâve never had a brother, never even had a friend, but I couldnât imagine a better one than you! Y-you... youâre incredible...âÂ
 He... he... does he really mean that...? Does he truly... truly wanna be Mondoâs... Mondoâs brother? The kid is so bad at lying, and it hadnât sounded like he was lying, but... but it... shit. It canât be true, it canât... after all the shit Mondo has done, how could the kid ever see him positively, even a little? Mondo isnât a good brother, heâd always been so shit to Daiya, taking and taking and taking and never giving. Heâd taken everything from Daiya, never satisfied with what Daiya gave freely, so he stole the most important thing in the end.Â
 H-heâd just steal everything from Kiyotaka too.Â
 Itâs what he does...Â
 âYa canât mean that, Kiyotaka... Iâm a goddamn mess... and you... you are... shit. Youâre goddamn perfect and Iâm hot dog shit, ya canât... y-you canât...â
 And itâs true. Mondo has more to say, more to confess, but his throat is so thick, and he doesnât know how to say it. To confess all his crimes to Kiyotaka, to let him know how unworthy he is. He- he hears Kiyotaka take a deep breath, and he doesnât wanna hear what the kid has to say, doesnât wanna hear him agree, but then heâs speaking, and his words... t-they...Â
 âMondo... I- Iâm not perfect. I... Iâm not. B-but thatâs okay! I do my best, but so do you! I can see how hard you try and sometimes thatâs all that matters! Youâre not... dog feces! You... youâre so much more, Mondo...âÂ
 No... n-no, the kid, he... he doesnât understand, he just- he doesnât understand! Mondo, he has to... has to tell him. N-not all of it, heâs not strong enough to confess it all, heâs always been so goddamn weak, but he- he has to... a little. Enough so the kid knows. So he stops feeling pity for him and realizes that he...Â
 Heâs just not worth it...Â
 âNo. N-no, I ainât shit, goddamnit, I...â Mondo has to stop, feeling so fucking conflicted. On one hand he wants to confess, on the other hand he wants to be selfish, and he just... h-he just...Â
 But he canât. Be selfish. Not... not about this.Â
 Not with Kiyotaka.Â
 With a soft sigh, he feels the tension inside him melt away, his body relaxing with the decision heâs made. All of his emotionsâ both good and badâ fade away until all he feels inside is... is...
 Cold resignation...
 âI hate myself. Always fuckinâ have. Heh. There, I... I fuckinâ said it. I love the gang, donât get me wrong. I love beinâ with âem, beinâ a part aâ somethinâ bigger than myself. I love leadinâ âem, ridinâ my hog, wind in my hair... I fuckinâ love it. Even beinâ here, unable ta lead directly, I still like callinâ the shots from behind the scenes while my second in command implements it anâ shit. Means somethinâ, âleast. But... I dunno. Sometimes Iâll be in the middle ofa fight and Iâll just... wanna stop. Quit. Do somethinâ... do somethinâ else fer a change. But I⊠heh. I canât. I promised my bro... Daiya, I... I promised him Iâd keep the gang together. He built it from scratch anâ I... I canât leave that. I made a promise, a manâs promise, ta keep us together. So, I... I gotta keep doinâ that. Canât stop. Ever. Not âtil the gang is dead anâ shit, all the members movinâ on ta do better shit with their lives. Anâ me⊠heh. Not much use fer me after that, is there?â
 Mondo pauses, and then looks down at his hands, a small, sad smile on his face.Â
 âBut you? Yer gonna go places, man. Shootinâ fer the moon. Prime fuckinâ Minister, shit, man. Never met anyone with such high goals, really. Never met anyone who wanted ta do that sorta shit, change things from the inside. Heard ya in class, talkinâ âbout yer plans anâ shit. Wantinâ ta make the world a better place, havinâ such hope for this garbage planet. Ya... yaâve got drive. Determination. Anâ I know yer gonna do it, ya know. Succeed. More than any aâ the other chucklefucks we go ta school with, âleast. Yer just so... determined. Got such passion. I... I admire that âbout ya, always did.â
 Mondo pauses again, and he⊠he laughs. Itâs sad, and pathetic, and it... he... h-heh...
 âBut that⊠heh. That ainât me, Kiyo. Ainât me. I ainât got plans, ainât got any fuckinâ clue aâ what Iâm gonna do after school ends. They got me takinâ fuckinâ leadership classes anâ shit, but the fuck am I gonna do with that bullshit? I can lead a gang, yeah, but that⊠heh. Thatâs âbout it, Christ. Anâ ya⊠yer gonna see that one day. And yer gonna leave me. And Iâll be happy fer ya, âcourse I will, but... sh-shit. God... goddamnit...âÂ
 Mondo doesnât know where heâs going with this. He doesnât know what heâs saying or why heâs saying it. His head is so jumbled, so scrambled, and part of him wants to tell Kiyotaka everything. About his parents. About his brother. About what he did, what he stole. He wants to confess so, so badly, to see the hatred and anger and rage on that kidâs face when he realizes how big a piece of shit Mondo really is, horrified that heâd ever felt pity for such a pitiless creature.Â
 But...
 He canât. Canât do that. He... he canât burden Kiyotaka with his bullshit. And knowing the kid... heâd still try. To feel pity. To feel sorrow. He- heâs such a good person, so bright and shining. Heâs the kind of person who would see a merciless and dangerous monster like him and think thereâs something worthwhile in it. It wouldnât be until his neck is snapped under Mondoâs uncaring hand that heâd realize he was wrong. And maybe... maybe not even then. Heâd die, thinking Mondo was better than he was, even if it were Mondo who killed him.Â
 God...
 So, he canât tell the truth. Canât burden the kid like that. But he... he canât let him get close. Even if he... he really wants to...Â
 âIâll just hold ya back. Ya donât want someone like me, Kiyo. Ya donât want someone like me at all. So... I âppreciate yer words. But it may be best ta leave this here. Ta... ta forget âbout this all and just... move on. Iâll leave ya alone and ya wonât hafta-â
 âNo!â Mondo hears echo through the room, cutting off his words so thoroughly. It startles the fuck out of him, and he canât help how he stares, wide-eyed, up at Kiyotaka. Itâs weird, looking up to see the kid, but heâs sitting upright, almost standing but not quite, knees firmly planted on the floor. But seeing as how Mondo is crumbled pathetically on the floor, sitting back on his thighs, he has to look up to see Kiyotaka. And he looks... looks so...
 Scared...
 But...
 Not... not of- of... of Mondo...?Â
 âMondo, please! I just... look. I- I try to be perfect, but I... Iâm not! And I know you arenât either! But... but maybe thatâs okay! Maybe... m-maybe... maybe we can learn to be not perfect... together? I, ah. I donât know! A-all I know is... I want to be f-friends with you, Mondo Owada. I donât care about your flaws; I donât care that youâre in a gang! I just... I want... w-we can be brothers. If you want... we can be brothers. I want... I would want nothing more than to be your brother! Your kyoudai!âÂ
 Brothers. Brothers. Kiyotaka wants them to be... brothers...
 Itâs too good to be true. Too fucking good to be true. Mondo doesnât get nice things like this. He doesnât get soft, kind, gentle things. He gets shit. He gets cruelty. He gets anger and hatred and rage. He gets angry fists and cruel words, and a suspicious look on his back at all fucking times. After all the shit he has done, the people he has hurt, the lives he has ruined, he... he doesnât deserve... he just doesnât...Â
 But as he sits there, staring up at Kiyotaka with wide eyes and an open mouth, he... he remembers something. Something the kid had said, in the sauna. How he... he never had a friend before. How everyone always hated him. And it could have just been insecurity talking, the kid thinking people hated him when they really didnât but judging by the scars, he... he would doubt that.Â
 Heâs never had a friend. Heâs never had a brother. Someone to keep him safe. To protect him from all harm. Someone to hold onto, someone to tell him it is alright. That he is alright. He... he hasnât had that.Â
 And Mondo is the worst choice for a brother. He knows it, okay? Heâs so fucking awful itâs not funny. But... but he... the kid doesnât seem to get that. And Mondo is too weak to explain why he shouldnât want it. And, as such, he... Kiyotaka wants to be friends. Brothers. With him.Â
ïżœïżœMondo is a mess. He messes everything up, ruining everything he touches. He... he doesnât want to ruin Kiyotaka too. He doesnât want to hurt him. He... he never...
 But maybe...
 Maybe...
 Itâs stupid. God, so fucking stupid. But maybe... if he tries hard, so fucking hard... if he is careful, keeps his anger in check, does all he can, he... maybe he...
 He can be Kiyotakaâs brother...
 And keep him safe...
 It makes him smile. Itâs small at first, tentative. Like a stiff wind will blow it away. But as Kiyotaka keeps looking at him steadily, earnestly, he... he feels the smiles strengthen. Feels as it grows wider and wider, until it fills his whole face, his eyes squinting with how wide it is. Heâs never felt like this before, so scared and terrified, but also... also...Â
 Hopeful.
 âYa... ya really mean that, Kiyo?âÂ
 Kiyo. Mondo doesnât really know why heâs calling the kid that, nicknames arenât super common in their culture, but somehow, he... he kinda likes it. He doesnât know if the kid does, he should ask, but before he has the chance to, the kid is nodding. Enthusiastic and bright, a shaky grin on his face. He still seems a little out of it, but god, is he trying... fuck that kid is so amazing...
 âYes! Of course! I always mean everything I say! I would not lie to you, Mondo, I promise you that! We shall be the best kyoudai! Youâll see! Aha! This is fantastic!â
 Oh, god... this kid is so fucking cute! God... h-he really shouldnât be thinking that, should push it away like he always pushes stupid ass thoughts like that away, but he... heâs allowed to see his brother as cute... right? Or, well... his little brother. Though... fuck. Is Kiyotaka younger than him? He seems like it, as naive and endlessly optimistic as he is, but fuck, he doesnât actually know. Mondo is usually one of the youngest in his class, since his birthday is at the end of the year, but heâs always felt decades older than the chucklefucks he goes to school with. Maybe itâs âcuz he was forced to grow up so fucking fast in order to survive, shit.Â
 But you know what? Whatever. It doesnât matter if Mondo is older or not. Heâs the older brother regardless. That shit is felt, not necessarily determined by birth order. Daiya was his older brother in more ways than just because he was physically older, after all. Â
 At the end of the day, it doesnât matter. What does matter is that... that Kiyotaka wants this. Wants... wants Mondo. And Mondo doesnât deserve it, had never deserved it, but fuck, is he a selfish bastard. But he wonât take this shit for granted. Now that they are brothers, Mondo will go all fucking out. No fucking reservations. They are brothers, now, and Mondo is the big brother. The ani. Itâs his duty and obligation to keep Kiyotaka safe from all harm, including (and especially) from Mondo himself. And he wonât. Hurt him. Not now, not ever. If he ever does, he will stab himself in the gut, commit fucking seppuku, he swears he will. Heâd rather die than hurt this precious, amazing, incredible boy ever, ever again.Â
 And so, Mondo grins, and he laughs, and he lets his arms reach forward and wrap around the kid, like heâs been wanting to do since he ripped himself away the last time. Part of him is afraid the kid wonât want it, or heâll realize how stupid this whole thing is, but Kiyotaka doesnât even tense at all as he goes willingly into Mondoâs arms, melting like warm putty against him. Like he... he belongs there...
