#apparently it's helpful for people to recognize my posts on sight

[existencebringsonlypain]

Are you. Aware. If this???

yeah no that's by choice

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 1 - The One About That Weird Ass Cressida Post

This is my first blog entry and, before you start reading, let me just drop in this little disclaimer: 

You will find that I bounce between fact and speculation with a mix of sarcasm and [I hope] level-headedness, common sense, and deductive reasoning.

I am a Lukola. Plain and simple. You will not change my mind. It’s an all or nothing thing for me. How I got here, I’m not exactly sure – wait, no I do know how I got here (thank you Nicola and Luke for being so fucking charming).

Of course, I knew what Bridgerton was before I joined the Lukola fandom. In fact, I watched both Seasons 1 and 2, and they were okay. Yes, just okay.

I knew that Season 3 was about Penelope – the only character I found remotely interesting – so when I saw an article on People’s page showing Nicola and her costar holdings hands, I admit I was intrigued.

Were they dating?

Let’s ask Mr. Google and find out.

No, apparently, they were not.

Okay, fine.

I then made the mistake of clicking on a video of Nicola and Luke being interviewed in Australia. And, motherfuck, they were like lightning in a bottle! Luke – being asked if he believed in friends to lovers – responded in a way that left me feeling a bit blindsided. My immediate thought was: “He fell in love with Nicola the moment he met her.” It’s funny how many people I’ve spoken to since who had an identical reaction and, to be honest, Luke’s response won’t make your heart flutter. But, it was something in the way he said it.

Now, let me explain my feelings about love at first sight. Actually, Nicola explained it best when she said lust at first sight is often mistaken for love at first sight. This, I agree with wholeheartedly. To me, love at first sight does not have to be lusty. It can be, sure, but it can also be something entirely different. Maybe it’s a fleeting feeling of recognizing someone in a way you cannot possibly articulate out loud. Maybe it’s a palpitation of your heartbeat. Maybe it feels like home. Regardless, when you experience it, you’ll know it.

That, my friends, is how I got here, and why I [sometimes begrudgingly] stay here – walking alongside this rather long, winding, and often pothole-filled road waiting for two people to admit to the general public – whether it be in a blatant or subtle manner – that they are, in fact, together.

I’ve noticed in this fandom we seem to have three types of people.  We have the Sincerely Ignorant, the Conscientiously Stupid, and the Fact Finders.

The Sincerely Ignorant are those that are easily persuaded. They are like sheep following their shepherd. In fact, the Sincerely Ignorant are the most dangerous as they tend to spiral hard and fast – and often without reason.

Next, we have the Conscientiously Stupid. These are the shippers that choose to live in error because it fits their narrative. We are all a bit Conscientiously Stupid but there are those that push an idea so hard that they omit certain truths from their storyboard. The danger here is obvious and their victims always include the Sincerely Ignorant.

Lastly, we have the Fact Finders. The people who track information – key players, side characters, dates, places, statements, etc. These are the people who often find themselves pulling the Sincerely Ignorant out of the water when they spiral, usually due to narratives being pushed by the Conscientiously Stupid.

I am a Fact Finder. Am I perfect? Fuck no, but I do find it fun to collect and analyze information and share it with my fellow Fact Finders. Plus, collecting data helps me maintain some indifference towards the USS Lukola because, let’s face it, this god-damned ship has been blasted by quite a few cannonballs at this point. Some days, I’m surprised we’re still afloat.

Let’s start with Cannonball No. 1. Pap-fucking-smear. June 12/13, 2024. What a fucking shit show. Who shows up to the London premiere? Antonia, Luke’s – I honestly don’t even know what word to use here because I have a lot of different thoughts but out of [a small amount of] respect I will call her – “girl friend” [yes, that space was intentional]. We all know the story, Luke was papped outside his hotel with Antonia on premiere night and he was pegged an overnight dumpster fire.

And, oh my God, the Sincerely Ignorant and Conscientiously Stupid ran with it. I mean, they practically became wild dogs chasing down a fox under the command of Nicola the Huntsman. However, Nicola, almost immediately, came to Luke’s rescue by posting an “in support of” style story to her IG. I’m not saying Nicola wasn’t affected by this mishap. At the very least, the post-premiere PR efforts were dumped squarely on her tiny shoulders. At the worst, she’d had her heart broken.

I never liked the Papsmear pictures. Not because I disliked what they depicted but because there was something “off” about them. Luke didn’t look like a man happy to be out with his lady friend. He looked like a man who had been hoodwinked and whether that was because he knew he’d just made a major PR misstep or because he knew the narrative that would follow was false doesn’t really matter because it’s all speculative. But, what makes me believe it was the latter is what Luke did next.

On June 15, Luke put a story on his IG promoting Season 3. That isn’t all that interesting but the scene it depicted made me do a double take.

