[ID: Five pride flags colorpicked from art of Hot Pants and Diego Brando side by side. In order they are genderfluid, transgender, nonbinary, pansexual, and bisexual. Each flag has the same art of Hot Pants and Diego over it. End ID.]
Hot Pants and Diego Brando from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Steel Ball Run are the genderfluid, trans, nonbinary, pan, and bi flag!
the gods torment me (and they do with you, too) - diego & hot pants
where diego and hot pants deserve more than their traumas have given them, and how they search for things they’ve lost within one another. (1391 words)
(i finished steel ball run and i really wasn’t expecting any of these emotions to rise!! love part 7!!! big stan!!)
It was a quiet night. A night where it felt like time had stopped in its tracks to appreciate the silence the world held in its magnificent scope - no stars twinkled in the vast sky, and Hot Pants noted that no clouds float absentmindedly like it usually would, feeling herself shiver slightly as she pulled the blanket closer to herself. The small shift in her body caused Diego to turn his face up from where he was - on her lap, looking unimpressed what she just did. A blanket was also tightly curled up on his body, with him feeling the effects of the cold far more than Hot Pants could; he shared reptilian traits such as cold-bloodedness despite being human, relying on the dying campfire next to him and the warmth of Hot Pants’ body.
“You’re cold?” He asked incredulously, a scoff escaping his throat. “Go get some more wood. Get the fire burning again,” Diego remarked sharply in his cold, condescending tone (he was always vocal about anything he was discontent about, Hot Pants knew for she only had these types of interactions with him, after all - and she sighed a long sigh inwardly, knowing that camping with him would only lead to curt conversations like this), starting to look away from Hot Pants as he shifted away from her body so she could stand up. She immediately puts her cold hand on Diego’s shoulder to prevent him from moving any further, causing the man to pause for a moment and stare up at her with those calculating eyes again.
(she wondered if there was a moment in diego’s life where his eyes were ever gentle, his words delicate and soft.)
“It’s okay. I’m not cold,” she almost whispered (Hot Pants did not understand why her voice was so hushed in the first place), “Stay. I know you’re colder than me right now.”
As Diego’s eyes widened and his face flushed, her own expression became one of bewilderment.
(she was reminded of her own brother, whose face was always so easy to fluster and catch off-guard. it suddenly became so painfully easy to draw parallels between a man like diego and her brother - would her brother grow up to be a kind man if he was to live? or would he had lived in hatred as diego did, his judgemental, critical eyes equating to the weight of hot pants’ many sins that burdened her ever since she threw him out so willingly? would anything have been the same if he was alive? the monologue in her head buzzed, as if a dam had broke and flooded in the repressed thoughts of her mind that haunted her so, a train about to hit her like a deer in the headlights, the moment of fear she felt when she returned to the village alone, by herself, without her brother, his blood trickling down her leg and all over her hands despite it being her own blood-)
“Perceptive too, huh?” the jockey commented - his tone sounding mocking (even if he was praising her), moving his frame closer to Hot Pants’ own again.
The girl said nothing at first, her face blank as she looked into Diego’s eyes - the both of them held each other’s tense gaze for a moment, until Hot Pants uttered out: “Why are we doing this?”
Upon hearing her question, even Diego did not know how to answer. Although it wasn’t her intention to, Hot Pants’ stare seemed to antagonize him - even a man like Diego broke away from the fierce eye contact she was able to uphold, the words caught in his throat despite how sharp he could be. Hot Pants felt him relax in her slight hold, his stray, blonde locks incidentally stroked her skin as he got comfier there. She noted that the fistful of the fabric of his blanket had loosened slightly, no longer tense as he was before.
Diego was never subtle, and Hot Pants doubted that he would ever be so. That was just the feeling that resonated with her when their paths crossed.
“It was best to team up for now, remember?” the man replied simply, “It’s cold, we’re in a pretty shitty place for the Race, you almost suffocated me with Cream Starter if I didn’t cooperate with you to get the corpse parts together today-”
The pink-haired woman exhaled out of her nose in exasperation. “I did.”
(hot pants knew that her main question wasn’t answered, but she had felt like that was a sufficient answer enough to keep her satisfied.)
Falling into another comfortable silence, Hot Pants looked down at Diego - it was more of an inspection than admiration. The blonde hair that splayed across her thighs seemed coarse and rough, as expected from jockeys like him. None of them had been able to enjoy a shower for weeks now - there wasn’t enough time to mull on those things. And yet, the smell of fresh earth and blood that Diego had on him created a strange sense of solace within Hot Pants, as if his presence had grounded her whole into the situation she placed herself in. Without thinking about it, her hand had subconsciously come up to immerse in Diego’s hair, gently pulling out all the knots and dirt that was on his hair. He only continued to stay silent in response, both of them as if in a moment of a freeze frame.
(diego felt his mother’s fingers thread through his hair again, relishing at the moment for a little, even if it was temporary.)
“Diego… what is your true objective?” Hot Pants started after a moment of her just running her fingers through Diego’s hair. “Why are you collecting the corpse parts?” Her eyes continued to stare into the distance, the space seemingly endless as no light reflected back into her eyes other than the faint campfire that glowed in defiance of the night.
The question had set a trigger in Diego, Hot Pants suddenly feeling his body constricting into himself and the snarl in his throat (Hot Pants had Cream Starter in her pocket already, now alarmed at the set of teeth that was bared for violence in front of her) “Do I have to humor you?” His sharp tongue lashed out, a barrage of insults seemingly building up within himself (but he knew that he was vulnerable, he was being too soft). “This contract is a one-time thing. I don’t need to disclose any details with you.”
“I want him to forgive me.”
The vague answer that dropped out of Hot Pants’ mouth piqued Diego’s interest, her voice so filled with grief.
(there were too many emotions going on at one within hot pants’ mind, and she didn’t understand why she was opening up to a mere stranger either. she bore so much, and the burden never got any lighter.)
“I just simply want God to forgive me,” there was an emptiness in her violet eyes when Diego turned around to look at her expression, her hand no longer stroking Diego’s coarse hair. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I need to get the corpse parts so desperately.”
“Pitiful.”
That was the word that Diego had uttered out upon hearing her convictions, for he thought that was the most fitting description that could be formed. Hot Pants had expected this answer as well - for she simply just chuckled shallowly and stroked Diego’s hair again, finding the feeling of running her fingers through his hair repetitive and soothing.
(and when diego peered closer at her, he knew hot pants was a person who had only known how to live with regrets pulling her down.)
As he pushed his body closer to Hot Pants and his head nuzzling her stomach, all Diego said was: “For as long as I live, the gods will never know the sound of my forgiveness.”
(diego felt his childhood rushing back as the warmth of hot pants’ body seeped into his, for it was the closest thing he had as a mother at this moment.)
The silence now settled for good, Diego falling into a dreamless slumber as Hot Pants continued to stay on guard and caressed his hair gently. As time moved forward, the quiet night had consumed them - both waiting for dawn to approach to make them feel whole again.
'You're so vain' by Carly Simon is kind of a Diego song. Maybe a little bit Dinopants-y if you put HP in the narrator's role? It's a cool track, listen to it