 S-shit...Â
 âOkay. O-okay. Kiyotaka, I... Iâll do my best. I canât promise ya anythinâ, know Iâm a goddamn fuck-up who ruins everything, but... but for you? Iâll try. That... thatâs all I can offer... hehâŠâÂ
 Itâs not enough, not nearly enough, but he feels Kiyotaka wrap his arms around him, holding on so very, very tight, and it... it feels...
 Like coming home...Â
 âThat is all I could ever ask of you, my kyoudai! Y-youâre not a- a screw up! And- and your best is more than enough!â
 Shit. Shit. No one... no one has ever told him that before. That the best he offers is more than enough. Itâs never been enough, heâs never been enough. Heâs a screw up. The unwanted kid. The person who is good for violence and anger and rage, and thatâs about it.Â
 But here, being held by this remarkable fucking kid... hearing him say that itâs enough... that heâs enoughâŠ
 Maybe heâs inclined to believe him.Â
 Wow... just...
 Wow...
 After a minute Mondo pulls back, knowing they need to talk about stuff, knowing he has to make promises, and it makes his heart sing when he feels the kid resist, arms refusing to let go at first. It makes him laugh softly, especially because he fully understands. But he doesnât intend to go far. Just... he needs to look the kid in the eyes. He... he needs to see those beautiful as sin eyes...
 Pressing his forehead to Kiyotakaâs, soft and gentle and intimate, he canât help how he smiles, eyes shining with the light he feels inside. And Kiyotaka... he...
 He looks at Mondo like he fucking matters...Â
 âIâll be good. Fer ya... Iâll be good. Promise, Kiyo. And ya can hold me ta that, got it? This is a promise between men. That means I gotta keep it.âÂ
 The kid looks stunned, eyes glazed but not in a bad way, breath hitched, and it... it makes Mondo feel...
 âLikewise! I- I will do everything I can to be the best brother I can be! I promise! We shall be the best kyoudai in the world! Thatâs a Kiyotaka Ishimaru guarantee!âÂ
 The enthusiastic words make Mondo laugh again, and he pulls away to wrap an arm around the kidâs shoulders, ruffling his hair gently like Daiya would always do to him. He notices that the hair is a bit longer than it once had been, and fuck, does he like it. The sweat from the sauna had made all the gel run out and his hair is now soft as it dries, curling lightly around the kidâs ears and it just...
 Itâs so beautiful...Â
 But ruffling the kidâs hair makes it fall in his eyes, which makes the kid let out an annoyed sound, adorable again, and Mondo canât help the way he laughs. God, this kid makes him so goddamn happy... heâs never felt this happy before... never...
 âYer the absolute, goddamn best, kyoudai. Kiyo. Hey, uh... is it okay if I call ya that? Kiyotakaâs just a bit of a mouthful, âsall. Ya got any other nicknames I could use?âÂ
 He looks at the kid at that, Kiyotakaâs (or should he say Kiyo? Does the kid like it? Shit...) mouth pulled down in a thoughtful frown. A moment passes, and then-Â
 âA-ah! Kiyo is fine! If youâd like! B-but... well... m-my mother. She called me... Taka. Y-you could use that, as well! If youâd like...âÂ
 Taka, huh? Taka. Taka. Yeah... yeah, he- he likes it. He likes it a lot! It suits the kid, and while Mondo still does kinda like Kiyo, he might like Taka a bit better. And if the kid wants him to call him that, then shit... who is he to deny him...?
 Smiling, soft and gentle in a way heâs never been able to be before, he nods.Â
 âTaka... heh, I like it! Alright, Taka. Mondo ainât exactly got any good nicknames fer it, but ya can call me that, if yaâd like.â
 Mondo watches as Taka blushes lightly, lips still partially open as he breathes in and out slowly. His eyes are kinda glazed still, but he seems present enough. Just... like heâs thinking of something. Mondo wants to reach out, wants to pull the kid into a hug again, wants to always, always be touching him, but he keeps his distance. Just... just for now. But later...Â
 The kid shoots up again, interrupting Mondoâs thoughts, looking so enthusiastic again, eyes bright and smile happy. Holy shit...
 âOh! I can always call you kyoudai!! That way the whole world will know our manly bond!âÂ
 It makes Mondo laugh again, harder, and he canât help how he reaches out to ruffle his hair again, needing to touch him at least a little. Kyoudai, huh? ... yeah. Yeah, he likes that, too. Daiya was always ani to him, the proper name for the big brother, and Daiya usually called him shit like âkidâ or whatever, so itâs not like Taka calling him that will bring up any bad memories or shit. Itâs just... something for them. Their own, little thing, for them and no one else.Â
 Him and Taka. Taka and him. Two... two kyoudai...
 Incredible...Â
 âAlright, Taka. If yaâd like. Now, itâs fuckinâ late. I ainât even gotta look at a clock ta know that. Come on, kyoudai. Letâs get ya ta bed.âÂ
 Mondo stands, then, realizing how fucking late it is. The kid always gets up stupidly early, he remembers Taka saying that once a little while ago, so he knows they should be heading to bed soon. He feels strangely reluctant to do that, never wanting to part from this beautiful boy, but- but heâs the big brother. He has to keep his little brother safe and healthy, and that includes ensuring he gets a good nightâs sleep. Even if it means they have to part ways...
 As Mondo stretches, he sees Taka stand as well, his body flushing bright red as he looks down at himself and seems to notice his state of undress. Like heâd forgotten or something. Mondo hadnât. Not... not for a single second. Shit...Â
 He feels his eyes dart down to the kidâs chest, unbidden, and he feels the small smile die on his lips as he sees the long, jagged looking scar that goes from Takaâs collarbone to the bottom of his sternum, right over his heart. How... how the fuck did he get a scar like that...? It doesnât look like one that would come from surgery or something, since itâs too jagged, and it also doesnât look accidental. But... but how the fuck...Â
 âHowâd ya get that? The... the scar?â Mondo finds himself asking softly before he can stop himself, his hand rising absently to trace the length of it. Fuck, but it feels as jagged as it looks... angry and painful. H-he hopes it doesnât hurt anymore...Â
 âA-ah... that...â Taka mutters, his body flushing. It jolts Mondo out of the fucking fugue he entered, and he removes his hand quickly, feeling embarrassed. S-shit... he shouldnât have asked that, it ainât his fucking business. Yeah, theyâre kyoudai, but that... that donât mean heâs earned the right to hear the kidâs dark history. He still has to earn that shit. He knows that.
 âAw, shit! Taka, ignore me. Yâainât gotta talk âbout that shit. Uh, shi-shoot, I mean... stuff? Sorry⊠heh, know ya hate swearinâ anâ sh- stuff. HehâŠâÂ
 Taka blinks at Mondoâs rambling words, which makes him feel strangely nervous. He doesnât let it take over him, though. Doesnât let himself get angry. But strangely... the anger he usually feels when embarrassed or nervous just... never showed up in the first place. Huh...Â
 He watches, then, heart clenching, as Taka smiles at him, soft and gentle as ever. F-fuck...
 âI... I donât mind! Itâs not exactly a pleasant story, but I trust you, kyoudai! And... I donât mind you cursing! Much! It... itâs what makes you, you! Just as long as you donât do it in class or in the halls!â
 He... doesnât mind him... cursing...???? After all those warnings, all of those detention slips, he truly expects Mondo to believe he doesnât mind it when Mondo fucking curses?Â
 But... huh. He canât detect a lie in the kidâs words. He looks as earnest as ever, and it just... god. Mondo canât begin to describe how he feels right now, just that it feels... soft.Â
 Taka... Taka makes him feel soft. And fuck, is it not bad... not bad at all...Â
 Unsure of what to say, what to do, Mondo just laughs again, since thatâs the only thing that even slightly manages to express the softness that he feels inside, and he smiles at the kid gently while nodding. He should feel stupid, ridiculous, but he just... doesnât.Â
 God...Â
 He watches then as Taka walks over to the locker heâd used earlier, seeming to want to no longer be partially nude. Mondo doesnât mind it, has never minded being around naked dudes, but he guesses not everyone can be like that. As the kid dresses, he starts to talk. And the story he tells...Â
 âIt was one of my middle school bullies. I, er... wasnât well liked, as a child! They never liked how I would get them in trouble, not to mention... ah. M-my, well. My grandfather,â Taka mutters, voice turning nervous as he talks about his grandfather, glancing at him anxiously.Â
 Mondo still isnât entirely sure what the kidâs deal with his grandfather is, but he can tell it bothers the kid, shit, so he does his best to not look at all judgmental, even though the fact the kid was fucking bullied makes his blood fucking boil... shit. Heâd expected it, honestly, but it still fucking angers the fuck out of him, ChristâŠ
 Luckily, it seems his anger at that isnât too obvious, since the kid continues then, voice less shaky and upset, even though the shit he says...Â
 âOne day, one of them was... particularly angry. Iâd gotten him suspended, you see, for a week. It was his own fault, he was the one who had scratched profanities into the headmasterâs car, Iâd just been the one to report it! Still, he was... angry. So, after school, he had his friends hold me down while he cut this into my chest. A reminder, he said, to mind my own business. I think he was going to do more but was interrupted by something. It was most unpleasant!âÂ
 Holy. Fucking. Shit.
 Holy shit, holy shit!
 What the goddamn shit?!
 Some goddamn motherfucker... carved that shit into Takaâs chest...?! And how the fuck can Taka sound so casual about it?! Mondo has never felt so much rage directed towards someone heâs never met, but holy fucking shit, that goddamn bastard had better hope Mondo never meets him, or else he is fucking dead. The thought that anyone could ever hurt this wonderful boy in such a way is just so... insane to Mondo. How people can see him and not want to keep him safe from all harm is just... he doesnât get it. Even when he told himself he hated the kid, he couldnât bear the thought of actually hurting him. Not really.Â
 And Taka he... he looks so fucking sad, right now. But also, just... resigned. Like he expects that treatment and, while it sucks, itâs just... life. Which is so much fucking bullshit, holy fucking shit-
 Mondo unintentionally lets out a strangled noise, his anger and rage choking him inside. He sees the kid look up at him and sees panic rise in his face when he sees the anger Mondo so clearly feels. Oh, shit... shit, heâs not mad at Taka, heâs not at all, but he canât make the anger go away, because... because...Â
 âThey fuckinâ what?! What the goddamn shit?! Please tell me ya got those fuckers expelled!âÂ
 He had to have... right? Taka is so gung-ho about rules and shit, he- he must have told on those fuckers and got all of them expelled... r-right?Â
 Wrong...
 âA-ah! N-not exactly! I... I never reported them! I rarely ever did, to tell the truth... it wouldnât have mattered, see! The teachers didnât like me much either; they only ever believed me if I had proof, and even then, only half the time! And they never much cared when I got hurt... b-but it was okay! I persisted and never let them break me down! My struggles made me stronger! Aha!âÂ
 W... what? He... he... oh, oh god... n-no...Â
 âY-you... what?â Mondo whispers, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands shaking. He has never felt so horrified before, a terrifying realization overcoming him. Because he... he was right, wasnât he? This kid... h-he was abused. Horribly so.Â
 By literally fucking everyone, holy fucking shit-!