Could it be?

No…no way…

But…it was.

It was the scene in Ep. 6 where Cressida entered the Mondrich Ball and Colin pulled Penelope aside and told her he wouldn’t let Cressida ruin their evening.

What in the hot fuck? I mean, really, what in the hot fuck??

Did Luke really just blast out an IG story where his character tells Nicola’s character not to let the Cressida character ruin their evening? Was Cressida…Antonia?

Because that’s fucking loud.

I mean, of all the scenes over four episodes, Luke chose THAT one to promote Pt. 2?

Surely, Antonia or one of her friends or family members would have picked up on this, right? And, told Antonia.

No one is going to convince me that Luke and Antonia were in a blissful relationship after that IG story was posted. Why? Because the deductive reasoning part of my brain tells me Luke chose Nicola straight outta Pap-gate.

The Conscientiously Stupid may [rather they WILL] argue that it was just for PR. Okay, but that would mean Antonia accepted the comparison between Cressida, the Evening-Ruiner, and herself. Take a moment and put yourself in Antonia’s shoes. Would you accept this from your partner? (P.S. If you said yes, you have bigger problems in life than following real people’s relationships.)  We know Antonia accepted this role to some extent because we have evidence she attended events with Luke over the summer. So, what the fuck?

In my opinion, Luke’s IG story is a defining moment in the Lukola narrative, but one that was overlooked in June and one that continues to be overlooked – and ignored – now.

Luke’s character is telling Nicola’s character he won’t let another woman ruin their evening.

Let me repeat that again for you:  Luke’s character is telling Nicola’s character he won’t let another woman ruin their evening.

Now wrap your head around that.

[03jyh23]

🥣⌇this might be love┆jeong yunho

non-idol! yunho x reader ft. roommate mingi

│synopsis: when you fall ill with a nasty cold, your roommate Mingi takes it upon himself to play matchmaker, inviting his best friend Yunho over to take care of you

│genre: friends to lovers, fluff, failed attempt on comedy

│trigger warnings: mature themes, mature language, mingi is gay, mingi plays cupid, mild illness descriptions, mild suggestive, reader is shorter than yunho

│words: 6.7 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

│requested prompts are bold

!minors do not interact!

— hi there, my lovely people! this request has been sitting in my inbox since before my hiatus, and i'm finally posting it now! i'm really happy with how it turned out, and honestly, i like it so much! the writing process was a lot of fun, and i'm excited to share it with you! enjoy!

love, mon ♡

You were sprawled across your bed, your body feeling heavy and drained as you reached for yet another tissue from the rapidly diminishing pack. Your nose, red and irritated from constant wiping, continued its relentless dripping, while your muscles ached with a dull, persistent soreness.

The cold wasn't unbearable, but it was certainly taking its toll. It left you feeling slightly drained, your energy sapped, yet it was still within the realm of manageable discomfort. You couldn't help but loathe being sick; the inconvenience, the discomfort, and the forced inactivity all grated on your nerves. But you knew that getting plenty of rest was the best way to get better quickly. It wasn't just helpful - it was necessary to fight off the cold. The prospect of lying in bed for days wasn't appealing, but you knew it was the quickest way back to feeling like yourself again.

With a soft groan, you rolled to the other side of the bed, your hand fumbling for your phone charger. As you reached for it, you also grabbed a throat lozenge from the nightstand, hoping it would soothe the persistent tickle in your throat. Just as you were about to pop the lozenge into your mouth, a flash of color caught your eye. Peering through the crack in the door, you spotted a tuft of vibrant red hair. You raised your eyebrow, focusing your bleary eyes on the familiar sight. It was none other than Mingi, your best friend and roommate, apparently hovering just outside your door. His presence, both unexpected and comforting, brought a small smile to your face despite your illness-induced misery.

"What's up, Mings?" you asked, slightly lifting your head from the pillow to see him better.

Mingi stood in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically nervous. His hair was styled carefully, his locks falling softly onto his eyebrows and glasses. He was wearing a pink, oversized sweater, and loose light jeans that complemented his tall frame. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sweater as he spoke. "I was just thinking that maybe I shouldn't be leaving you all alone when you're sick?" he said, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at you with concern in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. "We've already talked about this. You've been waiting forever for this guy to ask you out, so please, for the love of God, just go on that date already!" Mingi stepped into your room, his fingers now fidgeting with his rings nervously. You sighed, recognizing the signs of his anxiety. "Are you trying to find an excuse not to go?" you asked, pushing yourself up to sit on your bed. You patted the spot next to you, inviting him to sit. As Mingi hesitantly made his way over, you couldn't help but notice the conflict evident in his expression. Despite your own discomfort from the cold, you felt a surge of concern for your friend.

