#op is very understanding about people's discomfort about the word—

[otogariado]

found a thread made by a japanese mlm about the fujoshi label, in response to a tweet that's now deleted. thought it provided some insight so i'm gonna share it anyway. thread was originally from twitter on august 3 2020. he also linked resources in the thread as well as a poll from JP twt about if they should keep the label or not, which i didn't include here but you can find by accessing the post source.

obvs disclaimer, communities are not a monolith and one person isn't the end all be all of a discussion, but i think we should consider and listen to what he says anyway. especially if we're not from japan. op uses he/they according to their twitter bio.

@/matchamallow from twitter: "As a japanese mlm... Please don't spread more misinformation about the word fujoshi. 😅 It's simply a woman who likes BL. It's also a reclaimed word in Japan so making it a bad word again is not nice. Plus BL is very important to LGBT movement in Japan."

@/bokutosbooty replies: "I’m sorry!! i didn’t mean to start fujoshi discourse or try to change its meaning. It’s just that in the west i’ve been seeing a LOT of western mlm be uncomfortable w the term bc of its negative implications and associations set by those who fetishize mlm."

@/matchamallow replies: "Don't worry! And yes I know many self proclaimed fujoshi in the west behave very poorly. I think we should fight the behaviour and not the word, you know? Because of course I don't agree with how they act, but I also dislike seeing a word from my culture with so much history be associated with that. I don't blame anyone for conflating the two! I'm just trying to show resources so we can fight misinformation and bad behaviour together without demonizing a word."

@/bokutosbooty: "yes!! THANK YOU for leaving your thread and pointing out the real problem of fighting the behavior rather than fighting the word!! it saddens me to see fujoshi has such a negative undertone in the west bc thats very disrespectful to japanese otaku who have reclaimed the term"

@/matchamallow: "Yes, that's why I think we should recognize its origins and context. There's nothing inherently wrong with being or calling yourself a fujoshi - the wrong thing is being disrespectful to real people. We should strive to educate them and clear up the meaning of fujoshi."

@/matchamallow: "Again I don't blame anyone for being uncomfortable with the word or disliking some of their behaviour. That's very understandable. I just want to clear up misunderstandings how I can and focus more on the behaviour, not the word. And thank you for listening!!"

@/bokutosbooty: "thank you for sharing your information!! hopefully all of the fujoshi discourse ends and the focus solely on fixing bad behaviors as we both stated!! pls take care and have a good day!!"

[animehideout]

hiii, love your “your mbti, your relationship with jjk man” so i wanted to request infj and enfj if possible? thanks!

Your MBTI, Your Relationship With JJK Characters Part 3

Part 1 / Part 2

a/n: Thank you anon for this request . I really hope you enjoy them 😭🫶🏻.

Also thanks to @nozaki547 and @li-m-ii for requesting INFJ, enjoy 💞

INFJ:

Megumi Fushiguro = Boyfriend.

You crave meaningful and deep connection when it's about love. You want a partner that will commit for life. And Megumi is 100% the man that would make it work. Always keeping a keen observant eye on you to make sure you're comfortable all the time. He fell for your mysteriousness, you were hard to read at first so he found you interesting, but he grew to understand you and your needs. If he senses that you're cold he'll bring you a blanket. Craving something? He's going to make/buy it for you. Like any other introvert you need your personal space, so does Megumi. So both of you respect each other's boundaries but with a protective instinct in case you need comfort. You have mutual values and both of you date to marry, so your relationship is for the long run. You expect a lot from others so he always satisfies your expectations and never disappoints. He's your ride or die.

Okkotsu Yuta =Bestfriend

Yuta is an empathetic person and INFJS value people who are compassionate and supportive during highs and lows. Without second thought Yuta would be the perfect bestie for you. He's always ready to engage into a meaningful conversations with you talking about interesting topics concerning life and your personal growth. You have a healthy friendship since both of you avoid conflicts and always work on solving any misunderstandings. You are supportive and selfless so you always make sure to be there for him and push him forward when he feels insecure. Both of you rely on each other in comforting and making each other feel understood, heard and important.

Ryomen Sukuna = Obsessed with you.

Living in Yuji's body Sukuna always observed your interaction with your friend group. He was blown away by the fact thay you crack others' exterior just by observing them. While in contrast, they know little about you. You didn't only understand them by being an observant but also knew the exact appropriate words to say in order to comfort people around you. So he switches with Yuji to manipulate you to open up. He desperately wanted to know you on a deeper level, your strengths, your weaknesses, your likes, your dislikes, your deepest secrets but as an INFJ you've always been keeping your guards up especially around him. And that what pushed Sukuna to thrive to force you open up to him. Developing an obsession and interest in you and you mysteriousness.

Mai Zenin = Antagonist.

You are a supportive and selfless person who is good at comforting others and making them feel worthy. Mai, is the complete opposite she is rude, egocentric and selfish. You help people up and she brings people down. You remain true to yourself but she lacks authenticity and always fakes her personality to try to appear better than others around her. INFJs are very observant so you couldn't help the discomfort you felt around her, you can't stand each other so you simply ignore her existence in order to avoid getting into fights.

ENFJ

Ino Takuma = Boyfriend.

ENFJs are drawn to people with a positive outlook on life who bring joy and optimism. And Ino is definitely the one. He is cheerful person who contributes to a harmonious, happy relationship. Ino is an extremely nice person, supportive and empathetic which is a common trait in you. He treats you with a huge respect and care willing to risk his life for your safety. He tends to be needy emotionally and with you valuing passionate emotional ties, you would be more than perfect together. Giving each other all the love and care needed to recharge. You're each other's number one fan. Daily encouragement words and notes are a must. He is very expressive and open about his feelings with honesty and that makes things easier for both of you especially solving issues before growing into conflicts. Ino and you consider helping people who are in need as an honorable duty which creates a sense of union and shared goals between you both you. His favorite thing to do is gaming together while he holds you close.

Gojo Satoru = Your teacher.

You're his favorite student there's no discussion in that. He likes your intellectual creativity and curiosity and how you always ask interesting questions, that also benefits other. He is a cheerful person who got a lot of energy so he appreciates the way you're like him, hyping up your classmates in class or before a missions giving them a big dose of motivation. For you it's easy to have him as your teacher, you have a flexible relationship not only the classroom but also outside school. You often hang out together and enjoy teasing Megumi. He is very open-minded and as an ENFJ you're often expressive about your issues, so he plays his role well in giving you the right advice that would help you grow. Both of you turn the classroom into a lively space mixing serious studying with the humor. He urges his student to be like you. He puts you under a lot of tests and challenges, you're a precious student for him so he wants to make sure you're strong and independent enough to succeed in both your educational and social life. Rewards you a lot, he often treats you sweets.

Geto Suguru = Ex-boyfriend.

ENFJs are givers in relationships they always make sure their partner is loved and cared for, they prioritize their loved ones in everything and of course they expect the same. But it wasn't the case with Geto. Even though he loved you he didn't show it, and always put his goals and interests first, even before you, completely neglecting your emotional needs. Being open to discussion you expressed your feelings to him, standing by your opinion but he repeated this dismissiveness leading to frustration in your relationship that ended with a breakup.

Itadori Yuji = Partner in crime.

The dynamic duo, your friendship is the source of joy for both of you. You and Yuji have an adventurous spirit willing to explore new things together with full enthusiasm, not caring about the possible risks you may face. Energetic duo, feeding on each other's optimism to keep going. You do a lot of fun outdoor activities together. A lot of people think that you are dating. During tasks you merge your efforts and skills focusing on your shared goal. Your determination is fueled by your empathy towards others. You face challenges with open arms knowing that you've got each other's backs no matter how complicated the situation could be. You always succeed in your tasks looking at each other with the proud smiles creating lasting memories.

Thanks for reading, remember this piece of writing is just for entertainment purposes, also imo, so it's not necessarily accurate ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

[wifegideonnav]

saw a post about the fandoms use of the word chussy and how violating and disrespectful it is and it really got me thinking. not going to name the op because I am absolutely not trying to argue with their take which is clearly fueled by very real anger and hurt, and I fully respect their opinion. so please understand that im not trying to start #discourse and anyone who does so on this post will be blocked (eta: please feel free to disagree with this post and let me know that you do/argue your point. by discourse I mean the annoying and pointless brand of internet arguing that we all know and hate). all that being said, here’s my take on the issue:

1. the post raised some excellent points about the desecration of the body and the implications of sexual assault that the nonconsensual alteration of gideons body carries. so first off: this is absolutely an important point and it’s something that needs to be taken into consideration. additionally, the oversexualization of butches is a huge problem and the use of the word chussy undoubtedly plays into this. all of these things must be acknowledged and respected.

2. my analysis of the joking nature the fandom has taken towards gideons chest wound is that this attitude is fueled by grief and discomfort/despair. muir tends to take her characters past their breaking points and explore how that impacts them, and that is a really hard thing to witness as a reader, especially when it’s a character as beloved as gideon, especially when the change from the first book to the third is so stark. imo, people simply don’t know how to handle these feelings, and funnel them into black humor. inappropriate? yeah, probably. but I think what’s crucial here is that this is a coping mechanism for very real feelings that are stirred up by these books. people aren’t being irreverent purely for the sake of it (though there’s definitely some of that too), they’re processing uncomfortable emotions stirred up by this - crucially - fictional character

3. arguably, this reaction was also brought on by muir herself. violence and sex are inextricably tied in this universe. harrow and ianthe have multiple sexually charged scenes that are explicitly violent - the scene where ianthe knifes harrows hand and obviously the bone arm scene. the dios apate scenes are laden with hatred, deception, and a desire to literally murder one of the participants. joli thinks nona and cam are being prostituted. palamedes’s love interest turns out to be murdered, and he tries to kill her killer in return. pyrrha has sex with a corpse. while the sexual aspect of it is never discussed, harrows conception is marked by genocide. even the excerpt of alecto that muir shared earlier this year combines a description of personal struggle and torment with explicit yonic imagery. this is all to say, the concept of gideons wound being partially sexual within the text is not far fetched at all. i would honestly be surprised if alecto doesn’t address this in some way, either in a joking way or a serious way (knowing muir, probably both). for all muir’s faux outrage over the term in the q&a earlier today (technically yesterday), she always knows exactly what she’s doing and dare I say more or less exactly how the fandom is going to react to things. im certain she anticipated that people would draw a connection between the wound and sexuality. now, muir intentionally planting this subtext does not negate any problematic aspects of said implication. but I think it’s important to note that it’s not purely a “fandom joking about serious topics” thing - it also falls on the writer

overall, I think it’s a very nuanced topic, as with pretty much everything pertaining to muirs work. bodily autonomy is a huge theme in tlt and there is a certain flavor of ignoring or defying muirs message in making a joke out of the bodily violation that gideon has suffered. however, again, i a) think the jokes stem from a place of understanding muirs intent and the discomfort that arises due to this and b) maintain that this is not a case of the fandom disrespecting a creators message but rather the fandom running with the context and tone of the source material. and finally, I want to emphasize that this is a fictional character, and while attitudes toward fiction 100% affect reality, I doubt that the people making these jokes would do so if they were aimed at a real person.

i fully invite conversation on this post and I would love to hear what you guys think, particularly butches (I am a lesbian who considers myself gnc but not masc/butch and i would never presume to speak for/over butches, especially on a topic so important). i don’t mean to be a killjoy, but after reading that post and reflecting I do think it’s important to explore the ramifications of these jokes before continuing to make them.

[bisexualamy]

Transition Update #67: 1yr post hysto and 3 months post meta-as-phallo-stage-1

last update: hysto, phallo

Happy 1 year post hysto to me! This was the surgery I was most worried about getting. I had a lot of misconceptions going into my hysto consult, and really only did it to get bottom surgery. I thought I'd have to remove my ovaries (I didn't) and that T is a significant ovarian cancer risk (it isn't). I also had a very, very kind surgeon who was experienced working with trans patients.

Emotionally the hysto was the hardest for me, as the risk of getting pregnant and my cycle were the two things that made me most dysphoric. The recovery for this one was worse than my meta surgery, not in a pain or fatigue sense, but I was constantly checking up on a part of my body that I hated and the immediate post-op symptoms made me very, very dysphoric.

I didn't expect to feel much more comfortable in my body and my maleness when I got my hysto but I was wrong. I've had chronic lower abdominal pain for years because my discomfort with that part of my body caused me to involuntarily tense those muscles. I feel more relaxed in my body than I have been in a long time. Feeling my muscles slowly let go in the months after my hysto was really wonderful.

Before my hysto I was incapable of dating cis men (even though I'm bi) because of the pregnancy anxiety. It was so all-encompassing that I wouldn't even agree to dates with cis men I found attractive and I stayed away from gay clubs that mostly catered to gay men. Now I feel much more comfortable in those spaces and it's shown me what a lot of my cis gay friends have already been telling me which is that I always belonged there. My hysto also made me more comfortable enough in my body to explore trans-exclusive kink events and spaces. For the first time in a very long time I was able to see myself as attractive and not be skeptical of other people's attraction to me.

Phallo Updates:

I'm about 3 months post op the meta stage of my phallo. My next stage is being pushed back a few months so I can get my health and my graft site in better shape to lower complication risk. I had a lot of hair on my stomach and I didn't get enough laser sessions in, and currently my adipose tissue in my graft is too thick to support blood flow to the phallus post-op. I'm working with a nutritionist and lifting more weights to address this issue without focusing on weight loss, because that's better for both my physical and mental health.

All my minor complications went away except for my two-streaming. The surgeons say this is a very minor fistula that they'll patch next surgery. Fistula is another word that gets tossed around a lot when people fearmonger about phallo, and I was definitely scared of it before I went under. But, like everything, fistulas exist on a spectrum and only the extreme cases get spread around. I technically count in the percentage of people who had phallo complications, and all that meant for me was an extra month of at-home healing time, where I could still walk and perform all bodily functions, and my former urethra not closing full after UL. Neither of these affected my day-to-day life, they're just part of the larger process of understanding my new body and adjusting to it.

Anyway, all I'm saying is if phallo is something you want but you're scared by the information you've read online, some of that information is not giving you an accurate picture of reality. People don't usually write reviews for things that were fine but not incredible. Please pursue what's best for your transition and wait to talk to a doctor before you make any conclusions about how safe phallo is for you.

[hetagrammy]

i'm grateful that you listened to the feedback about the problems with that nyo!england fic. the racism in it, especially after the fic moved into the victorian era, and became a very white feminist understanding of the british empire, also bothered me a lot as a woc. one example is how OP described Maia/NZ as a 'little monkey' in chapter 13 (here: archive(dot)ph/pwuuv#selection-18037.204-18037.239) and depicts her as small and bizarrely childlike, even though OP herself said Maia is supposed to be a 20 y/o college-educated Māori woman by then. there was no warning for racism in that chapter unlike how she warned for anti-irish stereotypes in another one, and Maia's weirdly childlike demeanor remains in those scenes not from Evelyn's biased perspective, so it came off as unexamined racism against indigenous people that OP doesn't even think or realize is a problem. she's actually received feedback from poc about problems in her fic already so...idk what to make of the fact that she still hasn't fixed that. i just know i'm not comfortable.

additionally, the fact that she clearly took the concept of Maia from other people in fandom who did a lot of work and research to flesh out a complex female Māori NZ, infantilizing and simplifying NZ and calling her a monkey felt even more disrespectful. i think it's fine to be inspired by other people in fandom (i've seen your own fun take on regency NZ), but not like that.

Response under the cut, apologies for the length

I want to go ahead and say, while I appreciate being notified about this, I don't want my blog to become a forum for dogpiling on the author or making accusations. The critiques presented here are very valid, I just don't want to cause any more trouble than me making that fic recommendation already did.

That being said, the only chapters I had read from that fic were ones that happened to come across my dashboard, and they were centered around Cromwell and the English Civil War, which is an interesting period to me. Knowing these details about later events in the fic now, I can definitely see how that would cause a lot of discomfort. The "monkey" metaphor makes me very uncomfortable, because it is a very loaded term. Though I doubt the author's intention was to offend, it's definitely a term to avoid when writing a non-white character. It's a poor word choice, and it is an odd character choice considering most interpretations I see of Zee tend to have her as very independent and self-assured. Granted, it's not my place to tell people how to do their own characterization, but in this case it is a characterization that sticks out and can carry some unsavory connotations.

I've adhered to the interpretation of Zee as a biracial woman, mostly because from what little I know of New Zealand's history, the Treaty of Waitangi gave the Maori a little more influence and leeway to negotiate with the British crown. That is obviously not to say they were treated well, the treaty was breached numerous times and they were still subjected to heavy discrimination. However, I think that the Maori's position throughout New Zealand's history makes it fitting that its personification would share that heritage. That being said, I don't know nearly enough about the history of New Zealand to meaningfully write a piece examining Zee's relationship with colonialism. There's plenty of people in this fanbase who could do that miles better than I could any day anyway. In my Regency AU I'm still unsure of how much I would examine that, especially because she is a young child in that. It's a complex topic, and definitely not one to half-ass when writing out.

Long story short, writing historical content with any of these characters is something that should be handled with care, but I think that is especially true when it comes to non-white characters.

[rejoicehairpatch]

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[mimzy-writing-online]

Hello. I had a question regarding your post about blind characters. I have a character in my WIP that must cover their eyes.. but it’s blind. He may need to tell people he is blind to explain why he covers his eyes though. I was wondering how I might write this character without offending. Thank you :)

I think I want to start by explaining the “covering blind eyes” trope and why it has become a harmful trope. I think understanding why it’s hurtful helps everyone learn how to handle it better.

I would guess that the “blind people wear sunglasses” trope comes from Hollywood for the specific reason of 1. wanting to signal to the audience that the character is obviously blind and 2. avoid breaking the suspension of disbelief by preventing the audience from catching the sighted actor look at visual stimuli (because disabled characters are almost always played by able actors).

But this changed the way the public expects to experience blindness. If watching a sighted actor wear sunglasses and say he’s blind is all the exposure to the blind community a person has had, that’s the only model of blindness they’ll recognize. If they meet a blind person in real life who doesn’t wear sunglasses, it’s going to break this built perception and cause an uncomfortable cognitive dissonance. 

And then there is the common “cloudy-white blank gaze” that pops up in media. It stems from the fact that cataracts is the most common cause of blindness and the appearance of severe cataracts is a cloudy film in the eyes obscuring the iris and pupil. It can also alter what color a person’s eyes appears to be, making them appear paler and grey in the beginning and then as the cataract advances it becomes more yellow/brown and alters a person’s vision to appear more yellow tinted.

There are lots of other eye conditions that makes the eyes look visibly different. Albinism for instance affects the color and structure of the iris. Eyes might be congenitally misshapen. The muscles might be weak or not work and one or both eyes point significantly outward. Someone who was born blind and experienced no visual stimuli might also have weak muscles around their eyes because they never had a reason to focus their eyes on anything.

And unfortunately humans have the habit of feeling uncomfortable when they meet someone who looks very obviously different from the norm, whether that’s a personal style choice (hair color and style, tattoos, clothing choices) or something they can’t help (a visible disability, skin color, scars). 

To the paragraph above, @gothhabiba replied with:  “it's very weird & ahistorical to claim that racism or ableism are some kind of natural "human" trait.. like frankly it's apologia”

You’re right, I wasn’t thinking beyond that generalization or assumption.

Perhaps a better way to put it is: I was raised in a society where I was taught from childhood to think that there was only one kind of human being to be. White, cis, straight, abled, conservative. That’s a very western thing and that’s a thing I’m going to constantly be unlearning.

Racism and ableism and homophobia aren’t innate, that’s a western thing that was forced onto the rest of the world by colonialism. And because western media created this idea that the world is white, abled, cis, straight, and Christian-value leaning, it taught people to think that was the norm so that seeing someone different from that archetype would cause a cognitive dissonance, which causes discomfort.

And instead of working past that cognitive dissonance to learn more and realize there’s so much more to life than media taught you, society encourages you to ignore that cognitive dissonance by sticking your head in the sand-- or TV screen.

So combine these two tropes or common beliefs together and you get something a little dangerous: the idea that blind people cover their eyes because they look obviously different and they’re ashamed (or should be ashamed) of that.

And if you’re someone who’s just gone blind or who was born blind and you have little to no contact with the blind community, then this societal belief that you should be ashamed of how your eyes look becomes detrimental to your self-esteem and further builds internalized ableism.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve read or watched a blind character cover their eyes with sunglasses because they were ashamed of how their eyes looked. And I distinctly remember a few times where a sighted friend of the character was trying to convince them to stop wearing sunglasses because there’s nothing wrong with looking different--which is true, but it plays into this fantasy of being the perfect abled ally who saves the blind character from being miserable. 

In an ideal world, the character has no reason to believe looking different is a bad thing or diminishes their worth or makes people dislike them. And if they develop this belief, it’s more likely that someone more involved in the disabled community, most likely someone disabled themselves, will set them straight. Or that the character will learn to accept themselves on their own, looks included.

But there are some perfectly valid reasons for any blind person to wear sunglasses. They might have an interest in fashion and sunglasses complete the look they’re going for. They could want to protect their eyes from UV rays while they’re outside. They may experience light sensitivity and sunglasses reduces any discomfort or pain. Those are incredibly common reasons to wear sunglasses whether you’re sighted or blind.

But there are some more complicated situations.

In your words, your character must cover his eyes. You never specified why, so my primary guess is that he has some kind of power that is unpleasant or has devastating affects and the only way to prevent it is to keep his eyes covered. My primary guess stems from this post where an anon and I discussed a retelling of Medusa, a hypothetical blinding of oneself to avoid ever killing anyone ever again, and what I think I would do if I was in that scenario.

So how do you write a blind character who must cover their eyes and avoid some of the complications?

1. Your character must always have the ability to say “fuck off, it’s my business, I don’t have to tell you why I’m blind or why I cover my eyes.”

Most blind people really, really don’t want to get into the nitty-gritty of why they’re blind and how they feel about it and what it’s like being blind with a stranger they’ll never see again or a new acquaintance they don’t know well yet. You have exceptions to that rule where sure, educating the public about blindness is a thing you want to do and you’re committed to helping your community, but I still have days where I don’t want to talk about being blind or disclose my medical crap.

And if someone doesn’t respect their right to their privacy or pushes too much, the blind character is allowed to be angry, is allowed to tell them off and complain without anyone else in the situation vilifying them or saying they’re “overreacting” and “should have just disclosed private information because big deal or whatever.” If they are angry, that’s their right, and it’s not unreasonable, it doesn’t make them a bad person.

2. Your character should not be ashamed of being blind or of covering their eyes. It is a part of their life, they’re used to it by now, even if they weren’t in the beginning.

The shame and internalized ableism is something that should be written about, but that’s for an own-voices story with a blind author. I don’t think an abled person will ever be able to understand how much society expects you to hate yourself and your disability because “being disabled is a tragic thing that ruins your life” and how that does affect your mental health, self esteem, your relationships with others, your medical care, and what kind of accommodations you can get.

3. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few sarcastic lines in response to uncomfortable conversations.

Stranger: so what’s with the...

Blind Character: what’s with what?

S: the... you know

BC: you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific

S: Your eyes?

BC: They’re... eyes

S: but you’re...

BC: Blind?

S: uh...

BC: yeah, I’m blind. *walks away*

Or this conversation:

S: *to some other character* so why are his eyes covered?

(author’s note: which, honestly, that’s fucking rude. At least have the guts to ask me yourself)

BC: If I look anyone in the eye they instantly perish.

*awkward silence*

BC: instantly.

Friend: It’s truly tragic

BC: *melancholic* that’s how I lost my sister. *chokes up* She was so young

Or this conversation:

S: Why are you wearing that?

BC: It’s called fashion Karen!

Or this conversation:

S: are you like... blind?

BC: yes?? why wouldn’t I be?? Wait, are you sighted? Are you one of those sighted people? You poor thing! What caused you to gain your sight? Do you have a car? A bike? Were you born sighted? What’s it like to see color? Do you miss not having to see 

God, I want a chance to try that last one. I haven’t interacted with a stranger in almost a year. One day...

4. Honestly, it’d also be cool if someone’s reaction to your character covering their eyes was like, “cool sunglasses,” or “cool *insert random character, even one you made up* cosplay,” (which is ten times funnier if this character is a notable figure in modern society like an actor who people might cosplay). 

5. You know, if he’s covering his eyes with some kind of blindfold, he should totally have custom blindfolds for his moods. Like, I have a mask that says “suck it up buttercup” and another that says “not today” because sometimes that’s the mood. And sometimes the mood is one of my floral masks, and sometimes the mood is my cat mask.

So, just some thoughts. I hope that helps.

Edit: a commenter said: “op, unless i'm mistaken this kind of reads like anon meant the character ISN'T blind but lies about being blind to explain covering their eyes? it seems like they made a typo on the word "isn't"”

So my original response to the question was based on the assumption that the character is blind. However,

If the character is not blind, then do not under any circumstances have them lie and say they’re blind to escape a mild inconvenience. 

It’s better to have the character actually explain the situation or straight up leave the conversation or invent a more ridiculous lie than to perpetuate the very real stereotype and misconception that there are people who fake being blind and therefore it’s okay to discriminate or harass them if you even suspect they’re faking.

Do not under any circumstances perpetuate that stereotype. Do not harass someone because you don’t think they’re blind enough.

[myonepiece]

hi i was wondering if you could do some headcannons asl + law (separately) with a male s/o whos maybe more about open their relationship and basically a non shy!male. sfw & nsfw would be appreciated but its up to you !! enjoy your day/night and just know i love ur account :)

Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Law with an extroverted S/O (open about their relationship) 

SFW + NSFW

Ace x non shy!male,   Sabo x non shy!male,   Luffy x non shy!male,

Law x non shy!male

Description: HCs of Ace, Sabo, Luffy, & Law (seperate) with an extroverted male s/o who is open about theur relationship

Warnings: partially NSFW 

A/N: I need more male reader content I think I literally only have 2 posts 😅 I’m not 100% confident in my writing for male readers, I’m still learning and I apologize if there’s anything wrong with this & pls tell me if there is 💕 

Ace NSFW, Luffy, Sabo, Law under the cut

SFW

Ace really wants someone who is open about their relationship with him, who’s proud to be dating him and shows him off. Ace wants to be able to show him off to everyone without making him uncomfortable, he loves that not only can he hug him and kiss him and smother him in affection publicly, but that he’ll initiate it himself aswell

he likes picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder in front of the crew, hearing their saracastic remarks to quit it, of course none of them would really have a problem with it in the first place, they loved seeing their brother so happy and in love- because it’s obvious Ace is in love. one of his favorite things to do is to find his boyfriend on deck and run over to scoop him into his arms and plop him on his lap for sleepy time

the fact that he gets to hold his hand without worrying about his embarrassment or discomfort, mostly because his boyfriend is the one who grabs his hand first, makes him all giddy and bubbly. it gives him a sense of perotection, that his boyfriend is by his side and Ace by his, it’s an easy way to let everyone else know that Ace is with him and they shouldn’t try anything

telling stories about him and their relationship, the special moments and the funny moments, telling them to the crew and laughing and listening to them “oooo” and “awhh” is another one of Ace’s favorite things. not only Ace loves how comfortable and open he is, but the Whitebeard crew does too- hearing embarrassing stories about their brother or seeing how whipped he is and teasing him for it. Whitebeard loves knowing that Ace has someone to look after him when he’s gone, and to give him the love that he deserves- Whitebeard is like Ace’s boyfriend’s #1 fan, huge supporter of their relationship and anyone who isn’t is gonna deal with him & the rest of the crew

he’s a sucker for his lover’s mushy love confessions and compliments, saying them so boldly and shamelessly in front of people gives him butterflies in his stomach and makes him blush, yes Ace can get flustered

NSFW

the public dirty talk is just- he’ll go up and put his hands around his boyfriend’s torso and whisper the perviest things in his ear “your ass looks nice today”, “I can see the hickies I left last night” “no ones at the back of the boat, how bout I go bend you over the railing hm?” 

and if he do the same to Ace? whoo boy, he goes weak in the knees and I’m not kidding, whimpers right there, or if he’s more fiery that night, he growls

Ace has no problem kissing his s/o in public, and if it turns into a makeout session, so be it. however he tries to keep those public makeouts short so none of the crew get uncomfortable. Ace will keep him on his lap until the two can go somewhere more private

as much as Ace loves how open his boyfriend is with their relationship, he doesn’t want him to tell any of the crew what goes on in the bedroom when Ace is the sub, that does happen- Ace is a switch with more dom tendencies, but still a switch

Ace will literally go up to his boyfriend on deck and grope his ass from behind, using his own body to shield his actions from anyone else’s eyes. and he sometimes will just boldly grab his boyfriend’s dick/groin, as long as Whitebeard doesn’t see

SFW

Sabo can be confident or flustered, no in between. he’s so happy that his boyfriend is completely okay with their relationship and letting everyone know about it. he feels like that means he’s not ashamed to be with Sabo, it also means that if Sabo is ever feeling down it won’t be weird for him to find his boyfriend, and Sabo wants to be tehre for him as much as he can and he wouldn’t be able to do that as well if they had to hide their relationship

he likes that everyone at in the R.A. knows his lover and say hi when passing, Koala and him are like best friends- that’s probably the only part of his boyfriend’s open-nesss that he doesn’t like, Koala and him always share humiliating stories and tease Sabo about everything

Sabo is touch starved, thank god his boyfriend is 100% okay with pda, seriously Sabo has to/wants to hold his hand every second. public hugs, hand holding, and nose kisses are a must. Sabo adores kissing him on his nose or cheek. Koala always fake gags when Sabo is the one to initiate any affection, but when his boyfriend does it Koala always “awhh”s 

just being able to sit with his boyfriend on his lap, or sitting on his boyfriend’s lap is amazing, providing a sense of peace in the hectic life of his 

Sabo gives little gifts and trinkets to him, and always shows off the ones he gets from him. Sabo is constantly talking or bragging about him, and always blushes whenever it’s reversed 

