Pile of Dung

Oh no, did the Whispers lie again and tell you I gave a shit?

[mrlnemck]

❝alright alright so M A Y B E i’ve been a little preoccupied with andie as of late but that doesn’t mean you’re not my main man anymore dung beetle.❞ 

humor tickled his expression as he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. his eyes darted across the room to find his good friend slouching, which aided ted in his attempt to discern the boys mood. 

❝can you really blame me? i’m dating a bleeding goddess. nonetheless, i’ll mend your broken heart with a round of firewhiskey and a good old game of cards. maybe then you won’t miss me that much.❞

[munduhngus]

❛ tedder-tot, my friend. i’m your main man because i’m your only man. ❜

               dung took the bottle out of his friend’s grasp, and headed for his own bed. the blond was a greedy little bitch. as he plopped down on the comforting surface, his entire demeanor falling slack, he took a swig of the whiskey. 

                            the boy lifted the bottle in salute momentarily as he made a point.  ❛ i will say though, she looks GREAT when she’s sneakin’ out of your room in the middle of the night. ❜  

[prongism]

                                                   “ a mob? ”

                 he arched his brow, a mixture of disbelief and humor                  passing his features as he shot fletcher a glance. the                  bloke was certainly american, he would give him that.

   james blinked.

                        once.

                              t w i c e.

he inhaled sharply, covering up a cough with his fist before returning his hand to his pocket. a mob. the lion would have to admit that the term wasn’t as ludicrous as he originally thought. there were certainly similarities, only with a little less … disorder.

             “ but that’s exactly it. solidarity. we may not be alone, but we sure as shit don’t know it. we have the same beliefs, the same morals, yet we’re stuck in some divide because we’ve been taught at an early age that rivalry breeds success. ”

               “ it’s not just slytherin. i know that — but a majority of                                 our problems are in that house. it’s one faction. ”

              (( … ))

                     “ there are three others. ”

[munduhngus]

❛ you know, ❜ the boy lifted a closed fist in nonchalance, a cheap imitation of what someone with a pitchfork would look like. 

              J A C K A S S.

                                        ❛ rivalry breeds a bunch                                        of unwarranted bullshit,                                         you ask me. ❜

an apathetic tone coated his words. he couldn’t say it was a belief he’d had for years. his anger was fresh; convictions  were still new in nature. 

                          ❛ we’re gonna have a helluva time tearin’ down them rivalries. ❜ a grin cracked across smug features, the boy liking the idea of a challenge. ❛ tell me what we gotta do, captain.❜

[prongism]

           “ mine is prettier. ”

his voice was quick and matter-of-fact; however, his lips curved upward to show off a smug grin as he felt relaxed given the response. seems he hadn’t been as stubborn as james anticipated. his lingering eye contact inhibited words as he watched him leave, the lion eventually following suit as the two grew farther and farther from where the fight took place.

the cold reality was they were late to the cause. while they could still make a difference, the ticking clock was certainly a challenge. every idea he came up with would take effort; nothing came easily and mundungus needed to be aware of that.

                   “ these … people … are slowly teaching us — out           of fear — to adhere to their ideals and practices.                             as if their unlawful minds are correct because they               seem to have more followers than we do. people      are too afraid to stand up for themselves because                   no one is behind ‘em, backin’ ‘em up. we’re grossly                                   o u t n u m b e r e d. ”

              “ but what if we weren’t? ”

[munduhngus]

      ❝ it ain’t bad-- -- dunno if you could fit that           big ass head’a yours up there, though. ❞ 

                                                            he nodded mindfully to the statement,                         contemplation wrinkling his features as the two fell in line. dung                        listened intently, finding logic in james’ words. assholes ran the                         show because they had been told for too long that they were                         permitted to do as such. mundungus understood what james                         was getting at. 