Mingi finally sat down beside you, he cleared his throat before speaking "What if I mess it up? What if he realizes I'm not as cool as he thought I was?" His eyes darted around, avoiding your gaze.

"Mings, you're overthinking this," you said, propping yourself up on your elbow. "He asked you out because he likes you, just as you are. Besides, you're plenty cool – even when you're being a total dork." You reached out and gave Mingi's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Listen, I know first dates can be nerve-wracking, but remember, he's probably just as nervous as you are. Just be yourself, Min. That's who he wants to see." You paused, a small sneeze interrupting your pep talk. "And hey, if it doesn't go well, you can always come back here and we'll binge-watch your favorite show together, okay?"

Mingi's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he continued, his eyes fixed on your carpet, unable to meet your gaze. "It's just that he's so... cool, you know? Like, effortlessly cool, handsome, and kind of intimidating," he started, his words coming out in a rush. He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "And then there's me. Just... plain old me. Nothing special, nothing extraordinary. I can't help but wonder why someone like him would even be interested in someone like me."

You felt a pang of sympathy for your friend. Despite his vibrant personality and kind heart, Mingi had always struggled with self-doubt. "Hey, look at me," you said gently, waiting for Mingi to meet your eyes. "You're amazing just as you are. Your quirkiness, your passion for music, your terrible jokes—that's what makes you you. And that's exactly why he asked you out." You paused, squeezing your best friend's arm reassuringly once again, before continuing, "Trust me, Mingi, you've got so much to offer. Just be yourself and let him see the amazing person I know you are."

As you finished your pep talk, you suddenly felt the urgent need to blow your nose. You reached for a tissue and let out a loud, honking blow. Mingi's face scrunched up in a mix of amusement and mild disgust. "Alright, Miss Therapist," Mingi said, standing up with a dramatic flair. "I think I'll head out before I catch that disgusting virus of yours." He started walking towards the door, a small smile playing on his lips despite his earlier nervousness.

You watched as Mingi bent down to put on his shoes, his movements more confident now. As he straightened up, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "You know what?" Mingi said, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of playful determination and newfound confidence. "If I'm going on this date, then I think it's about time you finally asked Yunho out."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you felt an immediate rush of heat flood your cheeks. The mere mention of Yunho's name sent your heart into a flutter, "W-what? Yunho? I don't... I mean, I..." you stammered, suddenly finding the pattern on your bedspread fascinating.

Mingi's grin widened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh, come on, Y/N. You can't seriously think you've been hiding it well. I've seen the way you look at him - it's like he hung the moon and stars just for you. Plus, you get all flustered and tongue-tied every time he's around. It's actually quite entertaining to watch."

You buried your face in your hands, your embarrassment compounded by your illness-induced flush. "Is it that obvious?" you mumbled through your fingers.

"Only to everyone with functioning eyes," Mingi teased, his voice softening slightly. "But don't worry, I think it's absolutely adorable that you have such a massive crush on my best friend. It's like watching a rom-com in real life."

You groaned loudly, dramatically falling back onto your pillow and pulling the covers up to hide your burning face. "Just go on your date already," you said, your voice barely audible through the layers of blankets. "Leave me here to die of embarrassment in peace."

Mingi chuckled, the sound warm and affectionate. "Alright, alright. I'll go, but don't think for a second that this conversation is over, Y/N! We're definitely revisiting this topic when I get back."

As Mingi turned to leave, a mischievous idea suddenly popped into your head. Despite your embarrassment, you couldn't resist the urge to turn the tables on him. With a grin you suddenly shouted, "I know you shaved your butthole! No sex on the first date!" just as Mingi's hand reached for the doorknob.

The effect was instantaneous. Mingi froze mid-motion, his hand hovering over the handle as if suddenly paralyzed. Slowly, almost comically, he turned back to face you, his eyes as wide as saucers and his cheeks rapidly turning a shade of red that rivaled his vibrant hair. For a long moment, he stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to form coherent words. "I... You... How did you...?" he sputtered. Then, as if suddenly remembering how to function, he pointed an accusing finger at you, his expression a mix of shock, embarrassment, and grudging amusement. "You're terrible, you know that? Absolutely, fucking terrible!"

Despite your congested state and the persistent tickle in your throat, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at Mingi's priceless reaction. Your amusement quickly turned into a coughing fit, but the utterly flabbergasted look on his face made it all worthwhile. "Just go on your date, you adorable dork," you managed to say between coughs, waving him off.

Mingi shook his head, a complex mixture of embarrassment, amusement, and fondness playing across his features. "You're lucky you're sick, or I'd get you back for that comment right now," he said, finally gathering enough composure to open the door. "Get better soon, you little bitch! And don't think I won't remember this!" As the door closed behind him, you flopped back onto your pillow, still giggling despite your stuffy nose and sore throat. The brief exchange had momentarily lifted your spirits. You made a mental note to tease Mingi more about this later, once you were feeling better.