NSFW

Sabo is pretty shy when it comes to sex/sex related things, he likes it to be private

however, he’s a sucker for his boyfriend, so if he wants to get touchy in public, Sabo won’t exactly stop him- neck kisses and groping are things Sabo loves, giving and recieving

at least with pda being a normal with the two of them, when Sabo is needy and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waitst to pull him against him specifically holding his ass against his front, it’s not deemed suspicious by anyone 

as for hikeys, he doesn’t really like to be seen with them, but he loves seeing his boyfriend adorning them and he loves seeing him wear them proudly

Sabo likes keeping his hand on his lover’s thigh, sliding it closer and closer to a certain part and feeling his boyfriend shiver and harden under his touch

he makes subtle suggestive comments, flying under the radar so that only him and his boyfriend understand, though sometimes his boyfriend gives it away on accident, or not, and Sabo turns red

SFW

Luffy is not shy whatsoever, constantly clinging to his boyfriend and with his grin growing even wider when he hugs Luffy tighter against him

numerous kisses and hugs and touches throughout the day, not a second he’s not holding on to his lover. piggy back rides and shoulder rides are a given, and having his partner cling onto him like a koala leaves Luffy grinning for the rest of the day

Luffy is overall jsut himself, not really changing anything except he’s a bit more lovey-dovey and sentimental, he puts his hat on him a lot and is often in extremely close proximity, never once leaving his side- and Luffy feels secure and safe when his boyfriend returns the action

during fights Luffy loves to tell everyone who he’s dating, yelling things like “I’m dating him!” “Go ______! I love you!!”

ah that’s another thing, constantly saying “I love you”, every greeting and goodbye and moments in between is littered with the words, always accompanied by a rather sloppy kiss 

Luffy doesn’t care who’s watching, he’s just as open as his boyfriend- 10x more actually

one thing he does like though, that not many people would think about, is purely having someone waiting for him, staying at his side and embracing him anytime. Luffy has had his fair share of losses, he doesn’t show it but deep down he’s riddled with guilt and pain and sadness and fear, he doesn’t want to lose another person. holding his lover after a battle, after a nightmare, makes him feel better because he knows he’s still there with Luffy. being able to run to him and let down his captain facade and just cry into his partner is something that Luffy desperately needs and loves

NSFW

Luffy is shameless, the most shameless op character, there is nothing he won’t do in front of the crew, yeah I’m implying public sex- deal with it

Luffy will walk right up to him and start a heated makeout session, ignoring any protests from the crew- he will fuck him right then and there, annd also wouldn’t mind being taken right then and there- or probably at least moving to a different part of the deck because he knows that his crew would be very uncomfrtable at that, it’s not embarrassing to do it he just cares about his crew’s feelings too

but on the back deck, against the walls, in the crowsnest, all free territory- Luffys even done it with him on the ladder up to the crows nest, those rubber arms are very useful

speaking of rubber arms, he has like his own version of bondage, purely cosisting of his arms and legs and hands, wrapping his arms around his boyfriends arms so he can hold them behind his while Luffy fucks him doggy style

Luffy is also definitely a switch, down for any position too, serioulsy those rubber powers are no joke, he can do any position, though he does prefer close contact ones where the two of them can hold each other

Luffy is KINKY- yes I said he is kinky! he doesn’t know what a kink is nor that he one (many) he just thinks it’s something he likes. but, no talks of another person, no pain to either unless it’s spanking, no blood, no degradation unless his boyfriend asks for it (he’s not very good at it though)

Luffy is loud, he loves that his lover is loud too, and is fine wwith him leaving hickeys or scratch marks- because Luffy is totally fine adorning those himself

SFW

Law is not very open about his relationship, I mean he’s completely fine telling his crew and the strawhats and the kid pirates, the crews he knows, but telling anyone else wworries him because he doesn’t really want him to be a known associate because people would come after him to get to Law

he would prefer if his boyfriend kept their reltionship details private, he doesn’t want to be embarrassed by any stories he has of him, and he likes to be very private man overall, he would actually get quite irritated f his lover is very open about what happens in their reltionshp- again Law has no problem about allies or somewhat allies knowing, everyone could know iabout the relationship to be honest, if they wouldn’t all go after his boyfriend because of the connection

Law does secretly love how “okay” he is being in a reltionship with him, dating such a broken and “evil” man. Law is actually very insecure, hiding it well though, and he loves that he has someone to show him the love he rarely ever felt when he was younger, having someone tell him he’s sweet and charming and kind and loveable hit Law right in his heart

that last paragraph of Luffy’s sfw kind of sums up Law’s take on his boyfriend’s open-ness

Law is touch starved, on the ship or in private on an island, with no or barely any people around, he’ll hold his hand and/or have an arm around his wait or shoulder, and he doesn’t mind if his lover does the same. in public if his boyfriend were to initiate any physical affection, Law would try to get him to tone it down, keep it minimal, but he doesn’t want to be rude either so he would go along with it to some extent

in private though he’s touchy and he really wwants to be praised, he also praises his boyfriend a lot because he is just so whipped for him, often thanking him for loving someone like Law, being there for him and offering a safe haven that he rarely has the chance to have- if ever

NSFW

again, Law is a private man, he doesn’t want to make his crew. too uncomfortable, but if his boyfriend were to start something or Law is feeling especially needy, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell the crew to leave the room or simply gare at them 

he likes flustering his boyfriend, seeing someone who is usually so shameless, blush and stutter and get shy, is one of Law’s favorite things

he’s a major tease, similar to Ace with his dirty talk, except the deepness of his voice makes it sound 100x dirtier. one can’t fluster him by whispering dirty talk, his lover just can’t, he can make him hard but flustered is a no go. however, saying something dirty/suggestive out loud infront of people, that would do something- most likely resulting in either a scolding, punishment sex, or both

grind on him and he’ll growl, on certain occasions he has no problem throwig you over his shoulder and. taking you away from the public eye, but don’t try to do the same to him- Law is the dominant one in public and 8/10 of the time during sex

he’s not opposed to being the bottom, but he prefers to top

he lovex that his boyfriend is completely fine with him leaving hickeys and scratches and. just marks in general, it shows he’s taken and makes Law feel proud- Law however likes his marks to be hidden 

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 10 first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Palaver) 

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Meet the Hotties

Since there have been only 7 or 8 brutally hot men in this show so far, which is clearly not sufficient, this episode drops three fresh ones right from the jump. Meet true loves cultivation partners travel buddies SongXiao. The ethereal one, Xiao Xingchen...

The forceful one, Song Lan...

...and their nemesis Xue Yang.

Xue Yang has some Yin Metal...oh hai I just noticed, his name is Yang and he has Yin Metal. Which...probably doesn’t mean anything. When he first appears he’s so fey and over the top he could be taken for a comic relief character, except for all of the corpses he’s scattered around, and the one moment where he is caught off guard in the fight and looks genuinely angry. 

Later, of course, we discover that he’s a fucking psycho an extremely complex person with a fascinating range of emotions, none of which are good. 

Did OP make a fighting fanvid just for this charming asshole? She did. Spoiler: Hanguang Jun fucks him up. [Is OP a shameless self-linker? She is.]

(more after the cut!)

Not Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting

Wei Wuxian tells Jiang Cheng not to join the fight but just to watch Xiao Xingchen’s moves; then he proceeds to join the fight by using his web shooter binding talisman to keep Xue Yang off guard and in the field of battle. 

Do as I say, not as I do, bro.

It’s all right it’s all right it’s all right, Cocaine

Far from comic relief, Xue Yang is one of the strongest fighters in the show and is a master of his own variety of crafty tricks--the chemical variety. He launches a devastating white powder attack at our gang. His powder attacks later in the show will blind Song Lan and will poison the junior cultivators. 

This powder attack does...nothing. Well okay then. 

Fanmeet

After Xue Yang has been properly suspended tied up to a rafter, the cultivators introduce themselves, and Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng proceed to squee over their idols. Lan Wangji drops some flowery titles for both of them and offers to organize a mass donation of their brand of spring water. 

Jiang Cheng is so happy he shows nearly all of his teeth without being angry. 

Xue Yang butts in to harsh on their fandom and call them hypocrites. Can’t let the nerds have too good of a time. 

Two Minutes in the out of the Closet

Now we have an interesting moment in which characters discuss queerness directly, albeit briefly. Wei Wuxian searches Xue Yang to see if he’s carrying the Yin Iron. 

Most other instances in which queerness is lampshaded in CQL are about Lan Wangji’s discomfort, or growing comfort, with Wei Wuxian and his stripping flirting. 

In this instance, Wei Wuxian fondles Xue Yang’s chest and ass while Xue Yang  asks “what will people think about this M/M action?”

We Wuxian responds, for the whole room to hear, that he DGAF; in fact, he’s proud of being a disaster bi “cheeky.”

I don't give a damn 'Bout my reputation I've never been afraid of any Qi deviation An' I don't really care If ya think I'm strange I ain't gonna change An' I'm never gonna care 'Bout my bad reputation

While Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, Lan Wangji takes note. 

Clan with a Plan 

Nie Huaisang and his entourage arrive, and once again the Netflix subtitles take away the meaning of his words as he calls out for Wei-Xiong, Lan-Xiong, and Jiang-Xiong; Netflix has him using surnames only, like an English public school lad. 

The group decides to send Xue Yang to Nie Mingjue for judgement. Meng Yao invites them all to come hang with Nie Mingjue at the Unclean Realm, to decide how to best fuck up the Wen clan.

Note: “Unclean” seems to be an accurate translation but it has particular connotations for western audiences who grew up steeped in the Bible or Monty Python. Like, “would you like to come to the plague castle?” type of connotations. 

Meng Yao: Can you all come with me? I’ve got another hot man to add to this episode. 

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian look deeply into each other’s eyes in order to decide if they’re going to go to Unclean Realm with the Nie gang , and they opt yes. 

SongXiao do the same thing and opt no, with a speech about how the clans are a bunch of eugenicist snobs, or words to that effect. 

This speech convinces Wei Wuxian to immediately join their fan club.  He is...really not cut out for clan life. 

Night Swimming Hunting

September's coming soon I'm pining for the moon And what if there were two Side by side in orbit Around the fairest sun?

Wei Wuxian praises SongXiao for their egalitarian values, and compares himself and Lan Wangji to them, giving Lan Wangji one of his sweetest, warmest smiles.

This moment is clearly embarrassing to Lan Wangji, but most things are embarrassing to Lan Wangji, and unlike the “shut up!” moment in Episode 09, this time it doesn’t make him angry, barely earning a tiny glare. 

It’s different this time for Wei Wuxian as well, because he’s not teasing or being provocative; he’s genuinely moved to tell this roomful of people that he cherishes Lan Wangji. 

It does make Jiang Cheng angry, and he tells Wei Wuxian, not for the first time, that because of his attachment to Lan Wangji, he should not come home. 

This is a standard jealous response from Jiang Cheng, and he doesn’t mean it...yet.  But there’s a direct line between each of these false banishments, and the moment when he actually does banish the two of them from the Jiang family shrine. 

Baoshan Sanren

Wei Wuxian quickly goes from being cheerfully aflutter over these kindred spirits, to being stunned and even devastated when he discovers an unexpected family connection. 

Xiao Xingchen: My grand master is Baoshan Sanren

For once Lan Wangji doesn’t seem all that attuned to WWX’s feelings, while Jiang Chang super is. 

Jiang Cheng: Should I say something? Words? About feelings? Yeah no.

Outside of the compound, Xiao Xingchen and Wei Wuxian talk about WWX’s mother. In this moment we see how kind Xiao Xingchen is, when he carefully softens the blow of his revelation that Baoshan Sanren is not accepting students or visitors or new patients at this time or at any time. 

I hope that finding Baoshan Sanren is what Wei Wuxian did with his solo road trip at the end of Episode 50. 

XXC and WWX acknowledge their clan relationship, which takes Wei Wuxian another step away from his membership in the Jiang clan, and creates a filial obligation to his newfound shishu that he will fulfill much later, in Yi City.

Once again Jiang Cheng sees and understands Wei Wuxian’s pain, and gazes at him with love and concern, but he doesn’t reach out or speak. They are not a reaching out & speaking pair of people. Once we see their whole family together, we will understand why.

Farewell to SongXiao

When SongXiao hit the road, Lan Wangji watches them with a look of pure yearning, and then turns that look, with total openness, to Wei Wuxian. 

Lan Wangji: Ow

The open road and the chivalrous path pull equally at both WWX and LWJ, but Lan Wangji lives under a weight of formal obligation that he will carry for his entire life. During WWX’s second life he will find ways to compromise between the forces that are pulling him, but not escape them.

Wei Wuxian’s obligations are just as heavy, eventually costing him his family and his life, but they are dictated only by his heart and conscience. Yet he never suggests that Lan Wangji should follow his path. He constantly insists on LWJ’s attention, but he accepts that their roads are different, which is part of what makes Lan Wangji’s declaration on the Carp Tower steps so touching; he is giving Wei Wuxian something he never, ever asked for. 

Here, WWX acknowledges both of their sorrows with a nod, and they walk away together to play their parts in the coming war. 

Keep an Eye on the Psycho

Nie Huaisang sighs in admiration of the departing hotties, while Xue Yang tells Xiao Xingchen not to forget him. Which is very, very, very good advice.

Meng Yao is put in charge of guarding Xue Yang. I hope that doesn’t awaken anything in him. 

Soundtrack: 1. Joan Jett, Bad Reputation  2. REM, Night Swimming 3. INXS, Devil inside

Smut Prompt: If the story of Wei Wuxian searching Xue Yang does get out among the clans, what will it have morphed into by the time Clan Leader Yao hears it?

[neworleansspecial]

There’s been a push lately of including more trans characters and trans headcanons in fanwork lately, and that’s a good thing! However, most of the time, the content that gets promoted is by cis creators as opposed to transgender creators speaking from their real world experiences. While it’s important to boost trans voices, that’s not to say you can’t or shouldn’t write trans characters as a cis person. 

Please note that this post is not an attack on cis writers! Far from it, in fact. I would say the majority of the time, cis people writing harmful content are doing it unintentionally- they probably just don’t realize that it’s a problem. The main goal here is to educate on what’s harmful, why it’s harmful, and what to do instead. In addition, some trans people, especially young trans people, can fall into these tropes too- after all, all of us were raised in the same cis-centric society. 

That said, trans people can write about these tropes if they choose- we’re allowed to discuss our own experiences or those we identify with in a way cis authors can’t or shouldn’t because of our different relationship to gender. If you’re transgender and you write using these tropes, that’s okay! But remember to be self-critical, too; are you writing these tropes because you enjoy them or because they reflect your experiences, or are you writing them because that’s what cis people promote or it’s what you think trans narratives must be?

This particular post will focus on common tropes in writing about transgender characters, and why they’re harmful, as well as ways to counteract them in your writing. As this is a long post, it’s under a read more. Thank you to @jewishbucke​ for all his help and support.

For the purposes of this post, let’s lay out some basic definitions so that we’re all operating on the same playing field and understanding.

Cisgender (cis): Someone who identifies with the gender they were assigned at birth.

Transgender (trans): Someone whose gender differs from the one they were assigned at birth. Trans people may or may not experience one or more kinds of dysphoria. The level of dysphoria a trans person experiences is not relevant to whether or not they are transgender. 

Dysphoria: The discomfort caused by a disconnect between someone’s gender and the one they were assigned at birth. Dysphoria can be physical (related to the body), emotional (related to their feelings/sexuality), or social (related to other’s perceptions of them). 

Gender Expression: The way a person outwardly expresses themselves and their gender. This can include but is not limited to pronouns, clothes, hair style, and name.

Transmasculine: A transmasculine person is a trans person whose transition is aimed at becoming more masculine. Trans men are transmasculine people, but not all transmasculine people are trans men. Transmasculine people are transmisogyny exempt (TME), meaning they do not experience the specific combination of transphobia and misogyny that affects transfeminine people. 

Transfeminine: A transfeminine person is a trans person whose transition is aimed at becoming more feminine. Trans women are transfeminine people, but not all transfeminine people are trans women. Transfeminine people are transmisogyny affected (TMA), meaning they experience the specific combination of transphobia and misogyny directed towards transfeminine people.

That being said, my point of view making this post is as a transmasculine TME person. I can offer my personal perspectives and experiences, but I cannot speak over or for the specific experiences unique to transfeminine people and trans women. If you are transfeminine or a trans woman, you are absolutely welcome to add on or correct me if in my words, I said something harmful to you and your community. We are all in this together and it is never my aim to overstep boundaries on something I do not understand. So, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get into tropes common in transgender narratives. 

The Cis Savior

To start with, one of the most common tropes is the Cis Savior trope. This is commonly associated with the Trans/Cis trope, which I’ll elaborate more on later. The Cis Savior is often not the main character, but a supporter of a transgender main character. They can be a close friend, a family member, a love interest, or a coworker. 

In this narrative, the trans person is engaging in behavior harmful to themselves, often related to methods of their transition. The most common one you may have seen or written is the transmasculine person binding unsafely. In that example, a transmasculine person binds (flattens) their chest with something such as ace bandages, which are extremely harmful and can damage their ribs. The Cis Savior finds out about this behavior, scolds the trans person, and purchases or gives them a safe alternative like a binder designed to safely compress breasts. While this example is probably the most common one, it’s not the only one. In general, the Cis Savior trope is when a cis person finds out that a trans person is hurting themselves in some way and rectifies it with superior knowledge of safe practices and/or better resources than the trans person has access to.

The reason this is harmful is because it perpetuates two common misconceptions: first, that all trans people hate their bodies to the point of willingly harming themselves to relieve this self-hatred, and second, that cis people know better about trans issues and bodies than trans people themselves. That’s not to say that neither of these things is impossible. Trans people are not a monolith and there probably are trans people like that, at least for some point of time in their lives. In some situations, especially in reference to trans kids or people who have recently realized they’re trans, it’s possible that they don’t know their behavior could be harmful, or that there are safer alternatives. The problem lies in the repeated framing of this trope as the only kind of trans person and the idea that they can and will be destructive towards themselves until a cis person who knows better comes along. 

Instead of writing narratives like these, consider the following alternatives: 

A trans character behaves safely and explains how and why.

A trans character behaving unsafely is supported and educated by another trans person as opposed to a cis person (although this is something you probably shouldn’t be writing as a cis writer- some narratives are better left to us when it comes to the actual experiences of being transgender. Write about trans characters, not being trans!).

A trans character looking into transition on their own finds a supportive community. 

The Gender-Non-Conforming Trans Person

The Gender-Non-Conforming (GNC) Trans Person is a trans character who presents excessively similar to the gender assigned at birth as opposed to their actual gender- the trans man who wears dresses and makeup, the trans woman who has a buzzcut and hates skirts, etc. Like is pointed out above in the “Cis Savior” trope, trans people like this can and do exist! Some trans people are GNC for various reasons- personal style, sexuality, being closeted, or just because they feel like it. 

Narratives about the GNC Trans Person are very focused on the trans person presenting in a way that does not align with their gender, and is often No-Op (Does not have or want gender confirmation surgery) and No-HRT (Does not have or want hormone replacement therapy). It’s also often combined with the “Misgendered” trope. Trans characters in this trope seem to be extremely against presenting the way “expected” of their gender. For example, think of a transfeminine character not wanting to shave, be it their legs, armpits, face, or any other part of their body that cis women are expected to shave. This can lead to the character being mocked, dismissed, told they are not “really” trans, fetishized, and/or misgendered. These characters are often described as not passing as their gender.

This trope is harmful because it plays into the rhetoric that trans people are faking it or attention seeking. Like stated above, GNC trans people can and do exist. In fact, in my personal experience, a lot of trans people are GNC in some way or another. What is and isn’t considered conforming to gender is very strictly based on cisheterocentric ideas of gender presentation, and fails to take into account the intricacies of being transgender, especially if the person in question is also LGB. Trans people don’t have to conform to the restrictive societal views of what acceptable gender presentation is in order to be “really” trans. The stereotype of highly GNC trans people comes from the idea that they’re choosing to be transgender as a means of attention seeking, which simply isn’t true. Trans people didn’t choose to be trans- it’s just another part of them, like their eye color or the shape of their nose.

Instead of writing narratives like these, consider the following alternatives:

A trans character having fun with gender presentation- why not shop from both sides of the store?

A trans character expressing gender-nonconformity in smaller ways.

Multiple trans characters with different gender presentations.

The Misgendered Trans Person

The Misgendered Trans Person is another common narrative in which a trans character is misgendered, whether it be on accident or on purpose, by a cis character. This can be a family member, an old friend, or a complete stranger. This trope also includes dead-naming, the act of referring to a person by a “dead” name that they no longer use as part of their transition.

When it comes to this trope, it’s usually with a narrative similar to the Cis Savior- the trans character is defended by a nearby cis one. More often than not, the Misgendered Trans Person trope is also combined frequently with the Forced Outing. In this story, a trans person is referred to by pronouns they do not use- in particular, those associated with their assigned gender at birth- as a means of causing angst and discomfort. They may also be called their dead name, also to create drama in the story. For example, consider a trans character hanging out with their family, and their mother uses the wrong pronouns for them, causing the character discomfort. This also includes narratives about a character realizing they’re trans, in which the character is referred to by the wrong pronouns and their dead name until they realize they are transgender. More to that point, as a cis author, you should never write a story about someone realizing they’re trans- as said above, write about transgender characters, not about being transgender.

This is harmful because it minimizes the very real pain and dysphoria that can be caused by misgendering or dead-naming. Changing names and pronouns are often the very first steps trans people take in their transition, and an instrumental part of their identities and journeys. Consider it in terms of your face. You have your own very specific face and it is an integral part of yourself and identity. Imagine someone repeatedly insisting that it’s different. They tell you that your eyes are a different color, or your jaw is shaped differently. It would be uncomfortable, and it’s wrong. Obviously this isn’t an exact or fair comparison, but names and pronouns are not just words when it comes to identity and trans narratives. 

In terms of alternatives to this trope, there aren’t any. 

There is no acceptable or reasonable way to write a character being misgendered or dead-named as a cis author. This is especially true when you take it upon yourself to make up a dead name for a character. No excuses, no arguments. Just don’t do it. 

The Self-Hating Trans Person

The Self-Hating Trans Person trope is where a trans person’s dysphoria, be it physical, emotional, or social, is so extreme that they hate themselves and their bodies in an all-consuming way. This character is incapable of loving themselves and will often rely on a cis character for positivity, support, or self-esteem.

It would be impossible to acknowledge this trope without considering its ubiquity- while the description above is clear and severe, it overlaps often with many other tropes and less intense versions of it have a tendency to appear in most trans narratives. It’s associated with the trans character wanting to be cis (often worded as wanting to be “normal”), behaving in ways dangerous to themselves, and/or refusing to accept comfort. For example, a couple common uses of this trope are unsafe binding in transmasculine people, self harm or mutilation, and conversion therapy. The Self-Hating Trans Person narrative typically involves the character being aggressive toward people who question or try to combat their self hatred as well. 

As touched upon in the Cis Savior trope, this is harmful because it perpetuates the stereotype that trans people must hate themselves, and be willing to go to extreme lengths because of it. Plenty of trans people don’t care that they’re trans, or even like that about themselves. The idea that being trans is something that should make a person hate themselves implies that it’s bad or wrong, which it isn’t. There are some trans people who do have these negative feelings- and of course deserve all the support they want and need- but plenty of trans people don’t feel that way. Trans people can and do love themselves and their bodies. Some trans people don’t have severe dysphoria, or may not really have any at all. Trans character’s narratives shouldn’t always be about suffering.

Instead of writing narratives like these, consider the following alternatives:

A trans person who loves themselves and their trans body. (Be conscientious of straying into fetishistic territory, though- trans people are more than their bodies! When in doubt, ask.)

A trans person whose unhappiness is about something else, like losing a pet.

A trans person being loved and supported by their friends. 

The Forced Outing

The Forced Outing trope usually goes hand-in-hand with the Misgendered Trans Person. This trope includes a trans person, either closeted (not out, pre-transition) or stealth (not out, post-transition) having their identity as transgender being revealed to one or more people without their permission.

When it comes to Forced Outings, this usually happens around a cis love-interest, and is typically followed by said love-interest assuring the trans character that this doesn’t matter to them. Another common response is the trans character becoming a victim of violence, such as a beating or sexual assault. For example, a trans person gets “caught changing” and is outed to the person who sees them, without their consent. The “caught changing” is another common way this trope is expressed, usually in a bedroom, bathroom or locker room. Sometimes there’s a happy ending. Sometimes there isn’t.

It should be clear why this trope is harmful- outing someone, be it as transgender or gay or any other LGBT+ identity, is not just disrespectful, but it is extremely dangerous. Just because you wouldn’t react poorly doesn’t mean others are the same. Outing a trans person in real life could get them hurt really badly, or even killed, on top of being outright rude and presumptuous. While this is fiction, it’s important to recognize that the media we consume affects the way we view real world situations. In your story, things may turn out fine, but the harsh reality is that in real life, it usually doesn’t. Trans people can and do get killed when they’re outed. Besides that, it follows along with the rhetoric that someone is “lying” if they don’t immediately disclose that they’re transgender. Trans people do not have to tell you that they’re trans, especially if they don’t know you. 

Instead of writing narratives like these, consider the following alternative: 

A trans person already being out to and accepted by their loved ones.

The Predatory Trans Person

The Predatory Trans Person is usually same-gender-attracted (SGA) and/or transfeminine. They prey on cis people by coercing them into romantic or sexual relationships. Sometimes the trans person is considered predatory because they didn’t out themselves beforehand, or they use their being transgender as a means of guilting someone into having sex with them. It often overlaps with the PIV trope.

These narratives often revolve around sexual situations, and tend to focus on the cis partner as the main character. It prioritizes the comfort and feelings of the cis person. They’re uncomfortable, but can’t say it for fear of being seen as transphobic, or making their partner angry. For example, the cis character and trans character go on a few dates, and the trans character is presumed cis until they get to the bedroom. The trans character is pre-op and “convinces” the cis person to have sex with them anyway, despite them being uncomfortable. The most common form of this narrative is the transmisogynistic telling of a trans lesbian “coercing” a cis lesbian into sex.

This is harmful for two reasons- first and foremost, it paints trans people as being inherently predatory. It implies that trans people are only trans in order to have sex with those who otherwise wouldn’t be interested in them, reinforcing a long-standing transphobic notion that being transgender is related to sexual deviance and/or fetishes. Trans people are not inherently predatory. Trans people are not just rapists in disguise. Second of all, it makes assumptions about the genitals of trans people. Some are pre-op or no-op, of course, but not all of us are. Some trans people have had bottom surgery. Some trans men have penises, some have vaginas. Some trans women have vaginas, some have penises. And even those who haven’t had bottom (gender confirmation) surgery are still allowed and able to enjoy sex with the genitals they have, and use language regarding their genitals that they feel most comfortable with. There’s nothing wrong with that. 

Instead of writing narratives like these, consider the following alternatives:

A trans person having sex with another trans person.* 

A trans person and a cis person having consensual sex.*

A trans person participating in nonsexual intimacy with their partner.

The Genderbend

The Genderbend actually refers to two common transphobic tropes; the first is headcanoning a cis character as being trans as the opposite gender. In other words, headcanoning a cis woman as a trans man, or a cis man as a trans woman. 

It also refers to the common fandom trope of genderbending (also known as cisswap) to make a character of one gender into the “opposite,” typically associated with changing their physical characteristics to match this new assigned gender.

Narratives about the Genderbend trope rely on two primary assumptions. They assume every character is cis by default, and that certain characteristics are inherent to certain genders. The cis to trans version of this trope often focuses on a “coming out” story in which the character realizes they are trans and comes out to their loved ones before pursuing social and/or medical transitioning. 

Cisswap, on the other hand, completely avoids the concept of being transgender, and instead makes the character into the “opposite” gender while they’re still cis. This often comes with physical changes, such as a character made into a girl getting wider hips and a more “feminine” facial structure, as is associated with cis women.

These narratives are harmful because of the assumptions they make about all characters/people being cis by default, and that these characters must have the common physical characteristics associated with that body type. The Genderbend in which a cis character is headcanoned as the “opposite” gender perpetuates a harmful rhetoric that trans people are really just their assigned gender at birth with a different presentation. It pushes the idea that transfeminine people are men in dresses and transmasculine people are self-hating women, both of which are misconceptions behind a lot of transphobic violence people face. 

Cisswap relies on the idea that presentation or physical characteristics equate to gender, and that in order to be a gender, someone must look a certain way. This is not only harmful to trans people, but to any person who does not fit strict western binary beauty standards. It also fails to acknowledge that gender is not a simple binary of man or woman, but a spectrum that includes a multitude of identities. It should also be noted that the Cisswap trope relies on standards of gender and presentation that are intersexist, racist, and antisemitic as well. In general, the Cisswap trope is harmful to many marginalized groups of people, including but not limited to trans people.

Instead of writing narratives like these, consider the following alternatives:

Headcanoning/writing a character as being trans while keeping their gender the same.

A character being nonbinary.

Creating new OCs who are trans.

The Bottom Trans Man/Top Trans Woman (PIV in Trans/Cis Relationships)

The PIV (Penis in Vagina Sex) Trope is exclusive to Trans/Cis relationships, and typically revolves around same gender relationships. In the PIV trope, a pre-op trans person has penis-in-vagina sex with their cis partner. 

In these narratives, the focus is very heavy on the pre-op genitalia of the trans person in the relationship. It’s most commonly seen in m/m fanfiction, in which the trans man has vaginal sex with his cis partner, but also exists in f/f fic in which the trans woman engages in penetrative sex with her partner’s vagina. That’s not to say that trans people can’t or don’t enjoy sex this way, but in this particular trope, it is specifically written in a way that focuses in a fetishistic way on the genitals of trans people and makes broad assumptions about the bodies trans people have and the types of sex they enjoy. These narratives write all trans men as bottoms, and all trans women as tops. 