                                            ❝ we ain’t alone, though. they got the power ‘cause                   they got the solidarity------ or whatever. ❞ chewed fingernails scratched at                  the back of his head, eyes flicking down as he searched for the words that                  were somewhere deep down. “what’re you sayin’, that we need a mob? ❞ 

switch out pitchforks for wands.

[prongism]

     “ i may have a few ideas. ”

                            his neck rolled back, head resting momentarily as he let out a resounding sigh. a f e w was downplaying it — the boy had been thinking about it nonstop. quite irritating, really. the reaction was expected and he responded in kind, allowing himself to be fully pulled in by the idea this badger happened to throw his way. james didn’t want to pretend anymore.

                                            the bugger fuckin’ cared, damn it.

“ if you’re willin’ to forget the whole … head up the arse situation. i’d like to help. ”

             a sharp brow was raised, amber hues looking upon the blond with genuine curiosity. he knew the boy to be stubborn in his convictions (much like himself, in a way), so there was a large chance that he would brush it off. act disinterested in bitter irony.

                           “ i’ve come back for more. ”

[munduhngus]

❝ all’a them orgies, and you still pick your own? ❞ 

                                tracings of a smirk itched to pull up, only half of dung’s face allowed him the pleasure. lips curled up for a tick of a second, cautious eyes lingering over the head boy. this was what he had wanted initially: someone who had ideas, a person that could lead the trail that dung wanted blazed. apprehension was still apparent though, if only for a second. only O N E of them lied for a living. 

                        besides, he’d seen potter play poker. the guy wasn’t bluffing this time. 

he offered james a nod, more to acknowledge his own curiosities than to satiate what the other boy had offered. with hands still tucked into his pockets, the puff turned to walk away. 

❝ if you don’t mind, peaches, i got a crime scene to flee from. ❞  

                               for a man on the run, his steps sure were sluggish. shoes scuffed against the marbled corridors, a curious gaze occasionally flicking to the lion in anticipation of whatever ideas potter had to offer. dung wanted change, but only one of them had ideas that went beyond a loaded fist.

                              not that the latter was a horrible idea.

[prongism]

              “ oi — enough !! ”

                    venom dripped from judgmental lips as he jumped in between      the two boys. same as always, green and yellow clashed drastically                               as he held his hands out, turning his gaze every few seconds in                                                 order to stare down the culprits. 

he had been looking for mundungus fletcher — and boy did he find him.

       “ get outta here before i change my mind. ”

james eyed the seventh year as if begging the boy to test him, a lethargic attempt at ridding his irritation. one could consider this act to be selfish, but the wizard would merely scoff. favors were favors and he had done the snake a solid by letting him go. dung, however, remained in place. 

                         waiting until the third party was out of ear range,                                          he turned to the blond. “ you gonna change                   the world from d e t e n t i o n? ”

[munduhngus]

a left hook had hit dung in the temple right before his own fist collided with a nose.

               crimson had not hideously tainted his knuckles, the boy’s nose only bleeding after the  collision. before the severity could escalate, a rough hand was shoving itself against the pair of chests that were squared in opposition, breaking up the cheap flare of rage. 

it had ignited rather quickly after he heard the snake call a second year huff a mudblood. 

           it was a pathetic attempt at an insult, one that shouldn’t hold any power to begin with. someone like him could shrug it off; dung feared for the people who couldn’t. these innocent kids shouldn’t be put through the same shit doris was. all he’d wanted was for it all to stop. 

               it’s why he went to james the first time.                        mundungus wasn’t a guy people believed in.

with clenched fits shoved into his pockets, a hardened glare met james. 

❝ it’s a fuckin’ start-- -- ‘less you got somethin’ better. ❞

[dorckus]

     “ sounds like someone’s bein’ a lil’ bitch. ”

              “ … c’mon !! i heard you — merlin forbid me for sayin’ this, but damn it, you’re talented. now stop bein’ a pussy and play with me. ”

                 (( p a u s e ))

    “ that came out wrong. ”

[munduhngus]

❝ you’re so full’a shit that it turned your eyes are brown. ❞

                                                                      ❝ no, now you c’mon. you don’t                                                            need me on a stage, wigglin’ my                                                                   ass in a pair of tight leathers.  ❞

                        (( pause ))

   ❝ if you wanted that, all ya’ had to do was ask. ❞

[hoe-cuspocus]

“Oh sod off, Mundungus. I’m clearly not in the mood for your slimy jabs.”