 âI mean... thatâs just... how it was? I handled it, though! I never gave up! They... they did not break me!âÂ
 Oh. Oh. Oh, this... this poor fucking kid... his poor fucking kyoudai, having to go through that nightmare, actually believing that it was just... normal. Just... how it was. But he... he canât actually... actually believe he deserved it... r-right...?
 âGoddamnit... thatâs why ya keep tellinâ me ta... ta punish ya, ainât it? Taka, please tell me ya donât actuâly think ya deserved that shit?âÂ
 He canât. He canât. Please, god, he... he canât...
 Mondo watches, heart breaking so thoroughly inside his chest, as Taka looks down at his uniform jacket, the only piece of his get up heâs not yet wearing. Heâs frowning gently, like he actually has to fucking think about it, oh god, no...
 âI- I... I suppose so... I mean-! I... I donât know. They all hated me... s-so... they must have had a good reason... r-right? To... to hate me. I... I must have deserved it... right?âÂ
 No. No. No. Mondo... he canât fucking handle this shit. So many things make so much sense now, and he has never hated himself more. For not seeing it sooner. For not allowing himself to care about this boy all along. For maybe even reenforcing this goddamn bullshit, making the kid think he is right, when he sure as shit ainât. He...
 He canât help how he moves. Swift and quick. He- he just needs to be near the kid, needs to hold him, reassure him that no, he didnât. Didnât at all. He needs to do what he should have done weeks ago, in the laundry room, and reassure that kid that no. He doesnât deserve to be hurt. Not... not ever...Â
 He stops, though, when he sees Taka look up at him, terror in his eyes, like he... he thinks Mondo is going to fucking hurt him. He wants to go forward, wants to hold the kid so fucking bad, but he doesnât have that fucking right, so he stays where he is, all the sorrow he feels surely reflected in his eyes. And as the kid looks at him, he... he relaxes. He still looks upset, but he doesnât look scared. That... thatâs something...
 Right?Â
 âNo. Fuckinâ no. Yâainât deserved any aâ that shit, goddamn, man⊠and I promise ya, Taka, Iâm gonna make sure ya see that one day, even if it takes the rest aâ my goddamn life. And thatâs a manâs promise.âÂ
 And he means it, fuck does he mean it. He had never meant anything more. He will spend the rest of his goddamn life ensuring that this wonderful kid knows how special and amazing he is, and that he never, ever deserves to be hurt. Itâs his lifeâs fucking goal now, the one thing that fucking matters. He will take care of Taka for the rest of his goddamn life, even after the kid finally wises up and leaves his ass. He will watch from the shadows, keeping a careful eye on him, there to keep him safe from all harm. This kid will never know pain again if itâs the last fucking thing Mondo does. He swears.Â
 As the kid looks at him, he sees the softest and most beautiful smile heâs ever seen lighting up the boyâs face. His eyes sparkle with it, and heâs looking at Mondo like heâs important again. Like he... like he matters. And Mondo...
 He wonât ruin this shit. He just... he wonât.Â
 This matters too goddamn much for him to let it slip away.Â
 âT-thank you... thank you, kyoudai. I... thank you.âÂ
 Mondo smiles gently at the kid, moving forward to tentatively wrap an arm around his shoulder, squeezing gently, needing to touch him but not wanting to overwhelm him, god.Â
 âAinât gotta thank me, bro. Now, we really should head ta bed. Got school tomorrow anâ I donât want my bro ta be tired! Come on, kyoudai. Letâs get goinâ.âÂ
 Taka nods quick and puts his jacket on, buttoning it with practiced fingers. The kid turns back to the locker, frowning gently at whatever he sees inside. Mondo watches as the kid reaches out and grabs it, his breath hitching when he sees the kid is holding the glasses case that started this whole fucking mess. He... he honestly had forgotten about that shit, to tell the truth, with all the drama that just occurred. But as he looks at the kid, who is looking so softly at the glasses case, like theyâre precious to him, he... he knows he owes the kid for the shit he put him through earlier, for no fucking reason. He canât quite find it in him to regret what happened, not when it ended up like this, but he... he has to make it up to the kid. All of it.Â
 So, quick as a wink, Mondo darts his hand out and carefully takes the case from Taka, ignoring the startled sound the kid makes. He can feel the kid watching him with wide eyes, but he doesnât let it stop him as he opens the case andâ without a single momentâs pauseâ puts the glasses on his face, blinking at the foreign feel. It... it hasnât changed his vision much, since this shit is only supposed to help with close up shit, but it... huh. He guesses it ainât so bad...Â
 âHuh... I guess they ainât that bad... tell me, kyoudai. How do they look?â
 He hadnât really meant to ask the question, but he just... couldnât help but remember the shit heâd done the last time heâd worn the glasses and Taka had told him what he thought. He... maybe he wants to show that itâs different, now. That he wonât get angry, not this time. To prove that he will never hurt Taka, never again. Not... not ever again.Â
 He watches as the kid flushes bright red, mouth open slightly again, and- and god, is it an attractive look on him... s-shit... and then the kid is smiling shakily, giving a shaky thumbs up, and thatâs even... even worse... or better, heh...Â
 âYou look amazing, kyoudai! They suit you well!âÂ
 A-amazing, huh? Shit... no oneâs ever said he looks amazing before... heâs had a couple of people call him hot, or even sexy once or twice, but never... never amazing...
 He adores it... adores... Taka...Â
 It makes him smile again. Soft. Happy. So goddamn happy... he will never be able to repay Taka for the happiness he gives him... not even if he dedicates the rest of his life to trying. Which he will. He... he will...
 But itâs late. So fucking late. They... they need to get to bed...
 Even if Mondo never wants to part from this amazing kid...
 âAh, cool. I guess. Now, câmon! Bed! Ainât gonna be the reason ya canât focus in class tomorrow, ya nerd!â
 With that, Mondo turns to grab his duster off the bench heâd tossed it on earlier, shrugging it on carefully, before finally exiting the bathhouse, Taka on his heels.Â
 Shit...
#The Problem with Mondo preview#Mondo Owada#Mondo's POV#Kiyotaka Ishimaru#Danganronpa#Danganronpa fanfiction#My fanfic#Ha hope y'all liked it#:-)
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Ducktales Comics: Spies Like Us and Dime after Dime or Weblena: The Preschool Days (Lena Retrospective) (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)
Hello all you happy people and welcome back to Shadow Into Light, My Lena Retrospective, which fittingly has now come to Womenâs History Month! I sadly do not have anything besides this arc prepared for the month. This month is pretty packed for me with two shows a week to cover, as while thereâs only two weeks of Ducktales left final space starts up right after to take itâs spot, two arcs to cover, and two time specific movie reviews: animal crossing the movie and the 1990 TMNT film. I will try to get more than the currently planned top 12 superheroines list out there... but this month is very tight as is, so if I do not I deeply apologize.
Now thatâs out of the way, itâs appropriate we start Womenâs history month on some likely lesser known parts of Lenaâs history, with some comics stories focusing on our faviorite emo lesbian duck and her 87 counterpart. Before I get started on that though Kev my patreon pointed out something intresting a few weeks back iâve been forgetting to get to and since weâre looking into Minima, I felt this was the perfect time to do so: Lenaâs Concept art.Â
Thereâs quite a few things to gleam from this. For starters as pointed out in the reddit thread I got the image as a whole from this was made in 2015, meaning Lena was one of the first new characters designed for the series and was part of it from the VERY early stages, as evidenced by the fact that despite clearly having their new personalities established, Beakly and Webby still had the old designs.Â
The other notable change is that her first design was way more like both Magica nad Minima, a bit more modern, but clearly far more obvious who she was related to. She also had all black feathers making the shadow twist a bit more obvious and was likely done away with both to avoid giving that twist away, the same reason for the fake lestrange name, and to avoid accidently black coding her, as while Lena being black wouldâve been intersting, it also wouldâve invited a firestorm of controversy given that their one black character in season 1.. woulâdve started off as a homeless, manipulative antagonist, and none of that would play well nor was it something the progressive crew of this show couldnât spot from a mile away. And even this early on they have an almost final design ready, simply changing the shirt to fit her personality more, and her hair to be pink because it honestly looked better She also had green eyes throughout, but for whatever reason they phased them out. That part I donât quite get as they look nice but probably they were hard to translate to the reboot style once they settled on their own. Her purple eyeshadow and haircut though have stuck since and were good calls.Â
One last VERY obvious note.. Webby was gay for Lena from minute one. While Dana helped it is now VERY obvious they gay coded this relationship from the design phase, and the crew was entirely aware the whole time and I gave them less credit than I should have. They clearly had this in mind, and itâs very likely ONLY subtext because Disney, while making more and more progress, is very reluctant to have queer characters as Owl House was a struggle and since they have a tighter leash on properites based on the sensational 6, that means Frank knew they had the same odds of making Webby or Della queer in anything but subtext that a pig has of suviving in a slaughterhouse. I bring this up because I fear the series getting accused of queerbaiting somewhere down the road instead of doing what they could with a bad hand and hoping they could make the show as gay as they could. Penny is as out as they posisbly could get her, and Violet and Lenaâs dadâs got a full apperance, if no speaking role that made it obvious beyond a shadow of a doubt their gay and did it in a plot important episode. So they did their best and I want them to get credit for that.Â
But while this is all intresting stuff, join me under the cut for the meat of todayâs review as I dig into Lenaâs only apperance in the tie-in comic that was never punished here, and the only apperance of her protoype Minima.
Spies Like Us:Â As I mentioned this comic was never published here which is doubly weird to me because of how I knew this story existed. Since I follow comics weekly and buy trades reguarly, I read the solicits companies put out eveyr month to see what new series are coming, what the ones iâm currently reading are doing, and what trades are coming out. That sort of thing, and itâs something I love. I know their basically adds.. but their well put together adds that really pull you into the books you like. The big two and the indies are all very good at it and sometimes iâts the only way to know a comic is coming if the company dosenât make a press release for it ahead of time.Â
So naturally given there are several comics I follow at idw, paticuarlly the TMNT comics, I read those solicits and found they were going to do an issue with Webby and Lena becoming spies, and was excited about it. I ended up forgetting about it and never really followed the Ducktales comic as it came out, and upon reading an issue or two recently, one for another comission by kev as one story, happy happy valley, was particularly terrible. For those who havenât read the story or my review, it involved the family getting stranded on an island where their forced to partake in activites and smile..that somehow turned into an aseop about Louie wanting to be rich. It ended with this
Yes.. really. That actually happened. But even with this, I fully planned to cover the issue when I covered Lena, and brought it up to Kev when he commissioned the retrospective. He gave me the discord equilvent of a blank stare and had never heard of it. I soon found out why: the story was replaced as, and fair play to disney, it spoiled Beaklyâs past from the agent 23 episode which wasnât going to air in time. What dosenât work is they never reprinted the story in The US.. didnât put it in a future issue and just swap itâs place didnât put it in the nothing. And the story was fully complete as weâll see, with a cover and everything so they had no excuse whatsoever to NEVER use it, even with what happened to Lena in the season finale, this clearly took place before that and it was weird to just shelve it because of that. But thankfully when a bunch of the stories were reprinted overseas, this and another one, also webby centric got published overseas. But not in english.