The reason this is harmful is because of the way it generalizes trans people’s bodies, their relationships to them, and the way they engage in sex. Of course there are pre-op (and no-op) trans people who do enjoy PIV sex with their partners, but that does not mean all trans people have those bodies or have that sort of sex. There are trans men who are tops, and trans women who are bottoms. There are trans people who have dysphoria about their genitals, and those who don’t. Some do not or cannot enjoy PIV sex, and that’s okay! The other common issue with this trope is the way that trans people’s bodies are described. Trans people often use words for their bodies that you might consider “anatomically incorrect” because it’s the language that they feel most comfortable with. 

Instead of writing narratives like these, consider the following alternatives:

A trans person having sex with another trans person.*

A trans person having non-PIV sex with their partner.*

A trans person participating in nonsexual intimacy with their partner.

The Trans/Cis Relationship

Finally, the Trans/Cis Relationship trope- this trope isn’t inherently bad- there’s nothing wrong on its own with a romantic pairing being between a trans and cis character. The specific dynamic this is about is the trans character requiring reassurance, validation, or other kinds of support from their partner that a cis character would not ask for. 

This trope is very commonly associated with Cis Savior and PIV tropes as well. It focuses on the trans person being in a relationship with a cis person who they depend on to “validate” their gender, help with their dysphoria, and protect them from transphobic behavior. It tends to infantilize trans people and make them into someone who cannot function outside their relationship with the cis character. For example, a transfeminine character relying on their boyfriend to make them feel “feminine” enough in their relationship. While Trans/Cis relationships are not inherently bad or wrong, it can be very easy to fall into a trap of writing the cis character as the Cis Savior, and often comes hand in hand with PIV sex when it’s a non-heterosexual couple.

The reason that this trope can be harmful is that it implies trans people are not enough on their own- that they need the support of a cis person who decides they’re “normal” in order to stay mentally well. It comes back often to the Cis Savior trope as well. Trans/Cis relationships written by cis authors may fall into these traps without meaning to. Beyond that, trans people can- and often do- date each other. In fact, some trans people are t4t, meaning that they choose to only date other trans people because it’s what’s most comfortable for them and may be safer depending on the situation they live in. Trans people do not enter relationships based on who will make them feel “valid,” but on who they love- the same as everyone else. 

Instead of writing narratives like these, consider the following alternatives:

A trans person’s partner being trans as well. (Although, again, be mindful to write stories about trans characters, not about being trans!)

A trans person being emotionally supportive of their cis partner.

A trans person being single.

Thank you so much for sticking with me during this! I know it’s long, and that it’s not easy to read things that make you question things you’re used to, or to reevaluate things you may have written in the past. Once again, none of this was an attack! The goal of this series of posts is to inform and educate, rather than shame. People who make these mistakes often do it because they don’t know any better, or haven’t been exposed to anything besides these tropes. I encourage you to look at what other trans people have said about portrayals, and when writing trans characters, look for someone who would be willing to beta for you if you’re unsure. When in doubt, ask. And remember- write about trans characters, not about being trans! There are certain nuances to being transgender that, as a cis person, you simply don’t have the background or experiences to write on, and that’s okay! We’re all learning and growing together.

*If you absolutely want to write sex scenes involving trans people, the best thing to do is to get a trans beta- and listen to them- as well as use language that may not be what you consider anatomically correct. Trans people may call their genitals by words that don’t “match” for their own comfort, and using language that focuses on pre-op genitalia can come across and/or be fetishistic. Be mindful and respectful when writing these scenes.

[taelme]

Where’s your good-natured Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry?

request: (anon): hi!! can u please do an enemies-to-lovers with mark lee? i live for your aus, you really are an amazing writer💜 if you don’t want to it’s completely fine😅 anyways hope you have a great day/night💜💜

genre: kind of friends-to-enemies-to-lovers??, Hogwarts!au (fluff, mild angst, kind of slow burn, mutual secret pining??) 

pairing/s: Mark / Reader (ft some of 127) (side yuwin and johnil!)

word count: 23k+ rip 

tw: mark and the reader are both like not pureblood wizards in this so there's sort of like mentions about ppl hating on them lol bc of like blood purity and stuff so yeah thats abt it 

a/n: this is something a little diff from what ive put out!! bc ive always loved Hogwarts aus so I kind of wanted to try something a little different for this trope? and I decided to show their relationship a little differently from how I would typically imagine enemies-to-lovers to be but nonetheless I hope you guys enjoy it!! also anon if you're seeing it here first thank u for being patient!! had alot of fun with this one n I hope u like it!! (also plsss im devastated at the thought of baby mark in a Hogwarts uniform) also I tried to be as like explanatory(?) as I could so i hope even if u’ve never watched Harry Potter before the terminology won't be hard to understand! (PPS gif creds to op this gif is so cute)  read this on ao3

The first time you met Mark, you met the wide-eyed first-year who was still trying to get over the shock of running through a pillar at a train platform, the one who was simply looking for a friend.

“Hey, can I sit here?”

Your head snapped around when the train cabin doors had opened roughly, slamming against the wall. You spotted a young boy who didn’t look any older than you, standing there with his eyebrows raised, wincing slightly as he yanked his luggage into the carriage, struggling to maintain his balance while the train moved bumpily over the tracks.

Albeit confused (since you were about halfway through the train ride already, finding it strange for him to only be finding a seat now), you dismissed your suspicions, nodding at him.

“Oh...yeah sure,” you murmured, watching curiously as the boy gave you an appreciative smile, shoving his bags in the overhead compartment before taking a seat in front of you, heaving a tired sigh.

“What’s your name?” he asked you, “I’m Mark.”

You averted your gaze, unsure why you were so shy in front of him. Sure, you thought he was cute, in an awkward kind of way, but you hadn’t even reached the school yet and here you were already developing crushes on other students?

“Y/N,” you murmured, earning another smile from him.

“Wait, you know what spongebob is?”

Taken aback by his sudden question, you followed where his finger pointed towards, spotting the keychain hanging from your luggage, a bubble-blowing spongebob bouncing above the both of you.

Giving him a slow nod, you dared yourself to meet his gaze, swallowing down whatever shyness you had in you, “you know it too?”

Strangely, he seemed almost afraid to agree with you, averting his gaze as one of his hands went up to the back of his neck, tilting his head as if he was hesitant to speak.

You were sure that people in the wizarding world weren’t very well versed on human (muggle) tv shows, trying to find the term in your head so you could tell Mark, in case his silence was because he hadn't been able to find the right term either.

You recalled hearing your brother Johnny mentioning it when your parents had asked about what house you could possibly have been sorted into.

“Are you a muggle-born?” you asked with a smile, proud at your first-year self that was properly using the terms Johnny had taught you.

Mark’s gaze shot up to meet yours almost instantly, a part of him waiting for you to react like those in the other cabin, calling him ​impure​, ​undeserving​ of his invitation to Hogwarts.

Nodding slowly, Mark scrunched his eyes shut, preparing himself for another look of disgust or discomfort, not expecting your response.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of...I’m one too, and my brother, he’s a third-year,” you told him, watching his eyes widen in disbelief, his hands shifting to grip at the hem of his sweater.

He didn’t have any siblings to rely on, rendering him rather alone in this new environment. Hence, his surprise that he’d been lucky enough to chance upon your cabin. Mark’s eyes wandered back to the keychain, thinking out loud before he could stop himself.

“I should’ve brought something like that too, my mom didn’t want me to bring too many muggle things along with me,” he smiled half-heartedly, pursing his lips.

“Here, do you want it? You can have it,” you were already climbing on your knees on the cushioned seat, reaching up to detach the keychain from your bag, holding it out to him as though it were a peace offering.

Or like how a parent would offer a child a sweet to stop them from crying. Except this time the sweet was one of your favourite keychains that you were now impulsively offering to your new friend.

“Really?” you watched as a hint of a smile played at his lips, “thanks.”

He accepted the keychain from you wordlessly, his gaze flickering between the keychain to you, “you seem really nice...” he murmured, his hand leaving his sweater almost reluctantly to fidget with his ear.

You smiled at him, genuinely this time, not being able to wait to tell Johnny about the new friend you’d made in the train (and hoping he wouldn’t ask you about the disappearance of your keychain).

“I hope we get sorted into the same house,” you told him.

Mark looked away, a small smile on his lips as he brought his other hand up to cover his mouth, resting his elbow on the windowsill and nodding at you.

“Me too,” he mumbled through a smile.

Trust you, it wasn’t as if you were very knowledgeable about this sorting hat business, especially after you’d taken your seat on the chair, your eyes gleaming with excitement as you waited for the sorting hat to put you in ​Gryffindor h​ouse so you could run along over to where your older brother Johnny was seated with his third-year friends. Not to mention your new friend Mark, who had taken his seat at the Gryffindor table just before you.

Gryffindors were known to be ​daring, courageous, chivalrous​, and ​brave. You wondered if that same boy you met on the train was capable of displaying such traits that seemed so different from his reserved demeanour.

But the sorting hat seemed to have different plans in mind for you. You heard the hat bellow a loud ‘​Slytherin!​’ into the hall, your heart sinking as you reluctantly made your way over to the table to be seated. Johnny was calm, giving you a reassuring nod, having predicted with your parents that you would likely be sorted into that house.

Mark’s heart sank. Watching with mixed feelings as you made your way towards the table where the other students who had insulted him on the train had taken their seats, he was unsettled by the feeling in his gut telling him this wasn’t right.

Thankfully for you, a certain mischievous third-year Slytherin by the name of Yuta had been seated across you, tilting his head at you with a smile, leaning closer and dropping his voice to a whisper so the other students wouldn’t hear.

“Hey, Johnny’s your brother, right?”

You nodded slowly, flinching back when Yuta had extended a hand abruptly for you to shake.

“I’m Yuta. Stick with me and I’ll show you the ropes around here,” he told you, quirking his eyebrows ever so slightly in his ​rather rehearsed​ proposal. Taking his hand slowly to shake, you made your first friend in your house.

He was Johnny’s friend, wasn’t he? How bad could it get?

Unbeknownst to you, Johnny and Yuta had sensed your magical proficiency from a very early stage, and with the both of their prior knowledge on how having a muggle-born sorted into a house where it was still hard to shake traditional notions on the importance of ​blood purity,​ they knew you would have your fair share of struggles with your fellow students in your house.

So, they’d made it a point to study with you. Which, in other words, meant Johnny and Yuta sneaking off with you to abandoned parts of the castle where they would casually ‘practice’ their spells in front of you in the hopes that you would imitate them (which you always tried to). And surely enough, you found after accompanying them for a few months, you had managed to compile a fair repertoire of charms under your belt.

It was for your protection,​ Johnny would always insist when his senior Taeil found out that he had been teaching you the ​sixth-year level​ spells, the ​Ravenclaw​ boy insisting that it was ridiculous for him to expect you to master spells of such calibre when you were only a first-year. But, well, you obviously didn’t know that.

Of course you would share your newfound knowledge with Mark whenever the both of you had classes together, and you were glad that you’d chosen him (or he’d chosen you, it went both ways, really) to be your friend. He was very much a reminder to you that you didn’t have to navigate in this environment on your own.

Sure you had Johnny and Yuta, but Mark was at the same stage of life as you, it was ​different​.

The two of you would spend your free time at the viaduct, enjoying the large expanse of the bridge overlooking the lake that you’d discovered together. Over there, you would spend your free time between lessons or on the weekends to talk about things you liked, about home, even about stupid things like missing ​pizza rolls​. Your first-year self grew to like the place very much, how it started to remind you of the comfort of home, the comfort of your new friend, Mark.

But for Mark, things went a little differently, having heard passing comments about you being a ‘​mudblood’​ , and how it wasn’t surprising that you were associating with him, you know, the stupid quotes about birds flocking together because of their feathers. ​Whatever​, Mark couldn’t be bothered to remember it. But the more he heard it, the more he wondered if it was better to keep you at arm’s length.

It was one particular incident in the boys bathroom that had put him in his place. How the same boys he’d encountered on the train had stopped him before he could leave.

“Look, it’s our ​favourite​ ​mudblood,​” they’d made their presence known, quite literally, with the way they’d blocked out Mark’s exit from the washroom.

Mark found the whole ordeal quite silly, that people in this day and age still cared about blood purity, but in cases like these, he knew better than to assume they weren’t brought up with these ideals. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t hurt by their words either, it’d already taken way too much persuasion from his mom to let their words ‘​pass by​’ him, like she always said.

“You really disgust me, you know that?” one of them spat, “how do you even do magic? Who’d you steal it from?” they prodded, shoving Mark harshly against the wall of the washroom, one of them grabbing Mark by the collar, almost making him feel more lightheaded than he already was from how tight his tie was.

“I didn’t,” Mark grunted, “​steal​ it from anyone.”

“Huh,” the one that held him by the collar had huffed, “for some reason, I don’t believe you. Maybe we should ask Y/N,”

Mark’s eyes widened, shaking his head, “why does Y/N have to get involved? She didn’t do anything.”

“Wake up, Mark. You think she’s really your friend?” the boy sneered, “you’ve got to learn how to differentiate friendship and ​pity​.”

After this, when Mark had started to grow busier after his teacher had signed him up for the Gryffindor quidditch team, he’d ​let​ himself be busy. Bit by bit, he would surround himself with his own friends, as if it was some sort of agreement that this was just how things were supposed to be.

It was a miracle in itself for him to make any move to even look at you, much less make a move to talk to you, afraid that if he did he’d be attracting unwanted attention from the people in your house.

He figured this means of looking out for you would be for the best. You would be happy without getting involved with him, he would tell himself from then on, that you were ‘​making your real friends’​ there, as the sorting hat had mentioned since day 1.

You were popular among the people in your house, they liked you, your drive, your way of speaking. ​There probably wasn’t room for people like him in your life anyway.

===

The next time you’d met him, you’d met the freshly-appointed third-year ​prefect​ Mark (yes, you read that right, he was such perfect, rule-abiding, teacher’s pet material that they’d appointed a ​third-year​ to be prefect), who would stop at nothing to prove that he wasn’t weak like people thought he was.

“Alright, class, just to get a sense of where you lot are at now, how about we have a duel? A few of you are in the duelling club, am I right?” your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had proposed, Professor Park, a relatively young teacher that had just taken over the position as DADA professor when you’d enrolled.

His gaze searched the crowd of students that would rather ​die​ than meet his eyes, eventually seeming to have deemed you and Mark to be sufficient for the duel.

“Can someone else do it instead?” you pleaded with your teacher, not comfortable in situations that required you to duel, much preferring the confines of your own desk where you were free to practice your charms without risking hurting anyone, especially not Mark. And Mark knew this.

Your professor was insistent, however, coming behind you to push you up onto a platform that Mark was already standing on, the rest of the students in your class gathered round as though it were some sort of wrestling match (which you supposed it was similar to).

“C’mon, now, show us some good-natured ​Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry,​ ” your professor guffawed, making you let out a frustrated sigh as you straightened out your robes, readying yourself as he queued the start of the duel.

It was fairly simple at first. Mark seemed to have been going easy on you as he cast mindless spells that were making no such effort to hit you. You figured the both of you weren’t going to take this too seriously since it was just for your professor to see you apply whatever spells you’d learnt so far.

Well, that was until a few bored-looking Slytherin students (that Mark was ​very​ much familiar with) had spoken up.

“C’mon, ​mudblood​, is that all you got?” they taunted towards Mark, soft enough that your professor wouldn’t hear.

And you noticed how Mark’s gaze had almost immediately hardened, his grip on his wand tightening as his spells seemed to have gotten more intentional.

You’d missed the way Mark had glanced at them, one of them looking at him almost challengingly.

You weren’t sure what the term meant, frowning at what it could’ve implied since it warranted such a reaction from Mark. ​Mudblood​. The term itself sounded disgusting, even.

Mark wasn’t sure what came over him, the desire to prove himself, or the desire to end the duel, he wasn’t sure. He knew that he wanted to make sure there was no reason for those students to pursue you, yet at the time, he wasn’t sure about the lengths he would go to prove that.

All he was aware of was that he’d just cast a disarming spell that was powerful enough to send you flying backwards, landing on your back with a loud grunt. He’d surprised you further when he’d sent a bout of fire directed your way before you had even fully straightened up, making you flinch back, extinguishing the small flame gotten caught at the end of your robe, giving him a scandalized look.

The students broke out into hushed whispers, all eagerly anticipating your next move as Mark made no move to stop directing spells at you, the next swish-and-flick of his wand causing

your feet to lift off of the ground, making you wonder just how much power he’d put into casting that spell.

Wracking your brain for spells out of your sheer anger that he would’ve directed the fire towards your ​face,​ you recalled a particular silencing charm Yuta had shown you before, and before you knew it, you were expelling his wand from his hand and casting the silencing charm on him.

You hadn’t expected it to work, but you figured it did from the way Mark’s hand had flown to grasp his throat, frowning at the lack of sound coming from his mouth.

Mark’s eyes widened, and so did your professor’s, dumbfounded that you’d just easily cast a spell that even his sixth-years were ​struggling​ to perform successfully, deciding that that had been enough duelling for the day.

“Okay, class, enough, you’re all dismissed. Y/N and Mark, please stay behind,” you watched as your classmates had slowly dispersed out of the classroom, not without shooting you brief glances and fearfully looking away when you’d returned them.

You huffed at the sight of your professor cooing over Mark. You’d taken a blow to your back right in front of him and yet all he cared about was making sure his ​precious​ Gryffindor prefect was alright.

“Don’t worry, kid, the spell will wear off soon. Do you have a class after this?” you had eavesdropped from where you were packing up your things, a part of you still feeling hurt trying to digest the fact that Mark had been so competitive to the point of disregarding your feelings, just for the sake of winning the duel.

Maybe Mark should’ve been sorted into Slytherin instead.

The green in your robes taunted Mark, almost, as you made your way to where he was standing next to your professor, waiting for him to be done drafting the note to excuse his lack of voice for his next lesson (which was ​Charms​, quite unfortunately).

“Y/N, can I just ask where you’d learnt such spells? I mean, no third-year I know is ​that proficient in casting spells that are of a sixth-year’s standard.”

You ignored the way Mark’s gaze on you had hardened, turning into an almost-glare, simply keeping your gaze fixed on your professor as you shrugged.

“I don’t know, just... overheard it I guess. I didn’t think it’d ​actually​ work,” you explained, folding your arms “can I go now? I’m late for my next class.”

Mark scoffed, making a decision in his head. He was no longer going to let himself get swayed by you, you were in Slytherin for a reason, he figured, ​and it was best not to forget that​. Today was enough evidence for him.

Choosing that time to leave the class, Mark made his exit known with his angry stomping, which grew softer as he got further, making you glance back impatiently to see your professor narrow his eyes at you.

“Yeah, just...​be careful ​when you use that spell next time, which I hope you won’t find a need for,” he told you, dismissing you with a wave.

You’d tried to forget your little run-in with Mark, but by dinner, you’d been confronted by both Yuta and Johnny who were ​much too eager to know the details of your little duel.

“Spill,” you heard a small thud of Yuta’s forearm against the table as he sat next to you, ignoring the annoyed looks he’d warranted from the other Slytherin students (who upon realising who he was, had immediately made a space for him to sit), Johnny leaning on the wall behind you with an expectant look on his face as well.

“Spill what?” you huffed, turning around in your seat to press your shoes against the wall next to where Johnny was leaning, Yuta giving you a knowing smirk at you in response.

“We heard from Professor Park, you know,” Yuta made to swish an imaginary wand in front of you, “​silencio?​ Ring a bell?” Yuta deadpanned, reminding you of the silencing charm, earning a snort from Johnny.

“Taeil’s gonna ​kill​ me if he finds out I taught you the spell,” he grimaced, making Yuta wave him off.

“Yeah, right, as if you wouldn’t love another excuse to get one-on-one time with Taeil,” Yuta shot back, his gaze still filled with concern as he examined your expression.

“Who was it? I heard it was a Gryffindor,” Johnny changed the subject quickly, his gaze scanning the Gryffindor table at the other end of the hall, trying to see if he recognized any third-year faces, the only one being his roommate Mark, ​but Mark would never do that, right?

“If you’re ​that​ curious, it’s Mark Lee,” you told him with an eye-roll, “you know, your precious prefect.”

Johnny’s eyes widened, falling silent almost immediately, whereas Yuta simply hummed in feigned understanding, trying to place a face to the name.

Johnny glanced over at Yuta’s expression, contributing a, “Gryffindor’s chaser.” Only then earning a look of stark realisation from Yuta.

“Aren’t you two friends?” Yuta asked, having recalled stories you told him in your first year about how Mark was the first friend you made coming to Hogwarts.

You shrugged, “I mean, we ​were,​ ” you stopped yourself, tilting your head as you stared at your hands as if they could give you the words you were looking for, “I don’t quite know. Friends don’t act like he did. I mean, I get it, it was a duel and whatever, but...” you trailed off, not wishing to get into how you felt in the middle of the great hall where literally every other student was happily dining.

Yuta sensed your discomfort, giving Johnny a nod, “you deal with Mark, I’ll handle it here.”

Johnny pushed aside his hesitance, trusting Yuta to have your best intentions in mind (the boy cared for you as if you were his own younger sister), choosing to set his mind on observing the boy who tried to​ t​ torch his sister.

“I remember something,” you murmured after Johnny had left, Yuta looking at you with gentle concern, prompting you to continue,

“Some people called him a ​mudblood?​ And then he got mad and he started getting really competitive,” you offered, unsure why Yuta’s expression had turned almost grim.

“Lesson of the day, that term, is a ​disgusting​ term. If anyone ​ever​ calls you that you better let me know,” he held a finger up, pointing it for emphasis, “I don’t ​ever​ wanna hear you say it ever again. From now on, you use the proper term, which is a ‘​well deserving wizard​’,” he grinned.

You frowned, “would you at least tell me what it means?” Yuta was about to get up, turning to you with a sigh.

“It’s like how it’s spelled,” he told you, “dirty blood. People used to use it a lot in the past towards people with non-magic possessing parents, or half-bloods, like you and Johnny. But it’s bad, it’s really...bad,” Yuta inhaled deeply, practically being able to imagine all your thoughts swirling in your head.

Yuta turned to you with a frown, his expression breaking into a cheeky grin, “How about this, Taeil gave us a spell to get around the whole no-electricity thing, so...” he quirked an eyebrow at you with a small smile, “how does a round of mario kart in the common room sound?”

===

“What are you doing here?”

Your head snapped around just as you’d entered ​The Three Broomsticks,​ the cosy pub down the line of shops in ​Hogsmeade​, not having expected to come face to face with Johnny and his Hufflepuff friend Taeyong, who gave you a slight nod of the head in greeting.

You narrowed your eyes at him, raising up your bag containing your purchases from the quill shop, having run out of parchment after Yuta had ​‘borrowed’​ some for what you assumed was writing more love letters to the sixth-year Gryffindor Sicheng.

“What are ​you​ doing here?” you narrowed your eyes at him, seeing him glance at the far end of the pub cautiously, making you frown, wanting to follow his gaze but you not being able to find what he was looking at.

“Oh, you know... just, post-quidditch practice drinks.”

Taeyong stifled a chortle, “yeah...cause Taeil ​totally​ plays quidditch.”

You scoffed, “don’t you have to study for your exams?”

You heard Taeyong practically deflate in a sigh next to you, no longer looking as amused as he nodded gravely, “yes, he does.”

Johnny shrugged, “join us? I’ll pay if you promise not to tell mom I was here,” he bargained, earning a shrug from you, nodding.

However, what Johnny had failed to mention was that by ‘us’ he had meant Taeil and Mark.

Your fight-or-flight instincts immediately kicked in when you spotted Mark seated there with his tie loosened underneath his sweater, his hair messy and his round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

You shot a menacing glare at Johnny, about to pursue an argument with him but having been shut down quickly by Taeyong, who made you take a seat next to him, letting Johnny sit further from you so he could be next to Taeil.

“Hey! I was just talking about how much I missed you,” Taeil’s eyes lit up when he saw you, making you sigh deeply, giving in to Taeil’s welcoming smile as you pulled your glass closer to yourself, the warmth of your glass against your hand similar to his aura.

“Missed you too,” you frowned.

Mark had wanted to roll his eyes, annoyed at the way you’d seemed to be acting as if he wasn’t even there, your gaze skipping past him and greeting only Taeil.

Was there anything in the books that mentioned Slytherins being arrogant as well?

Johnny scoffed, “what about me? You never tell ​me​ you miss me,” he gave Taeil a pout, earning a grimace from you, watching as Taeil’s cheeks tinted pink, a small smile on his face while peeling Johnny’s hand away gingerly from his waist.

“How’s school been? Not still ​hexing​ anyone, I hope,” Taeil chuckled, earning a snort from Mark, whose gaze was fixed on his drink, his leg bouncing absently.

You furrowed your eyebrows, poking your tongue in your cheek as you turned your gaze towards him, oblivious to the looks of distress Taeyong was casting towards Johnny.

“Well I could now, if ​someone i​sn’t careful,” you smiled sweetly at Mark, the boy simply raising an eyebrow at you as if in a challenge. You ignored the passing comment from Taeyong that ‘​someone’s been spending too much time with Yuta​’.

Mark didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed, giving you a nonchalant shrug. “Be my guest. That’d be about like what...45 points from your house, at least, right?”

You inhaled deeply, choosing to drop the topic as you directed your attention back to Taeil, your grip on your glass hard enough to make your knuckles turn white.

You would be quiet today,​ for Yuta’s sake.​ He’d kill you if you botched his chances of winning the house cup just because of your beef with Mark.

Today, it seemed, you were meeting the fifth-year Mark that was ​aloof,​ that was ​daring (sometimes teetering on the brink of recklessness), that was ​evidently​ unafraid of you.

“How’s applying for the teaching position coming along?” you asked Taeil, smirking at the way Johnny’s eyes had widened along with Taeil’s.

“Oh? How did you know about that?” Taeil tilted his head at you.

You shrugged, “heard it from Joh-” you winced at the pain that had shot up your shin, making you sputter out into a cough, casting a glare at Johnny before you continued, “a ​little​ bird. A little bird told me.”

Taeil chuckled, shaking his head at Johnny, “trust you to keep things a secret,” he told him, though there was no menace in his tone whatsoever, not being able to find it in himself to be mad at Johnny.

“It’s going great, actually, to answer your question. They said they’d give me the position as Charms professor,” Taeil told you, earning an impressed hum from Taeyong, who seemed to only be finding this out now as well (or maybe he was just a better liar than you, you couldn’t tell).

“Will you guys be taking that for your subjects this year?” Taeil directed the question at both you and Mark, making you curse inwardly when the both of you had nodded.

What a shame,​ yet another year of witnessing Mark flaunting his apparent proficiency at non-verbal spells, something that hadn’t even been taught in the curriculum yet.

Taeil smiled, resting his folded arms on the table, his efforts to peel Johnny’s hands off of him long-forgotten now as Johnny rested a hand on Taeil’s shoulder comfortably.

“Well, that’s great, then! I’ll probably be teaching the both of you this year,” he smiled.

(Of course, what Mark would never tell you was that he’d only practiced so hard to make sure he was good at charms after you duelled him, not wanting to let himself be at a disadvantage without his voice in the future)

“I heard you’re really good at charms,” Taeyong commented, making you shrug, an unsure laugh leaving you.

“Not really. I much prefer ​Transfiguration​ or like...​Potions,​ ” you admitted, knowing that Mark was ​definitely​ better than you at charms after his drastic improvement over the years.

Taeyong and Taeil couldn’t help themselves from giggling, exchanging a look as Taeyong explained, “nah, we’re laughing because those happen to be Johnny’s worst subjects.”

You let out a huff of laughter, nodding in agreement, but not missing the way Mark had huffed next to you.

“Yeah, it’s a wonder how two siblings could be ​so​ ​different​.” Your eyebrows knit into a frown, your mood shifting instantly at his comment, taking a long

gulp of your drink and leaving just a mere sip of it remaining, letting out a controlled sigh. “I didn’t come here to listen to your childish comments, you know,” you muttered.

Taeyong jumped in immediately, eager to maintain the ​no-hex​ status of the meeting, “hey, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure Mark didn’t mean any harm—”

Mark’s eyebrows knit into a frown, turning to scoff at you. “​Childish​? What, you think you’re all high-and-mighty now? You wouldn’t even look at me—”

“​High and mighty?​ ” you scoffed, “have you ​seen​ yourself? Ever since you got sorted into Gryffindor it’s like you became a different person. Being a prefect doesn’t change anything, you know. Face it, Mark, you’re no different from the rest of us.”

Mark’s fist clenched around his wand, shoving it further down in his robe as if to remind himself that the last thing he wanted right now was to use it against you.

You made him uncomfortable. Uncomfortable at the fact that he’d changed, that he’d let his personal vendetta against ​all things Slytherin​ get the better of him.

“Y/N, calm down,” Johnny told you, his tone a desperate attempt at gaining back control over the situation, at a loss as Taeil and Taeyong watched the scene play out in awe, somehow being able to sense that there was​ a lot m​ore to unpack behind what you two were throwing at each other.

Also because Johnny may have felt like it was kind of his fault for bringing you and Mark together here.

Though just because Mark wasn’t physically retaliating, that didn’t mean his sharp-tongue wouldn’t, his words leaving him before he could stop himself.

His voice dropped to a bare murmur, “and you’re no different from the Slytherin scum—” 

“Shut up, Mark,” Johnny cut in, frowning deeply.

Johnny knew his words struck a nerve with you from the tell-tale way your hands shook as you withdrew them from your glass, not to mention the way you’d taken your lower lip between your teeth, blinking rapidly, the sight almost enough to bring back Johnny’s memories of the first time you’d almost injured him when you practiced your magic at home.

You let out a huff, nodding slowly as you got up from your seat, your vision blurring as your eyes welled up with tears.

“Thanks for the drink,” you tried your best to keep your voice stable, averting your gaze from Johnny and taking your leave.

Johnny glared at Mark, the sound of the door bells jingling loudly in the background, “not cool, man.”

Mark had cowered instantly, feeling as though he were being chided by his parents with the way Johnny looked at him, especially because of how Taeil had started to rub soothing circles onto the back of Johnny’s hand.