[munduhngus]

❝ aw, come on now-- -- don’t tell me the little firecracker finally burned out. ❞

[munduhngus]

            ❝ so -- --  i heard that little heart of             yours doesn’t go pitter potter anymore. ❞

[aliicefortescue-deactivated2016]

         “ people always tell me i’m light on my feet. ” the blonde teased, before adding a little more sincerely: “ — … sorry, fletch. ‘spose i should invest in a little bell around my neck, or something. ” alice joked, before curiosity again leaked into her tone. 

                                                          “ what’s got you up so late, anyway? ”

[munduhngus]

❝ i got stuff to do-- -- you know, things.❞ illegal things, but she didn’t need to know that. he scratched at the nape if his neck, a casual glance settling in over her.  ❝ a bell, a whistle. if you’re lookin’ to go extra cute, i got an old collar of pup’s that’ll do you real nice. ❞  

[munduhngus]

                          ❝ i’ll tell you what-- -- -- i won’t even wait until                                           pigs fly. if you, dorcas meadowes, will go on                                   a date with me, i’ll say yes. ❞   

                                                        ❝ otherwise, i ain’t fuckin’ doin’ it. ❞

[munduhngus]

                  careful fingers tickled across the neck of the guitar, a familiar rhythm trickling out around him as he let its melody envelop the empty room. he found himself stuck on the same beat, repetition being found in the few chords he cycled through. muscles slowly unraveled themselves as he played, a low whistle seeping through pursed lips as he carried on.

he didn’t dive deeper into the tune because his mind was elsewhere.

                   potter’s words slipped into the same cycle that the music did: repeating, molding together. ice and indifference had met him today; it was dung’s first time being on the receiving end. he never knew the frustration that came with witnessing apathy, someone not caring when you desperately needed them to. maybe this was all fucking pointless-- -- everyone seemed to keep pointing out they were just kids.

                                                      was it so bad to want something more?

                      bits of careless tendencies had finally strung together to create something worthwhile. a point, a reason, two things a fletcher never possessed, inadvertently formed. the words of the famous gryffindor had nearly shattered this, a doubtful mind contradicting a full heart.

               at least that’s what he thought it was.                it was a foreign feeling, so the jury was still out.

                                                                    the strumming picked up pace, heretic yet clean in nature as he lost way of the first path he’d taken. the tune had taken on a unique voice, originality in its own right, as mundungus continued to tweak its beat. he bean to pour his attention into this, focusing on calloused fingers instead of the bloodied emblem that had so viciously burned its way into his memory. minutes of focus, a bit of dedication, and a creative voice had turned the familiar beat into something even more beautiful.

as he reveled in the newfound tune that he designed, a peculiar grin of genuine satisfaction gently peeled across his lips. dung found his head falling in line with the rhythm he controlled, sitting up to find better grounding than the slack position he’d held throughout the night.

                       (( he changed the song ))

                                                                           maybe that’s all he needed to do.

[prongism]

                                             he simmered without a single word uttered,                            his wayward self containing a wild array of                                                                 raze sharp retorts. instead, james released                                                      a sigh — a weary gust of air which could be                                     mistaken for a flash of hope.

                                                                       “ none whatsoever. ”

          the reply cut, indifferent words emerging from unhappy lips. his figure was still apart from steady breathes and a determined, albeit casual nod. melanoid eyes made way from feature to feature, an empty gaze switching quickly to that with a spark and an air of superiority. regardless of his disappointment, he refused to allow the words to settle.