Lucky for me, I was able to find an english translation of an english story which you can read RIGHT HERE. It was translated by @neopuff and I thank them for it as without them this review would not be possible and want to give them all the credit. So was it worth all their hard work translating it? Well letâs take a look.Â
We begin at the Manor where Lena is skulking around suspiciously.. though it turns out she and Webby are just playing hide and seek. Though Lena accuses cheating. The dialouge here is pretty flat though thatâs not Neopuffâs fault at all. As I can attest from reading other stories a lot of the early IDW comics are just this flat in dialoguge no matter the writer as they were likely given character descriptions and basic info about the show they likely had written up for merchandising and Frank and Co were given no involvement and likely werenât made avaliable to consult on the comics to help them be a bit more fleshed out. Itâs very obvious to me Disney just tried to get these pumped out so theyâd have a series in stores to tie in without carring about qualities and given Scrooge debuted in comics, their lack of care toward that side of things in general, but especially in the first american published original duck comics in a while, bothers me a lot. Itâs inexcusable.Â
That being said the story isnât half bad nor is the setup as the two hear a beeping and find itâs Beaklyâs phone going off with a mysterious message from Q, Webby thinks sheâs been reactivated, and is encouraged by Lena to go look after her while she stays along. While Webby says in response
It just feels grossly out of character for both. Lena is far more subtle about manipulation as shown five minutes ago and Webby blindly trusts her. Because she has a massive crush on her and is naĂŻve about how the world works. It just seems very odd of her to get suspicious as she never does on screen, and again it comes off as Disney having barely given the writers any materials on them when iâm sure Frank or Matt wouldâve been happy to write up a thing for them to help outside of the usual press materials they were given.Â
Though hte last line isnât all that out of character and has an obvious answer as within a jumpcut Launchpadâs taking them to London and is told to blend in.. which he does with an australian flag and accent.. good gag.Â
So our heroines do some heroic breaking and entering and look for the package, but soon find while hiding itâs already in transit.. and had obvious bows on int. Whoops. Our heroes trie the old follow tha tcar bit and refreshingly, it dosenât pan out as the guy stops and tells them to get out. A nice twist. Unable to follow, our heroes instead find launchpad lost, as his map is upside down
So Lena dares him if he can follow that plane, a nice bit of character for both. I will give Joe credit. While the dialougeâs a bit flat and there was that out of character moment.. for the most part he does nail the actual character down and does use it decently enough. Heâs just not given enough page room or actual details to work with is all.Â
So while our heroes follow they end up having to crash as they run out of fuel.. lucky their with the expert but end up near home where the package is delivered to. Turns out this wasnât a spy thing, this was just a thing with her aunt. Thatâs fine and a nice gag.. itâs just ruined by just sorta.. ending. Lena leaves disapointed and Beakly scolds webby for âplaying spyâ and sheâs sad. Thatâs it thatâs how it ends. Which dosenât fit the characters, as while Beakly would defintely scold her, it just dosenât FIT that sheâd be that tearse or not appricate the effort or give her an actual lecture and it feels like Joe had no idea how to end this after the gag and just.. ended it.Â
Final Thoughts for Spies Likes Us: This was okay. It is a bit of a disappointment as for the only story not available.. iâts just okay and not really above an average Ducktales comics story, with some nice character bits but feeling a bit weak overall, as do at least the first half of the idw comics. I havenât read the later stuff to see if it got better. Itâs worth a read if you like Webby and Lena as characters and itâs not BAD, itâs just not anything impressive and is a simple hyjinks filled misunderstanding story.Â
Dime After Dime:
So now we go back a bit to the original. I didnât do these in chronological order because frankly, Dime after Dime is the better story of the two and the bigger one at that, so I have more to work with here. But the original also had comics and honestly from the few iâve read much BETTER comics. I chalk this up to two things: The Ducktales 87 comics seem to have come out AFTER the series was already a hit, and since Ducktales is pretty close to the original uncle scrooge comics minus itâs own tweaks here and there, itâs easy enough to just write the stories like you would a regular uncle scrooge story, just with Webby and Launchpad added, whereas the idw writers were staffed with writing for all new versions of the characters with noticable differences without much to go on. Itâs why to me with tie in comics you have two options: Wait long enough so you can put your story inbtween the episodes like the Steven Universe and Regular Show comics did or just make your own continuity entirely like the Adventure Time Comics and the Archie TMNT Adventures series did. The ONLY time iâve seen a comic work like this is the Bravest Warriors comic, which had a talented writer and fit well enough in the margins until it sadly ended.. and honestly is BETTER in some cases than the series. I might get to it someday. The point is this comic shows why you need to have a deft hand adapting something instead of just falling your arms about and hoping itâll work.Â
So todayâs comic was part of some Disney Series called cartoon tales, which clearly repackaged comic stories from wherever, and put them together. I donât know much about it and the only other issue avaliable collects the disney adventures adaptation of âJust Us Justice Ducksâ, which I might cover at some point. This book does have two other stories which iâd be happy to do on comission or on my own at some point, one involving gladstone the other gizmoduck, but for now, iâm just sticking to the title story and the reason you all came here.Â
So we open with Magica gazing into her crystal ball from her Mt. Vesuvies base saying that Scrooge will never know what hit him I know exactly what and who wiil hit him thank you very much.Â
Scrooge is seeing Webby off to her first day of day camp, getting all teary eyed which is touching. Beakly apparently goes with her as the story never SAYS Sshe does but sheâs not also not around when the story moves on, as Launchpad says it looks like rain. Scrooge dismisses him, though Launchpad turns out to be right. Scrooge had good reason for once though, instead of just being a dick good on you comic for making me not want to punch him in the face, trust me that is a high bar to clear with the scrooge comics, as the weather was fine just a minute ago. Naturally it was Magica All Along! Nothing scrooge can do now that eveyrthing has gone wrong! Her entrance though is sadly not a catchy earwormy tune, but .. this confusing line
I think your thinking of Gladstone. And heâs still single so.. have at that but no Scrooge is the one who values hard work over anything else and brags about THAT or being rich. I .. I donât get this line and frankly I donât want to. Even in stories where the dime is supernaturally lucky and the source of his wealth he dosenât boast about it because heâs not stupid and dosenât want everyone knowing how to bankrupt him instantly. This line will baffle me until I die, presumably, given my lifeâs tragetctory, after reviewing an episode of mighty ducks and slipping on some a jerky wrapper.Â
Scrooge asks what she wants...Â
No this isnât that kind of story sadly. Her plan is to.. zap the bin with lightning and take the dime. Really just went with your first draft didnât you magica? But as stupid as this plan is Scrooge has prepared for it. He installed a lightning rod on the bin to save on power, and to power his new super soaker traps. So all Magica did was save him money. She flies off and nothing is acomplished.Â
So we get back to Webby at the Teenie Weenie Day Camp.. and just so you donât think that was a terrible joke on my part...
My theory for how this name got approved at all is the editor KNEW how that sounded and just wanted to see if Disney would actually print a comic with the phrase Teenie Weenie without getting what it means in slang or how hilariously inapproriate it is to namme a childrenâs camp after it.Â
Your probably wondering who that grown woman calling Webby a dweeb is. Well story wise, sheâs SUPPOSED to be another kid at the camp around Webbyâs age. In practice, she looks like THIS in closeup
So it looks and plays like a 30 year old woman snuck into the day camp and no oneâs noticed sheâs not actually a children. Or their just humoring her because she had a week to live. I donât know. I do know she doesnât get to judge on names.Â
Snippy Von Glitz, proof rich people really do hate their kids and this this comic is trying personally to give me material. Snippy is your average alpha bitch, taking a chair from Minma and being obnoxious and classist and all that jazz. Minima gets hers back by making the chair bouncy then returning it to normal so Snippy gets in trouble when she makes up things about the chair, with the lady in charge getting ready to call her Dad. You cannot convince me that her âDadâ is just what she calls her husband, this is how they both get off, and that the lady at the preschool only tolerates it because they pay her a lot and so far the kids havenât noticed Snippy is 30. Webby likes minima finding her name pretty, proving that the ho yay is alive no matter the webby and magica relative, and Minma returns the favor by saving her from a block.Â
Minma is reluctant to make an actual friend, finding they arenât worth anything and given most of the kids here apparently pick on her and her aunt is well.. Magica, itâs understandable why sheâd be so cold. But Webby presses on and says something from Scrooge about friends. Which given Ducktales scrooge has none goes weird but it gets Minma to find out she knows and lives with Scrooge, so she cons webby into taking the dime for show and tell, showing that she can manipulate them with her powers, and that he wonât notice itâs missing, getting her with âI thought you wanted to be friendsâÂ
So letâs pause for a second and compare and contrast the two: Both are the niece, or at least sorta in Lenaâs case, of Magica, both manipulate webby, and both are her first real friend: The 87 boys are little monsters and I donât consider them friends or even brothers, while the 2017 ones are just that: brothers. Their her siblings in all but blood, not friends and have hteir own long complicated history.Â
But otherwise the two are vastly different. Lena is a far more complex character as sheâs been abused her whole life, is a rebel because Magica hardly gave her agency, and while she starts wooing webby out of self interest itâs clear even as far as the first episode she cares. Lena would gladly be part of the world if she could and this whole scheme is to gain that choice.Â
Minma is still sympathetic but very different: She walls herself off because the other kids laugh and mock her for being herself and lashes out at them.. not unreasonably mind , but still feeling she needs no one else.. but as weâll learn later sheâs only helping Magica to finally feel accepted, to get all the fancy clothes and stuff that will make her popular instead of that grown woman masquerading as a kid for disturbing reasons. Minma is at her heart just a hurt kid desperate to fit in. And while Lena shares the desire for a place to belong.. itâs at itâs core much sadder. Lena.. wants a family. Someone to love her and to care about her and actually look after her. Minma has that she just wants to be loved. itâs similar but very diffrent and I can see why Lena evolved into what she did, as Frank and Matt ended up going in a far darker but ultimately more interesting direction. Minima is not a bad character at all though and without her I donât think we wouldâve had Lena, but at the end of the day the 87verse is just not that complicated, so the reboot needed something more and that more evolved into who we have now.Â
Both kids excitedly talk about their new friends, with their respective guardians being distracted. Scrooge is distracted by the fact his car is a bit bumpy and Launchpad offers to fix it up for free with some parts from a buddy, which given the sentence âThis wonât cost you anythingâ makes him erect, Scrooge agrees. Magica meanwhile, whose watching Minima while her mom is away which raises a LOT of questions we donât have time for like who she is, is sheâs poes wife or does Magica have other siblings... itâs a lot of questions weâre never going to get answers to.Â
The next day Webby got the dime easy as Scrooge was distracted. so Minima swaps them while sheâs distracted. But while swiping it was easy, which to be fair Webby is likely approved in his security so it woudlnât match her.. or the story just needed to progress. You make the call.Â
Magica does the logical thing and goes and get sthe dime and the story ends there.. and iâm shitting you, she of course brags to scrooge, reveals minima as her spy, and offers to RACE him for it shortly after he realizes he has a fake.