Taeyong huffed, “I’m gonna go get Yuta...” casting Mark a look of sympathy before leaving, leaving just Mark, Taeil and an eerily calm Johnny at the table.

“Look, dude, I know you’re my friend and all, but...that was a low blow,” Johnny gaze looked almost defeated, wracking his brain for ways to save the situation.

Taeil gave Johnny a look of almost-pity, “Youngho, he’s a kid, he doesn’t understand.” Johnny shook his head, hating the way he’d softened at the sound of Taeil calling his name,

casting one last glare at Mark, “oh, he understands ​very​ well, believe me,” he sighed. “Whatever it is you two have going on, I hope you settle it quickly. Or you’ll wish she was your only enemy.”

===

It had seemed that after that, Mark had figured the lesser contact he would have with you, the better. Johnny had eventually taken pity on him after that incident at ​The Three Broomsticks​ in your fifth-year, since Mark was an absolute guilt-stricken wreck afterwards when Johnny had told him how upset you were after being sorted into Slytherin. Johnny had also gained a little more insight that night about why you guys had started being so cold to each other in the first place.

Hoping that that would’ve been the beginning of the end of whatever rivalry you had between you and Mark, Johnny was more than disappointed when he realised it had only made Mark withdraw from you even more.

Mark’s reasoning was that he didn’t want to hurt you out of spite, lest Johnny beat him up for it (or at least, that was the excuse Mark gave himself). Resulting in Johnny having to deal with the constant frustration of witnessing Mark cast furtive glances in yours and Yuta’s direction in the great hall every day, the fact that the Slytherin table was on the complete other end of the hall doing nothing to deter him (or maybe, it was actually doing everything to deter him).

You were currently watching a Quidditch match of Gryffindor against Hufflepuff, knowing that it was more than likely that Gryffindor would win and be put against Slytherin for the final match, Gryffindor’s players being considerably stronger.

With Yuta beside you and the fifth-year you’d taken next under your wing named Donghyuck on your other side, you watched intently from where you sat at the back of the stands, Yuta busily counting the money you’d gathered from taking bets for the game.

“Listen closely, hyuck,” Yuta beckoned the fifth year over, “they don’t teach you this shit in the real wizarding world.”

Donghyuck gave him a questioning stare but entertained Yuta anyway.

“Is that why you stayed back an extra year in school?” Donghyuck snickered, earning a glare from Yuta.

You couldn’t help but snicker as well, almost losing sight of Taeyong, the seeker for the Hufflepuff team, who had been chasing the tiny golden snitch for what seemed like ages now, desperately looking for that 150 point advantage.

Yuta scoffed, waving the money in his hands, handing it over to Donghyuck unceremoniously as he showed him the book where they kept the records of everyone that had placed bets.

“I’ll have you know, I stayed for the sake of quidditch.”

You pressed your lips together, leaning back against the wooden panels of the stand, folding your arms in front of you as you nudged your glasses higher on your nose bridge.

“Uh-huh, you and my brother,” your tone was patronising.

“Taeyong too, we made a pact. In case you forgot,” Yuta paused his explanation to Donghyuck to inform you with a satisfied smile.

You’d startled at the way the crowd erupted in anxious shouts when Johnny had managed to beat a ​bludger​ towards the Hufflepuff chaser, who avoided the tough ball by mere seconds. You couldn’t imagine what a nasty bruise would show if you’d ever gotten hit by one.

Donghyuck hummed when the Gryffindor crowd had echoed bellowing cheers upon the ding indicating another goal had been scored by the chaser.

“Gryffindor’s chaser isn’t that bad,” he commented. Which in Donghyuck’s terms, meant that Gryffindor’s chaser was ​amazing.

Yuta’s gaze had flickered to you quickly, as if to gauge your reaction, smirking at the way you’d simply shrugged.

“Slytherin’s is better.”

Donghyuck scoffed, his hand going up to adjust the scarf around his neck that you’d loaned to him, since his had been ruined in an accidental fire casting spell incident a month prior. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Please, Doyoung has ​nothing​ on Mark,” Yuta snickered, seeming to share Donghyuck’s sentiments, making you shrug.

“Doyoung has his own...​strengths,​ ” you directed your attention back to the game, watching as Mark had scored yet another goal, putting Gryffindor at an almost 130 point advantage.

Who were you kidding,​ ​Mark was definitely a better player than Doyoung.​ Doyoung wouldn’t have even joined the team if not for his unfortunately high score in his first-year flying classes.

You know that the point advantage meant that it was a clear win for Gryffindor if their new seeker Jeongin managed to catch the snitch.

And by the looks of it, he was almost there.

After catching a bludger to his broom, Taeyong had spun out of control, losing sight of the snitch, allowing Jeongin to have a clear advantage, already inching closer to the snitch.

Resigning to the fact that the match’s outcome was rather clearly decided, you turned your attention back to Yuta, nudging him to start preparing the money for the winners of the bets.

“Damn. I mean, I get it, Hufflepuff isn’t the worst but still, the amount of faith these people had to have bet on them is crazy,” Donghyuck murmured, awe laced in his tone as he helped Yuta to arrange the money.

And as usual, you’d adjourned to the bottom of the stands, allowing the students to approach the group of you discreetly while they were heading back to the castle. You’d developed this system overtime, thanks to Yuta’s idle mind in divination lessons, to carry out this plan smoothly. The only bump in your road you would say, was...well, ​Mark​.

You were already tired of standing for so long, and Yuta was (thankfully) almost done distributing all the winning amounts to the students when you’d heard rowdy cheering get louder, Johnny’s distinctive yell letting you know that the Gryffindor team was heading out.

Turning quickly, you’d ushered the last of the students away, shoving Yuta’s book into your coat, Yuta’s gaze flickering behind you as you heard Johnny’s voice followed by high-pitched giggles from Mark.

Donghyuck hummed, his gaze following Mark (his laughter had died down quickly) who eyed you blankly, yet making no move to greet you.

“What are you guys doing here?” the prefect in Mark was showcasing itself, knowing better than to think the three of you would linger here for any ‘normal’ reason.

Yuta simply smiled, stepping closer and blocking you from Mark’s line of sight.

“Waiting for you, of course. Wanted to congratulate our ​favourite​ Gryffindor chaser,” he drawled, sarcasm practically dripping from his tone and managing to unnerve Mark.

Mark was annoyed, of course (knowing that you and Yuta were ​never​ the type to listen to him, and now that Donghyuck was in the mix it didn’t make things any easier), choosing to direct his annoyed glare towards Yuta.

“Cut to the chase, I don’t know what kind of illegal shit you guys are running here-”

“​Mark​, chill, it’s a game day. Just let us have our fun, hmm?” Yuta hummed, slinging an arm around your shoulder casually, making you roll your eyes.

“He ​can’t,​ ” you supplied, “It’s literally his job to make sure we don’t ‘​have our fun’​ ,” you huffed, reminding Yuta of Mark’s status as a prefect, and perhaps reminding yourself as well.

Ignoring the way Mark’s stare had fixated on you, though his expression was unreadable, you decided not to take his demeanour to heart.

Today, it seemed that you were just meeting the sixth-year popular version of Mark that looked at you with contempt, only viewing you as a means to increase the house point gap between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Huffing, you stepped forward, deeming the conversation to be over. Shivering at the gust of cold wind that had brushed past you, Yuta was quick to notice your discomfort, wordlessly reaching over to remove your scarf from Donghyuck’s neck, ignoring the younger boy’s sounds of protest as he wrapped it around yours.

Unaware of the way Mark’s gaze was practically burning into Yuta’s back, you huffed at the sound of the boisterous laughter echoing behind you, making you more eager to get away from the Gryffindor team in their celebratory mood, waving their win around as if it was their birth right.

“Where are you going after this? Do you wanna join me and Sicheng for drinks at Hogsmeade?​ ” Yuta asked, gaining Donghyuck’s attention.

Mark tried not to eavesdrop too much on your conversation, though eavesdropping in itself was already made difficult with how loud the team was being.

“Can I come?” he heard Donghyuck speak up. And maybe it was the feeling of someone else’s stare on them but Donghyuck had turned to look at Mark in question, making Mark avert his gaze quickly, pretending to be fascinated with the cloud cover in the sky.

You let out a surprised hum, “he finally agreed?”

Yuta shut Donghyuck down quickly, casting you an unamused look, “yes, he agreed. So, are you coming or not?”

“And spend my evening third-wheeling? No, thanks. I’m gonna try to get some studying done.” You were already nearing the path that would split the both of you.

Yuta groaned, seemingly with his entire body just to prove how frustrated he was with the information, “it ​pains​ me how boring you are sometimes. Guess I’ll have to bring ​this​ ​one​ with me, then.”

Donghyuck scoffed, “I don’t need you to ​bring​ me.” The stark contrast to his previous eager request to follow Yuta making you laugh.

You rolled your eyes, a smile finding its way on your face not long after, “whatever, I’ll see you later. Have fun with Sicheng,” you sing-songed.

Later on, you were busy trying to get back to the common room before curfew, since you knew now was about the time where the prefects like Mark would be lurking around the campus, eager to catch students like you who had ​no sense of time management whatsoever.​

You’d done a quick cloaking spell on yourself, keeping your footsteps light as you got closer to the Gryffindor common room, startling when you’d heard a thud against the painting of the fat lady that guarded Gryffindor’s common room. Turning around to spot a ​very​ ​tipsy​ Mark who was struggling to get into his own dorm.

The perfect-prefect-extraordinaire actually knew how to let loose?

You stopped in your tracks, observing Mark curiously as he let out a giggle and whined at the fat lady to let him in.

“C’mon, you ​know​ me! I’m a prefect!” he insisted, his hand coming up to find his badge but coming in contact with just the fabric of his shirt instead, confusing him further. The very fact that he was still dressed in his uniform made you wonder just how long the Gryffindor team had been celebrating to render someone as usually responsible as him in ​this​ state.

“Okay, okay, I got it. I got it,” he cleared his throat, clapping his hands together in realisation, “​fimblewimble,​ ” he murmured to the painting, his hands gripping on the frame desperately, earning a huff from the fat lady, who simply looked at him in disbelief.

Taking pity on him, you’d made your way closer to him, murmuring the password you remembered Johnny telling you in case of ​‘emergencies’​.

“​Acid pops,​ ” you did your best to refrain from laughing at the way his eyebrows furrowed with how seriously he was taking this.

Mark wondered what kind of sick joke his mind was playing on him, if the voice of reason in his head was beginning to sound just like you.

Not that he didn’t like the sound of your voice, of course, he just figured it would definitely make it harder for him to keep hating you if your voice was ​quite literally a​ all he could think of.

The tipsy side of him briefly wondered if you were the angel or the devil on his shoulder.

His head whipped around in shock, pupils blown and cheeks and the tip of his nose dusted with pink, his gaze skimming right past you as he scanned the area around him, the flickering flame of the lamp above him being the only thing that he deemed to be moving in the area.

“Y/N?” he murmured, frowning when he hadn’t seen anyone.

And in that moment, you were very grateful for magical cloaking spells, not knowing what you would’ve done if he had seen you standing right behind him.

“...weird,” he huffed, rubbing his chest with a small groan, turning back to face the fat lady with a lazy smile, “​acid pops!​” he drawled, more confidently this time. His smile only grew when he heard the fat lady huff, granting him entry into the common room.

“Thanks, imaginary Y/N,” he huffed, stumbling into the room and leaving you flushed and at a loss for words.

“I think I'm crazy,” Mark would later confess to his roommate Johnny in a drunken stupor, giggling wildly as he tried to say more words in his head, looking to see if he would hear your voice saying them.

Johnny himself was busy laying on their bedroom floor with a tired smile on his face as he clung to his stuffed animal, snuggling his face deeper into the soft toy. The sight would’ve been quite endearing to Mark if he was sober enough to notice.

“Why? I mean, I think so too, but I still wanna know why,” Johnny huffed, letting his eyes flutter closed, too tired to open them.

“Just now, I was trying to get Y/N- I mean, no, I was trying to get into the common room, but then I forgot the password and I was like,” Mark paused, trying to recall how the events had played out, his delay making Johnny open his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Shut up, Mark...” Johnny slurred, “...too many words. Wait, did you say Y/N?”

Mark nodded, “yeah. Okay, wait, I wasn’t finished. So, I couldn’t remember the password, right? And then all of a sudden I just ​hear her voice​,” he cast Johnny a wide-eyed look even though he knew Johnny wasn’t looking at him, “and it’s her voice telling me the password, isn’t that crazy?”

Johnny perked up almost immediately, the sound of perfect blackmail material allowing him to regain his senses just slightly.

“Not ​that​ crazy if you asked me,” Johnny said matter-of-factly, making Mark frown, annoyance taking over his features.

“What makes you say that?”

Johnny shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe it really ​was h​er,” he stopped to let out a giggle, as if he’d recalled a funny memory, “I used to think I heard Taeil’s voice too back when he was still a student, still do sometimes, actually,” he trailed off.

“Are you making fun of me?” Mark whined, earning a giggle from Johnny.

“I’m not,” Johnny sighed, calming down from his laughter, “or am I?” he burst into another fit of giggles, seemingly satisfied with himself.

“No, dude you don’t get it-” Mark stopped himself, a long pause ensuing. ​Maybe he was the one that didn’t get it.

Mark couldn’t help the belated giggle that escaped him, “dude, I think we drank too much...never mind, goodnight,” he told Johnny, though it seemed the snoring boy next to him had already beat him to it.

===

It seemed as though you were running into Mark a lot more in the days after that Quidditch match, especially ever since Taeil became your Charms teacher and decided it was a ​splendid idea to put you and Mark on the same bench.

Obviously this led to more eye-rolls and bickering in class, with you performing the new Charms with an apparent ease, whereas he continued to fumble turning his stupid vinegar into anything that even closely resembled wine.

This was all, of course, very amusing to Taeil, whenever he caught Mark’s harsh looks cast towards you when Taeil would choose you for demonstrations, and vice versa when Taeil would ask Mark to demonstrate an example of a non-verbal spell. To this, Taeil would never miss an opportunity to mention to the both of you that ‘​peer tutoring is still an option, you know​’.

Of course, you would refuse this (​to the death​, Taeil would like to point out), insisting on surviving on your study sessions at the bridge and consultations you would squeeze in with professors after lessons.

Mark would’ve done the same, if he wasn’t so busy trying to juggle catching up with his classes and practicing for the quidditch finals. You’d noticed his disappearance after lessons, no longer finding the Gryffindor boy competing with you for a consultation slot with your Potions teacher or a space at the library.

The day before the Quidditch match, you’d just ended a consultation session with Taeil (which Johnny had not unceremoniously interrupted this time, due to him calling an early night for the sake of tomorrow’s match), and though you knew you were already past curfew, you weren’t as stressed about it, you knew Mark would’ve been too strung-up about the match to pay attention to your disobeying of curfew (or at least you hoped).

Plus, he was the only prefect that found it necessary to make your life hell just for something as simple as going to bed late. ‘​That’s 15 points for sneaking out after curfew’​ you could practically hear his voice.

Deciding to take a small walk while you headed back to your common room, you decided to take the longer route back, which would lead you towards the viaduct, something that you found looked absolutely beautiful in the night.

Hugging your robes closer to yourself, you’d let out a sigh at the feeling of the cool breeze caressing the skin of your face gently, almost freezing in place when you saw a figure walking towards you on the bridge.

Your wand instantly went to your robes, casting a spell to freeze the figure in place, daring yourself to go forward, slowly trying to piece out more details of the figure, like how they were only dressed in a loose white shirt and sweatpants, how they were crazy to have gone out dressed in just this, how they wore round glasses on their face similar to Mark’s.

Leaning closer and squinting your eyes, you saw that it really ​was M​ ark.

In your time in Slytherin, one thing Yuta had taught you was to trust your gut. And one thing that your gut was telling you right now was that him being here now was definitely not his own doing.

And as much as you didn’t like him, ​it wasn’t like you to leave him here like this. “Why are you here?” you pushed down your pride to ask, earning a frown from him. “I’m heading to the common room,” he told you as if you should’ve known.

You shook your head, “I’ve been through this route a thousand times. This isn’t the way to the Gryffindor common room...” you began, your intuition proving right when you saw the way he’d pointed towards the direction of the forbidden forest.

“No, it’s this way. I have to go through the forest,” his eyes looked almost glazed over, too blank to be normal.

Your frown deepened, you knew that this had to be the doing of those horrible Slytherins because the final quidditch match was tomorrow. And like you said, ​you couldn’t just leave him here.

Undoing the leg-locker curse you’d done on him, you watched as he visibly relaxed, about to continue on his way towards the forbidden forest until you’d caught hold of his arm quickly, almost flinching at how cold his skin felt.

“You’re crazy, coming out just in this,” you sighed, not wanting to think of the possibility that the students who had done this to him had rid him of his robe and scarf as well, though it had seemed they were kind enough to leave him with his wand.

“I didn’t,” he looked down at his clothes, almost as if he was only realising then that he wasn’t wearing his robes anymore, his hand moving to grasp his wand, making your eyes widen.

“Hey, hey, chill. Don’t curse me,” you rushed to shove his hand down, Mark observing your face in suspicion, as if he was supposed to remove you for obstructing his path to the ‘common room’.

Biting down on your pride once again, you figured Johnny had better thank you for being so nice to his friend as you unwrapped your scarf from your neck, slinging it around him, folding it so it was snug against his neck, the little embroidered flower your mom had sewn onto it practically glaring at you mockingly.

“Uh...follow me, I’ll take you to the uh...​forest​,” you told him, seeing him nod dumbly, letting you grab his wrist and lead him around the castle towards the potions room.

Whatever nice night walk you had planned had long been forgotten now, the only thing weighing on your mind now being to cure him of whatever ​confusion draught​ they’d given him and find out who exactly did this to him.

You could practically hear Donghyuck making fun of you for being so compassionate, especially to Mark, of all people, who you were just saying a week ago that you wished you could transfigure into a snail so you wouldn’t have to hear him.

Successfully unlocking the door to the potions room, you’d seated him down on one of the benches, your hands moving quickly to set up whatever you needed.

“This isn’t the forest,” Mark pouted, disappointment evident in his tone.

You moved quickly as you’d prepared everything you needed, hoping your memory wasn’t failing you, “uh-huh, I’ll bring you to the forest after this, I promise. Can you bring me one of the textbooks?”

It seemed that the confusion Mark was under hadn’t rendered him completely unable to follow instructions, with how he’d wordlessly reached over to the shelf and grabbed a textbook, standing up and going over to hold it out before your face.

Taking it from him, you gestured for him to sit down, a slight tinge of annoyance still within you at the fact that he’d ruined your plans for the night.

Flipping the pages to find the potion you were brewing, hoping that it would be enough to counter the effects of whatever spell they’d casted on him, you sighed, continuing to mix the potion.

“Why are there so many damn colour changes to this stupid potion,” you huffed harshly.

Once the potion was supposed to be simmering for 10 minutes, you’d finally looked up from the pot to assess Mark’s current situation, the boy growing more impatient that you weren’t leading him to his ‘common room’.

“You said you were gonna bring me to my common room,” Mark frowned, looking at you with apparent distrust, his hands gripping the sides of his seat firmly, tucking his chin into your scarf with a sigh, making his cheeks squish up (rather cutely, you hated to admit).

“Yeah, shut up, I’ll bring you, just wait like,” you paused to glance at the wall clock, “6 more minutes.”

Out of curiosity, you’d narrowed your eyes at him, “who was the last person you remember meeting?”

Mark’s gaze clouded, almost as if he was ​made​ not to remember, looking up to you with his lips parted, shaking his head as his tongue peeked out to wet his lips.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his hand leaving the chair to run his fingers through his hair in frustration, “why can’t I remember.”

You glanced at the potion, deeming it just about ready, not bothering to waste any more time to pour it into a pretty vial, simply scooping an ample amount on a ladle and holding it out for him, “drink.”

Mark was obedient, that in itself scaring you with how impressionable the confusion charm had made him, taking the ladle from you and downing the potion, and you’d done your best to return everything to its rightful place while he was busy, clearing the table of any spills or possible ‘evidence’ used against you with a quick spell.

By the time you were done, it seemed that Mark had regained his bearings, the usual awkward tension between the both of you returning.

For a second, just a ​tiny​ second, you’d wished you hadn’t given him the potion, much preferring the lack of hostility he had towards you when he was under the effects of the spell.

“What...” Mark examined his surroundings, his gaze fixating back on you as if out of habit, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to find the right words, “what did you do?”

Scoffing, you narrowed your eyes at him, “I didn’t ​do​ anything. Contrary to what you may think, I actually have things to do other than fight with you.”

Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise, opening his mouth but closing it back for lack of a better response, a part of him still confused about the situation at hand.

You let out a small sigh, dropping your voice to a soft murmur, “long story, think some people tried to send you into the forbidden forest. Seemed like you were under a seriously strong confusion draught,” you told him as briefly and void of emotion as you could.

Thankfully for you, Mark had been too embarrassed to pursue the topic further, simply letting out a sigh, nothing but an ‘oh’ leaving him.

You’d gone before him, peeking through the small window in the door before pushing it open gently, stepping out and deciding the coast was clear enough for Mark to come out as well.

You’d trust your gut as you walked, since neither of you had made any move to shine a light to see better lest you attract attention, “can you see anything? Because I can’t, like, ​at all​,” you murmured.

“Me neither, but we don’t have any cloak to hide the light so we have no cho—”

“Wait, shut up, someone’s coming,” you whispered upon spotting one of the Ravenclaw prefects patrolling at the end of the corridor you were at, shoving Mark back behind a pillar, eliciting a small yelp from him.

“​Invisique,​ ” you murmured the first spell you could think of, earning a glare from Mark, who clamped a hand over your mouth, using his wand and making a motion around the both of you silently as he performed an invisibility spell, trying desperately to hold back his laughter at whatever faux invisibility spell you’d muttered.

While you were waiting for the Ravenclaw prefect to leave, you hoped the pounding of your heart wasn’t too loud, Mark’s hand over your mouth rendering you even more frozen in place, not used to being in such close proximity with him in the six years you’d known him.

You’d tried to keep your gaze steady, hating the way you’d let your gaze wander to the exposed skin of his arms, not used to seeing him in anything other than his school and quidditch uniform.

Letting go of you finally, you’d taken a small step away from him, your expression showing evident distress from his actions, taking your lower lip between your teeth as you did your best to look anywhere ​but​ at him.

Nodding your head at him in thanks, you’d followed him in silence back to the common rooms, stopping at the Gryffindor common rooms first.

“Just so you know,” Mark began, “don’t think I didn’t realise this meant you were out past curfew again,” he whispered, making your eyes widen.

“I basically undid that spell for you! If it weren’t for me—”

Mark couldn’t help the breathy huffs of laughter that escaped him, “right, you and ​spells​. What was that you said just now? ​Invisique?​ I’ve never heard that one before.”

You huffed, your cheeks flushing at the reminder of your fumble just now, “right, you haven’t...because it’s from a tv show. I got it confused with the actual spell...”

Mark pressed his lips together in a firm line, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, though it did nothing to hide his smile, making you scoff at him, shoving him lightly.

Was he actually smiling at you? Like, ​genuinely​ smiling? None of those ‘​oh yeah you totally did well’​ smiles or ‘​wow, congratulations on getting first in class​’ smiles. The smile you were looking at now reminded you vividly of the smile you saw on your very first train to Hogwarts.

Now, you were meeting a different Mark. Not the sixth year Gryffindor golden-boy that wouldn’t even spare you so much as a glance, but instead, the Mark that gave you hope that there was still some semblance to the boy you made friends with.

Mark noticed this too, how just one incident was enough to make him slip up in front of you, making him regain his composure quickly, clearing his throat softly and glancing around even though he knew the prefects would have gone back by now.

“Uh, yeah...goodnight.”

Your eyes widened, not being able to help yourself from blurting, “really? no detention? You’re not even gonna minus any Slytherin points?”

Mark huffed, averting his gaze again as he shook his head, “go before I change my mind.”

You smiled, the sight in itself enough to make Mark’s breath hitch, having to turn around to face the fat lady’s portrait as he tried to steady his heartbeat and rid the tint from his cheeks lest Johnny get suspicious.

And you were the same, going back into your dormitory with a giddy smile on your face, the relief of today’s interaction with Mark making all those years of bickering start to feel worth it.

===

Surely enough, you were sure that if magical Gods existed, they were definitely trying to clown you now. The quidditch match had gotten postponed because of some disagreement between the captains of the two teams, the professors having gotten fed up and given the teams a month to settle their differences.

Long story short, you wished you’d just let Mark waltz his way into the forbidden forest, considering a month was long enough for him to recover from whatever was awaiting him there.

Which was what caused you to be looped into a round of pity drinks in Yuta’s dorm room, Johnny having snuck in seamlessly after years of doing so with Taeyong to hang out with Yuta.

“Heard you went on a date yesterday night,” Donghyuck began, eyeing you curiously for a reaction that would prove his suspicions correct.

You almost choked at Donghyuck’s sudden accusation, making your eyes widen, casting a wide-eyed look at Yuta.

“Who’d you hear that from?” you scoffed, your attention directed towards Johnny, who was leaning against the lower bunk of the bed, wiggling his fingers in a wave at you.

“That would be me,” he drawled, a knowing smile on his face.

You shook your head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I went back to the common room after I finished studying,” you told him, almost feeling like you were defending a lost cause from the way Johnny had scrunched his nose up.

“C’mon, the least you could do is ​entertain​ me,” Johnny whined, “I already had my game cancelled this morning,” he prompted, making you raise an eyebrow at him, hoping your lying had improved over the years .

“As much as I ​wish​ I had someone I could go on a date with, I don’t. And that’s that, end of story,” you shrugged, bringing whatever strange drink Yuta had brewed up to your lips and taking a sip.

“Mark seemed to think differently,” Donghyuck gave you a nonchalant shrug, shifting in his seat so he was lying on his belly now, fiddling with his empty can of soda.

You tried to keep yourself calm, narrowing your eyes at Yuta who was looking at you blankly, his gaze intense as he tried to figure out what you were feeling, “what?”

“Are you and him on good terms now?” Yuta asked with a frown, earning a shake of the head from you.

“Things like that don’t happen overnight, you know.”

Johnny snorted, “just tell us what happened, please,” his voice had a hint of a whine to it, like a stubborn child.

You rolled your eyes, “okay, fine. But it really wasn’t anything special. I saw him when I was going back to the common room, and he seemed really messed up by some confusion charm some people did on him, so I just brought him to the potions room and then that was it.”

You were met with the blank stares of the three boys, Johnny breaking the silence first to huff.

“Seriously? That’s it? Even Taeil and I had more exciting stories,” Johnny huffed.

“Firstly, I didn’t need to know that,” Donghyuck made a gagging noise, “and secondly, that’s because it probably wasn’t romantic at all, I mean,​ look at them.​ I don’t think Mark has a single romantic bone in his body,” Donghyuck rolled his eyes, making Johnny burst into giggles.

“And you do?” Yuta quipped with a smirk, quieting Donghyuck almost immediately. Yuta turned to Johnny, tilting his drink slightly in his direction, “that was disappointing, you would think just one drop of a truth serum got more details out of him than you did.”

“You guys used truth serum on him?” your eyes widened, making Johnny glare at Yuta.

“Dude, you weren’t supposed to say anything,” he spoke through gritted teeth, making Yuta struggle to hold back his laughter as Donghyuck was losing it on the floor, clutching his belly as his laughter made him roll onto his back.

“I mean it with all my heart when I say the two of you are hopeless,” he sighed, wiping the fake tears from his eyes.

You’d averted your gaze, staring into your drink in hand, “uh...well, what did he say?” you asked, making Johnny sigh wistfully.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask him yourself, ” Johnny shrugged, making you frown, knowing there was no way you would ever do that unless you were being held under gunpoint, or wandpoint in this case.

“Shut up, Johnny. You know that’s not happening,” you huffed, downing the rest of your drink as Johnny hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, then I guess you’ll have to live without knowing, then.” And live without knowing you did.

What Johnny wouldn’t tell you, was that Mark had little to no recollection of what had happened before he’d drank the wit-sharpening potion you made for him. All he remembered was the journey back from the potions room and that was it.

Which was why he was even more confused at the green and silver scarf that was sitting on his bed when he’d woken up the next morning.

Examining the scarf closely, Mark had figured it was Donghyuck’s scarf, since he knew Donghyuck had been in his dorm that weekend to play video games with Johnny. Deciding that that was enough deduction for him, he had gotten it ready on Monday morning, planning on giving it to Donghyuck during lunch.

“Where are you going with that?” Johnny asked, earning a shake of the head from Mark, who was already taking the scarf out from his robe pocket.

“Oh, I gotta return this to hyuck,” Mark explained, unsure why his statement had only seemed to amuse Johnny further.

“Donghyuck?” Johnny swallowed his mouthful of food with a wince, “he burnt his scarf a month ago, that’s definitely not his. ”

Sensing something was off, Johnny looked across the great hall to see you sitting with Yuta and Donghyuck, except you were missing your scarf as well.

Tilting his head down slightly, Johnny turned the scarf around, his amusement growing when it revealed the embroidered flower at the end.

“This,” Johnny’s thumb brushed over the stitching, “this is Y/N’s scarf.” Johnny murmured casually, turning to bring his cup of what he figured was grape juice to his lips.

“Who?” Mark sputtered, almost choking on his own spit.

Johnny pressed his lips together firmly, though it did nothing to hide his growing smile, nodding at Mark, “you heard me. Why do you have it, anyway?” Johnny narrowed his eyes at Mark.

“You’re asking me?” Mark’s tone was incredulous, and too defensive to be neutral, “​I​ should be asking ​you!​ I honestly don’t remember ​anything​ about how I got this.”

Johnny nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow at Mark who was slowly pushing the scarf towards him, taking one of Johnny’s hands and placing it on top of the scarf gently.

“Oh...no, no way,” Johnny sputtered into a bout of airy laughter, removing his hand from the scarf instantly, “I’m not returning it for you, if that’s what you’re thinking. You gotta do it yourself.”