You hadn't even noticed when you fell asleep in the middle of scrolling mindlessly through your phone. The sudden chime of the doorbell jolted you awake, leaving you disoriented and groggy. How long have you been sleeping? Confusion set in as you tried to gather your thoughts. Did Mingi forget his keys? But he rarely did that. Or was he back already? That seemed unlikely given how nervous he'd been about his date. Your foggy mind raced through possibilities as you struggled to sit up, your body still heavy with sleep and illness. The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time. With a groan, you pushed yourself out of bed, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders like a cape. Your legs felt wobbly as you made your way to the door, your heart racing with a mix of curiosity. You reached for the handle, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

As the door swung open, you found yourself face to face with Yunho. His tall frame filled the doorway, and his warm brown eyes were filled with concern. Your heart skipped not just one, but several beats in quick succession, and you felt an intense warmth spread across your cheeks.

"Y/N! I hope I'm not bothering you," Yunho said, his voice gentle. The familiar timbre of his words sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, momentarily distracting you from your stuffy nose and aching muscles. "I heard you were feeling sick, so I made you some soup." he continued, a hint of shyness creeping into his voice. He held up a sizable container, "It's my grandma's special recipe, it's worked wonders for me whenever I've been sick. I swear, it's like magic in a bowl."

You blinked rapidly, momentarily stunned into silence by his incredibly thoughtful gesture. A warm, fuzzy feeling bloomed in your chest, momentarily overshadowing your illness. "Yunho, I... you really didn't have to go through all this trouble," you finally managed to say, your voice slightly hoarse and barely above a whisper.

He smiled then, a warm, genuine smile that reached his eyes, causing them to crinkle adorably at the corners. The sight made your heart do a little flip in your chest. "But I wanted to, Y/N. Taking care of you... I mean, helping you feel better is important to me," he said, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Do you think I could come in for a bit? I just want to make sure you're okay and maybe heat up this soup for you."

You hesitated for a moment, your illness-addled brain struggling to process the situation. But as you looked into Yunho's earnest eyes, you felt a warmth that had nothing to do with your fever. "Of course," you heard yourself say, stepping aside to let him in. "I'd love some company, actually." As Yunho entered, you couldn't help but feel that maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all. Yunho busied himself in the kitchen, and you found yourself trailing off, a question forming on your lips. "How did you know I was...?" you started your voice raspy from your cold.

Yunho glanced over his shoulder, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Well, Mingi called," he explained, turning to face you, "He was feeling pretty guilty about leaving you like that."

'This little bitch,' you thought to yourself. You tried to compose yourself, suddenly acutely aware of your disheveled appearance. Your oversized hoodie was rumpled beyond repair, and you could only imagine the state of your hair. A wave of self-consciousness hit you as you realized that you never wanted Yunho to see you like this in the first place. You ran a hand through your tangled hair, attempting to smooth it down, all while silently cursing Mingi for his well-intentioned meddling. Despite your embarrassment, a small part of you couldn't help but feel touched by Yunho's kindness.

"Hey, Y/N? I can't seem to find a pot. Where do you keep them?" Yunho’s question snapped you back to reality, and you felt a rush of embarrassment at the thought of him rummaging through your kitchen drawers.

"Oh! Sorry, they're in the cabinet above the sink," you answered, your voice still a bit raspy. You scooted over to help Yunho, determined to reach the pot yourself. However, as you approached the cabinet, the upper drawers seemed to tower above you, mockingly out of reach. Undeterred, you stretched up on your tiptoes, your fingers barely grazing the cabinet door. You could feel Yunho's presence behind you, probably watching with a mix of amusement and concern. Stubbornly, you extended yourself further, managing to hook your fingers onto the rim of the cabinet. As you strained to reach for a pot, you suddenly felt a bit lightheaded - likely a combination of your fever and the sudden vertical movement. Your balance wavered slightly, and you instinctively tightened your grip on the cabinet, determined not to embarrass yourself further in front of Yunho.

Just as you felt yourself starting to sway, you heard Yunho's deep voice behind you, tinged with a mix of amusement and concern. "I can't help you if you won't let me."

Before you could respond, you felt his warm presence directly behind you. His chest was almost touching your back as he effortlessly reached over your head, easily grasping the pot you had been struggling to reach. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and you were suddenly very aware of how small you felt next to him. As he lowered the bowl, his other hand gently steadied you by your waist. "Easy there," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear. "We don't want you falling and getting even sicker, do we?"