The only major flaw in this story is Magicaâs overconfdience, which isnât BAD persay, but here has gotten to dumbass proportions. She just canât plan for anything and a CHILD has a better plan than her that only dosenât work for reasons weâll get to. And that plan is almost ruined by Magica taunting scrooge!
So a race is on but Launchpad has transformed Scroogeâs old Model T into this
Damn thatâs cool. Scrooge of course dosenât like it, but honestly you get what you paid for. Oh thatâs right you paid nothing for something you NEED to use every day for transportation.Â
At the rickity thickity bridge, Steve Buschemiâs worst roll and her minion ask Webby to roll with them and Minima mistakes this for betrayal planning to soak them all.. only for Webby to DEFEND HER, pointing out minmaâs her friend, how she dresses is fine and she loves her no matter what.. the last partâs implied. The 30-year old asshole and her minon leave Webby and Minma is genuinely touched, as no oneâs done that for her before. She put up so many walls... she didnât realize someone could ACTUALLY care about her, so obessed with thinking she had to be like that soccer mom in preschoolers clothing, she just had to be herself: kinda werid but in that fun adams family way. Webby says she knows Minma would do the same.. so while she prepares to letâs get back to the race. Magica realizes Launchpadâs roadster is actually gaining and spreads some tacks, but Scrooge counters with some money.. because of course he has a lot of money in the trunk. But Magica takes out the bridge and while scrooge awesomely JUMPS IT... heâs still too late.Â
As you probably guess though, Minima had a change of heart, and gave Webby the real dime back, and Scrooge confirms it. Minima TRIES to tell Magica, and Magica is horrified her niece is a goody goody âIâll never hear the end of it at my astral aerobics classâ.. I.. I want to see that. Letâs raise those spirit ladies and kick kick that soul, doge that shadow king punch them in the soul. Yes! Now eat it eat it and absorb itâs power!
We end on a button joke as Webby apologizes for taking the dime., Scrooge accepts it and Webby tells them magica learned to carpet and they gulp for some reason.Â
Final Thoughts on Dime after Dime: This story was decent. It has problems, some jokes donât land and Magica is made horribly incompetent, but minimaâs character arc is endearing, and Webby herself is precious as always and her winning Minima over feels genuine. And Scrooge is in prime adoring uncle mode with her and iâts just so cute. And the roadster race is pretty awesome to watch honestly. Itâs an exceptional and enjoyable tie in story.. and not the last ducktales 87 story weâll be covering here. Wink wonk.Â
Next Time: Things get DARK as Lena and Webby head into the depths of Scroogeâs hidden bin and Lena heads into the depths of her own soul.Â
Tommorow: Woo-Ooo mofos as we go back to the very beginning of the reboot! A family restored, a lost city to explore, and a glomgold rises! Be here or be square.Â
#ducktales#ducktales 1987#webbigail vanderquack#lena saberwing#weblena#minima de spell#magica de spell#bentina beakly#launchpad mcquack#scrooge mcduck#dime after dime#spies like us#idw#comics#animation#shadow into light
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Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Eight // Kakuzu
What is with this group and wasting their free time doing such inane and pointless things? The old guy can think of at least 50 other activities (the majority of which involve making money) that everyone could be doing, rather than lining up to kiss each under a little green plant. When itâs his turn in the spotlight, he tries as hard as he can to back out of his âobligationâ ... but Pein (and Kakuzuâs own persistent partner, Hidan) insist that Kakuzu participate. Kakuzu sighs and nods; heâs smart enough to know when heâs been defeated. However, Pein should know that Kakuzu will be adding a little extra money to his paycheck that week, for âhazard payâ.
Pein
Nagato was more interested in Kakuzu joining his group than any of the others. Immortality, money-sense, expertise and wisdom ... this is the man who survived the wars of the past. This is the man who survived the mighty Hashirama, God of all shinobi. Still, Nagato is no fool; he realizes that Kakuzuâs number one priority in life isnât the Akatsuki, but money. Kakuzu would probably (and had likely thought about) betray them all in exchange for a tidy sum. So Nagato (as Pein) works to keep Kakuzu content enough to remain loyal, including making him the groupâs treasurer and giving him complete control over everyoneâs finances. And Kakuzu remains highly useful; strategizing, completing missions twice as fast (and ten times as efficient) as his younger teammates. Pein approaches Kakuzu and gives him a light kiss on the forehead, before returning to his room. He reminds himself to speak to Kakuzu later; he has some ideas about weapons heâd like to procure for the group, and needs to see if it would be financially feasible to do so.
Konan
Kakuzu genuinely likes Konan, and appreciates her company. Many men of Kakuzuâs generation were raised on the belief system that women were solely meant to be wives, child-bearers, and home-makers; to call a female a ninja was deemed unthinkable. But Kakuzu was a rarity in that he never saw this as being the case; man or woman, oneâs inner strength was all that mattered in regards to being a shinobi. Heâs spoken with Konan at length about her childhood, and the trauma she endured, and he knows that this little blue-haired lady is a sight tougher than a LOT of people (and Kakuzuâs met quite a few in his long life). Konan walks up to him and he smiles; itâs rare for Kakuzu to smile, but Konan brings it out of him. âGood evening, Kakuzu-san. I think itâs my turn.â He nods, and slips off his mask so that his lips are exposed. He leans down and very, very gently kisses her cheek. Her blushing skin is soft and her smile is beautiful as she thanks him and steps away, to let the next person go.
Kisame
Nobody knows this about Kakuzu (and he fears he would be mocked if they did), but the old guy puts a lot of emphasis on the idea of exercise. Five hearts is a lot of responsibility, and staying healthy is how Kakuzu intends to keep living forever. So every night, when the others are asleep and after heâs done with his reading, heâll spend some time in his room exercising. One night Kisame passed by his open door and saw him using a pair of heavy books as make-shift weights. The next evening Kisame came to Kakuzuâs room with a set of real barbells , which he casually gave to Kakuzu with the admonition not to overdo it. Kakuzu greatly appreciated the gesture (and the unspoken support), and the two have been good friends ever since. But ... a kiss between them would just be too strange, so Kisame comes up with a better option: an arm-wrestling match, Kisame grabs the kitchen table and two chairs and sets them up under the mistletoe. Of course the rest of the Akatsuki gathers to watch, hooting and hollering and placing bets on who will win. Kisame and Kakuzu are both fairly evenly matched, so that challenge goes on for a while. Finally, with a final grunt of exertion, Kakuzu is able to slam Kisameâs hand into the table. Everyone claps, and Kisame laughs and tells Kakuzu that heâs âone tough son of a bitchâ; high compliment coming from a man who was half-shark.
Itachi
Out of all the members of the Akatsuki, Itachi was by far the least problematic of the younger ones. Quiet, thoughtful, quick and efficient in completing missions. And polite; always forthcoming with âpleaseâ and âthank youâ, and never failing to use honorifics with the others, even though some of them (ie Deidara and Hidan) donât show him that same respect back. One time Kakuzu had caught a cold that stubbornly hung on for several days. Itachi came to his room every day with a cup of congestion-easing tea, something that Kakuzu didnât ask for, but greatly appreciated nonetheless. Itachi comes up to him and nods. âKakuzu-san.â âItachi-san.â Itachi leans up and gives him a light kiss to the cheek, and Kakuzu is struck by a particular urge â to hug this kid. Something about him, perhaps everything about him, seems like a cry for parental love and affection. Kakuzu resists this odd impulse, but Itachi seems to sense that itâs something he wanted, because he leans over again and very briefly puts his arms around the older man. âThank you,â he murmurs, before walking away. Kakuzu watches him go, slightly shaking his head.
Tobi
Tobi gives Kakuzu an uneasy feeling deep within his heart(s). Running around, speaking loudly, eating nothing but candy and sweets, acting like a complete fool â itâs an act. Kakuzu has never been more convinced of anything in his life. The only question is, why is Tobi putting on this act? To deceive them all into a false sense of security, before striking? Kakuzu has hunted bounties a good deal of his life, and a lot of the more difficult ones to catch have acted EXACTLY the way Tobi does, in order to throw off potential bounty hunters. Kakuzu learned to see through them, the same way he sees through Tobi. But to tip oneâs hand and give away what you know is unthinkable in the chase and capture game, so Kakuzu never lets on what he actually believes. âOh boy Kakuzu-san; does Tobi get a kissy now?!â Kakuzu nods, and Tobi slides his mask halfway off (Kakuzu notes the lines on the side of his face; accident, most likely. Possibly a disfiguring one) and the strange glint of his eye. Before Tobi can act, Kakuzu puts a hand on his face and kisses his forehead. âThere. Now go.â Tobi slides the mask back on and hurries away with his usual chatter and giggling, and Kakuzu reminds himself to loom through the bingo book later for bounties with visible scarring on the left side of the face.
Zetsu
Five hearts means more blood needed to sustain said hearts. More blood means a stronger scent. A stronger scent means ... Kakuzu smells delicious to someone like Zetsu. Zetsu approaches him and looks around quickly; the two are alone. His brain runs through every possible scenario in which he could successfully kill and eat Kakuzu. Heâs victorious in a few ... but most end with him mutilated by the manâs tentacles, and having to face the wrath of Pein on top of everything else. So he simply sighs, flicks out his tongue to taste the saltiness of Kakuzuâs cheek, and walks away again. Just that one taste was almost enough to make zetsu throw restraint to the wind and eat his fill, so he leaves before he can do anything heâll regret. Kakuzu wipes off his cheek in mild disgust ... in a group full of freaks, Zetsu certainly seemed to take the cake.
Deidara
Kakuzu still remembers the day they brought this kid into the group. And thatâs exactly what he was; a kid. Barely 15 years old, with a powerful âgiftâ, and full of anger at a village he felt betrayed him in not trying to understand his unique sense of âartâ. Fast forward several years later and Deidara had changed, and most of that change was the better. Kakuzu could only surmise that the kid matured due to the constant council and guidance of his older and wiser partner Sasori; Kakuzu feels mildly jealous that Sasori was able to reign some measure of improvement over HIS young partner, but Kakuzu couldnât do a thing with Hidan. Still, though, even Sasori hadnât been able to completely tame the kid, as evidenced by Deidara managing to get BOTH arms blown off in a tussle with some Konoha nin. Kakuzu had been tasked with sewing his new arms back on, but to the kids credit, despite his painful the procedure had been, he didnât utter a sound. Had even thanked Kakuzu, twice, afterwards. Deidara walks up to him and looks almost shy; 19 years old now and still with the face of a child. Kakuzu leans down and kisses the kidâs forehead, again noting his soft and smooth â and LONG â his hair was. It sways as Deidara walks away, and Kakuzu wonders how much he could get for those luscious locks, from the right buyer.
Sasori
Respect. Out of all the words that Kakuzu could use to describe how he felt about Sasori, Respect was at the top of the list. And the funny thing was, Kakuzu hadnât even met the REAL Sasori until almost a year of being in the Akatsuki. The two had been sent on a mission, and at night, near the campfire, a soft metal sound made Kakuzu turn his head. It was a small, slender redhead, emerging from the being that Kakuzu had THOUGHT was a real person. The two had looked at each other for a while, and then started a game of cards as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As time went on, the two became closer. They both shared an interest in/knowledge of medical jutsu and procedures, and would often come to one another with questions or with articles on different medicines. Kakuzu nods at him as he walks up, and Sasori does the same. He thinks about it, bends down and kisses Sasoriâs left cheek, and Sasori smiles at him, bidding him a quiet Good Evening before going back to his room.