Mark frowned, “but I ​can’t,​ dude—”

“‘​But I can’t dude’,​ ” Johnny mimicked, “Why not? It’s ​just a scarf,​ ” Johnny’s smirk only seemed to irk Mark even more, feeling helpless at the thought that ​both​ Johnny and his sibling were the cause of his distress. ​Maybe it ran in the family​.

Mark glared at Johnny, (though it wasn’t very menacing, Johnny found that Mark likened to a baby lion), practically rolling in satisfaction as he pushed Mark to initiate a conversation with you, or an interaction, at least.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Mark narrowed his eyes at Johnny.

The older Gryffindor held his hands up defensively, giving Mark a shrug before he returned to scooping another heaped spoonful of food into his mouth, “not my scarf, Mark. Not my problem,” there was a teasing lilt to his tone as he shrugged.

“Johnny, ​please,​ ” Mark whined, still trying to shove the scarf into his arms, making Johnny huff, shoving it back to Mark with twice the force.

“Just hand it back after your lesson together or something,” Johnny shrugged. Mark wanted to cry, “but we have ​every​ lesson together—”

“Shut up, you’ll be ​fine​, don’t be a baby,” Johnny insisted, managing to shut Mark up for the rest of the meal, said boy too busy thinking of possible ways to give you the stupid scarf.

It’s fine, he’d just hold on to it now, and then put it on your desk before Charms, simple.​

Except, one lesson turned into one day, and one day turned into two days, and soon enough Mark was almost a week in and still struggling to find the ‘​perfect time​’ to give you back your scarf.

His first attempt laid in sending his owl to you with the scarf. However, one thing he failed to realise was that his owl was ​very much blind​ and he’d forgotten to send it together with the scarf, leaving you more than confused when his owl had squawked its way into the library, dropping a note unceremoniously onto your head and attracting a whole lot of unwanted attention towards you. ​Not to mention from the cranky seventh-years who were busy studying for their final year exams.

That had seemed to minus off more brownie points for Mark than add any, since it’d only made walking around the castle harder with all the fifth-year girls from Mark’s personal fan club shooting death glares at you whenever you walked by.

It wasn’t as if his letter said anything anyway, since his owl had delivered the wrong one. But sure, if they wanted Mark to send them a blank card with an ink splodge that read ‘​testing pen ink​’ you would’ve assured them that they could just have yours.

The second attempt was when you’d started noticing how weird he was being. He’d stopped you outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with a resolute look on his face.

“Yes?” you glanced around in confusion, knowing that there were many students walking past you who wondered if Mark approaching you meant another fight was about to break out in the hallways.

It was all confusing you, really, how he’d gone from his snarky comments to just completely avoiding you, and then proceeding to ask you if you could ‘​spare him some time’​ to talk after class.

Mark was about to speak, only his words had gotten caught in his throat when he heard someone call your name, spotting Yuta bounding over in your direction, his hair bouncing on his head lightly as he jogged, casting a curious look to Mark.

Mark felt almost frozen in place, making you furrow your eyebrows at him, “what do you want, Mark? We’re late for class.”

You didn’t understand if this was some kind of prank he was trying to pull on you, though even if it was, you wouldn’t have understood his motive. But thankfully for you, Yuta’s hand around your shoulder had taken your attention away from Mark, making you turn away from him briefly.

“Oh, ​Mark​,” Yuta smiled, tilting his head expectantly at the Gryffindor boy, “how can I help you?”

Mark’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising in panic, making him shake his head quickly, “no, nothing just...wanted to remind Y/N about uh...her detention this evening.”

Your lips parted, your head tilting in confusion at Mark, ignoring the way Yuta had giggled next to you.

“What did you do this time?” Yuta nudged you, squeezing your shoulder. “I didn’t do anyth—”

“And please wear the right socks,” Mark tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, turning around and briskly walking off before you could pursue the topic further.

Glancing down, you saw that you were indeed wearing mismatched socks, though that didn’t seem to be an issue for you before, not like anyone paid attention to your socks anyway (well, anyone other than Mark)

“God, he’s been so weird these days,” you told Yuta, who decided he had enough time to escort you to your class, the boy walking beside you and thankfully warding off all the dirty looks you’d been getting from Mark’s fanclub, all of them seemingly too scared to look Yuta in the eye.

“Here he is, telling me about my ​socks​ when your shirt looks like you’d squeeze dried it straight from the wash,” you huffed, “and it isn’t even tucked in!”

“I thought it was pretty cute,” Yuta shrugged, “he seemed shy, almost, just now.”

You looked at Yuta as though he’d grown another head, “excuse me? Did you ​not​ hear the part where he gave me detention for no reason?”

Yuta held his hands up in defence, shoving them into his pockets as you neared your classroom, “what? I’m just saying, you gotta consider how if you guys weren’t at each other’s necks all the time you’d actually make pretty good friends.”

You groaned, “and you decided that ​now​ would be a good time to give me counselling on that? Look, Mark has made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with me, or just anything Slytherin in general,” you added, “I’d much rather leave my expectations ​low​, thank you very much.”

Yuta nodded patronisingly, “yeah, yeah. Whatever. Enjoy ​maintaining​ your enemies, then,” he ruffled your hair, “have a good lesson, I’ll see you at dinner. Wait no, after your ​detention​.”

Bidding him goodbye, you’d tried not to let whatever Yuta said about Mark get to you too much, entering the class and coming face to face with your least favourite professor. ​History of Magic ​wasn’t the most amazing subject in the world, so you figured that was why it didn’t have that amazing of a professor either.

The other Slytherin students seemed to like him quite a fair bit, considering he was one of the head teachers for Slytherin house, but you never got very good feelings from your interactions with him, something in his words always leaving you with more to unpack.

Today, he’d initiated a discussion on the Second Wizarding War, seeming rather insistent on the fact that your class didn’t know much about it from your poor scores on the last test he’d assigned.

He’d instructed a Slytherin student to hand out the papers (not that that wasn’t expected of him), not missing the way the student had eyed you curiously when he handed you your script, making you curious as to what was on your exam script, surprising yourself when you saw that you’d gotten a good grade on your essay.

“Who here can tell me what kind of changes the wizarding world went through before, during, and after the second wizarding war?” His voice bellowed obnoxiously around the classroom, as you tried to suppress your confusion at his loaded question.

You heard a voice from the back of the class (surely one of his Slytherin pets) squeak out, “the laws changed, sir.”

“Very good,” he clasped his hands together, making his way around the classroom slowly, “now can you give me an example of what kind of laws were in place before the war?”

There were shouts of things like ‘​no underage magic​!’ or things along that line, not that you were paying much attention, your gaze seeming to constantly wander towards Mark’s direction, seeing the boy flipping the pages of his book half-heartedly, clearly uninterested in the discussion at hand.

“Y/N! You did well for the test, so you should be able to answer my question, right? Considering you’re well read on the war.”

Both yours and Mark’s heads had snapped up at the mention of your name, your eyes widening when you saw your professor standing in front of your desk.

Using one hand to gesture for you to get up, you did as he told, gulping visibly as you fiddled with your fingers, “uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your question.”

Your professor sighed, “I said, you all are forgetting one important rule that was, ​quite unfortunately,​ revoked after the war. I gave you a clue already,” he seemed as though he were addressing the rest of the class despite how he fixed his gaze on you.

“You, as a Slytherin, should be very knowledgeable about this. It’s something the founder of your house found ​very ​important regarding the students of your house,” he smiled, though it seemed awfully sinister.

You furrowed your eyebrows, not knowing what answer he was expecting from you.

“I...” your gaze scanned the classroom, meeting Mark’s eyes before averting your gaze quickly, “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

You heard harsh whispers around the class, one of the Slytherin students behind you speaking up, “sir, I think Y/N doesn’t know because they’re one of them,” making the students around him snicker, poorly stifling their laughter.

As if that wasn’t confusing enough, your professor had raised his eyebrows, looking at you with almost a certain amount of disdain.

“Is that so? Well, I never would’ve expected that,” he turned quickly to face the rest of the class, his gaze landing on Mark, who had tensed up in his seat.

“You, Gryffindor boy, get up and tell the class the answer,” he murmured, making Mark’s eyes widen, getting up from his seat hesitantly, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on your professor. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought Mark was angry.

Inhaling deeply, Mark sighed softly, refusing to meet your gaze all the while. “Blood purity, sir.”

“Thank you, you may sit down,” he gestured for Mark to sit, “now I want the rest of you to read pages 103 to 115 now.”

He turned to you afterwards, not bothering to lower his voice as he narrowed his eyes at you, “is it true? That you’re a ​mudblood?​ ”

Mark was watching intently from where he sat, discreetly casting a spell for him to better eavesdrop on your conversation with the professor.

Your lips parted, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, especially with the way he was attracting the attention of the many Slytherin students behind you that had shared his sentiments.

You nodded, albeit belatedly, “yes, professor.”

Mark’s eyes widened, forgetting all about whatever page he was on, trying desperately to crane his neck to get a look at you, his gaze hardening when he saw the look on your professor’s face.

He pursed his lips, his expression changing to one of disgust, letting out a huff, “how disgraceful. It seems I expected too much from you,” he murmured,

Mark couldn’t focus for the rest of the lesson, his head was a mess of thoughts about how you may have been feeling. A strong feeling within himself begging him to comfort you, yet the other part of him feeling like he didn’t deserve to swoop in after all the hurt that he had caused you. He could almost laugh at his situation.

Ironic that it was all because of the silly issue of how pure one’s blood was.

It wasn’t as if you were able to focus very well for the rest of the lesson as well, the not-so-hushed whispers from the students behind you putting you in a sour mood, wanting nothing more than to just find somewhere as far away from them as you could possibly be.

After the lesson, Mark had expected to see you with Yuta at the great hall, figuring he would be a good person for you to confide in about what had happened during the lesson. Although, you hadn’t seemed to show up.

Yuta seemed equally as confused, going over to the Gryffindor table asking if Mark or Johnny had seen you.

“Y/N’s last lesson was with you, wasn’t it?” Johnny had asked Mark once they were back in their dorm room, Mark looking awfully jittery while he sat at his desk, his leg bouncing restlessly.

“Yeah, actually. Uh... I think she was pretty upset after the lesson,” Mark began, halting Johnny’s movements at his bed, craning his neck around the bed-post to look at Mark with furrowed eyebrows.

“What happened?”

“Oh, you know... just...the History of Magic professor back on his bullshit, same old—”

Johnny straightened up abruptly, making Mark pause mid-speech, his urge to go and check on you growing with each second.

“Yo, you know, maybe if you happen to walk past the viaduct later you could see if Y/N’s there—”

“Go, Mark.” Johnny’s tone was knowing, tired almost. ​Definitely tired of Mark’s mixed messages, that was for sure.

Mark sputtered, opening and closing his mouth as his gaze darted around the room, going back to look at Johnny for a silent confirmation.

“I’m- what, huh?”

Johnny sighed, a hint of a smirk at his lips as he shook his head at Mark.

“Shut up, dude, I know you heard me. Go,” Johnny repeated, firmer this time. And that was all Mark needed to hear, not bothering to remove his robe before he’d left.

You knew that it was probably about time for you to return to the common rooms, but something just made it hard for you to move. You’d spent who-knows how long trying to hold back your tears as you leant against one of the pillars of the bridge.

Hearing thumping footsteps get louder, you inhaled deeply, hoping that your breathing wouldn’t be too loud to expose you. Your hand had gone to cover your mouth when you’d realised it was Mark, looking up as you blinked back your tears rapidly.

He knew you were here, no matter how strong your cloaking spell was. Mark knew what this place meant to you, and to him as well. He just ​knew​ you would be here.

As he made his way closer to you, your lips trembled under your palm, your other fist clenching as you struggled to maintain your steady breaths, not understanding why his presence made it so much harder for you to keep yourself from crying.

Mark stood across from where you sat at the viaduct, a soft hiccup letting him know that you were here.

Trying his best to keep from smiling, Mark pulled his wand from his pocket, pointing it at you and silently undoing your cloaking charm, revealing you seated there with your knees up to your chest and your hand clasped over your mouth, your eyes red and brimming with tears.

Looking away, you’d wished you could telepathically shoo him away as he continued to take steps towards you, your hands coming up to wipe roughly at your tears that had refused to go away.

“Go away, Mark,” you mumbled, your voice shaky, “I know I skipped detention, just... go ahead and minus the points.”

Confused at his lack of a reaction, you dared yourself to look at him crouching in front of you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I lied, about detention,” he told you, making you frown.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” you scoffed, your tears welling up once again, warranting a frustrated huff from you.

Mark shook his head, pressing his lips together firmly, “no, it’s not. I’m sorry. I just kind of, you know, panicked when Yuta showed up.”

You shot him a look, “okay, fine. Apology accepted. If that’s all you came to say, can you leave me alone now? I ​really​ don’t feel like fighting with you right now.”

Mark wasn’t sure what came over him when he reached into his robe, taking your scarf out from his pocket, rendering you speechless as he wordlessly reached forward to wrap the scarf around your neck, folding it just like how he always saw you’d worn it.

“Then don’t,” he murmured, shifting so he was sitting next to you now, with his back against the pillar as well, propping his knees up and resting his arms on his knees, a deep sigh leaving him. He wondered for a moment, how long it’s been since the both of you sat here together listening to the rustling of the trees and the flowing water of the lake. Too long, he concluded. 

Today, you were meeting a different Mark, yet it was a side of him that felt so comforting, as if you’d always known it, yet it managed to spark so many unfamiliar feelings in you. The Mark that you were meeting today looked at you with such a pure, unadulterated concern that it made your heart do flips, wishing that this Mark was here to stay, finding that you needed it’s familiarity now more than ever.

“I wanted to uh... thank you properly, for that day at the potions room,” he mumbled, “I um... I honestly, really owe you for that.”

You nodded, taking your lower lip between your teeth as you rest your head on your folded arms.

“You’re free to feel indebted to me, that potion wasn’t easy to make,” you huffed.

Mark couldn’t help himself from smiling, the sight of you making him have to sit on his hands to refrain from reaching over to pat your head.

A heavy silence had fallen between the both of you, almost suffocating you with how thick the tension had felt while you still struggled to swallow the lump in your throat and fight back the urge to cry. Mark’s presence beside you making it even more painful that the universe would send you someone like him when you were in such a vulnerable state of mind. 

“You’re allowed to feel hurt, you know,” Mark broke the silence eventually, his words proving enough to push you off the brink of tears, letting out a small huff as your tears had started to fall. 

In that moment, Mark decided that today wasn’t a day to be so calculative over his decisions regarding you.

Mark shocked you when you’d felt his hand on your shoulder, your body tensing up under his touch, to which he’d gulped, his gaze clouded by the sheer amount of feelings within him.

Finding the strength in him to meet your eyes, you watched how his lips had parted, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips before speaking.

“We can go back to fighting tomorrow, just... for tonight,” he inhaled deeply, “let me be here for you.”

And strangely enough, you didn’t need any more words to be exchanged between the both of you, letting yourself relax and allowing him to pull you closer so your head rest gently against his shoulder, his hand coming up to caress the back of your head soothingly, letting your tears seeping through the fabric of his robe. Mark wordlessly reached over, removing his prefect badge from his robe so it wouldn’t scratch you.

Mark didn’t mind the extent he would go to make sure you were okay. He didn’t back then, and he didn’t now. Not at all.

That was how you knew that perhaps this side of Mark was present all this while, but just didn’t know how to make itself known. You were starting to understand that now.

===

It seemed that after that night, the two of you hadn’t necessarily returned to your routine of fighting each other, but instead, your relationship was almost...​transactional,​ in a sense. Well, maybe just on the surface.

For instance, the next time you’d seen Mark in ​Herbology​, he’d gotten distracted by the way you were so focused on your task, (which was poor judgement on Mark’s part) resulting in him being seized by one of the more dangerous plants you were dealing with.

It was called a ​Venomous Tentacula​, Mark remembered the teacher saying before he’d zoned out to look at you, an ugly looking plant with curving vines and pointy spikes lining it’s branch. His loud curse had caught your attention quickly, casting a severing charm to free him from the plant’s hold.

After this, Mark had insisted he was still ​‘indebted’​ to you, trying to find any means possible to make it up to you. Though slowly, it became less of ​‘debt’​ and more of an excuse for him to do nice things for you.

Like how on another occasion, he’d bumped into you after a late night of studying in the library, choosing to pretend the encounter had never happened.

“Okay, fine, when’s my next detention slot,” you sighed expectantly, catching Mark off guard with how willingly you were accepting your fate this time.

“I owe you, it’s fine,” he insisted, letting you off in broad daylight (moonlight, if you were being specific). The worst part was, he’d even ​smiled​ at you that night.

Taeil found it painfully obvious in Charms lessons, where Mark had slipped up on his spell (out of distraction, once again), causing him to make a crack in the lens of his glasses.

To which you had to go through the longest 2 minutes of your life listening to him struggling to remember the spell to repair his glasses, making you reach over with a loud sigh and point your wand at his face. Leaving Mark wide eyed as he watched the crack in the lens of his glasses disappear.

“You looked like an idiot trying to do it yourself, don’t get the wrong idea,” you would say, which Taeil would proceed to recount to Johnny, who would then relay it to Yuta and Donghyuck, the group of boys growing more frustrated at the both of you the more stories they shared.

You’d been making your way down the spiral staircase when you’d felt yourself freeze in place, unable to walk any further, making the students around you tut their tongues at you in annoyance as they walked around you.

About to undo the spell, Mark had shown up in front of you, shaking his head to get his hair away from his eyes.

He looked anything but apologetic, giving you a nonchalant shrug, “What? You were walking too fast.”

“Undo it, Mark,” you sighed, hoping your face wouldn’t give away how flustered you were on the inside.

“No, wait, wait. Here.” Mark held a small notebook in front of you.

You frowned, “​a notebook​? I have plenty in my dorm. No, thanks.”

Mark rolled his eyes, a small groan leaving him, “it’s not ​just​ a notebook. It’s my charms notes, I wrote them for you- I mean, for the practical test coming up...” he shoved the book closer to you, taking one of your hands to place the book in it, “and before you ask, I’ve already studied for it. I just... thought you might need it, and stuff.”

You scoffed, wanting to reject him but knowing better than anyone that you needed those notes, since you knew Mark had written many notes on non-verbal spells for his perusal.

(He would never tell you, but he’d made sure he’d added every single one he knew, even the ones he never felt the need to write down before, you know, ​‘just in case’ ​you would need them). Eyeing him suspiciously, Mark was prompted to continue, nudging his glasses higher on his nose bridge as he spoke.

“Consider it...​ payment​ for fixing my glasses... and saving me from the crazy plant thing,” he added, seeming to be giving you reasons to take the notebook.

So, like any reasonable person, you accepted. Unfortunately, not missing the way his cheeks tinted pink as he undid the spell quickly, nodding at you before jogging off. Leaving you about a hundred percent sure the reason behind your legs feeling like jelly when he left was ​definitely not because of the spell.

===

“Damn, when did your handwriting get so ​ugly.​ ”

You shut the book with a loud thud upon hearing Donghyuck’s voice, turning in your seat in the library to look at him with wide eyes. 

“What?”

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes at you, a slight pause before he’d lunged forward for the book, harshly ripping it out of your grip as he flopped down onto the seat next to you.

Flipping through the pages, a sound of confusion left Donghyuck, feigning an exaggerated yawn as he read the page contents, “seriously? You were hiding ​charms notes​ from me?”

Your lips parted, unsure how to respond to him as you nodded in apology to the other students at the library, your silence only prompting him to continue.

“I thought you were writing in your diary or something, seriously, could you give me something to work with here?” he sighed, shoulders sagging in disappointment, “your handwriting ​really sucks by the way, did I already mention tha-wait...” Donghyuck let out a long gasp, he had flipped his way to the back of the book, spotting a small inscription on the back fold of the book.

‘​property of mark lee/ lee minhyung’​ it read.

Donghyuck’s eyebrows raised higher than you’d ever seen before, a mischievous smile making its way on his face.

“Why do you have this...did you steal it?” he leaned closer, inspecting your face for a lie, you supposed.

Rolling your eyes, you’d taken the book back from him with a huff, “I didn’t,” you lowered your voice to a whisper, “​steal​ it. I borrowed it fair and square.”

“Yeah, ​same difference​. What’s his excuse now? Did you ​save him a seat in class​ or something?” Donghyuck cooed, making you wonder why he was so confidently accusing you.

“What do you mean, ​‘excuse’​?” you folded your arms, leaning back in your chair as you fiddled with your sleeve anxiously.

“Don’t act stupid. You and I both know ​‘feeling indebted’​ isn’t the reason why you and Mark have been so weird with each other lately.”

You ignored his knowing smirk, choosing to change the subject.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?” you asked, your sudden change in topic catching him off guard momentarily.

Donghyuck gave you a shrug, “you know, studying with Yuta.”

“You? ​Actually studying​?” you snorted, “I’m assuming an ill intention is involved somewhere?” you teased, appreciating the way Donghyuck grit his teeth at you.

“You’re projecting,” he smiled sweetly.

“That reminds me, I told Johnny I’d meet him tonight. He said he had a bunch of stuff he wanted to give me,” you sighed.

“He’s ​already​ packing? He’s that confident about his exams?” Donghyuck’s tone was amused to say the least, holding out a hand to help you up.

You shook your head, “it’s more of...​stress​ cleaning than spring cleaning.” Upon reaching Johnny’s room, having snuck in seamlessly after a few compliments to the fat lady, you’d winced at the sheer mess of things in his room.

From old textbooks to boxes filled with miscellaneous junk he’d collected over the years, you pitied his roommates, his stress creating barely enough space for even ​breathing.​

“Good, you’re here!” Johnny beamed, pulling his headphones down so they hung around his neck as you walked over to his bed, spotting a box full of varying gifts from small teddy bears to heart shaped lollipops.

“What’s all this?” you giggled, sitting cross-legged on his bed as you sifted through the box.

Johnny turned to cast a half-hearted glance at the box, “oh, nothing. Just gifts I got after quidditch matches, feel free to look.”

“There’s so many,” you hummed in awe, “I wonder how much money these people spent just on your stupid gifts,” you giggled, flipping over a small pink compact mirror that someone had bedazzled for him.

Johnny straightened up with a sigh, wincing as he cracked his back.

“Mark’s been telling me to clear them out for ages but I just can’t bring myself to throw them away.”

You hummed, too impressed at his popularity as you read some of the cards people had left with the gifts to notice his mention of Mark, “I mean, the notes are nice. I wouldn’t throw those away,” you shrugged.

Picking up what looked like a heart-shaped jewellery box, you saw a note on it that read ‘​enjoy your win -Yuta’.

“Yuta?” you mumbled, opening the box and being pleasantly surprised when you found that it was a box of ​chocolate cauldrons​. Holding the box over your head, you saw that there was still a more than reasonable amount of time before it expired (God bless wizardry, really. The shelf life on these things were ​amazing​).

Deciding to help yourself, you popped one into your mouth, biting into the chocolate with a surprised hum leaving you.

“Can I eat your gifts?” your question came a little belatedly, but the distracted half wave from Johnny was all you needed to carry on.

About halfway through the box, you started to feel almost giddy, awfully endeared at the fact that Yuta had given Johnny these chocolates.

Taking a bite of another truffle, you’d spotted Mark entering the room, dressed in a grey hoodie and sweatpants, his hair still messy and damp from showering.

Though strangely, you found that you weren’t feeling the same ​butterflies​ or ​jelly-legs​ you usually felt when you saw him these days, all that occupied your mind right now seemed to be Yuta and Yuta only.

“You want one?” you held the box up to Mark, who politely declined.

“Nah, I’ve brushed my teeth already,” he told you, confused as to why you actually initiated the conversation with him first. 

Mark figured he would let it slide just for today that you were blatantly breaking a school rule right in front of him by being here.

You’d shrugged, humming in response, “suit yourself.”

You’d abandoned the rest of the chocolates along with the note on Johnny’s bed when he’d beckoned you over to where he was holding a heaping box of things.

“These,” he heaved a sigh, “are a bunch of books for when you get bored, there’s also art supplies, which may come in handy again, if you’re bored. The rest are textbooks that are pretty much as good as new ‘cause Doyoung helped me wrap them.” He shoved the box towards you, making you grunt at the sheer weight of it.

“Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you made your way out of the dorm, turning to add, “oh, and you should thank Yuta for his gifts, those chocolates were really tasty.”

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, “Yuta?” He hadn’t recalled Yuta giving Johnny any chocolates recently.

Making his way over to Johnny’s bed, he had one hand on the top bunk to support himself, bending down to pick up the box along with the note, examining it closely.

“Dude, how long have you been keeping these chocolates?” Mark frowned, the last time he remembered seeing this box being when Johnny was at the end of his sixth year, which meant it’d been sitting around for more than a year now.

Johnny frowned, making his way over to Mark, his eyes widening when he’d immediately recognized the box.

Taking it from Mark and opening it frantically, he’d whimpered at the sight of the almost empty box.

“Shit,” Johnny winced, groaning and stomping his feet in frustration, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mark’s expression darkened, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, “please don’t tell me these are what I think they are...”

Johnny closed the box roughly, not knowing whether his immediate reaction to this was to burst out laughing or to burst out in tears. Clearly he was projecting his stress about his exams onto something else now.

Looking at the box as though it had offended him, Johnny groaned, “why did you have to show up ​now​ of all times? My exams are in less than a week!”

Mark watched the scene play out in horror, Johnny’s breakdown would’ve scared him a lot less (and that was saying a lot because he was very very scared) if this situation didn’t involve you.

Eventually, Johnny tossed the box of chocolates into the trash, giving Mark a grave nod that made Mark’s heart sink.

“I hate Yuta.” 

===

Figuring the potion would have worn off on its own within 24 hours (as he had checked in his potions textbook that same night), Mark had left it alone. But when he’d walked past the quidditch pitch on his way to the library more than 2 days after and seen you sitting at the benches watching Yuta play with a lovestruck expression on your face, Mark knew he was done for.

He was surprised the teachers weren’t able to tell you were under the sickeningly strong love potion with how distracted you were in classes, somehow managing to find the space on each and every one of your notebooks to doodle drawings of Yuta or hearts around his name.

Maybe it was only obvious to him because of how much attention he paid to you on the usual (which was also something he was realising now), but that didn’t change the fact that love potions were banned on campus, and his moral duty as a prefect was his main priority in this case.

Which was basically the lie he was religiously feeding himself as he read up on the antidote.

Taeil never enjoyed his position as a professor more than he did now, finding the situation more than amusing. From the scandalised expressions he would see Mark cast you whenever you were doing pair work and you were exceptionally distracted, to the way he’d seen your pencil scribbles of hearts and Yuta’s name at the corner of random pages in Mark’s Charms notebook during a consultation. And ​especially​ after Mark had confronted him one day after Charms class, with a list of ingredients that he demanded Taeil get for him from the potions room.

“​‘Extra credit’​, huh?” Taeil smiled, his demeanour letting on as if he didn’t already know why Mark was asking for these ingredients.

“Yeah,” Mark breathed, rocking back on his heels anxiously as he watched Taeil pack his things into his satchel.

“Didn’t know your potions professor gave out extra credit for love potion antidotes,” Taeil quirked an eyebrow knowingly at Mark, who had frozen in place, eyes wide and unwavering.

“H-Honestly I—”

Taeil sighed, “I’m really disappointed, Mark.”

Mark winced, already formulating plan B in his head from the way Taeil didn’t sound too keen on plan A.

“I may seem old but I was a student here too, you know,” Taeil continued. 

Mark’s lips parted in shock, not having expected Taeil’s response. He scrunched his nose up, nudging his glasses higher on his nose as he did so, not knowing how to react to Taeil’s words.

“Why’s it so important anyway?” he prodded, simply wanting to hear the reason for himself (you know, just to make sure his hard work in gathering the ingredients wouldn’t go to waste).

Mark pursed his lips, suddenly feeling shy at the thought of explaining to Taeil his stakes in the situation.

“It’s more for her than for me, really,” he shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, “you know, save her from the embarrassment once the potion wears off.”

Mark hated the way Taeil’s gaze seemed to go right through him, as if he were prompting Mark to try again.

Mark felt his cheeks heat up, a small nervous giggle leaving him, “don’t look at me like that! Why are you looking at me like that?”

Taeil stifled a laugh, though his smile said everything, “​why do you think​ I’m looking at you like this?”

Mark huffed, “I’m starting to understand why you and Johnny are a ​thing​.” Taeil poorly hid his amusement, shaking his head, “you know, as a teacher I see a lot of things...” he trailed off, packing his things and picking his bag up to sling over his shoulder.

“What are you saying?”

Taeil smiled, shrugging in feigned nonchalance.

“I’m ​saying,​ ” Taeil’s tone rose and dipped with a certain teasing hint to it, “that it’s not against any rule or law to be in love with a​ certain Slytherin sixth-year,​ you know.”

Mark sputtered, his immediate reaction giving him away instantly. “I’m not in ​love—​”

“Alright, alright. I’ll get your ingredients, calm down,” Taeil chuckled, walking past Mark and beckoning for him to follow him.

“She’ll be yours in no time,” Taeil added. 

The look on Mark’s face was priceless​.

Taeil had agreed to help Mark book a slot that night before curfew so he could brew the potion, so Mark figured he would inform Yuta of his plan before he got to work.

He wouldn’t have approached Yuta first under normal circumstances, the boy’s sultry gaze and intense, flirty demeanour always seeming to send Mark into a panic, but he figured in times like this he wasn’t really left with much of an option.

Yuta was currently sitting in the quidditch pitch reading his book while you sat behind him with your head resting on his back, your hands wrapped around Yuta’s torso and your eyes slowly drooping closed.

“Oh, ​Mark​,” Yuta broke into a wide smile when he’d spotted the Gryffindor boy standing in front of him, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Mark heaved a deep sigh, Yuta’s words slipping past him when he’d noticed your position, strangely wishing he was Yuta in that moment. He knew it was a far cry for him to expect you to be okay with going back to how things were just because he gave you the antidote. ​But still, he couldn’t help but hope.​

“I wanted to tell you that I'm making the uh...” Mark dropped his voice to a whisper, “​antidote later, and I need you to help me give it to her,” he told Yuta a little too firmly.