You turned to face him, your cheeks burning - though whether from embarrassment, your fever, or Yunho's closeness, you couldn't quite tell. "Thanks," you managed to mumble, taking the pot from his hands. Your fingers brushed against his, and you felt a jolt of electricity at the contact.

Yunho's eyes crinkled with a soft smile. "Anytime. Now, how about you sit down and let me take care of the rest? Doctor's orders." Despite your stubbornness, you found yourself nodding. You placed the pot on the stove, and moved towards the couch, secretly grateful for his care and attention.

As you settled onto the couch, you pulled out your phone from your hoodie's pocket. Your fingers flew across the screen as you typed out a message to Mingi:

You: You absolute little shit. Why the fuck would you send Yunho over?! I look like a zombie raccoon that's been hit by a truck. I swear I'm going to kill you... right after I thank you. Maybe. If I'm feeling generous. Which I'm not right now. 🤬😤💀

You hit send, a mix of embarrassment, anger, and reluctant gratitude swirling in your chest. Despite your annoyance, you couldn't help but smile a little at Mingi's well-intentioned meddling.

Your phone buzzed almost immediately with Mingi's replies:

Mingi: You're welcome, you ungrateful bitch! 😘 Have fun with your sexy doctor. I, on the other hand, will be getting my guts rearranged tonight. So don’t wait for me! Too bad you can't ride that Yunho rollercoaster because of your cold, but hey, at least you've got him to role play with you! 😉

Mingi: Remember, the best way to sweat out a fever is vigorous physical activity. I'm sure he can help with that. 😮‍💨

You: I told you no sex on the first date!!! I hope his dick is small and he can't fuck!!! 😤

You smirked as you sent the message, feeling a mix of satisfaction and lingering embarrassment. Your attention was quickly drawn back to the kitchen as you heard the clatter of utensils and the gentle simmering of soup. Your phone buzzed again, but before you could check Mingi's response, you heard Yunho's voice from the kitchen. "Soup's ready! Are you comfortable out there?"

You quickly pocketed your phone, your playful argument with Mingi momentarily forgotten as you focused on the care and attention Yunho was showing you. "Yeah, I'm comfortable," you called back, snuggling deeper into the couch cushions.

Yunho appeared a moment later, carefully carrying a steaming bowl. He set it down on the coffee table in front of you with a flourish. "Here you go! My grandma's secret recipe. It'll have you feeling better in no time." You smiled gratefully, picking up the spoon and dipping it into the soup. The liquid was a murky brown color, with unidentifiable chunks floating in it. You hesitated for a moment, then brought the spoon to your lips. As soon as the soup touched your tongue, you had to fight the urge to spit it out. It was... terrible. The taste was a bizarre mix of overly salty and oddly sweet, with a bitter aftertaste that clung to your palate. You swallowed hard, trying to keep a neutral expression on your face. Yunho was watching you expectantly, his eyes bright with hope. "Well? How is it?" You opened your mouth, ready to lie through your teeth, when a chunk of something chewy and unpleasant slid down your throat. Before you could stop yourself, you started coughing and spluttering. "Oh no," Yunho said, his face falling. "Is it that bad?"

With tears in your eyes from the uncomfortable coughing session, you shook your head. "No, it's... it's good," you stammered, trying to catch your breath.

Yunho's concerned expression softened slightly, but doubt still lingered in his eyes. "Are you sure? You don't have to pretend if it's not good. I know my cooking skills aren't the best..."

You felt a pang of guilt at his crestfallen look. Despite the soup's awful taste, you couldn't bear to hurt his feelings when he had gone out of his way to take care of you. "Really, it's fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "It just went down the wrong way. I'm sure it'll help me feel better in no time." Yunho's face brightened at your reassurance, and you steeled yourself to take another spoonful of the concoction. As you raised the spoon to your lips, you silently prayed that your taste buds would miraculously adjust to the flavor. After all, how bad could it be if it came from a grandmother's recipe? But as you brought the spoon closer to your mouth, your stomach churned in protest. The pungent aroma wafting from the soup made your nostrils flare, and you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. Your hand trembled slightly, and you realized you simply couldn't force yourself to take another bite. Lowering the spoon back into the bowl, you looked up at Yunho with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Yunho. I really appreciate you making this for me, but… it tastes fucking terrible.’’

Yunho chuckled and quickly covered his lips with his hand, trying to compose himself. "Fuck, I'm sorry... I know I'm not the best cook but—" he trailed off, unable to contain his laughter. You couldn't help but join in, your own laughter bubbling up despite your illness. The tension in the room dissipated as you both giggled, the terrible soup becoming a shared joke between you. "I guess I won't be winning any cooking competitions anytime soon," Yunho said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Maybe stick to dancing," you teased, feeling more at ease now that the truth was out. "But seriously, thank you for trying. It means a lot."

Yunho's smile softened. "Anytime. How about we order some real food instead?"