Hidan
âHey old fuck; youâve been dying to get your hands on my sexy body all day, havenât ya, pervert?â Kakuzu would roll his eyes at Hidanâs comment, but at this point, heâs ridiculously used to the things his partner says and does. As he looks at Hidanâs face, he wonders, and not for the first time, whether this is a punishment of sorts. Gaining five hearts and creating a kind of immortality only came for Kakuzu at the end of a long and bloody road, one paved with the unwilling sacrifices of other people. Was it Fate, that the Gods had put THIS man, this loud, overbearing, foul-mouthed heathen, into his path? And as the one person who just might be immortal, too? Hidan often joked about âWhen all these other assholes bite the big one, me and you might as well get married, bastard.â But what in the world was he saying? Surely he was joking; why would someone as young and attractive as Hidan want to be with Kakuzu? Kakuzu who was heaven knows how many times Hidanâs age, and â âSo we gonna slobber each other or what?â âYouâve got a big mouth, brat. Learn to shut up once in a while.â âMAKE me shut up, fuck-face.â So Kakuzu grabs Hidan around the waist, tilts him back, and sinks into his lips. Kakuzuâs mouth is rough and scarred but Hidanâs is smooth and soft, and the contrast creates a dizzying effect for both men. Hidan grasps Kakuzuâs shoulders tighter, leaving slight nail-prints in Kakuzuâs flesh. Their lips are touching but in this moment it feels like everything is touching, even their very souls (if either of them still had one, that is). When Kakuzu finally breaks the kiss and pulls Hidan back up, the white-haired immortal seems fairly disorientated ... but that doesnât stop his mouth. âYouâre an even bigger pervert than I thought, old fuck. Who the hell said you could stick your tongue in my mouth?? And why ââ Kakuzu suddenly reaches out and grabs Hidanâs face with both hands, this time pulling him forward into a very soft, closed-mouth kiss. âBetter?â Instead of a smartass answer, Hidan simply nods; and now heâs smiling as he walks away. If he were to turn around at any point, heâd surely gasp; because Kakuzuâs smile was even bigger than Hidanâs own. âStupid kid,â Kakuzu mutters to himself, still smiling as he makes his way back to his room.
#the akatsuki#under the mistletoe#kissing#kakuzu#hidan#konan#pein#tobi#deidara#sasori#kisame#itachi uchiha#zetsu
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prompts,.,, fem tdbk and a date gone very wrong ? â€ïž
ohhhh my god anon. pump this shit directly into my veins i love this whole premise letâs go. also all inspired by whatever the fuck horikoshi was doing in thisÂ
just so everyone is on the same page here, it is not a fucking date.
itâs lunch. a singular lunch. people do that shit all the time. even katsuki does lunch, sometimes. she went to that semi-shitty diner place with kirishima that one time when the food hall was shut because some dumbass first year exploded into goo or whatever. and todoroki does lunch, too- her and deku were on some shitty lunch date like a week ago, as evidenced by dekuâs even shittier selfie of them having a grand old time doing whatever the fuck they do alone.
fuck, not a shitty lunch date. a shitty lunch. whatever.
the point is lunch is a normal non-date thing people do, and the fact katsuki and todoroki are maybe not the usual suspects for it is just circumstantial. itâs not like they planned it ahead of time, or made some big thing about it. they literally arranged for it in public, so obviously todoroki didnât think there was anything weird about it. and there isnât! theyâre both going to be in tokyo on the same day, and todorokiâs always happy for any excuse to spend less time with her old man, and katsuki sure as fuck wouldnât turn down an opportunity to avoid her hag of a birth-giver for a few blissful hours, so when todoroki had very nonchalantly gone âoh, bakugou, we could do lunch thenâ, it wasnât like she had any real reason to tell her to go fuck herself. like, yeah, maybe a year ago, on principle, she would have, but even katsuki can only take so much trauma-bonding before she resigns herself to the reality that sheâs stuck with half ân half for life, one way or another, and she may as well suck it up and approach civility because said moron is determined to ignore her open malice until she plays along anyways. theyâre... you know, whatever. friends. or something. jesus.
the point being that itâs not a date, and the fact that sheâs getting increasingly annoyed at her limited wardrobe is just because she would have packed more shit if the crone hadnât insisted that they âpack lightâ so they could get cheaper train tickets for less luggage. itâs just annoying that she canât wear anything thatâs not screaming holiday.
it occurs to her as she sits and scowls at her suitcase that her mother has been watching her from the doorframe for some undetermined amount of time, which is criminal mainly because sheâs a goddamn hero-to-be and getting snuck up on by anyone is a blight upon her good name. she tries to disguise the ego damage dealt by glowering murderously in her progenitorâs direction.
âwhat the fuck do you want?â
âyou know,â the she-devil says, cocking a hip, âif you want to borrow something nicer...â
âi wouldnât be caught dead in your shitty clothes!â katsuki snarls, which prompts the witch to immediately scowl back.
âwatch your damn mouth!â
âwatch your waistline! no way in hell are we the same size!â
âwhy you little-â
the interruption at least reminds her that she is obsessing over her clothes ahead of meeting todoroki for lunch, which is so humiliating it kickstarts her brain again long enough to grab some normal shit and get the hell out of there.
on the walk she checks her phone again. the previous day sheâd had to bite the bullet and make the first move, todorokiâs infamously terrible communication skills making themselves known once more, and their ensuing conversation had been so mortifying sheâd nearly cancelled all-together.
to: Half ân half
Yo asshole are we still meeting tomorrow or what
Iâm busy as shit
from: Half ân half
Yes. TS
to: Half ân half
What the fuck is TS
from: Half ân half
I was signing off.
to: Half ân half
SIGNING OFF ON YOUR OWN TEXT
YOU THINK I DONT KNOW YOUR DAMN NAME
from: Half ân half
[Pin attached]
Does here at 12.30 work for you?
to: Half ân half
Yeah whatever
Donât be late
And donât think Iâm forgetting the fucking signing off thing
from: Half ân half
Glad you can make time for mockery in your busy as shit schedule.
the venue looks like some rich person shit, which she semi-expected, but it means a lot of people give her weird looks as she makes her way inside, probably on account of the shorts and t-shirt sheâs wearing if not her general vibe. some old woman actually drags her purse to her, which makes katsuki sorely tempted to bare her teeth and maybe hiss for effect, though she settles for scowling and shoving her hands in her pockets. itâs 12.27, because she wasnât going to be late but being any earlier would have given off some dubious impression that sheâs eager to see todoroki, except now she kind of wishes sheâd just come for 12.30 because if thereâs some reservation bullshit she gets the feeling sheâs going to start fighting with the waiting staff, and then-
âbakugou,â todoroki calls, from inside, raising a hand with unnecessary formality. âyou made it.â
âcourse i made it,â katsuki grunts, absolutely not relieved as she by-passes the suspicious looking waiter to join her outside. âthink i canât ride the damn underground by myself?â
todoroki is wearing jeans cuffed at the ankles and a white t-shirt on top of which sheâs thrown on an open button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and she looks casual and normal and incidentally kind of like they dressed to match, but the important part is that she doesnât look dressed up at all, so katsuki was totally right about the non-date situation, and also isnât the only one totally underdressed for the shitty venue.
âyou look nice,â todoroki says then, completely shattering katsukiâs brief moment of reprieve. âiâve never seen so much color on you.â
katsuki almost chokes on her own tongue, but the worst part is that the asshole seems completely nonchalant about the weird as shit observation, focused on her stool as she takes a seat on the balcony. which- what the actual fuck? since when does todoroki issue compliments unprompted- of the non-professional variety, at that? and what the fuck does she expect katsuki to say now- return the compliment? say thanks? is this whole thing some kind of exercise in psychological torture?
well, fuck it. she canât look like a little bitch just because todoroki said something inanely positive. two can play that game.
âyeah. you look half decent yourself. did you hire someone to dress you for the occasion?â
todoroki blinks up at her in surprise, which is totally a win and would make her more smug if she could stop feeling so weird and prickly all over. for a dangerous moment todoroki seems on the verge of blushing, but miraculously the world rights itself and the usual deadpan persists, one brow quirking up in completely feigned ineptitude.
âthere was a compliment somewhere in there, so thank you, i think. i thought we were past this vendetta.â
âweâll be past this vendetta the day you burn your piece of shit hero suit,â katsuki retorts, back on familiar ground, and relaxes long enough to squint down at the menu.
this turns out to be a mistake.
âthe fuck? is this whole thing in french?â
âoh,â todoroki says, after a beat. âthat makes sense. i thought my english had deteriorated.â
âare you- you didnât know? you recommended the place!â
âit was the nearest place to our hotel,â todoroki defends, now having the decency of looking slightly put out. âcoq canât mean what i think it means, can it?â
âthatâs chicken, asshole,â katsuki hisses, flinging the menu down. âgreat, now weâre going to have to flag down one of the shithead waiters and ask for a japanese menu. excuse me! hey! yeah, iâm talking to- what the hell, did he just blow me off? hey, jackass! you with the shitty mustache!â
âsorry about that,â todoroki interjects, when mustache asshole turns an offended stare their way. âdo you have the japanese menu?â
âwe only serve the food in its authentic form,â mustachioed asshole says, with frigid self-satisfaction. âmight i suggest google translate?â
âmight i suggest my foot up your ass, you shitty-â
âthatâs fine,â todoroki says, in a flat tone that implies otherwise. âweâll make do.â
the waiter sniffs pretentiously as katsuki thinks about all the ways she could beat his ass into next tuesday, running an aggravated hand through her hair when the wind rustles it into her face. sheâd half expect todoroki to suggest they fuck off elsewhere, but when she looks back her way she finds an ill-boding gleam of determination in her eyes despite the impassive set to her face, and itâs a testament to how fucked in the head ua has made katsuki that she feels a sort of sick thrill of recognition at the sight. todorokiâs in stubborn bitch mode.
âiâll have this,â todoroki says, sure enough, pointing to the most expensive item on the menu. âand also this. and one of those.â
the waiterâs eyes nearly pop out of his skull, and todoroki looks unfazed in katsukiâs direction, tapping pointedly at a sleek black and red credit card in her wallet. âbakugou?â
well, if endeavourâs paying....
âsure,â katsuki says, slowly, and then turns her meanest smile the waiterâs way. âi want the frog legs.â
mustache clears his throat, attempts condescension. âwe donât serve that here.â
âyouâre a gastronomique restaurant,â katsuki says very loudly, as other clients turn to stare, âand you donât have fucking frog legs? is this a joke? does this napkin say authentic french cuisine or am i hallucinating?â
âi can ask the chef,â the waiter demurs, casting a nervous glance at the muttering snobs nearby, and attempts an ingratiating smile. âanything else for you, mademoiselle?â
âwhat did you just call me?â
once the ordering debacle is over, todoroki slants katsuki what may well be an apologetic glance, vaguely contrite frown sitting pretty atop her usual dead-eyed stare.