However, Mark’s tone didn’t seem to affect Yuta, the older boy simply tilting his head at Mark with a smirk on his face, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“​Antidote?​” 

Yuta’s smile grew, Mark finding that it awfully resembled a Cheshire cat.

“Why?” Mark wondered momentarily how someone whose smile was so innocent could be so good at getting on his nerves.

Mark’s forehead creased in a frown, “​why​? Dude, you’re messing with me, right?”

Yuta feigned nonchalance, his hand coming up to rest atop your clasped hands, rubbing his thumb on the back of your wrist soothingly as Mark watched in horror as you snuggled your head into Yuta’s back, Yuta having to hide the triumph in his smile from managing to annoy Mark.

“Me? Mess with you? ​Never,​” Yuta’s eyes widened, his tone mocking. “What’s so urgent about it?” he prompted, making Mark groan.

First Taeil, now Yuta, it seemed as if he would have to get through your entire group of friends just to get the stupid antidote to you​.

“​Look​ at her,” Mark gestured to you with wide-eyes in his sheer desperation, “you have no idea how long this potion’s gonna last.”

Yuta narrowed his eyes at Mark, his tongue coming out to wet his lips as they parted, smirking ever-so-subtly.

“And? I thought we’d all agreed to wait it out,” Yuta shrugged. 

Mark’s gaze hardened, snapping back in annoyance, “you may have, I didn’t.”

Yuta raised his eyebrows, slightly impressed at witnessing Mark’s tenacity for things other than quidditch or schoolwork now, “you know, I never pinned you as the jealous type.”

Mark scoffed, “Stop joking around, Yuta. Seriously, I just wanna make sure she doesn’t do anything she regrets,” he insisted, lying through his teeth. Well, technically it wasn’t ​completely a lie.

“You were never this convicted about it before, why now?” Yuta prodded further, knowing almost exactly how to push Mark’s buttons.

Mark didn’t even know why he was entertaining Yuta, something about the way he posed his questions to Mark making it harder for him to avoid them.

“‘Cause I want to be, okay?”

Yuta wanted to laugh, to tell Mark how you were almost equally as hopeless in your denial of feelings for him as well, but he figured he’d let the antidote move things along for him.

Letting out a resigned sigh, Yuta pat your hands gently, making you stir awake, “can’t say I didn’t enjoy having a study companion that basically ​smothered​ me with affection the past few days but... I guess I’ll have to say goodbye.”

Turning to cast a blank look at Mark, as if he were analysing him, Mark struggled to keep his gaze firm, staring Yuta down as if he were looking death in the eye.

“Go, run along and be potion-y now,” Yuta waved Mark off, and Mark hadn’t wasted another second, already turning to leave.

“Oh, but Mark?” Yuta called, making Mark turn to look back over his shoulder, “you might wanna be a little less obvious about your ​big fat crush​.”

Mark sighed, ​he figured he deserved that.

You wouldn’t have seen it, but the Mark that was in the potions room that night was desperate, not even to get the antidote to you, but for something much more serious.

Firstly, as he watched the potion turn from purple to red, he thought about how he’d spent the last few hours being annoyed at you for why you were so clumsy as to eat Yuta’s spiked chocolates. I mean, it was ​Yuta,​ giving a gift after a quidditch match that he ​lost.​ ​Shouldn’t you have been a little more distrusting?

Secondly, as the potion turned to green it reminded him of how ​extremely​ annoyed at Yuta he was, for having attained such a strong, perfect love potion that it made each second of watching you fawn over Yuta was driving him crazy. The thought almost made him overmix the potion.

And then, when he watched the green turn to orange, he contemplated on the very fact that it was driving him crazy at all. You were just a friend, ​or acquaintance, even,​ just an over-achieving Slytherin who found it your life mission to compete with him.

Mark loosened his tie, the potions classroom starting to feel awfully stuffy.

But, you were the same Slytherin whom he befriended on his very first train here, who accepted him for who he was even before all the complications of stigma and student leader hierarchy came into play.

The same Slytherin who made Mark wonder if Slytherins were actually ​that​ bad. I mean, he thought your smile was pretty cute, and so was the way your brow would knit in focus when you were performing spells, kind of. Maybe even the way that moment you shared on the viaduct reminded him of how you made him feel like he was on a long-awaited train-ride home.

And then, all it took was his waiting for the potion to turn from orange to pink for him to realise that he was absolutely a goner for you.

Which was what had ended you up in the Slytherin common room on a Friday night, staring at Yuta in absolute horror as the memories of your previous few days had flooded back to you, except this time you were looking at them with a ​non-Yuta-obsessed p​erspective.

Yuta couldn’t help himself from the bout of laughter that washed over him, his mouth open wide as his laugh echoed around the common room, tilting his head back with the sheer force of his laughter.

“It wasn’t ​that b​ad really,” Yuta spoke between his giggles, his hand coming up to wipe the tears from his eyes, “it was the first time in 6 years I heard you call me ​pretty.​ ”

You buried your head in your hands, turning around in the big cushioned chair you were seated on, hugging your knees to your chest for some semblance of comfort.

“I’m gonna go to sleep. Bye, forever,” you sighed, getting up from the chair, Yuta rubbing his bare arm as he leaned over so his face was right in front of yours.

“You know, just yesterday you would’ve been asking me to take a nap with you,” he giggled. 

“Shut up, Yuta.”

Yuta sighed deeply in satisfaction, “oh, how I missed that sound.”

===

“Why are we here again?” 

It wasn’t as if you wouldn’t have loved spending your Saturday evening exploring a toy shop but you would’ve much rather preferred if you weren’t already slightly tipsy and aching for a seat somewhere.

Yuta and you were previously at​ The Leaky Cauldron​ celebrating the end of his examinations, the said boy having abruptly dragged you out of the pub when you were barely on your second glass just to bring you to the toy shop. Yuta’s tipsy mind was clearly impulsive (or more than usual). 

Yuta scoffed, “It’s ​important​. Sicheng’s birthday is coming up and I wanted to get him this thing he’s been looking at for a while.”

You shot him a pointed look, “pretty sure Sicheng isn't an avid collector of block sets,” your tone making Yuta shield the box he was looking at from your view.

“Didn’t say​ ​I was looking for them ​at this very second​,” he murmured, a slight pout on his lips as he made his way to the slightly more pink-decorated part of the shop, Yuta having to contain his excitement when he saw the love potions.

 ​You would’ve figured that he would’ve had enough of love potions by now.

Taking one in his hands, he’d brought it up under his nose, finding that you could smell the potion through the cap because of how strong it was. Covering the seal, Yuta had scuffled over to where you stood looking at the muggle magic sets, startling you with his sudden call for your name.

“What?” you turned, annoyed at his sudden outburst, seeing him shove something he was holding just under your nose.

“Smell it, smell it,” he shoved it closer, “guess the scent.”

You frowned, wondering if he was trying to shove it up your nose, but you complied anyway, taking a whiff of it and finding the smell awfully familiar.

“It’s really familiar, is it supposed to be just one scent? I’m getting like...” you took another sniff, “a mix of things...” you trailed off, seeing Yuta’s eyebrows raise, his smile showing that he seemed to be enjoying this a little too much.

“Is that so?”

You nodded, humming thoughtfully as you took another whiff, “it smells like... rain? And like...the lake?” you pursed your lips, “I don’t know why but it kind of smells like baby powder, like you know, fabric softener?”

Yuta burst into a fit of giggles, making you even more curious as to what the true identity of what he was holding was.

“What’s so funny?” you huffed, turning your gaze away from the fake magic wand you were holding, turning to see Yuta open his hand up, showing you what he was holding.

“It’s a love potion, idiot.” 

Your eyes widened, immediately regretting your words as Yuta walked off to return the small vial back to its original place, turning back to you with a shrug, walking past you to beckon you to follow him out of the shop.

Hugging your arms closer to yourself, you glanced up at the sky, noticing that the clouds were getting darker, “hey, are you sure you wanna go back to the pub? It looks like it’s gonna rain.”

Yuta waved you off, “It’s fine, we can just run back if anything happens,” he shrugged, “anyway, now that I’m thinking about it, it makes sense for you to be smelling that, you know, since love potions are supposed to smell like what you think smells nice.”

You frowned at him, “that’s weird, I never knew I liked the smell of ​fabric softener ​so much. It doesn’t even smell like my fabric softener,” you hummed, stepping into the pub with a sigh, the warmth of the inside soothing you and putting you in a relaxed mode almost instantly.

“Might wanna think more about that little detail,” Yuta pointed out, stretching a hand out behind him for you to take.

Walking closely behind Yuta, you weaved through the crowd to get to a booth near the window of the pub, your eyes widening when you had spotted Taeil seated there with Taeyong and Sicheng.

Greeting them quickly, you’d slid into the booth next to Taeil, Yuta leaving to get his and your drinks.

Turning to face Taeil, you tried not to laugh at the way a flushed-faced Taeyong was leaning against him, his eyes hooded and tired behind his thick-rimmed glasses.

“Is he okay?”

Taeil sighed, “poor boy insisted on coming to celebrate but kind of forgot he was a lightweight.” Sicheng rested his arm on Taeyong’s shoulder casually, the Hufflepuff’s intoxicated state doing nothing to faze him.

“When did you guys get here?” you asked, relaxing into the cushion of the booth, almost letting your eyes flutter closed with how happy you were to be finally sitting down.

“We’re a few drinks in, if that’s any indicator. Mark’s already flushed,” Sicheng snickered.

“Mark?” you frowned, wondering when Yuta had gotten so chummy with Mark for even Sicheng to know him.

Taeil’s tongue peeked out from his lips slightly, an almost teasing smile on his lips, “yeah, hope you don’t mind that we invited him.”

Your eyes widened, having to stop yourself before you were too quick to reassure him.

“Oh... no, yeah,” you fumbled for the right words, stopping yourself when you’d caught sight of the knowing look Sicheng was giving you.

Leaning closer, he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Yuta told me about you guys’ weird love-hate thing going on,” he gave you a slow nod as if to show you he understood, which somehow only made you feel even more helpless.

Ignoring Sicheng’s statement, you brushed it aside, your gaze scanning the inside of the pub to land on anyone with your brother’s height (finding the rest of them would be a lot easier after that).

“Where um... where are they?” you blurted, hoping it would distract Sicheng from tormenting you in his weird unsuspecting way. Sicheng gestured with his head behind you, and you followed his gaze to spot Johnny, Yuta and Mark heading towards your table, Mark busy giggling at something Johnny said.

“Scooch over,” Johnny gestured, making you get out of your seat to let him sit next to Taeil. You figured he should thank you for being a kind sibling, though you were wondering if that was a very good decision when you’d ended up having to awkwardly squeeze next to Mark.

Giving him a small nod in greeting, you picked your drink up when he’d returned the nod, the rosy tint on his cheeks as he gave you a small smile making your head spin.

“Where’d you guys go just now?” Johnny asked, making Yuta shrug casually as you took a sip of your drink, wondering if Yuta had added extra firewhisky into it with how strong the flavour was.

“We went to the toy shop,” Yuta gestured out the window.

“Toy shop? You should’ve told me sooner, I wanted to see if they had that toy I wanted.” Sicheng pouted, feigning annoyance towards Yuta.

“Toy shop? Why?” Mark asked, earning a glare from Yuta, who didn’t want to ruin his surprise for Sicheng.

“Oh, nothing. Y/N just wanted to look around,” Yuta shrugged, making you have to consciously hold back a snort, nodding along with his lie.

Sicheng frowned, clearly sulky at the fact that Yuta had gone without him, though his sadness was short lived, Yuta reaching a hand over to interlock his fingers with Sicheng reassuringly.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t there anyway, all they had were love potions and boring non-magic magic kits,” Yuta assured, almost heaving a sigh of relief when Sicheng’s eyebrows raised in interest.

“Speaking of which, I heard about your little ​incident​,” Sicheng made no effort to hide his smile, looking at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. Not again, Sicheng. 

You’d hoped the lighting in the bar would hide the flush on your cheeks, the room feeling awfully hot suddenly, turning to look out of the window, missing the way Mark’s eyes had widened, his hand coming up to pull at the collar of his hoodie.

“Oh, would you look at that, it’s raining,” you marvelled, taking a long sip of your ​butterbeer,​ hearing Johnny let out a giggle.

“Uh-huh, it is,” he drawled, already almost done with his beer, sinking down in his seat to lean his head on Taeil’s shoulder, doing everything to lessen their size difference.

“You should’ve seen it, never in my 6 years of knowing her have I ever seen anything like that,” Yuta chuckled, managing to stir a laugh from Taeyong, who sat up in his seat.

Mark reminded himself that it was a potion-induced infatuation he witnessed. There was no reason for him to be getting jealous. 

“Should’ve seen Mark too, he wasn’t any better—” Mark let out a loud laugh, drowning out the rest of Taeyong’s sentence as you raised an eyebrow curiously at him.

Why was Mark involved? 

Y​ou’d wanted to bury yourself beneath the table, embarrassment kicking in as you realised Mark would’ve probably witnessed everything you’d done (or tried to do) to Yuta within those few days.

Casting a glance at him, you noticed he was already looking at you, looking away quickly as he fixed his gaze on the inside of his glass, inspecting his drink in feigned concentration.

“Did you make the love potion?” Sicheng asked, earning a shake of the head from Yuta.

“No, I didn't. I bought it from this shop in ​diagon alley​,” Yuta told him, pointing outside, “I didn’t know it was gonna be ​that​ strong, though.”

Mark couldn’t help himself from scoffing, “clearly.”

“Oh, then, did you buy the antidote from there too?” You asked, trying to recall if you’d seen any antidotes for sale just now, not having expected the boys to cast each other knowing looks, bursting out into laughter.

“No, they don’t sell antidotes.” Yuta pursed his lips, poorly stifling his smile.

You couldn’t help yourself from uttering a confused hum, figuring the drinks you had beforehand were seeming to fuel your lack of a filter, accompanied with a burst of confidence.

“They don’t? Where’d you get the one you gave me, then?”

Taeil watched the scene with an amused smile on his face while Johnny beside him was losing it, clutching his belly as he laughed soundlessly.

“Maybe you should ask Mark,” he blurted through giggles.

Turning to Mark, you gave him an expectant look, not having been prepared to hear him say what he did.

“I made it.”

Mark’s leg had started to bounce, his hands clasped on his lap as he bit the inside of his cheek.

You’d wracked your brain for possible things he was indebted to you for, coming up short, “​you? W​hat-why?”

Yuta eyed Mark intensely, gesturing outside with his head when Mark had met his gaze, and Mark knew now was his chance. There was no more ‘waiting for the perfect time’ like how he did with your scarf. This was his chance, and he didn’t think he would be able to wait any longer if he didn’t take it now.

“Can we uh... not do this here?” Mark blurted, wincing at his poor choice of words.

Your eyes widened, along with Sicheng, the both of you unsure what he meant by his words.

“Oh... okay, sorry for bringing it up then—”

“No, I mean like,” Mark sighed, “can we like...​ talk outside​?” his voice lowered to a murmur, speaking through gritted teeth.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation, nodding wordlessly as Mark had stood up, already on his resolute path towards the exit of the pub.

Following him to one of the benches outside the pub, glad that the rain had forced everyone into the pub, leaving just the both of you alone, the drizzle softly acting as a filler for the silence that had fallen between you two.

Strangely, this time, as you met this Mark who wasn’t casting you glares and scoffing at you for once, this Mark who wasn’t in his school uniform and looked too comfortable in his oversized hoodie and pyjama pants (which was an awfully ​Mark​ thing to wear out of school). 

You didn’t sense any animosity between the both of you, just a silence that was waiting patiently to be broken.

“We’re far enough that they won’t be able to listen in,” Mark told you as if that was supposed to reassure you.

Taking a deep breath, you’d only realised then that you’d brought your glass out together with you, taking a sip of liquid courage (your drink, not the potion) before exhaling deeply, “why did you make the potion?”

Mark brought a hand up to tug his hood over his head, picking at a loose thread on his pyjama pants.

“I uh,” Mark let out a small giggle, “I guess... I uh... I don’t know.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “what do you mean you ‘​don’t know’​? You wouldn’t go through the trouble of brewing an antidote as troublesome as that one for someone you don’t like for reasons you don’t know—”

“I don’t ​not​ like you,” he blurted, immediately regretting his words, looking away and wincing.

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe him, not knowing what you would’ve done if you did, the sheer hope inside of you that this Mark you were talking to now was even remotely close to feeling whatever confusing feelings you were feeling about him was overpowering.

“What?” was all you could muster, earning a small huff of laughter from him, a shy smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, there’s really...so many places I could start with but I don’t know if it’s right for me to be telling you now,” he murmured.

“Would you rather me like...shorten it, instead?” he turned to look at you, your breath hitching as he met your gaze, not used to the determination you were seeing in his eyes. The look being a sheer contrast from the softness of the dusty pink on his cheeks and the way his lips were ​so red.

You nodded wordlessly.

“I couldn’t stand seeing you act like that with Yuta.” 

Mark’s adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his throat almost feeling constricted with how anxious he was.

Your eyes widened, scoffing. 

“It never bothered you before,” you mumbled, the both of you still acting as if this was still about your rivalry when you knew deep down you were both ​way​ past that already.

Mark laughed, shaking his head, pursing his lips, “it did. You just never noticed.”

It was as if with every word he spoke, you were feeling the tension thicken, the way your heart had started to pick up speed, especially with the way he was looking at you, and the way your heart was just ​begging y​ou to indulge yourself. Just this once.

“I thought that I was doing the right thing by distancing myself from you,” he began, his eyes darting to your hands briefly, watching how you were fiddling with the glass anxiously, looking back at your face before he continued, “but then, all these ​things​ started happening and I just kind of,” he stopped himself mid-speech, inhaling deeply.

“Missed you,” his voice came out as just a little more than a whisper.

Mark wanted to run away in embarrassment at how vulnerable he sounded, figuring he shouldn’t disappoint the Gryffindor in him and continue to stand firm (even if his voice wasn’t).

You weren’t sure if you were breathing, you couldn’t even pay attention to that.

“What,” you swallowed, “...what kind of ​things​?”

“That, you know, that night you helped me undo the confusion charm.”

Your eyes widened, remembering what Johnny and Yuta had told you about it that day at the dorm, “sorry, by the way, about Johnny using the truth serum on you for that night,” you told him.

What you hadn’t expected, though, was the look of confusion you’d received from him in response, “truth serum? They’ve been banned by the ministry for ages,” he told you slowly, making your eyes widen, having completely forgotten about that.

No wonder Donghyuck had called you hopeless.

“Oh,” you muttered, not being able to help yourself from laughing as well when Mark had burst into a fit of giggles, his nose scrunching up cutely as he leaned back in his seat, leaning against the table of the bench.

“Shut up,” you muttered.

“Is ​the​ Y/N actually ​embarrassed​?” Mark teased, making you huff, making as if to stand up. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you, I’m gonna get a refil—”

In what seemed like mere moments, Mark had grabbed you by the forearm, pulling you back gently onto your seat as his other hand removed his wand from his pocket, pointing it at your cup wordlessly.

“Stay here. I wasn’t finished.”

You watched in awe as your cup had started to refill itself, a shiver running down your spine at the sheer ease he’d performed the spell.

“I know I’ve been a, you know, a dick to you,” he huffed at his own expense, “but, all you have to do is tell me if you want me to stop. I’ll respect what you want, if you want me to leave you alone I'll leave you alone. If you still hate me, it’s okay—”

“Shut up, Mark,” you blurted, not ready for whatever emotional ramble he was about to embark on, catching him off guard as he’d made known in the slight lift of his eyebrow.

“Is it a sibling thing?” a small smile played at his lips, “you and Johnny sure like telling me to shut up,” he huffed.

Once again, Mark had no idea what he was compelled by, but he’d dared himself to reach over, smoothing down your hair that had gotten messed up by the wind, and your breath hitched in realisation. 

There it was, you had recognized that distinct smell almost immediately.

His fabric softener.

You were done for, for sure​. But obviously, you didn’t mind one bit. ​Especially​ because it was Mark.

Mark’s throat had suddenly felt dry, his fist clenching unconsciously next to your head as he withdrew it quickly, your fight or flight instincts kicking in as your brain struggled to think of an appropriate course of action from here, your self-preservation instinct running on overdrive.

“I uh... I don’t really want this drink anymore, maybe I should go give it to Yuta—”

Mark’s nose scrunched up in distaste, wordlessly taking the glass from your hands, “guess you won’t mind if I drink it then, right?” he’d taken a big sip of the drink, setting it down beside the both of you on the table, though his gaze still had that determination in them.

“Are you drunk?” he murmured, your heart picking up speed again as you’d sworn he’d gotten closer to you.

You shook your head, “sober as a judge,” you huffed.

Mark smirked, a small smile on his lips, “I don’t know what that means, but I’m taking that as a no.”

You smiled, you would’ve shook your head if you weren’t so scared of this moment coming to an end, “yes, Mark. It means I’m not drunk.”

You’d felt Mark’s hand move to grasp your hand gently, the tension of the almost-touch of your lips driving you insane.

“Then whatever’s about to happen, you won’t regret it, will you?” he asked, leaning even closer to you, his head tilting slightly.

You couldn’t help yourself, “maybe.”

Mark scoffed, though you didn’t miss the small giggle that escaped him, “guess I gotta make it good then.”

Without another word, he’d brought a hand up to grasp the nape of your neck, bringing your head just that slightest bit closer to yours to press his lips against yours. 

Kissing him back, you’d sighed at the warmth he exuded, your hand coming up and accidentally knocking his hood off of his head, the hand you’d rest gently against his neck making him sigh into the kiss.

No love potion would’ve let you feel what you were feeling now.

Turning your body slightly, he’d shielded you from view, his other hand coming up to comb through your hair before coming to rest at the base of your neck, giving him more control over the kiss.

You didn’t care that the wind was blowing the rain onto your clothes, all you could focus on was the way you’d wanted to melt completely into Mark’s touch, the comfort of the moment washing over you as he pulled you closer to him, almost as if asking you to lean your weight on him, letting out a small hum as if to tell you it was more than okay with him.

Pulling away breathless, you’d spent a few moments catching your breath, the whole scene playing out in your head again as he looked at you with his pupils blown and his chest heaving. You swore you heard him curse under his breath.

And just like that, the moment was over. 

You hadn’t even noticed Yuta coming out to interrupt the both of you, Johnny and Taeil insisting that it was time for Mark to go home, the both of you smiling like idiots as Yuta and Sicheng dragged you (and a far too giddy Taeyong) back to the school.

“I’ll see you tomorrow! Same place as always!” Mark called out before Johnny could pull him forward, Johnny casting you a look of feigned disapproval.

Same place as always​. You liked the sound of that.

===

Contrary to what you’d expected, you figured Mark would’ve at least lived up to the whole idea of Gryffindors being ​chivalrous​ by at least defining your relationship, because you definitely were getting tired of Yuta always referring to him as your boyfriend when even you couldn’t feel like you had a right to call him that yet.

Sitting anxiously at the Slytherin section of the spectators stand, you watched the match intently as the Gryffindor and Slytherin final quidditch match had played out in front of you.

“I didn’t remember your boyfriend’s flying skills to be so bad,” Donghyuck nudged you, making you frown, taking your attention away from Gryffindor’s seeker to find Mark in the sea of red and green.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you muttered belatedly, your gaze landing on his broom, watching as it seemed to move randomly, almost, in a manner that seemed out of his control.

Knowing this couldn’t have been just ​anyone’s ​doing, you narrowed your eyes to search the crowd in front of you, landing on the same Slytherin boys from your batch that had ​loved​ to bother Mark, seeing one of them moving their hands in a manner that was in line with Mark’s flying.

“If Mark asks, I didn’t do it,” you sighed. Practically being able to hear Mark’s voice in your head saying ‘​15 points if you cast spells unsupervised​’’.

“Didn’t do what?” Donghyuck frowned, following your gaze as you took out your wand discreetly, whispering a spell under your breath, slipping your wand back into your robe calmly as Donghyuck watched in horror as the boy in question had almost immediately started retching up slugs, his friends dragging him out of the venue in a panic.

“Problem solved,” you smiled, turning your attention back to the game, seeing Mark visibly relax when his broom had stopped being possessed.

Donghyuck shook his head, though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly impressed behind his fear, “remind me never to mess with Mark ever again.”

After the game, you’d met Yuta outside the stadium who said that Mark had asked if you would meet him in the Gryffindor tent. Complying, (more than a little willingly), a part of you couldn’t help but hope that this was the time where he would finally ask you to be with him, to give you a dramatic confession,  telling you the typical ‘​I was stupid I’m sorry ill make it up to you’​ bullshit you knew he thought you would want to hear.

But, you should’ve known Mark better.

Walking into the tent, you’d spotted Mark in his quidditch uniform, his protective gear shoved into his duffel bag, turning around to look at you with a smile.

“Hey, I was just heading out,” he breathed, the smile lingering on his face. A tell-tale sign that he was still in his post-victory daze.

You raised an eyebrow, “Yuta told me you were looking for me,” you murmured.

His eyes widened in realisation, turning to take something from his bag, “right, I wanted to uh...give you this.”

He held out his hand in a fist, your delayed reaction making him roll his eyes with a laugh, reaching over to take your hand, holding your palm open for him to empty his hand’s contents into yours.

You’d wanted to laugh, sitting in your hand was a little acrylic keychain of the same bubble-blowing spongebob that you’d given to him in your first-year. Except, this time, you were seeing it in a new light. It seemed almost freshly painted, with a certain shine to it. Not to mention how the acrylic looked as good as new.

“I uh... fixed it,” he smiled proudly at you, “a little late, but better late than never, right?” he grinned.

Maybe this was Mark’s sweet for you to keep you from crying.

You nodded. 

“Thanks,” you awaited for him to continue, looking at him expectantly.

Mark rocked back on his heels, his mouth pulling into a rectangle shape as he struggled to find the last bit of confidence in him to tell you what he wanted to say.

“That’s it? You didn’t call me here because you wanted to tell me something?... or something?” you prompted, and Mark was thankful for the prompt, of course, he just needed to calm down before his heart was all he could hear.

Wincing, Mark looked almost pained, inhaling deeply.

“You know it's 20 points for fighting with students, right?” he blurted.

Your lips parted in shock, looking as Mark as though in a silent question if he was joking.

“How did you—”

“I knew it was you,” he grinned, “the moment my broom stopped going crazy. I just had a feeling—”

You opened and closed your mouth, gripping the keychain in your hand tighter as you scoffed, for lack of a better response, “okay, if that’s all you came to tell me i’ll just go—”

“Wait! Wait, sorry I was stalling,” he took a step forward, grabbing you by your free hand, searching your expression for a sign that he could proceed.

Once he deemed it alright, Mark nodded resolutely, “I wanted to ask you if we could like... you know,​ start over.​ ”

Your eyebrows raised, prompting him to continue.

“Because, I really uh...” he swallowed, his demeanour a stark contrast from how he was just seconds ago on the quidditch pitch, “I really like you.”

“Then we shouldn’t start over,” you told him, wanting to giggle at the sheer shock that had painted over his features.

“Let’s continue from where we’re at. I want to know more about this Mark in front of me now. I don’t want to start over,” you continued.

With your words alone, and the small smile that you gave him, Mark’s heart swelled up. This Mark, awkward, yet confident. Insecure, yet brave. This mark you were meeting for what felt like the first time but yet felt so familiar, you were more than happy with.

Mark’s smile widened, nodding at you.

“I’m an idiot for not giving you the antidote any sooner.”

[foundthe8wing]

Okay, doing this over here because my main tumblr is usually a place for me to vibe and I don’t want all the bullshit tied to that account, but basically: I’m really angry and disappointed with the dndads cast for how they’ve put a lot of the minors in their fanbase in danger. Everything below is a repost from twitter (with permission from the OP, crypticjoy), and I’ll link the thread in a reblog. 

Under a cut because it’s long and potentially triggering (content warnings for grooming, sexualizing minors, and sexual assault)

[OP tagged the relevant cast accounts; I added slashes here bc I’m not sure if those same urls exist on tumblr and I don’t want to be randomly tagging people over here]

5:49 PM Sep 5, 2020

“I don’t usually do this, but: the way that the cast of @/dungeonsanddads engages with their audience is actively dangerous to minors, and they need to get it together. (cw for discussion of grooming, sexualizing minors, sexual assault)

First off, there are some iffy jokes and situations in the podcast itself. I’m not going to get into all of it right here, but have a google doc: [doc will also be linked in reblog]

Yes, the kids in #dndads are fictional, but that doesn’t mean this stuff doesn’t affect real kids listening. a. it normalizes talking/joking about kids in that way and b. There’s a lot of inconsistancy and confusion on the lines they draw--

Paeden saying “baby” is weird but Ron sitting in Terry Jr’s lap isn’t? I’m confused. You know who the fuck relies on that type of confusion and unclarity? Fucking predators

And I’m not saying every in-character decision has to be perfectly moral or acceptable, but the way the cast, out of character, discuss what’s weird and what’s not sends a lot of mixed messages. And that’s legitimately dangerous.

So then you take all of this, and you add a patron discord server that lets nsfw discussions run virtually unchecked--you create a fandom space that allows adults to discuss kinks, and porn searches, and just, all this other stuff, with teenagers...

... and it becomes a breeding ground for grooming and abuse.

The creators aren’t responsible for babysitting their fanbase or for how people engage with their content outside of their spaces (though, again, I’d urge them to be very careful about what kind of messages they’re sending)

But  they ARE responsible for taking basic steps to keep the spaces that THEY create and engage with safe.

“But the rules for the server say 18+!” The rules say you have to be 18 *or have parental permission.* They also say to keep things PG-13. That’s vastly different than establishing something as an adult-only/nsfw space.