You smiled weakly at Yunho, "Actually, I'm not really that hungry," you admitted, your stomach still unsettled from the combination of your cold and the attempt at soup. "But thank you for offering."

Yunho's expression shifted to one of concern. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have realized you might not have much of an appetite. Is there anything else I can do to help you feel better?"

You felt a warmth in your chest at his genuine care. "Just having you here is nice," you said softly, then quickly added, "But maybe we could watch a movie or something? If you're not too busy, that is."

Yunho's face lit up with a gentle smile. "That sounds perfect. I've got nowhere else to be. Let's find something light and fun to watch, okay?" You settled back into the couch, pulling your blanket closer around you as Yunho grabbed the remote. As he scrolled through the movie options, you felt a strange mix of comfort and nervousness. His presence was soothing, yet you couldn't help but be hyper-aware of every move he made. You silently hoped your stuffy nose wouldn't ruin the movie experience for both of you.

As Yunho continued scrolling through movie options, your phone chimed with a series of text notifications. You glanced at the screen to see multiple messages from Mingi popping up in quick succession:

Mingi: Actually, I've given it some thought. Don't let this damn cold cock-block you! 🍆 🍆 😏😏 You and Yunho should have some fun since I’m not around! 😋

Mingi: So with that being said! Time for some vitamin D(ick)! It's scientifically proven to boost your immune system. Trust me, I'm a doctor. 🤭😎

Mingi: Oh, and remember!!! Orgasms clear sinuses. It's basically medicine. 😏😏

You felt your face burning hotter than your fever as you quickly shoved your phone under a pillow, praying Yunho hadn't seen any of Mingi's increasingly explicit messages.

"Hey, I saw my name on your screen. Everything okay?" Yunho asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. Your heart skipped a beat, realizing he had caught a glimpse of Mingi's suggestive messages.

You fumbled for words, trying to come up with a plausible explanation that wouldn't make the situation even more awkward. "Oh, it's just... Mingi being Mingi," you said with a nervous laugh, hoping to brush it off. "You know how he can be sometimes."

Yunho's lips quirked into a small smile. "Yeah, I do know. Should I be worried about what he's saying?"

You shook your head quickly, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "No, no! It's nothing. Just... silly stuff. You know him."

Yunho nodded, but his eyes held a hint of amusement. "Alright, if you say so." You felt a mix of relief and lingering embarrassment as Yunho turned his attention back to the movie selection.

As you finally settled on a movie, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the scenes. Your eyelids grew heavy, the fatigue from your illness weighing you down. You tried to stay awake, not wanting to be rude to Yunho, but the struggle was real. His presence beside your curled-up form was both comforting and distracting. His scent, a subtle mix of clean laundry and something floral, enveloped you. It was soothing, almost lulling you further into sleepiness. You found yourself unconsciously leaning slightly towards him, drawn to his warmth and the sense of security he provided. As you fought against the encroaching drowsiness, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. Here you were, sick and probably looking a mess, practically falling asleep on Yunho. Yet, a small part of you reveled in the closeness, in the care he was showing you. Your thoughts became increasingly fuzzy as sleep threatened to overtake you the movie fading into background noise as Yunho's presence became the most prominent thing in your awareness. Your eyelids grew heavier and you felt a gentle movement beside you. Yunho hesitantly put his arm around your shoulder, bringing your body slightly closer to him. The sudden warmth and proximity startled you into alertness, and you looked up at him questioningly.

His eyes met yours, a mix of concern and something softer, almost tender, in his gaze. "You looked like you were about to fall over," he explained softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable. Is this okay?"

You felt a flutter in your chest, your heart rate picking up despite your fatigue. The gesture was so gentle, so caring, that it momentarily made you forget about your illness. You found yourself nodding, a small smile tugging at your lips as you allowed yourself to relax into his embrace. "Oh... yeah, it's alright," you murmured softly, feeling a knot form in your stomach. Your heart began racing, its rapid beats echoing in your ears. The sudden closeness to Yunho, while comforting, also sparked a wave of nervous energy through your body. "But maybe it's not a good idea for me to be so close?" you almost whispered. "I wouldn't want you to get sick."

Yunho's arm tightened slightly around you, and you could feel the rumble of his soft chuckle. "Don't worry about me," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "I've got a strong immune system. Besides, taking care of you is more important right now." His words sent a warmth spreading through your chest, conflicting with the guilt you felt about potentially passing on your illness. You opened your mouth to protest again, but Yunho gently shushed you. "Just relax," he murmured, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your shoulder. You looked up at him, trying to read his face and decipher his motives. Of course, you were happy to have him so close, but this wasn't typical Yunho behavior towards you. Usually, you'd spend time together with him and Mingi, playing games or going out for drinks. On days when you felt particularly anxious, you'd retreat to your room, leaving the boys to their fun. But now, for the first time, it was truly just the two of you.