                                                   “ i’ll send you an invite. ”

as if the boy who took pride in his ability not to care had any room to judge. he swindled people from their money, laughed at the misfortune of others — mundungus fletcher was just a mess as the rest of them. the blonde boy would do nothing. then again, james wasn’t helping matters much, now was he?

                 after all, mum’s the word.

                                      james dismisses his presence with a judgmental smirk,                                                        his demeanor appearing bored as he gave a final nod                       — more tauntingly than anything else. so he wanted            to change the world? potter wished him luck without so                                       much as a verbal indicator. no … he just walked away.

                              (( … ))

                 ————only turning back for a brief moment, completely unseen.

     no one else would see his curiosity or disappointment.

[prongism]

          his head snapped forward, gaze affixing as he watched mundungus carefully. the words falling from his mouth emerged foreign, as if unmatched to the speaker at hand. he knew this boy and he was not the kind to retaliate — well, not for selfless reasons. yet there he stood, just like everyone else, demanding something from james.

                            the boy’s mouth remained slightly agape, as if caught in a                            precarious situation. everything he said was true — all of it                            — every last bloody word. each syllable burned his skin as                            if he, himself, had been to blame.        (and if that weren’t enough, his final sentence sealed the deal)

                                                     “ what do you expect me to do? ”

                                         (( … ))

                   “ swoop in and fix everything? ”

his words were quiet, spoken as if he were whispering secrets in a confessional. there was no anger in his spoken thoughts, only realism drenched in understanding. he had tried and failed, over and over. that was what he did now. he disappointed people.

                                                                           boo fucking hoo

                                                            “ some things can’t be fixed. they’re just broken. ”

     james knew that his response was disgusting, yet he couldn’t help but say it. they were teenagers, what the hell were they supposed to do? he used to believe that rebellions were possible … that going against the grain was necessary — but all it did was cause more problems and hurt more people. 

he was tired of ruining things. 

[munduhngus]

                       apathetic words were slapped in his face, gruff features distorting in disbelief as he listened to this dramatic pity ballad ( the headlining song at a pity party). the one person whose reputation was inflated to heroic heights, didn’t give a single shit. a voluminous scoff hit the air between them as dung lowered his head, scratching at the bridge of his nose.

if james didn’t care, who else was going to?

                                                                   ❝ in-fuckin’-credible. ❞  

                  everyone said the same damn thing, recycled bullshit that they continued to feed him. the lionhearts were nothing but trembling sheep with exaggerated manes. he’d always thought more of james, in spite of the little interaction they’d shared. rumors and the power of mouth had clearly inflated the head boy beyond what dung saw before him. this guy was nothing but a coward.

                                               his lips pursed as he looked back up to the disappointment,    a callous tongue flicking across the top if his teeth as he pitifully tried to control the anger    gurgling within. a hooked thumb fell in one of his belt loops. an opaque chuckle tumbled across his tongue, as he continued.

                   ❝ you’re as bad as the rest of them. people are                               gettin’ hurt, an’ you’re more concerned about                                         what cave your dick’s gonna sleep in tonight. ❞  

(( ... ))

                                         ❝ i’ll try back when i wanna do somethin’ real                        around here. i bet you’d have no problem gettin’          everyone together for a fuckin’ schoolwide orgy. ❞

[prongism]

                                     busy was a decision. 

         better yet, it was his decision. james wasn’t a man who          needed to find time to do things, he simply did them to          avoid other thoughts. he has kept himself occupied lest          he remembers how truly stressed or completely fucked          over he really was — this revelation would prove to be a          heavy, deplorable itch that he couldn’t scratch.

                       it should have said something that james could recognize the boy just                        by his voice alone. mundungus fletcher had a certain tone: caring, yet                        blatantly indifferent — as if his leading goal in life was to appear coolly                        apathetic with a side of screw you.

the lion lowered his head, catching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb as a clear hint towards an oncoming headache. this wasn’t a rude gesture toward the boy, only an impulsive movement that occurred before he could think it through. his heavy brows capsized into a frown as he returned his gaze, his head cocked sideways.

he gave no verbal indication that he was willing to talk to him; however, after an understanding nod and a quick departure toward a more secluded area of the hall, it was more than obvious that he was willing to exchange words. as he turned on his heel, he isolated his right hand in his pocket, his posture both brash and certain.