“Minors shouldn’t be joining/listening anyway!” The cast can’t control who listens and neither can I, but there’s a difference between knowing teens are listening to you discuss sex with your adult friends vs facilitating conversations between teens and adults on those topics.

“If people are uncomfortable they can just leave.” First off, this situation isn’t just uncomfortable, it’s unSAFE. Second: fuck that. It’s not on minors to set and maintain boundaries about this stuff; a lot of them literally do not know how

Not because they’re stupid, but because they’re young and inexperienced. It’s the responsibility of adults to set and enforce healthy boundaries around sexual discussions, and this particular group of adults has done a fucking terrible job

(Maybe don’t encourage listeners to DM you about kinks! Maybe especially don’t do that when you’ve communicated, intentionally or not, that making and escalating sexual jokes is a really good way to get a reaction from you guys)

I get that they didn’t expect to have so many young listeners, but to be aware of that fact and make no adjustments whatsoever is irresponsible and it WILL lead to someone getting hurt. Does their “young, thirsty, female” audience only exist to them when they can laugh about it?

And let’s be absolutely 1000% clear: this isn’t an issue they’re unaware of. The stuff I’m talking about is an ongoing problem with how their server is run, but it came to a head with one specific situation very recently:

They released a bonus, patron-exclusive episode about the dads taking the bdsm test. Given the general state of the server, I was worried about where those discussions might lead, so before it dropped, I reached out to @/anthony_burch to express my concern

He told me he raised the issue with @/fwong and Ashley, meaning at least three members of the dndads team were aware of the situation, and decided it didn’t warrant any type of preemptive action on their part

(alternatively, it means Anthony lied, which would be a whole separate issue)

[Image ID: a discord DM conversation from Sep 1, 2020, between a crossed out username and reverendanthony. It reads: 

OP: heyyyyy have you guys considered that releasing an episode focused on the bdsm test is almost inevitably going to lead to a bunch of 15 year olds sharing their results in your server because you might want to get ahead of that before someone gets hurt

reverendanthony: oh holy shit, really good idea

OP: thanks, I know it's easy to veer into that territory just because of the nature of your show but I wanted to bring it to your attention because I figured you don't want to create a situation that's like, actively dangerous (and for the record I'm willing to discuss what I think would make it safer but I'm also not going to assume you want/need my input, obviously you can handle it however you see fit)

reverendanthony: No, thank you for bring it up, I really appreciate it -- I just raised the issue with Freddie and Ashley

OP: Good to know, thank you /End ID]

I’m not overreacting. I have seen this shit happen, to my friends and to myself, and watching the dndads cast take absolutely no meaningful action to prevent situations like that from occurring directly under their noses makes me fucking livid

I can guarantee that the #dungeonsanddaddies fanbase includes both predators and survivors of abuse, grooming, etc (including those currently living through it), and I need them to think very, very hard about which group they’re prioritizing.

And I need that choice to be evident through more than just their words, because it doesn’t fucking matter how much you “really appreciate” that I brought up my concerns if you do fuck-all to address them.

It doesn’t matter how many times you say the word “consent” if apparently everyone was okay that “Darryl gets sexually assaulted” was almost a plot point played for laughs.

(His dare from Scam  would have been rape, straight up. Just because no one said the word doesn’t mean it wasn’t coercive and gross).

I’d like to think the @/dungeonsanddads cast isn’t intentionally encouraging abuse, but they’re sure as hell enabling it, and they needed to get their shit together ages ago, because they’re not the ones their negligence hurts.”

Quote retweet by OP 6:51 PM Sep 7, 2020

“So, they updated the rules for the patron server, but I want to be really clear that from my perspective, it’s way too little, way too late. 

The new rules don’t adequately address the core issues and they certainly don’t absolve the cast of the harm they’ve already caused. 

[Tweet includes 2 screenshots: one of a bot asking people to click thumbs up to confirm they’re 18+ (or have a parent’s permission) and agree to the rules, and one that includes two of the rules. It reads: 

“This is an 18+ space. Them’s the rules: per Patreon’s policy, you must be 18+ or have parental permission.

Use language as if you’re at your parents dinner table. Don’t get people in trouble because of your SPICY POSTS. Keep conversation polite. NSFW content is not allowed!”]

(and before anyone says I should bring up my concerns privately, a quick refresher on how well that went last time I did it:) 

[links back to the “(alternatively, it means Anthony lied . . .)” tweet from the original thread]

So hey, @/fwong, some thoughts:

1.The rules are vague and unclear: what /exactly/ do you mean when you say “NSFW content is not allowed!” when the content of your show itself is so often nsfw? And how are you planning to enforce this?

Does it mean you’ll shut down the MBIC conversation that is literally just kink discussion? I need you to be clear on where the line is, because, again, predators rely on that confusion. Don’t give them a gray area to play in. 

For an example of a more clear policy, it’s pretty easy to say, “yep, ‘Henry gets pegged’ sure is a sentence we said on our show and you don’t have to pretend it’s not, but if you’d like to discuss it in any more detail at all, you need to move”

2. Remember how I said I needed to be clear on whether you’re prioritizing survivors or predators? While I doubt it was intentional, the language you’re using here is prioritizing predators.

It’s not “don’t get people in trouble,” it’s “don’t make people uncomfortable.” It’s “we all have a responsibility to make sure this space is safe for everyone, especially the younger members of the community.”

You’re setting people up to be afraid of expressing concerns for fear of “getting people in trouble” or “inciting unnecessary drama.” Even if it’s not what YOU meant, it’s very easy for those words to be manipulated, so +

You absolutely have to be explicitly clear that if someone expresses their discomfort, you’ve got their back. Being safe is more important than being polite. 

3. I need every cast member to take responsibility for their own actions. I’ve gotten no indication from any of you that you understand the ways in which the in-show things I brought up were harmful.

Acknowledging that harm is important not just because of the immediate effects of that content, but also because it implicitly sets an example for how similar complaints should be dealt with going forward.

When someone says “hey, I was uncomfortable that you seem fine with the Glennary ship, because she reads as very young to me,” I don’t need a dissertation on how the perception of characters can evolve due to your improvisational nature

I need to hear “oh, I interpreted her differently, but you’re right, we should have been more clear, and I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.” Because your responses to your own mistakes set the tone for any other situations like that going forward.

How comfortable is someone going to be with coming to you, or Ash, or any of the mods about someone making them uncomfortable if they’ve seen that when people call YOU out, they’re argued with and shut down?

Don’t tell people you’ve “made it clear that you won’t go there” when they tell you that you ARE there. Listen to them and do better. 

Set the expectation that people will be respected when they raise their concerns. “If you want to come at me you have to bring the heat” is not an appropriate response on a subject that made people genuinely uncomfortable. 

In essence: set people up to be supported and protected, not dismissed. 

[It’s like a matriosche of tweets over here. This one links to another thread, also by crypticjoy. That thread reads:

A non-comprehensive guide to keeping discord servers safe for minors:

1. Make designated channels for nsfw/18+ discussion. Generally speaking, this is a lot more effective than banning those discussions altogether, because it’s a lot easier to say “hey, can you move this conversation?” than “hey, I need you to stop”

In fandom spaces, it’s usually a good idea to have separate channels for talking about nsfw fiction vs discussing your personal sex lives.

2. Give everyone minor/adult roles; make sure your 18+ channels are locked to people who don’t have an adult role. It’s important that there’s more of a barrier there than just checking a box.

3. NSFW channels shouldn’t necessarily be a free-for-all; be aware of people’s boundaries and respect them (for example, r*pe jokes aren’t funny or okay, even if you’re not making them around kids)

4. Explicitly state in your rules that people should feel free to come to mods if anyone is making them uncomfortable. Actually listen to people and resolve the situation if they do approach you.

5. Make it clear that creepy behavior via DMs or other means is also not tolerated--you can’t control what people do outside your server, but you can make the choice to not allow people like that in your space

6. Make sure mods are on top of things BEFORE people have to say anything; sometimes being a mod means being willing to be the “asshole” who shuts things down before they get out of hand, even if they’re not asked.

Be generally aware of signals that people are uncomfortable or that things are escalating too far, and address those situations sooner rather than later.

*It should be noted that safety involves a lot of components beyond just containing nsfw discussions; this thread just happens to be focused on that one specific element.

oh also! It's a good idea to provide resources on grooming so people know what to look out for [links to some resources; again, this’ll be in the reblog]]

So, @/dungeonsanddads, if you’re interested in anything beyond just having a flimsy excuse you can point to to cover your own ass, I’m gonna need you to try again.

Sorry I can’t be nicer about it, but I’ve given so many benefits of the doubt I could be running a successful charity, and this isn’t an issue I’m willing to drop. 

10:02 PM

Thought I was done but actually I've got a few more questions: to what extent were @/HeyBethMay, @/WillBCampos, and @/mattLarnold included in conversations about this issue/the new rules? Is this something your whole team is involved in?

Have you discussed what you're doing on a team and individual basis to keep your fan interactions safe, and are you on the same page about how much it matters? Are you holding each other accountable? Is everyone okay with where this ended up?”

[headfulloffantasies]

Consequences

The title of Mand’alore catches up with Din Djarin.

Part 4 of Clones and Kings

Read on Ao3

“Do you think all of Master Yoda’s species have Jetii powers, or are we just lucky enough to find another one?” Wolffe asked Rex.

They sat side by side on the ramp of Mando’s ship drinking in the first rays of sun Rex had seen since Jakku. The Mandalorian had left them to guard the ship at the landing dock while he took Not-So-Yoda to pick up supplies at the market. Five credits said Mando would come back with a new toy for the kid.

“I don’t know. The kid still gives me this look sometimes like he knows what I’m thinking,” Rex grumbled.

“That’s not hard, vod,” Wolffe joked. “You have a terrible poker face.”

Rex shoved his brother’s shoulder. He missed this. The camaraderie between clones. It had been far too long.

“Well?” Rex asked Wolffe. “What will you do now?”

Wolffe turned his mechanical eye towards Rex. “I want to rejoin our brothers. Do you know if any others live?”

Rex shook his head. “You’re the only vod I’ve found since the end of the war.”

“And the Jedi?” Wolffe asked.

“The baby or Luke Skywalker?” Rex asked.

“I was thinking Commander Tano,” Wolffe growled. “I’d like to serve under someone from the old days.”

Rex closed his eyes and basked in the sun. “I’m here on Commander Tano’s orders. She’s doing shadow ops these days.”

Wolffe scoffed. “You don’t look very undercover, brother. Babysitting doesn’t suit a Captain.”

“I’m doing my best,” Rex answered. “Commander Tano said watch the Mandalorian and the foundling. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Speak of the devil,” Wolffe nudged Rex.

Mando came lumbering out of the crowded port towards them. He had two bursting satchels slung over his shoulders and Yoda the Younger riding his hip carrier.

Rex stood and wiped his hands on his pants.

“Hold him,” Mando dumped mini-Yoda in Wolffe’s lap. Wolffe froze. Mando ignored the clone’s obvious discomfort. Rex smirked. Served Wolffe right for teasing Rex about the kid.

“Let me help,” Rex offered Mando. He took one of the satchels off Mando’s shoulder.

“Din Djarin.”

Mando went stiff as a board. His hand drifted to his blaster. Rex craned his neck to see over Mando’s shoulder.

“Kriff,” Rex spat. He unfortunately recognised the red-haired woman marching towards them with her blue helmet under her arm.

“Is it too late to run?” Mando asked.

“Pretty sure she’s seen you,” Rex answered. “You could try shooting.”

“Din Djarin,” Bo Katan repeated. She came to a halt with a respectable space between them. Then she dropped to one knee. “All hail the Mand’alor.”

Rex gaped. Mando still didn’t turn around. His shoulders had come up around his helmet.

Wolffe made a choked noise. “You’re the Mand’alor?”

“Mand’alor,” Bo Katan said to Mando’s back. “It’s time to return to your duties as ruler.”

“I am doing my duty,” Mando turned sharply to look down at her. “You and the other advisors were informed of my intentions to collect my son while the Jedi is busy.”

Bo Katan scowled. “Yes, but we assumed you’d bring the child home with you. Not gallivant around the galaxy reliving your bounty hunting glory days again.”

Mando went silent and still. Rex took a half step back. Mando radiated violence from every line of his armour.

“Inside. Now,” Mando finally ground out.  

Bo Katan straightened up and followed on Mando’s heels up the ramp into the ship. Rex trailed behind. He glanced back at Wolffe still sitting in dazed confusion. Yoda in Training took the opportunity to climb up Wolffe’s arm and sit on his shoulder.

“Come on,” Rex snapped. “Bring the kid. They might reconsider tearing each other to pieces in front of a child.”

Mando stomped into the cargo space where the carbonite freezer blinked and the frozen bounty sat in its slab. Rex hoped Mando’s helmet was heat shielded from the death-rays Bo Katan beamed at the back of his head. Mando grabbed the bounty and spun the slab around so Bo Katan could see its face.

“Do you know him?” Mando asked.

Bo Katan barely flicked her eyes disdainfully over the frozen Devorian. “No. Should I?”

“This man,” Mando explained. “Was selling beskar. He claimed he got it off a Mandalorian he killed.”

Rex shuddered.

Bo Katan crossed her arms. “So, you avenged a brother. That doesn’t-.”

Mando cut her off. “The galaxy’s underworld needs to learn that beskar belongs to the Mandalorians. I intend to make the life of anyone selling beskar unprofitable. Once they realise the steep punishment for trading our heritage, no one will want to buy beskar. Then the Mand’alor can sweep in and claim the remnants to give back to our people.”

Bo Katan chewed on this. From her pinched eyebrows she clearly thought it foolhardy.

Rex found himself staring at Mando in a new light. The man had honour in spades. And patience and ruthlessness to carry out his ambitious plan.

“That will take time,” Bo Katan finally said.

“Yes,” Mando inclined his head.  

Bo Katan visibly struggled with this concept. “Fine.” She bit out. “I assume you have your next target.”

“Yes.”

Bo Katan lifted her chin. “Then I will accompany you.”

“Absolutely not,” Mando snapped.

Bo Katan didn’t back down. They locked in an intense stare. It didn’t really seem fair when Mando had his helmet to shield his face. Rex read the resolution in the line of his shoulders while Bo Katan grit her teeth.

“You may accompany us on your own ship,” Mando relented, much to Rex’s surprise.

“How gracious of you,” Bo Katan bowed her head. Mando escorted her off the ship.

Rex watched them go by in bewilderment. He caught Wolffe’s eye. Wolffe looked twice as flabbergasted as Rex. Good. Rex was the superior officer. He shouldn’t experience the same surprise as someone under his command.

Itty bitty Yoda saw a chance with Wolffe distracted and wiggled out of his grip. Rex dove and caught him before the kid could make another of his famous escape attempts.

Mando came back with defeat dragging down his shoulders.

“Why’d you let her tag along?” Rex blurted out.

Mando took Yoda Junior from Rex’s hands. “She’d only follow us anyways. At least she’s not trying to kill me for the Darksaber this time.”

“You’re the Mand’alor,” Wollfe gasped. Mando refused to respond. He tucked his child into his arms and swept up into the cockpit and sealed the door.

Wolffe pointed up the ladder. “He’s the Mand’alor.”

Rex dropped a hand on Wolffe’s shoulder. “Steady. Take a breath.”

Wolffe’s hands came up and gripped either side of Rex’s face. “Holy kriff, that madman is the Mand’alor!”

Rex carefully extricated himself from Wolffe’s fingers. “Do you need to sit down?”

Rex assumed Mando had locked the cockpit because Mando had finally decided to indulge in his afternoon meal. He’d open it after he had his helmet back in place. For now, Rex reckoned he’d like to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

Rex laid out his bedroll on the floor and placed his blasters within reach. “Wake me in thirty,” he instructed Wolffe.

Rex woke in twenty to something punching the breath out of his solar plexus. Rex bolted up. Huge liquid eyes stared back at him.

“I told him to let you sleep,” Mando’s tired voice said from above. “I don’t know if he understands words yet.”

The twitch of Un-Yoda’s smile said he knew exactly what people told him but he enjoyed chaos too much to bother obeying. Master Yoda had shared the same wrinkled smirk. Rex narrowed his eyes. The child mimicked him and showed off his sharp teeth.

Rex scooped up the child and held him at arms length far away from those biters.

Mando took the kid again. “We’re almost there,” he said. He trekked back up to the cockpit, his cape swirling behind him. He left the door open. Rex took it as an invitation. He started for the ladder.

Mando had the Wee Little Yoda asleep in his lap. The kid made cooing sounds in his sleep.

Rex sat in the co-pilot’s seat. Mando said nothing for a long time. Rex relaxed into the silence. He stared out at the glowing streaks of stars passing by. Mando’s helmet caught the glint as he turned towards Rex.

“Do you think I’m being an irresponsible leader?” Mando asked.

Rex thought he was asking a question high above Rex’s paygrade, but he answered anyways. “I think a ruler’s responsibility is to take care of the people around him. So, if he never leaves the throne room, well.” Rex left that there. “But a ruler who knows the needs of his people because he’s out among them is a good man in my books.”

Mando sighed. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Rex nodded. He’d known the Mandalorian from the first day they’d met. The man was simple. That didn’t mean he was foolish. He was probably the wisest person Rex had ever met. That included Master Yoda, because the old gremlin hadn’t managed to see a Sith plot ten years in the making. Rex might have a bias. Didn’t make him wrong. The point was; Mando wanted two things out of life. To care for his son, and to live his Creed. It didn’t seem like much to ask. Too bad Bo Katan thought different.

“How many Mandalorians have you tried giving the Darksaber to?” Rex asked carefully.

Mando tipped his helmet. “Everybody but Boba Fett.”

Rex imagined Boba Fett leading an army of beskar clad Mandos. It would be like someone unleashing a nuclear bomb to get rid of an anthill.

“That’s smart,” Rex squeaked.

“Fett commed me right after I got it and threatened to dismember me if I offered it to him,” Mando finished.

That tracked actually. Fett had complicated history with Mandalore and he had his hands full on Tatooine last Rex heard.

“We’re here,” Mando announced. They dropped out of hyperspace.

Rex had to know something before they plunged into the lion’s den.

“What is this really all about?”

Mando leaned back in his seat. “Mandalorians have been hunted for our beskar ever since our ancestors abandoned Mandalore. There are those who would see our reuniting as strategically unwise. Before I ask them to make themselves vulnerable, I have to prove I can protect them.”

And that right there was why Bo Katan could never rule Mandalore while Mando lived. She just couldn’t compare. Nice try, Princess. Come back with some scruples and a better attitude.

The planet they’d landed on looked like a wasteland. Only sparse vegetation managed to poke through the grey dust. The trees grew twisted in spindly bunches. A dark fog spread over Rex’s feet as they exited the ship.

Bo Katan’s ship landed behind them. She emerged with her helmet on and guns at the ready. Mando leaned casually against the side of his ship with Yoda the Imposter snuggled into the satchel at his hip.

“Alright,” Bo Katan said. “Where’s your beskar thief?”

“This way,” Mando stalked silently into the gloom. Rex and Wolffe exchanged a look. They followed at a distance.

“Not many heat sources on this planet,” Wolffe reported, tapping his cybernetic eye. “Place seems abandoned.”

“So, it’s a good spot for lowlifes to hide,” Rex summed up.

Wolffe shrugged. They trekked through the fog. Rex kept his blasters in hand. Nothing moved in the sparse trees. The dry earth under their boots crackled with every step.

They approached a ridge of rock. Mando stopped.

“Hang on,” Mando started. “Something’s not right.”

A blaster bolt scorched the ground inches from Mando’s boot. He drew and shot in the blink of an eye. Rex pulled Wolffe behind a boulder. A bolt cracked against the stone above his head. Rex heard the sound of return fire.

Rex leaned out to sneak a peek. Mando hadn’t moved. He held his ground and aimed his blaster.

“We have to retreat!” Rex yelled. “There’s not enough cover here.”

Mando didn’t seem to hear. He sprayed the ridge with a shower of fire. The return shot clipped him on the pauldron. The force of the blow spun him to the side. Rex’s stomach jolted as he realised Mando had shown his vulnerable flank. He opened his mouth to shout.

Bo Katan barrelled out of nowhere and crashed into Mando. She tackled him behind a tree. Rex ducked back into his hiding spot.

“I thought the Jedi were bad,” Wolffe growled. “But Mando’s kriffing crazy.”

The blaster fire from the ridge stopped.

One by one their rag tag crew peeked out of their cover.

Rex risked stepping out from behind the boulder. He pointed his blasters. No bolts came careening to cut him down.

“All clear,” Rex announced.

Wolffe joined him, spitting curses.

Rex turned at a sound of surprise from Bo Katan.

Mando shoved himself into Bo Katan’s face. “Don’t do that again.”

Bo Katan met his ire with her own venom. “It is my responsibility to defend the Mand’alor.”

“You shame me in battle again and I’ll throw you in a sarlacc pit,” Mando growled.

A squeak came from Mando’s satchel. The tension dropped from his shoulders. He pulled Yoda the Pretender from his pouch. The tiny toddler gripped Mando’s thumb tightly.

If Rex wasn’t still worried about blaster bolts raining down from above, he would have melted over the Jedi baby.

“Can we please find some new cover?” Wolffe voiced Rex’s thoughts.

Mando and Bo Katan broke apart. Mando reached for the side of his helmet. Rex assumed he was shifting through heat scans, looking for the trail their mark might have left.

“This way,” Mando headed out around the side of the ridge.

Bo Katan watched him go. Rex gestured for her to follow, determined to keep his position as rear guard. He had some experience from chasing around kriffing Jedis.

They moved as a tight knot through the trees. Wolffe bumped his shoulder against Rex’s.

“Does this feel like an ambush to you?”

Rex nodded. “The shooter had us pinned down. He didn’t need to retreat. Unless.”

“Unless he went to warn his backup.”

Rex scanned their surroundings and cursed the fog.

The rounded a bend and ran straight into four bandits armed to the teeth.

“Kark!” Rex shouted. They were surrounded.

Wolffe and Rex moved as one; diving behind the nearest tree. Splinters and blaster bolts rained over Rex’s head.

Mando landed in the dirt next to him. Mando grunted and gripped his side.

“You hit?” Rex demanded. He raked his eyes over the spot where Mando pressed his hand. Bless the armour for saving Mando’s life and curse it at the same time for hiding the injury from Rex’s sight.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mando shouted back. He yanked out his blaster and took up firing along with Rex. Rex had a kriffing time getting a single shot off with the sharpshooter pinning them against the trees. He also had no eyes on Bo Katan. Much as he disliked her, Rex hated to think she might have fallen.

Finally, Rex caught a break in the assault. He peeked around the tree trunk. Two of the four bandits were advancing. Rex aimed at the Twi’lek holding an elctro-spear.

Sizzling electricity leaped from the tip of the spear and arced past Rex’s ear.  He ducked back and jostled Wolffe.

“This feels familiar,” Rex shouted in Wolffe’s ear.

“We’re evenly matched now,” Wolffe yelled back.

“Hold your fire!” A male voice suddenly ordered. The bandits quit shooting. Rex leaned around the tree.

The tall Twi’lek twirled his electro-spear. He surveyed their little group.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the Twi’lek bared his eye teeth in a nasty grin. “We’re going to pry those two Mandalorians out of their armour and sell that beskar for a fortune. You other two can either help us and take a share of the money; or you can die just the same.”

“I got a counter offer for you,” Wolffe shouted. “You can take that spear and ram it where the sun don’t shine.”

The Twi’lek’s face turned stormy. “Fine. Have it your way.”

The other bandits lifted their weapons and renewed their firing. Rex ducked back down.

Mando shoved Not-Yoda into Rex’s hands. “Watch him. I got this.”

Mando vanished like a puff of smoke. Rex cradled the child against his chest to shield him from the stray blaster bolts. Sharp claws found their way past the collar of his breast plate to cling to his shirt.

“It’s okay,” Rex promised. “Your buir has a plan.”

The crack of shots continued to deafen Rex.

A sudden explosion rocked Rex against the tree. He curled around the Jedi child as debris rained down. Rex poked his head out.

Mando stood in the center off the destruction. Even through the smoke Rex could see his chest heaving. Three of the bandits lay on the ground at his feet. Rex didn’t see the Twi’lek leader.

Out of the smoke, a figure tackled Mando. Mando threw him off. Rex heard the groan as Mando pressed a hand to his side. The thick fabric between the beskar plates looked darker than it should.

The Twi’lek rolled and came up with a vibroblade. He slashed at Mando with the knife. Mando brought his arms up and caught the blade on his vambraces. The screech of metal on metal shrieked in Rex’s ears. He grabbed his blaster and took aim. The Twi’lek danced around Mando, hopping and weaving so much Rex couldn’t get a good shot.

A lucky kick knocked Mando’s feet out from under him. He hit the ground in a clank of armour. The Twi’lek raised the knife over his head. Rex shouted too late.

“Djarin!” Bo Katan plowed out of nowhere. Her wrist blade blocked the vibroblade’s descent. She plunged her other wrist blade into the Twi’lek’s chest. The bandit made a gurgling noise Rex wished he could block out. The body dropped and landed on top of Mando.

Bo Katan kicked the corpse aside. She offered her hand to Mando. He smacked her hand away. Mando got to his wobbly feet. He wiped the blood from his breast plate. He left a horrible handprint smeared across the silver beskar.

Rex hurried to Mando’s side. Yoda’s Progeny whined and begged for his father.

For the first time, Mando ignored his son. He pressed his visor into Bo Katan’s face.

“I warned you not to do that again.” Mando’s voice growled through his vocoder.

Bo Katan lifted her chin. The painted eyes on her helmet were cold. “If you died in battle, that kriffer becomes the next Mand’alor. I can’t let that happen.”

“Not until you get your shot first,” Mando snapped back. “We’re done.”

“You can’t dismiss me,” Bo Katan snarled. “I’m the rightful heir to the throne of Mandalore.”

“You want your throne?” Mando unclipped the Darksaber from his belt.

Rex held his breath.

Mando extended the saber hilt to Bo Katan. “Go on. Take it.”

Bo Katan seethed in silence.

“That’s what I thought.” Mando turned his back on her.

“I will challenge you for the throne,” Bo Katan promised.

“I appreciate the warning,” Mando drawled. He limped back the way they’d come.

Wolffe caught Rex’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Rex shrugged. They fell in together and trailed behind Mando.

They were barely a pace out of Bo Katan’s view when Mando’s knees buckled. Wolffe snagged his arm and kept him from cracking his bucket against a tree.

“Kriff,” Wolffe hissed. “You got bacta on the ship?”

Mando nodded.

“Alright. You’re going to have to walk. I can’t carry your weight in beskar.”

Rex carried the anxious Yoda the Younger after his father leaning hard against Wolffe’s side. The child whined and wiggled, reaching for his buir.

“He’s alright,” Rex tried to soothe the tiny Jedi. “Your buir is strong.”

They got to the ship and Wolffe dragged Mando up the ramp. Mando directed Wolffe to the med kit. Wolffe flipped it open and started rifling through the contents.

Rex knelt beside Mando sitting with his back against the ship’s wall. Blood had soaked through the flight suit under Mando’s arm. Rex set the Jedi down and grabbed for the clasps on Mando’s breast plate. A gloved hand clamped down on Rex’s wrist.

“Don’t,” Mando growled.

“We got to get at the wound,” Rex explained.

“I’ll do it myself,” Mando grabbed the kit from Wolffe. He threw himself at the cockpit ladder.

Wolffe yelped a protest. “You’re going to need help.”

“It’s forbidden,” Mando insisted.

“Fine,” Rex snapped. “But if you die up there, I’m not delivering the Darksaber to Bo Katan. I’d rather eat my bucket.”

Mando managed a bark of a laugh. “I’ll make it my final wish to have that kriffing thing tossed in a supernova.”

“That I can do,” Rex promised.

The cockpit sealed behind Mando. Wolffe stood at the door and stressed in silence so strongly that Rex was certain he would manifest the emotion as a Force Ghost.

“Make sure to use plenty of gauze,” Wolffe called through the door. “And more bacta is better than too little.”

“Vod,” Rex snapped. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“Are you sure?” Wolffe snarled back. “That kriffer jumped into an ambush to detonate a karking bomb. I don’t put much stock by whatever brains he might have left in that bucket.”

“Stop being a mother bantha,” Rex grumbled.

The door opened. Mando stomped out right past Wolffe and Rex to snatch up Small Fry Yoda. He slapped the panel that revealed his private bunk. Mando paused there, not turning to look at them.

“Thank you. I owe you a debt,” he said.

“The only thing you owe us for is forcing us to work with Bo Katan,” Rex answered.

They couldn’t see Mando’s smile, but Rex watched Mando’s shoulders relax. He retreated into the bunk and closed the door behind him. Rex and Wolffe exchanged a look.

“Do you think he sleeps with the bucket on?” Wolffe asked.

“I can hear you,” Mando’s muffled voice came through the door.

End

[chrismho]

Lakmé

Summary: Is this not the closest I’ve ever been to living?  The Kurosaki Family invites Rukia along with them to the Opera. Ichiruki/Rukia-centric one-shot inspired by the opera scene in Moonstruck. Set a little bit after FB arc.

PS: It’s a pretty famous song but if you haven’t heard Flower Duet  before, I highly rec you give this rendition a listen, it’s breathtaking! : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M9NK-EbUAao

“ICHIGOOOOOOO! RUKI-CHAAAAAN!” 

SMACK!

A day in the Kurosaki household was not complete without at least one collision between Isshin’s face and either Ichigo’s foot or fist. 

“I don't know how many times I have to tell you, old man: QUIT DOING THAT!” Ichigo roared, swiftly kicking his father back to the other side of the living room.

Rukia waited patiently for Isshin to complete this strange ritual, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, Masaki!” Isshin sobbed, throwing himself upon his poster. “H-how cruel, how unloving our son has become! And Rukia at his side, so pure and lovely! W-we truly have here a beauty and the beast!”

“SHUT IT!”