âi probably should have read up on the place ahead of time.â
katsuki is well within her rights to chew her head off, she thinks, but foodâs on the way and she got to yell at the asshole who gave her the once-over when she came in, so sheâs feeling forgiving, even in the face of todorokiâs annoyingly doll-faced apology. the bitch really has to do the bare minimum and she looks like a fucking kpop idol.
âyeah, whatever. i always knew you were a shitty ops planner.â
todoroki, who is an asshole, looks relieved at her generous forgiveness for all of a second before she quirks a brow. âbetween the two of us, i only count one person who has actually spoken the words âshoot first, ask questions laterâ.â
âthat was in a training simulation,â katsuki protests, outraged. âand you know damn well the actors were annoying as shit!â
âi did find them slightly too committed to the role,â todoroki concedes neutrally, which totally means she agrees with katsuki 100% and is being precious about it. katsuki scoffs.
âleast the viewâs decent.â
âthe-â todoroki starts, in weirdly confused tones, until she follows katsukiâs gaze outward and nods in understanding. âoh, the skyline. yes.â
what else katsuki could have meant she doesnât fucking know: theyâre sitting pretty in the middle of tokyo. the only thing the hellhole of a restaurant has going for it at this point is the cityscape.
todoroki stares out into the distance for a good long moment, and with the breeze her negligently loose hair whips this way and that, red and white blur where the two halves mingle. instinctively katsuki itches to braid it flat so it doesnât tangle. if todoroki asked her sheïżŒïżŒâd tell her to just cut her damn hair into a bob or something- itâs not like icyhot has any attachment to her princess hair, and sheâs got the obnoxious bone structure to pull off any length. not that sheâd mention this last part. or that sheâs given it much thought. itâs just fucking obvious.
if todoroki could keep her mouth shut throughout the rest of the meal, it could be sort of nice. tokyo skyline, and companionable silence, and presumably edible food. worse ways to kill some time, and way less incriminating than anything that may be said otherwise.
âi think this is the part where we make small talk,â todoroki says instead, sadist that she definitely is, as katsuki grimaces feelingly her way.
âno, we donât.â
âwell, we donât. but this is the part where we should.â
âi donât even believe you can last a minute of small talk, icyhot.â
todoroki looks pensive, mismatched eyes thoughtful. â...how has your day been?â
âuneventful,â katsuki says, combative, and eyes her watch. todoroki does not give.
âthis place seems nice.â
âyou donât even think that.â
âhow have you been finding tokyo?â
ânoisy.â
âthe weather seems-â
âno.â
âyou look nice.â
âyou said that already, dumbass,â katsuki grunts, palms crackling with sweat, and does not at all read into the way todoroki makes a stupid little movement with her mouth that could ungenerously be interpreted as a pout.
âwell, i meant it, so iâm saying it twice.â
âgive it up, half ân half, just ask me about training.â
â...how is your training?â
âi did this thing yesterday,â katsuki starts, leaning back in her chair, and from then launches into a very technical and barely exaggerated retelling of the batshit insane stunt she pulled off with her quirk the day prior. todorokiâs focused attention is gratifying, in a totally platonic non-weird way- itâs just that her parents couldnât very well follow why exactly said stunt was as insane as it is, but todoroki obviously can, and also thereâs that thing with todoroki where pulling a reaction out of her ice queen act is admittedly more satisfying than most people. it has jack shit to do with the fact katsukiâs got a very minor complex about todoroki paying her her dues, and even if it did then thatâs entirely fucking reasonable considering she still hasnât forgiven her for the sports fest incident.Â
it is a little weird having todorokiâs sole focus on her outside of hero shit, though. itâs not like they really hang out one on one outside of school or work. itâs kind of- unnerving. yeah. unnerving, to be making prolonged eye contact, todorokiâs expression intent but not intense the way she gets in fight scenarios, frowning lightly because she has resting bitch face but apparently genuinely interested. itâs kind of a relief that todoroki asks questions- moves them safely into a conversation, so katsukiâs not just sitting there talking and sort of dry-throated. fucking waiter, leaving them water-less.
itâs fine. they talk about training, and quirks, and then todoroki pushes her hair behind her ears and leans forward to demonstrate on a small scale this thing sheâs trying to do where she melts her ice and refreezes it in rapid succession so it causes what is essentially ice rain, but thereâs logistics and shit that need to be worked out for it to work the way sheâs thinking it might, and katsuki knows her thermal shit so they start scrawling maths over the napkins, and then bicker over the finer points of first year chemistry, so when the food actually arrives to interrupt them todorokiâs startled blink is weirdly relatable, like she also forgot where they were.
the waiterâs there and gone before theyâre really recovered from the brief misplacement, which katsuki registers only when she looks down at her empty glass.
âgoddamnit- how hard is it to bring us water?â
âthey only offer sparkling,â todoroki says, gravely, then outpaces katsukiâs disgust by placing her hand over her glass, ice rising before she switches hands and melts it down. âtell me if the temperatureâs off.â
intensely mollified and trying not to look it, katsuki sips it. ââs fine.â
âokay,â todoroki says, faintly pleased, and tilts her head to look down at her food. âi have no idea what any of this is.â
âmoron,â katsuki snorts, except it comes out way fonder than it has any rights to, and from beneath the convenient curtain of hair todorokiâs smiling a little, so she hastily stabs a frog leg and gets to eating before anyone gets any ideas.
the actual meal goes okay-ish. most of the stuff todoroki ordered is extremely pretentious french cuisine, and todoroki secretly has the culinary adventurousness of a five year old, so it befalls katsuki to impatiently attempt every dish and pronounce it edible before todoroki will deign to brave it. sheâs still trying to bully an unyielding todoroki into attempting the weird bird soup thing when thereâs commotion nearby. it takes the both of them approximately three seconds to spring into work-mode; katsukiâs on her feet poised for a fight before sheâs even consciously thought about it, scanning her peripherals, and she doesnât even need to look to feel todoroki unconsciously covering her back, cool sting of air signalling her quirk at the ready.Â
the commotion turns out just to be some old dumbass choking, relaxing them both out of their stances as she falls back to let todoroki ahead. theyâre both uber-qualified for first aid shit, but sheâs self-aware enough to know even todorokiâs bland reassurances are usually preferred to her bedside manner. unfortunately, the whole entourage seems to be braindead, because theyâre all crowding the old guy in a panic while he chokes, his wife in shrieking hysterics.
âoh, my god, heâs choking! heâs choking! sugar-plum, stay with me!â
âfuck me,â katsuki mutters, unethically thinking that she would personally prefer choking to being married to someone who calls her sugar-plum, but todorokiâs pushing ahead with implacable calm, so she trudges after her anyways.
âexcuse me. excuse me. i need access to your husband.â
âwho are you? donât touch him! help! get this woman off my husband!â wailing hysteric yells, bosom heaving dramatically. katsuki is starting to suspect she poisoned him on purpose or some shit, because no way does anyone talk like that in real life.
âsheâs a fucking qualified first aid provider, lady, shut up and let her through!â
thankfully, the woman seems on the verge of an outrage aneurysm, which drags her focus away from suffocating her choking husband to dramatically pointing at katsuki long enough for todoroki to duck past her and reach the guy as he turns purple.
âhow dare you speak to me that way? who do you think you are?â
âma,â chinless moron number one says, clearing his throat. âi think thatâs one of those future pros from TV.â
âwhat?â
âyou know, ma,â chinless moron number two adds, glancing nervously between them. âthe one that explodes things. you know. from UA.â
katsuki takes great pleasure in watching recognition dawn in the old cowâs beady eyes, but in any event thereâs a hacking noise and then the old manâs coughing out a bone into his plate as todoroki steps noiselessly back from the table.
âheâs fine now. enjoy your dinner.â
âgod, that was gross,â katsuki says, as they ignore the womanâs sputtering and return to their seats. todoroki tilts her head.Â
ânot really. if heâd thrown up it would have been.â
ânot the choking guy,â katsuki scoffs, casting a glance back his way. âhis wife. talk about theatrics.â
âshe seemed more afraid of us than her husband dying.â
âfor good reason,â katsuki mutters darkly, spreading out in her chair. âi hate civilians.â
âi donât think she recognised us,â todoroki counters, pensive, and absent-mindedly takes a bite of the weird soup before she screws her face up like a betrayed kid. âoh. you didnât say it was sweet.â
the look on her face thoroughly distracts katsuki from asking what other reason the pearl-clutcher could possibly have to be so terrified at the mere sight of them; instead, she chokes back a laugh, stifling a grin. âwhat are you, five?â
âi donât think i like this,â todoroki says, mournful, which makes katsuki grin harder. she canât help it- todoroki looking stupid is her kryptonite.Â
âthen donât pick a restaurant where you canât read the menu, next time.â
todorokiâs midway to looking up, but for some reason her expression transforms instantaneously, which makes katsuki reflexively try to quash her amusement. todoroki always gets weird when sheâs smiling.Â
ânext time?â
motherfuck. obviously she didnât mean next time like next time, she meant next time like- hypothetically, in the future, when todorokiâs on a lunch date with someone else. a lunch non-date. sheâs just about stopped sputtering furiously long enough to try and express this sentiment when it occurs to her that todoroki seems- pleased, one eye soft sky-blue when katsuki accidentally meets it, and that draws her up short long enough that she ends up just muttering lamely to herself. fucking todoroki.Â
on the heels of this utter embarrassment, she downs the rest of her water, scowls in a neat 180 at everything in sight, and wonders for the first time in her life how the fuck extras get through dates. not that this is one.
itâs fine. theyâre done eating, and no oneâs died, and katsuki is no longer fifteen and thus mostly trusts her ego to lick its wounds and recover from the ordeal. even if they stick around for desert thatâs only another half hour of this to endure. as long as todoroki doesnât make any sudden moves theyâll be fine.
...the problem is, of course, that sudden moves are todorokiâs modus operandi. katsuki has not forgotten the bitch calling them friends on national television in the same breath that she was vociferously denying them being anything of the sort. in todorokiâs fucked up brain, theyâre always ten steps ahead of whatever they actually are- considering katsukiâs come around to privately acknowledging sheâd take a couple more stakes through the gut for the asshole, in todorokiâs world they're practically hitched.
platonically. platonically practically hitched. this is not a thing, goddamnit. no matter the weird looks aizawaâs been giving them, or utsushimiâs nefarious schemes, or the alarming cardiopulmonary condition katsukiâs been developing of late. sheâs not some shitty yuri protagonist pining over the nearest female bishĆnen in her vicinity.
admittedly if she was to pine over anyone it sure as fuck wouldnât be some guy, but thatâs besides the point, since pretty damn near every person on earth is just some guy by her standards, regardless of gender. the fact that todoroki is not one of said people is entirely irrelevant.
her internal irritation is so distracting that she misses the tremors nearby until entirely too late, by which point todorokiâs stupidly perfect brows raise an incremental fraction and she goes:Â âohâ.
when todoroki goes âohâ, some shit is about to go down.Â
katsuki turns slowly with an impending sense of doom, and sure enough, the sight that greets her is so nightmarish she seriously reconsiders whether the entire day has been just that.Â
âdonât freak out,â a giant building-sized deku booms, apologetically, as his hideous giant face stares at them. âitâs just a quirk thing.â
itâs probably a good thing katsuki has gone speechless with outrage, since it permits todorokiâs constantly composed ass to ask useful questions katsuki probably would have coated in a fair amount more threats and cursing.