                                               with a curious gaze and swallowing eyes, any vulnerability                                                was untraceable on his expression. he scrutinized the boy                                                before him as he waited for an explanation.

[munduhngus]

for a man of many words, many pointless ones at that, he was put off by the silence james rebutted with. there was power in a silenced tongue, a cooled demeanor that only the most confident seemed to possess. it was a trait dung admired in don corleone. 

it was something that couldn’t be replicated, as hard as fletcher tried. 

                 worn-out shoes scuffed against the marbled halls, a light rhythm forming            as he followed suit. a light jab involving a specific peter pan song rose in his            throat, its volume disintegrating before he made a remark about following the            leader. this wasn’t the time for jokes; the boy finally grasping onto the definition            of an inappropriate time. 

                                              chilled hands shoved themselves into the comforting leather pockets, a light bounce to his step as he rocked back and forth in place. if he’d prepared what he was going to say, then he wouldn’t have been the mungdungus fletcher the school had come to know. 

                                         ( sans the love )

        his left hand pulled out from seclusion, fingers scratching atop his head with uncertainty. words typically came so easily to him. biting words, however effortlessly they came, seemed constructed with an arrogant precision.today, james would see no such thing. 

                                    ❝ somethin’s gotta be done about this doris thing. you                                                  know, they’re all just sittin’ in their snake pit, circle                                           jerkin’ one another, actin’  like they didn’t scar her. ❞  

the free hand wiped uneasily across the                 stale shave, putting his discomfort to         words was harder than he imagined. 

                                                                      ❝ you gotta do somethin’. ❞

[munduhngus]

Why aren't you and Dorcas dating, I would love you two together.

❝ well– – we don’t want to, so it’s hindering our lil’ epic romance.❞

                   ❝ that an’ the fact that she beats me when I                    speak out against her. you tell a girl her jeans                    would look good on your floor one time, an’                    suddenly a hand is flyin’ right at your face.❞

[munduhngus]

this bullshit had reduced him to pacing. 

                                                       mundungus wasn’t aware he was pacing, mind                                          you. the boy had grown restless, unsatisfied feet carrying                                          him across the bedroom he shared with teddy. he’d pick                                          up an item and realize it’s not what he wanted, then set                                          it back down its original dustless spot. 

                                                                            he repeated this all afternoon. 

                                            a problem resided in the fact that                                                          he didn’t know what he wanted, but                                                   he was aware of what he didn’t want. 

doris played a front running character in his mind these days, worry carving out wrinkles into his flawed complexion. he saw her, imagined the girl looking over her shoulder in fright, picking at the scabs that would soon grow over the carvings dug into her. none of this had happened yet, not the hideously healing flesh aspect at least. his skin still crawled each time she looked over her shoulder, no matter how nonchalantly her motion was. dung needed his friend to not be afraid. this, paired with his stereotypical lack of responsibility, was what led him to find james. 

          -- -- -- the leader, the heroic among the crippled. it was the head boy that they           turned to in their greatest times of trouble, his new-found title never being the           reason behind this. he stomped back and forth near the gryffindor corridors,           pulling out cigarettes only when he saw no professors in the nearby area. 

he’d accidentally stomped out two in a panic; mistaken students for authority figures. dung chewed on nail bits that were already ridden to the core, finding nothing on his fingertips to satiate the apprehension that gurgled inside. at last, he saw james heading in his direction, no true preparation on what he planned to say the boy. he never thought he’d actually be here.

❝ we gotta talk. ❞

[ch-ords]

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