You took in his handsome features, realizing he was even more attractive up close. Relax? How could you possibly relax with your heart racing like this? How could you relax when all you could think about was closing the distance between you?

And then, in that charged moment, your body betrayed you. You sneezed. Not just a small, polite sneeze, but a loud, explosive one that sent droplets flying. You immediately covered your face with your hands, mortified.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," you mumbled through your fingers, your face burning with embarrassment. You could feel Yunho's body shaking slightly, and when you dared to peek up at him, you saw he was trying to suppress his laughter. His laughter was contagious, and despite your embarrassment, you found yourself giggling too. The tension broke, and you both dissolved into a fit of laughter.

As your laughter subsided, Yunho wiped a tear from his eye and grinned at you. "Well, I guess that's one way to clear the air," he joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands again. "I can't believe I just did that," you mumbled, your voice muffled.

Yunho chuckled, gently pulling your hands away from your face. "Hey, look at it this way," he said, his tone playful, "if I don't get sick after that sneeze, I'm probably immune to everything. You might have just given me superpowers."

You couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculous statement. "Oh yeah? What kind of superpowers are we talking about here?" you asked, playing along.

Yunho pretended to think for a moment. "Hmm... maybe the ability to detect oncoming sneezes within a five-mile radius? Or perhaps instant tissue summoning?" He wiggled his fingers dramatically. "Behold, the amazing Sneeze-Man!" His silly antics made you laugh even harder, momentarily forgetting about your embarrassment. In that moment, you felt incredibly grateful for Yunho's ability to turn an awkward situation into something light-hearted and fun.

As the laughter died down, a comfortable silence settled between you. You felt a surge of warmth and gratitude wash over you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you decided to voice your feelings. "Yunho," you started, your voice soft but steady, "I'm really happy you came."

You held your breath, heart pounding as you waited for his response. Yunho smiled softly at you, reaching for a tissue from the coffee table and gently handing it to you. "How could I not?" he replied, his voice warm and filled with an emotion you couldn't quite place. His eyes met yours, and there was a tenderness in them that made your heart skip a beat. "You're important to me, you know." The way he said it, the look in his eyes - it felt like he was hinting at something more, something deeper than just friendship.

You felt a flutter of hope in your chest, wondering if maybe, just maybe, your feelings weren't as one-sided as you'd thought. "You care about me?" you mouthed, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy on your tongue, laden with hope and uncertainty.

Yunho's eyes softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Of course I do. Did you think I didn't?"

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands. "I... I guess I always thought you only hung out with me because of Mingi. That you only came over to see him, and I was just... there."

Yunho's eyebrows furrowed, a look of surprise and something akin to hurt crossing his face. "What? No, that's not true at all," he said, his voice firm but gentle. He reached out, gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "I come over because I want to see you, too. Mingi's my best friend, sure, but you're important to me in your own right."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words and the intensity in his eyes. "Really?" you asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Yunho nodded, his hand moving to cup your cheek. "Really. I thought you knew that. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you were just an afterthought. You're so much more than that to me." The sincerity in his voice made your breath catch in your throat. You found yourself leaning into his touch, your earlier worries about getting him sick momentarily forgotten. You must have looked dumbfounded, your mouth slightly open, as you looked at him in pure shock. Yunho giggled at your expression, gently pulling you closer until you were almost leaning straight into his chest. You gasped, your eyebrows rising in surprise. Yunho looked you straight in the eyes, a mix of amusement and tenderness in his gaze. "What?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with a hint of playfulness. The closeness between you was overwhelming, his warmth enveloping you, his scent filling your senses. Your heart raced, torn between the desire to lean in further and the lingering worry. You found yourself frozen, caught between your feelings and your concerns, as you stared into Yunho's eyes, searching for answers to questions you weren't even sure how to ask.

Yunho's expression softened, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his features. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Y/N," he began, his voice low and earnest, "I... I like you. And not just in a friendly way." Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could respond, Yunho continued, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "I hope that's okay. That I like you, I mean. Because I do. A lot."

Your eyes widened even further, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to form a coherent response. Your brows furrowed in surprise, your mind racing to process Yunho's confession. You felt a mix of elation and disbelief, your heart pounding in your chest. "I... I..." you started, your voice barely above a whisper. The words seemed to catch in your throat, refusing to come out. You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. Your gaze flickered between Yunho's eyes and his lips, your own parted in an attempt to speak. Yunho waited patiently, his eyes never leaving yours, a mix of hope and nervousness evident in his expression.