âmidoriya. i didnât know you were in tokyo.â
âwell, i wasnât meant to be,â deku says/booms like a foghorn, as the restaurant clientele shrieks and stampedes behind them. his sheepish expression is even more punchable when magnified. âitâs a long story. itâs almost sorted out now, though. i just saw you guys from over at the NPA office and thought iâd come ask if you maybe wouldnât mind lending a hand? i wouldnât ask but thereâs going to be a lot of cleanup and your quirks would be really helpful to-â
âweâll do it as long as you shut the fuck up,â katsuki yells, to cut him off, massaging her temples. âthe monologuingâs bad enough when youâre not about to burst my fucking eardrums, jackass.â
âoh, sorry! iâm trying to be very quiet but this bodyâs just hard to get used to- thank you so much for helping, i didnât mean to come bother you on break...â
âitâs fine,â todoroki says, and then seems to realise that her monotone doesnât reach midoriyaâs giant-ass ears and clears her throat, raising her voice to a shout. âitâs fine. let me go deal with the bill and then weâll go.â
âsorry?â midoriya whisper-shouts, craning his monstrous head closer to them, the sight of which will haunt katsuki for the rest of her life. âi canât hear what youâre saying!â
âshe said sheâs going to go pay for our nice fucking lunch,â katsuki hollers, with no small sense of satisfaction, as deku winces and todoroki slinks off. âsince you want to come crashing it like a dipshit.â
âsorry, kacchan!â deku begs off, flapping hand gestures creating enough wind to knock over a nearby umbrella stand. âi just thought it would be a lot of help if you came to oversee the fall-out- especially with the building damage-â
âweâre good,â todoroki announces, to katsuki, apparently having given up on matching her in decibels. sheâs got that classic hero look on her face, already in work mode, but just when katsukiâs about to do the same and jump into action, the look wavers a little and she frowns vaguely awkwardly. âthanks for doing lunch.â
âhuh?â katsuki stutters, thrown, and then scowls at nothing in particular, stalling. todorokiâs the one who paid, albeit indirectly- itâs typically weird of her to be all formal about it all of a sudden, leaving katsuki to attempt to wriggle them out of the awkwardness of the moment. âi didnât do shit except show up and eat, weirdo.â
âitâs been abnormally hard to show up and eat in the circumstances,â todoroki replies, a little wryly, and more concerningly a little resigned sounding. which is just unnatural, because todoroki may have expanded her range of emotions considerably since first year but resignation is not on her usual roster, and thereâs nothing to be resigned about unless she had some kind of vested interest in this whole fiasco playing out any better than it did.
which she didnât, obviously. katsukiâs been through this. she chose the nearest possible venue and rocked up in jeans and a t-shirt, and- and why is the fact that todoroki never dresses so normally out of class only now occurring to her, again?
sheâd said âi think this is the part where we do small talkâ. the part of what?
âyeah, whatever,â katsuki says, automatically, as her brain plays catch-up, which is the excuse she will forever stick to for what leaves her mouth next. âshould have known youâd be a lousy date.â
todoroki goes âwhat?â at the same moment deku does, ten times louder and more bug-eyed, which reminds katsuki that 1) deku is still there, 2) deku is still as big as his martyr complex, and 3) deku is the fucking worst, and allowing him to trap her into friendship is somehow responsible for this, sheâs sure of it.Â
âcan we go handle this fucking mess or what?â katsuki snaps, instead of screaming or breaking dekuâs very large nose or maybe self-immolating in abject humiliation, hands erupting into explosions as she jumps onto the balcony railing. maybe if she throws herself headfirst into the debris sheâll concuss herself and turn amnesiac.Â
âum,â deku is saying, when she turns a withering glare his way. âum, yes! yes! yeah! letâs go do that!â
so she jumps skywards, explosions blasting her high into the air, and very scrupulously does not look towards the sounds of slick ice forming just behind her until todoroki skates into her peripheral vision, hair waving flag-like behind her. ahead thereâs a building with a crater clean through it where deku must have erupted from, though when she turns to comment she finds him a fair deal behind them, lumbering pace slowed further as he avoids stepping on anyone or anything along the streets. instead her eyes lock on todorokiâs where the latter is staring at her, face unreadable, and she bristles hard enough to disrupt trajectory, correcting course rapidly before she plummets into an office.
âwhat?â
âiâm a lousy date,â todoroki repeats, neutrally, over the wind. katsuki grits her teeth.
âand what about it?â
sheâs bracing for a lot, but not the horrible, sickening eye-crinkle thing todoroki does, dark eye twinkling even as her expression stays carefully impassive. âyou think you can do better, then?â
âhah?â
ânext time,â todoroki intones, very precisely, and then dips ahead like a complete coward as katsuki goes a color never previously visible to the human eye, sifting through about fifteen emotions before she decides to stick to outrage.
âwhat the hell? you suck at asking people out, icyhot!â
âyou donât have to say yes.â
âwhat, you think i canât do better than this mess? youâre on, asshole.â
âi look forward to it,â todoroki says, gravely, and then thereâs a collapsed building to handle and shit to do and if anyone wants to ask why katsuki is so especially gleeful in blowing shit up they wisely keep their mouths shut. she just likes the job, all right.
(for the record, itâs still not a date until katsuki says it is.)
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If you've been in comic circles for some time, chances are pretty good that you're familiar with "Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex," the essay Larry Niven wrote in 1969 on the subject of Superman's potentially lethal sex life. If you haven't read it, then you might have gotten the jist of it from that scene in "Mallrats."Â
It makes sense to me that such an essay, crass and silly though it is, would be written in 1969. That's the tail-end of the Silver Age, where Superman's power-creep had reached such levels that his hair was indestructible, he could break the time barrier under his own power, and he could juggle planets like helium balloons.Â
So it was a little surprising to learn this week that Vladimir Nabokov wrote a poem with a similar sentiment way back in 1942. Nineteen forty-two! Six years before Kirk Alyn would bring the character to life, submitted in between the release of the seventh and eighth Fleischer cartoons, back when Superman wasn't consistently flying in the comics, the guy who would go on to write Lolita was speculating about the impossibility of relations between humans and Kryptonians.Â
The letter he wrote when he submitted the poem to The New Yorker has big "uwu pwease pay me if it's not too much twouble" energy.Â
I am sending you a poem on the troubles of Superman of the Funnies (with, if necessary, apologies to his, or rather its, makers). I should like to repeat that I experience most horrible difficulties and distress in wielding a language new to me â after 25 years of good old Russian. If, however, the poem is acceptable â not too ungrammatical as a whole and not too risquĂ© about the middle of its favours â might I perhaps humble [sic] request a honorarium as adequate as possible to my Russian past and my present agonies?
The story of how Nabokov's poem, "The Man of To-Morrow's Lament," came to be rediscovered after all these years, and how it ties into his son's love of the character at the time, is a pretty interesting one, which you can read about at the link (if you have a subscription). But the poem itself, well...read on.
The Man of To-morrowâs Lament
I have to wear these glasses â otherwise, when I caress her with my super-eyes, her lungs and liver are too plainly seen throbbing, like deep-sea creatures, in between dim bones. Oh, I am sick of loitering here, a banished trunk (like my namesake in âLearâ), but when I switch to tights, still less I prize my splendid torso, my tremendous thighs, the dark-blue forelock on my narrow brow, the heavy jaw; for I shall tell you now my fatal limitation ⊠not the pact between the worlds of Fantasy and Fact which makes me shun such an attractive spot as Berchtesgaden, say; and also not that little business of my draft; but worse: a tragic misadjustment and a curse.
Iâm young and bursting with prodigious sap, and Iâm in love like any healthy chap â and I must throttle my dynamic heart for marriage would be murder on my part, an earthquake, wrecking on the night of nights a womanâs life, some palmtrees, all the lights, the big hotel, a smaller one next door and half a dozen army trucks â or more.
But even if that blast of love should spare her fragile frame â what children would she bear? What monstrous babe, knocking the surgeon down, would waddle out into the awestruck town? When two years old heâd break the strongest chairs, fall through the floor and terrorize the stairs; at four, heâd dive into a well; at five, explore a roaring furnace â and survive; at eight, heâd ruin the longest railway line by playing trains with real ones; and at nine, release all my old enemies from jail, and then Iâd try to break his head â and fail.
So this is why, no matter where I fly, red-cloaked, blue-hosed, across the yellow sky, I feel no thrill in chasing thugs and thieves â and gloomily broad-shouldered Kent retrieves his coat and trousers from the garbage can and tucks away the cloak of Superman; and when she sighs â somewhere in Central Park where my immense bronze statue looms â âOh, Clark ⊠Isnât he wonderful!?!â, I stare ahead and long to be a normal guy instead.
Vladimir Nabokov June 1942
It's kind of wild just how much Superman discourse is presaged here, how many story and character beats we'd see play out over the next eighty years.Â
It's been an increasingly long time since I did any kind of regular poetry analysis, as evidenced by the fact that I needed to Google "thing where a poet ends a line in the middle of a sentence" in order to talk about how much enjambment there is here. Honestly, I do like a good rhyming couplet, and I appreciate Nabokov's commitment to using them throughout here, even if it means overusing that technique.Â
The references to the war in the first stanza are interesting; Andrei Babikov's commentary in The TLS suggests that this is an attempt to compare the character with Hitler, emphasizing the comment about the forelock (and drawing comparisons to Chaplin's "Great Dictator"), but Hitler's forelockâif you can really call it thatâhas very little in common with Superman's trademark s-curl, which doesn't merit mention in Babikov's discussion. To me, this reads more like an acknowledgement that Superman may be selling war bonds and punching Nazi ships and even hoisting Hitler up by the scruff of the neck, but he's a character from the realm of Fantasy, not Fact, and he's powerless to do anything about the real issue. Even in the comics, they might show Superman knocking around tanks on the front lines, but Superman's only encounter with Hitler himself notably came in the pages of Look Magazine two years . Superman's service in the war was limited to four-color fictional Nazis.Â
But as much as I like the imagery of the dark-blue forelock, calling to mind the coloring of classic comics, I'm more than a little disquieted by "young and bursting with prodigious sap." The earth-shaking imagery in the rest of that second stanza got a laugh from me. I appreciate that it's less graphic than the Niven essay, "blast of love" aside.Â
Stanza three predicts so many Superbaby stories, particularly from the Silver Age, but even "Letitia Lerner, Superman's Babysitter" has these same elements of an indestructible toddler causing mischief and mayhem. But also it speaks to Nabokov's own anxieties as a parent.Â
The closing stanza, though, is where things get a little eerie. "No matter where I fly, / red-cloaked, blue-hosed, across the yellow sky, / I feel no thrill"Â might as well be "I can't stand to fly / I'm not that naĂŻve." The desire to be normal, in part to have normal relationships, is a major character trait in "Superman II" and "Smallville." Honestly, almost every instance we've seen of Clark Kent being morose and brooding over the last eight decades is predicted right here in this unpublished poem.Â
Overall, it's an interesting artifact. It shows that some ideas, some sorts of discourse around this character, are older than we might realize.
And, I suppose, so is erotic fanfiction.Â
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