 The dark-haired shinigami watched them butt heads and felt a vague sense of nostalgia swirl inside her. I didn’t realize how much I…missed this, she silently admitted to herself. Seventeen months had passed and Rukia kept herself busy with work--very busy. Too busy to stop and realize just how much she missed life in Karakura. But now that she was back, the realization was sudden and overwhelming; she missed late night hollow-hunting, the bustling hallways at Karakura High, she missed Keigo, Mizuiro, Tatsuki, she missed indulging in her schoolgirl act, pretending that she was human and truly one of them. But most of all, she missed him. That was a realization that had set Rukia very much on edge. Ichigo was a comrade, a partner, a friend. A friend she found herself pining for in those seventeen months. She recalled a saying she learned in the human world, something along the lines of “absence makes the heart grow fonder”. 

Absence had only made Rukia’s heart confused as hell. 

Though almost two years had passed, her relationship with Ichigo picked up almost right where they left off. They bickered, laughed, they understood each other without need for words. But…now there was something new. No, not new; it had always been there. But now....now it was loud. And hard to ignore. It was something that Rukia couldn’t quite name, but its presence was undeniable. It wasn’t uncomfortable...but… but it was there. 

“What do you say, Rukia-chan? Oh, please say you’ll be joining us?”

Isshin’s question snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Eh? I-I’m sorry?” she asked, startled. 

“THE OPERA! An old buddy and colleague of mine has season tickets to the opera house here in Karakura. He’s away on a business trip so he gave me tickets to tomorrow’s show. We haven’t seen you in so long, the girls would just love if you came! SAY YOU’LL JOIN US!” 

“Don’t push her, Dad!” Ichigo said irritably. He turned to Rukia but didn’t meet her gaze. “Seriously, y-you don’t have to go. It’s really boring, the last time I went I wanted to die-”

“OH, BUT THAT’S NOT TRUE,” Isshin cut off gleefully, shoving Ichigo out of the way and putting an arm around Rukia. “The last time we went, Ichigo was but a boy. Though only eight at the time, he was so moved by the performance that he wept and blubbered all night long--” 

“HEY! N-NO I DIDN’T!”

“Yes, you did!” Karin called boredly from the kitchen. 

Ichigo hunched up his shoulders and scowled, his ears and cheeks an angry shade of red. 

“I’d be delighted to attend this...this ‘op-ohr-a’, Mr. Kurosaki!” Rukia declared, a cheerful and sparkly smile on her face. “Excellent! Come tomorrow evening at 7, and dress your very best, my dear! The opera is a most formal event,” Isshin beamed. 

“Whatever. And get your arm off her!” Ichigo grumbled, yanking Rukia away from his father and up the stairs to his room. 

“Ah, young love,” Isshin sighed after them.  “Eager to get her to your bedroom, I see? Yes, yes, I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do, if you catch my drift--” 

“SHUT UP!” Ichigo screamed over his shoulder. He hurried Rukia inside his room and slammed the door shut. 

“Nice to see the family dynamic hasn’t changed,” Rukia said, a sly smile on her face. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall alongside his bed. 

“1000 Yen says my dad’s got an ear pressed up to the door right now,” Ichigo replied. He sounded annoyed but there was a humorous glint in his eye. He looked up and met her gaze. They both dissolved into a quiet, gentle chuckle. 

“Feel free to sit, you know,” Ichigo said, gesturing towards the bed. “I know it’s been a while but time’s never stopped you from acting like you own this place.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m fine here,” Rukia responded, cursing herself for answering him a little too vehemently. Ichigo looked at her questioningly, and Rukia could have sworn she saw a very, very faint blush creep on his cheeks. A moment of silence passed. 

Tension. That’s what it was. 

“So what is this opera thing, anyway? I just realized I agreed to something I know nothing about,” Rukia asked, eager to change the subject and genuinely curious about this “most formal event” that moved a young Ichigo to tears. 

“It’s, uh, like a play. But with only singing. Really loud, annoying singing. And fancy costumes. And they usually end in tragedy.” Ichigo said, scratching the back of his head. 

Her amusement at his fumbling explanation made Rukia forget her discomfort earlier. She smirked and flopped onto his bed. “Sounds like fun. So this loud, annoying play moved you to tears, eh?”

“IT DID NOT-Hmph, *ahem*, It did not move me to tears, I told you already that I found it boring. And I SAID YOU COULD SIT ON MY BED, NOT LIE ON IT!” 

“Oh, Daddy, th-they’re on his bed already! They certainly are fast, aren’t they?” a muffled voice that sounded suspiciously like Yuzu’s could be heard saying from the other side of the door. 

Ichigo’s left eye twitched. 

He swung the door open and Isshin and Yuzu tumbled onto the floor. “SCRAM!” He roared, shaking his fist as they hurriedly fled the scene. 

_____

Giant, crystal chandeliers hung over the U-shaped hall, twinkling prettily in the warm, golden light. The house was packed with many well-dressed and well-to-do people. The euphony of various conversations and chatter rang pleasantly in the air. If Ichigo had been moved to tears by the place alone, Rukia would understand; it was truly, truly beautiful. She tilted her head back, taking in the glittering chandeliers and intricate paintings of flowers and stars on the ceiling. She must have looked visibly awestruck, for she turned to her side to find Ichigo looking back at her, an odd, almost tender smile on his face. She gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs. “What? What’s with that dumb look?” She snapped. 

“AGH! What the hell, Rukia?” He glared, letting out a sharp exhale before putting on another smile, this one more teasing. “N-nothing, I was just thinking...the last time I was here as a kid, I remember looking up at the paintings on the ceiling and counting all the stars as a way to pass the time. I guess I was just wondering if you were doing the same.” 

Rukia blinked. It was rare for Ichigo to divulge….well, really anything about his past and his memories. To share this random little anecdote felt oddly intimate. She felt her cheeks warm slightly and turned away. “Heh, no I wasn’t counting, I was just...admiring. She looked back up and couldn’t help but laugh. “Ichigo, there are hundreds of stars, up there! Did you really count them all?” He looked up too and smiled wryly, shaking his head. “Nah, the show always started and the lights would go off before I ever finished. But...I like that I don’t know. It’s this weird, unfinished mystery that just...stays up there on the ceiling, y’know?”

His amber eyes and fiery-orange hair glowed in the warm light of the hall. He glowed. Does he even know how handsome he looks in that stupid tux? Rukia thought, torn between feeling endeared and annoyed. And spewing out weird, lovely musings like that, too. What an idiot. 

She looked down at the program in her lap. In intricate, gold cursive, the words Lakmé: Opera en 3 Actes shone smack dab in the middle. “Is...is this in French?” she asked. “Yeah, but it’s okay; you see those black screens above the curtains up there? They’ll have translations…”

The lights began to dim. 

Quickly, stealthily, Ichigo stole one last look at Rukia in full light. She was already a beautiful woman but tonight she practically glowed. With the help of Yuzu and Karin, she had parted her cropped hair to one side and teased it into elegant waves. She had reluctantly let them put makeup on her, too, and Ichigo had a hard time keeping his eyes away from her lips, soft and painted red like a pomegranate. She was wearing a dress that Ishida had surprised her with a few weeks ago, a wine-colored sleeveless piece that gently hugged her form and flowed past her knees. Yeah. She glowed. It was annoying. 

Y’know, I bet she knows exactly how good she looks and is only pretending to be oblivious. He thought. What an idiot.

The red velvet curtains pulled back to reveal what looked like a stone courtyard on stage, adorned with all sorts of plants and exotic flowers. But the set was nothing compared to the music that emanated from the pit in front of the stage. She’d never heard anything like this. Not on the streets of Rukongai, nor in the banquets and gatherings in Seireitei. What was it Ichigo had called them? An orchestra. An orchestra, an orchestra, an orchestra. She had to remember that word. How so many voices, so many different strange and wonderful-looking instruments, could come together and create a sound so unified and sweet amazed her. 

A procession of people dressed in long, unstitched garments came onto the stage, singing words Rukia could not understand. A big man, clad in a costume beard and yellow robe, opened his mouth and began to sing a solo.

Rukia froze. 

It was obvious what he was doing required much skill, but….he sounded...funny? Rukia narrowed her eyes and fought a smile, trying to reason with this deep voice that shook with such a fervent vibrato. 

She heard a snicker two chairs away from her, and turned to see Karin in the dim light, her face contorted humorously. Rukia was about to join her before Isshin turned to his daughter with a glare so scary and dangerous that any humor at all in both Karin and Rukia was effectively vanquished. 

So entranced was she by the costumes and lights and flutes and cellos that the dark-haired shinigami found herself forgetting to glance up at the translations above the stage. She looked just enough times to gather that this was set in a temple in which rites were being performed. The ritual ended, and as smoothly as they glided in, the singers drifted back off the stage, leaving behind two women. 

The women, arm in arm, walked down to the “river” on stage to gather flowers. The one dressed in red turned to her companion and began to sing:

Viens, Mallika, les lianes en fleurs

Jettent déjà leur ombre

Sur le ruisseau sacré

qui coule, calme et sombre,

Eveillé par le chant des oiseaux tapageurs.

Rukia froze once more. This time, there was no urge to laugh. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Her ears tingled. What, Rukia thought shakily. What is this?

The other, dressed in a simpler, sun-colored dress answered her friend in a voice just as haunting and sweet:

Oh! maîtresse, c'est l'heure

où je te vois sourire,

L'heure bénie où je puis lire

Dans le coeur toujours fermé

De Lakmé!

 Rukia clenched her teeth, maintaining a stone-cold Kuchiki expression while her soul inside shook and quaked. 

What is this?

                                                 Dôme épais le jasmin

                        Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin

Like flowers landing on the surface of a pond, their voices floated, glided, rippled through the hall, lighter than air. 

                                                    À la rose s'assemble

                                        À la rose s'assemble

The melody seemed to follow some invisible wave that drifted down, then up, then down, and down again. It was elegantly unpredictable, like the path a feather takes on the way to the ground.

Rukia’s throat caught. The swelling in her chest bewildered and almost angered her. This...this beauty was almost cruel. Her eyes felt hot. Her face remained expressionless.

                                                 Rive en fleurs, frais matin,

                             Sur la rive en fleurs, riant au matin,

I never did get the chance to understand what it is to live, Rukia thought. She had, in fact, died when she was only a baby. 

I....could see traces of what life was in the youth and excitement of Ichigo and his friends...the sound of their laughter, their chatter about the future.

                                                 Nous appellent ensemble.

                                       Viens, descendons ensemble.

With each rise and fall of their voices, Rukia felt as though her soul was expanding. The singers’ figures became blurry behind the tears that began to well in her eyes.

But this…this swelling in my chest, and the goosebumps on my skin. My throat...feels tight. 

A tear broke free and began to trickle down her cheek. 

Is this not the closest I’ve ever been to living?

Ichigo gazed steadily at the stage, letting himself float and drift with the melody. It was no wonder the Flower Duet was such a famous song, even to those unfamiliar with opera. He cleared his throat as quietly as he could and turned to check on Rukia. His jaw clenched. 

                                               Ah! glissons en suivant

                           Doucement glissons; De son flot charmant

She stood absolutely still, upright, her small, pale hands clenched into fists on her lap. She did not look at him. He watched with well-hidden astonishment as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She stared solemnly at the women on stage, blinking slowly. Her amethyst eyes glistened with the water and salt that filled them. 

                                                         Le courant fuyant

                                  Suivons le courant fuyant

A lump began to form in Ichigo’s throat. He turned away, back to the stage. He couldn’t put into words what she was feeling, but he felt he understood it. He didn’t want to intrude on her moment, but he also wanted to let her know that she was not alone. Even when they were worlds apart, he’d find a way to reach her. Slowly, his hand moved towards hers. 

His fingertips lightly brushed her wrist, and traveled up towards the back of her hand. 

Rukia kept her eyes fixed on the singers. She gave no indication that she even noticed his hand on hers. A twinge of disappointment and embarrassment stung him. I...probably ruined her moment. I shouldn’t have-

His heart stopped. Silently, suddenly, the slender, cold hand seized his own. She intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed lightly. She did not look at him. 

                                                     Dans l'onde frémissante,

                                      Dans l’onde frémissante

To this day Ichigo couldn’t say what the hell compelled him to do what he did next. Maybe it was the nearly two years of separation, or the swelling music and stupid, glittering, chandeliers messing with his head, or the way she gripped his fingers with such a quiet and loving intensity, or a mix of all of those things. Slowly, he raised her hand up, off her lap. 

                                                   D'une main nonchalante,

                                      D’une main nonchalante,

Rukia stirred, tilting her head slightly towards him. He brought her hand up to his face and slowly, gently, firmly, pressed his lips against her knuckles. Rukia’s eyes flashed wide open, and now she turned to look at him. Another tear rolled silently down her otherwise stoic face. Ichigo opened his eyes and looked back at her. 

                                            Dôme épais, blanc jasmin,

                             Sous le dôme épais, Sous le blanc jasmin,

Nothing was said, but a thousand words were exchanged between them. Ichigo lowered her hand but did not let go. They held their gaze for a moment longer, then turned their heads back towards the stage. 

                                                      Nous appellent ensemble!

                                    Ah! descendons ensemble!

[loubuggins]

Girlfriend

A/N: This story was inspired by an idea given to me by @zuppizup. Thank you, friend! As always, please read and review! 

Summary: The misunderstanding that he was sure would have come around at some point in their relationship and here it was. The inevitable cultural clash. “Rayla, do you know what girlfriend means?”

The first time she heard the word, it had caught her off guard. She and Callum were sitting on the steps leading to the Dragon Queen’s chamber, going about their usual verbal sparring.

“There's no way me ears are that big.” She scolded him as she glared at the open pages of his journal. She looked pointedly at his latest creation, a sketch of her petting Zym in the very spot they were currently sitting in. He had been adding details to the drawing while they cuddled together, enjoying the rare moment of quiet.

“I didn’t make them big.” He defended himself. “Only pointed, because they are.”

The elf shook her head in disapproval. “Ya made them almost as long as me head!”

For added emphasis, she waved a hand beside her face, gesturing to her actual ears. The boy looked up from his drawing and studied her for a second. His green eyes darkened as he concentrated on the body part in question. His stare was a little unnerving to the girl, but he seemed to either ignore or simply not notice the way she began to squirm and awkwardly try to catch his gaze. After what felt like hours, the young artist looked back to his page. His eyes then flickered back and forth between his sketch and his muse. She could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he took her critique seriously and compared his work with the real thing.

His lips finally parted as he appeared to be preparing a retort, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sudden interruption of one of their friends.

“Hey, Callum!” The familiar voice of Soren, a Crown Guard, called out to them from across the foyer. In his large arms, he held baskets filled with bread and fruits. “Quit flirting with your girlfriend and come help me feed the troops!”

The younger boy blushed and sighed as he closed his book. “Duty calls.” He mumbled to her, a hint of an apology behind his words. He handed her the leather-bound pages and placed a quick kiss on her cheek before standing up to meet Soren outside. She returned his gesture with a small smile and watched him go.

It had only been a few days since the final battle against Viren and his mutated army. Many of those who had fought in the battle were still camping at the base of the Storm Spire. The Spire itself could only house so many people, not to mention how difficult it would be for Callum and Ibis to perform the special breathing spell on all those people. So they found it best to let the armies rest on the ground before they returned to their proper homes. Thanks to Callum’s new ability to sprout wings where his arms should be, it had made traveling from the top of the Spire down to the ground and back up again much quicker than taking the endless stairs. However, his skill also meant he had to be gone at different times throughout the day, which made alone time all the more difficult.

But their lack of bonding time was not what gripped her thoughts as she sat alone on the top step. Instead, there was a word that the older blonde had used that replayed in her mind on a loop.

Girlfriend?

The word made no sense. Sure it may be easier to say than “the girl who is your friend” or “your friend that happens to be a girl.” But it still sounded wrong. Besides, she was not just Callum’s friend. She had it on a pretty solid record that her relationship with the human mage was well beyond that of just being friends. Perhaps Soren was just unaware of the change in their status? It seemed hard to believe, even for someone as slow to the mark as Soren. They weren’t hiding their relationship and Callum always seemed so eager to tell people that they were now “a thing” as he referred to it.

“But why else would he call me Callum’s girlfriend?”

The question nagged at her as she left her spot and went to return her love’s sketchbook to his room for safekeeping.

~#~#~

She had honestly forgotten about the word after that. At some point in her thinking, she had finally decided that it was no more than just Soren’s playful teasing of the teenage prince and left it at that. She had meant to ask Callum about it later, but when he finally returned, the question had slipped her mind.

It was not until two days later that she remembered and this time, the strange word was used by Callum himself. It was deliberate too. The humans were preparing to leave the Spire and begin their journey back to the human kingdoms. It was her first time back on the ground since she first climbed the steep steps of the mountain with Callum, Ezran, and Zym. Callum had wanted to come to say his goodbyes and had invited her along. She did not know many humans, but she was familiar with a few by this point. She especially wanted to spend every second she still could with Callum’s brother, who had become like a little brother to her as well. So she had agreed to join him, even if leaving Zym was making her anxious.

When they had first arrived at the temporary camp, they helped with the packing. Though Ezran was a King now and Callum was still a Prince, they all still felt the need to lend a helping hand in the cleanup. As the three were working on wrapping up a tent, they were interrupted by a group of somewhat familiar-looking humans. Corvus she remembers, the burly brown man kept his confident stance beside a woman leading them toward the three kids. She could not name the woman, but her white robes and pointed look made her seem like someone of significance. On the woman’s other side was Callum’s Aunt Amaya, who Rayla probably knew best among the group. She respected the general and she was glad that the feeling seemed mutual now.

Ezran was the first to look up and acknowledge them. He greeted them with a polite smile and nod, stopping what he had been doing to meet up with them. Rayla stared at them for a moment, then shrugged and went back to helping Callum fold the fabric of the tent. She figured it was just “Kingly Business” that did not concern her. That was until the woman in white called out Callum’s name. They had just put away the remainder of the tent, so the prince moved to join the other humans. On instinct, Rayla moved to follow him, then quickly stopped herself. This was probably a human thing. Part of his royal duties. It was strange to think of him like royalty. Sure she would frequently mock his royal title, but to her, he was just Callum. An up and coming mage who loved to joke around, doodle in his book, and talk about his feelings. He was her best friend and the only person she has ever fallen in love with. He was a prince, yes, but she saw him as so much more.

She was surprised when he stopped just a few steps ahead of her and turned to give her an expectant smile. He even held out his hand to her, waiting for her to come along. She was not sure if she was actually welcomed to participate in whatever conversation the humans were having, but Callum made it clear that he would not be joining them without her. With a grin on her face, she ran up beside him and eagerly took his hand into hers.

They approached the group of adults together, stopping to stand at Ezran’s side. Rayla studied their faces to try and gauge their reactions to seeing her. Corvus looked perplexed as he stared at her and Callum’s intertwined hands, but he did not seem to disapprove. Amaya gave the young couple a knowing look instead, along with a small smile. The only person Rayla has yet to meet was the blonde woman who had called them over here, but if she was surprised to see an elf and a human holding hands, she did not show it.

“Prince Callum,” the older woman greeted respectfully, adding a short bow that made Rayla feel slightly awkward. “I am saddened to hear you will not be returning to Katolis with us.”

The boy gave her a polite nod in return. “I wish I could come back and help Ezran, but we’ve talked about it and we agree I am more needed here.”

The woman nodded in understanding. “Yes, with your new elf companion.” Her eyes fell on the elf in question. “Well, I hope you know she is welcome to return with you. Do not feel that you must stay behind to be with her.”

Rayla’s hand tightened around Callum’s and her friendly demeanor began to crack. Heat rose in the boy’s cheeks and he quickly exchanged a look with his elven counterpart.

“Oh erm uh, thank you Opeli, I’m glad to hear that. But the main reason we are staying is to take care of Zym. Rayla and I will be putting together a new Dragon Guard. I’m also going to try learning some more magic while I’m here too.”

Opeli regarded the couple thoughtfully, their discomfort clearly unknown to the advisor. “Of course. Might I add, Prince Callum, that your friend and I have not been formally introduced.”

“Oh, right!” The boy looked apologetic as he gestured his free hand over to the girl at his side. “Rayla, this is Opeli. She’s a royal advisor to the King and a member of Ezran’s council.” He then waved his hand over to the blonde. “Opeli, this is Rayla, my...girlfriend.”

He said the word slowly as if he were tasting the word on his lips and enjoying hearing the sound of it. His chest swelled and his posture straightened as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. The silly mage was practically beaming and for what Rayla did not understand. For she was incredibly pissed.

~#~#~

“Girlfriend, eh? Is that really all you see me as?”

She had been giving him the cold shoulder since their conversation with Ezran’s royal council and Callum had been trying to fix whatever he had said or done wrong to upset her so much ever since. But the poor prince was struggling to get it out of her all day. At least until they reached her empty room in the Storm Spire, where she finally felt comfortable enough to voice her frustrations. Though Callum still wore a look of utter confusion as she glared at him with her arms crossed over her chest, awaiting his response.

But all he could sputter out was a befuddled “What?”

Rayla let out an indignant sigh. “I know us being together is weird to people.” She began as she started pacing the room. “ I know not everyone is going to approve. It will be plenty hard for me to tell Ethari and the rest of Silvergrove about us, but I wasn’t going to lie to them, Callum. I was going to tell them the truth about us, even if I'd be the first elf in history to be ghosted twice!” She came to a halt just inches in front of him and held up two fingers for added emphasis.

“Wait, Rayla, what are you talking about?” He blinked at her as his mind raced to keep up.

“I’m talking about how I love you enough that I’m not afraid of others knowing about it. And up until now, I thought that you weren’t either, but clearly, I was wrong.” She bit back as she folded her arms again. This time her angry stare came with a few tears pulling in the corners of her eyes, threatening to roll down her flushed cheeks.

Callum hated seeing her like this. He did not understand what was causing her so much anguish, but he could not stand being a part of it. He felt his own anger begin to bubble up in his chest, but it was more so at himself than at her.

“Rayla, what do you mean? Of course, I’m not afraid of that! I was the one who asked you if we should tell the Dragon Queen just a week ago! And I told Ez, and my Aunt Amaya, and Ibis, and...and...Rayla I’ve told everyone about us!” He flailed his hands in the air as he looked on to her with exasperation.

His dramatic flair did nothing to dampen her hardened glare. “Yes, but only as your girlfriend.” She stressed out the friend part of the word with the venom of a Soulfang.

Callum blinked at her, his baffled look not leaving his face. “Yes, my girlfriend. What else would I call you? Is there some Moonshadow elf word for girlfriend I should know about?”

The elf gave him an indignant scuff. “We simply call it ‘a friend.’” She bit back in retort.

The mage just stared at her and his voice dropped low. “But Rayla, you’re so much more to me than just a friend.”

Rayla’s hard stare faltered silently at the shift of his tone. She shuffled her weight and crossed her arms over her chest. With her eyes downcast, she spoke up again, softly this time, “If I am, then why do ya keep callin’ me your friend?”

Callum straightened and his mouth fell a gap. He stood there silently searching for the right words in response to her admission. Friend. How could she possibly think that she was just a friend to him? Of course, they were friends, best friends in fact! But they were also something so much more.

“Girlfriend, Rayla. You’re my girl...wait.” And then it dawned on him. The real reason this argument had come about. The misunderstanding that he was sure would have come around at some point in their relationship and here it was. The inevitable cultural clash. “Rayla, do you know what girlfriend means?”

“Of course I know what it means. I’m not daft!” She objected before quickly adding, “It means a girl who is your friend.”

Callum’s face instantly morphed with understanding, a relieved grin spreading across his lips. “No, it means the exact opposite.”

It was Rayla’s turn to look dumbfounded. “What?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but stopped short. He thought about it for a moment, trying to decide the best way for him to explain. “Girlfriend is what someone calls the girl they love.” He started, looking back up at her with an affectionate glint in his eyes. “The girl they have a ‘thing’ with.” He pointed between the both of them. “Don’t elves have a word like that?”

The elf stood astonished for a moment, simply staring wide-eyed at the human boy. Then his words finally soaked in. Her cheeks felt hot as a crimson blush crept it’s way up her neck. She quickly averted her gaze and rubbed the length of her forearms.

“Well, now I feel stupid.” She admitted in a small voice.

Callum’s grin fell as he caught on to her embarrassment. Closing the space between them, he gently ran his hands over her wrists and pulled her crossed arms apart. He slid his fingers over the back of her palms and intertwined their fingers together.

“I’ve never heard someone be referred to as a girlfriend before, but I know Ethari used to call Runaan ‘my heart’ and my parents used to call each other ‘my love.’” Rayla explained, visibly relaxing under his touch. The boy simply smiled reassuringly as he listened to her. “Calling someone yours is the most endearing you get. At least to a Moonshadow Elf.”

“I’m sorry, Rayla.”

Her head snapped up at that. “Sorry? For what?”

“I should have asked you if it was okay, to call you my girlfriend that is. I was just so excited by the idea of actually having a girlfriend and one as beautiful and amazing as you are! And everyone else was calling you my girlfriend so I guess I just started using it too.”

She nodded in understanding. “I should have asked about it earlier. But I had honestly forgotten about it until today. I don’t mind being your girlfriend, Callum.”

The boy perked up at that.

“Now that I know what it means.” She quickly added.

His smile returned and he gave her hands a loving squeeze. “Well, maybe I should call you something from your culture, my heart.” He flashed her a toothy grin.

She shuddered and shook her head. “Bleh no, that’s way too sappy.”

Her disgusted expression earned her a laugh from her prince. “Well, now I’ve got to call you that.” He teased as he pulled her closer and gave her a flirtatious waggle of his eyebrows.

She scoffed at him, yanking her hands back and taking a step back. She tried to shoot him the deadliest glare she could muster in that moment, which was only slightly scary. “Don’t.”

Her command only made him laugh even harder. The sound of his laughter filled the room and made her heart feel lighter.

“Okay, fine, but I will find something that you’ll like.” He declared with an unusual amount of confidence.

“Good luck with that.” She deadpanned as she turned to walked away, but she was stopped by the rise in his voice.

“Wait!” He called out and she paused to look back at him over her shoulder.

“What are you going to call me?” He asked as he caught up to her.

“I call you lots of things.” She offered before smirking at him. “But maybe I’ll try boyfriend.”

He blushed. “Ha, more like manfriend.” He joked while lifting his arm to show off his lean muscles that he had been building since the start of their journey.

His girlfriend rolled her eyes and nudged his side, but laughter still escaped her lips.

“Stupid Prince.”

[vvampirebat]

hello! feel free to ignore this message if you don't feel like educating someone lmao but i genuinely dont understand how that post is a terf dogwhistle....facing misogyny and sexualisation as a child was quite damaging to me at least and i think many girls went through some sort of a "not like the other girls" phase bc femininity is forced down girls' throats all the time

oh wow oops, this from a while ago but i’m gonna answer it cause i’ve thought about that post since then & i think generally a lot of people aren’t necessarily aware of how terf rhetoric operates and how to identify it

the post that i reblogged calling that post a terf dogwhistle described the op as specifically a crypto-terf which is really important in this context, because the way that crypto-terfs work is through posting and spreading terf-adjacent/compatible posts while maintaining the guise of plausible deniability

for the most part, they’re not going to post/spread anything explicitly transmisogynistic, instead making sweeping statements about “men” or “males”, which to people in the know, includes OR even refers specifically to trans women, which is why often these posts spill out of terf circles

terfs know that lgb (& honestly sometimes trans masc) folks are often not going to be immediately receptive to blatant transmisogyny, but by maintaining an internet presence which slowly filters in terf-sympathetic talking points, they can slowly plant the seeds that can eventually lead towards terf radicalization if you’ve aready fallen into terf-adjacent circles

the original post was about the trauma of approaching puberty as a [cis] woman, and moving from a relatively genderless existence as a child towards increasing sexualization & objectification

and like, obviously this experience is traumatic! i experienced it as a transmasculine person who presented very feminine for most of my teenage years, and had a very complicated relationship to sex and my sexuality from a young age, in no small part because of my perception of myself as a “woman”

these kinds of posts would not circulate if they didn’t resonate with people, and a sympathetic reading of the situation would be that a cis woman made a personal post about her own experience of girlhood/womanhood which got circulated too widely and taken out of context/was never meant to encompass every experience of womanhood (ex. trans womanhood, women of color who never got to experience an ungendered/desxualized childhood, etc etc). obviously no post could ever apply to every woman in the world

i think what made many people suspicious of the post was that it began with “being a girl and hitting puberty is so traumatic”, which like yeah, okay. true in a lot of ways, but a pretty sweeping blanket statement about girlhood. but okay, maybe she did just make a post for her personal blog where she didn’t think too hard about wording and meant to be reflecting on her own experience which plenty of other cis women resonate with. i’m honestly not even arguing that that post is inaccurate, or that she’s responsible for considering every fact of every woman’s experiences in one post

MY skepticism about that post comes from

a) the knowledge of how crypto-terfs utilize plausible deniability

b) the fact that the first time i saw that posts was on a self-identified terf’s blog when i was checking to see if a different post was posted by a terf (it was), and so i knew it was circulating in terf circles and related directly to ideas they have about womanhood

c) the op of the post screenshotting the tags of a bunch of transmasc people relating their own similar experiences from a trans perspective, which she captioned with something along the lines of “go to therapy”

that was mostly what rang alarms bells for me, since terf’s position on trans men tends to be that they’re women wrestling with internalized misogyny

yeah, there were people also making inappropriate assumptions that the op was a closeted trans man because of her discomfort of being objectified & sexualized as a woman, which like. is definitely not what that post was about and a form of projection and ignores the fact that being a woman in this world genuinely does suck in a lot of ways, BUT a lot of the tags she screenshotted were straight up just trans men/transmascs relaying their own experiences of dysphoria once reaching puberty which is like. when many trans people’s dysphoria intensifies or begins

so like yeah, cis women do have complicated relationships to gender, do have the right to talk about their experience and trauma as women, and on its surface that post isn’t a 100% indicator that the op is a terf, but there’s a broader context and i think it’s important to familiarize yourself with how terfs operate and recruit because otherwise you’re leaving yourself vulnerable to absorbing their ideas