"Fuck it," you muttered under your breath, barely audible. Then, gathering all your courage, you looked straight into Yunho's eyes and said, "I like you too." The words tumbled out in a rush, your voice trembling slightly with emotion and nervousness. "I really, really like you." As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Your heart was still racing, but now it was from excitement rather than anxiety.

Yunho's face lit up with a brilliant smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm so glad," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine happiness. Yunho's arm fell from your shoulders to your waist, gently wrapping around you and pulling you closer. "So..." Yunho continued, his voice taking on a playful tone that made your heart skip a beat. "What do you think about putting some of Mingi's... unconventional health advice to the test?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing a burst of laughter to escape your lips despite your best efforts to maintain a serious expression.

You couldn't help but gasp, your hand flying to your chest in an exaggerated display of shock. "Yunho!" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of amusement and disbelief. "Don't tell me you actually read those messages!" You punctuated your words with a gentle, playful swat to his chest, your fingers lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary.

Yunho's response was to throw his head back in laughter, the sound rich and warm, filling the room and making your heart swell with affection. When he finally composed himself, he leaned in close, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered conspiratorially, "Would it make you feel any better if I told you that our dear friend Mingi sent me an equally... enlightening set of texts?" His eyes twinkled with mischief as he pulled back to gauge your reaction, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, a mix of curiosity and amusement dancing across your features. "Oh really?" you asked, your voice laced with intrigue. "And what exactly did our Mingi have to say to you?" You leaned in closer, your eyes locked with Yunho's, eager to hear his response.

Yunho's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in even closer, his lips nearly brushing against your ear. "Let's just say," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "that Mingi was very... thorough in his medical advice." He pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours. He cleared his throat, clearly a bit flustered. "But I think I'd rather focus on what you want, not Mingi's wild ideas."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words. Despite the playful atmosphere, there was a tenderness in Yunho's eyes that made your heart race. "And what if..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "what if I want to test Mingi's theories?"

Yunho's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering across his face. "Well, if that's what you want... I'm more than happy to oblige." His hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles on your skin as he gazed into your eyes, silently seeking permission. You leaned in, your heart racing with anticipation. But just as your lips were about to meet Yunho's, you felt an all-too-familiar tickle in your nose. Your eyes widened in panic.

"Oh no," you managed to whisper, before turning your head away at the last second. "ACHOO!" The sneeze erupted, loud and forceful, completely shattering the romantic moment.

Yunho jerked back in surprise, blinking rapidly. For a moment, you both sat in stunned silence, the abrupt shift from intimate to awkward leaving you both at a loss for words. Then, as if on cue, you both burst into laughter. Yunho's shoulders shook as he chuckled, while you buried your face in your hands, your giggles muffled but unmistakable.

"Well," Yunho said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, "I guess your cold isn't quite ready to let us test those theories just yet."

You peeked at him through your fingers, your face flushed with both embarrassment and amusement. "I'm so sorry," you mumbled, though you couldn't help but smile.

Yunho gently pulled your hands away from your face, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Don't be. I think it's safe to say that this is a moment we'll never forget."

As your laughter subsided, Yunho pulled you into a warm embrace. "How about we put those theories on hold for now and focus on getting you better first?" he suggested softly.

You nodded, snuggling into his chest. "That sounds perfect," you replied, feeling grateful for Yunho's understanding and care. As embarrassing as the moment had been, you couldn't help but feel that it had only brought you closer together.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[glassbirdfeather]

Oh, no, I think I have a type……. and it's absolutely pathetic.

Thank you Elden Ring and Pokemon Reborn for helping me discover this.

(Even if you don't play one of these games feel free to skip to the bottom to laugh at me because someone ought to get something good out of this.)

--

So about Morgott…

I do like the bestial elements of him, but really, what appeals to me about him isn't the animal features… though my severe faceblindness is appreciative of any unique features that I can lock on to and use to recognize someone. I also really like old men. and body hair.

But I didn't really think much of him until "he loved not in return," you know the line. What really got me was the absolute blind loyalty. Just total unshakeable faith in something that you have no evidence of, that may not care about you at all, is an utterly foreign concept to me--I am not religious and if there is a god I don't think it's one deserving of my worship.

I also used to make fun of people for the whole "I can fix him" thing because I always saw it applied to emo brats like Sasuke, but now I have no right to do that. Because I like the fantasy of taking Morgott and leading him out of his blind loyalty to a cult to something better, whether it's out of religion completely or to a healthier relationship to faith. Whatever makes him use critical thought against the institutions he's been defending his whole life is fine by me.

… Or alternatively, redirect that blind faith to the new Elden Lord, because as uncomfy the idea of being uncritically worshipped is, it's also apparently something I'm into.

--

So about Elias…

Unlike Morgott, since Reborn is heavily story-driven and has the player interacting with other characters a lot more, I thought a lot about him. I HATED him. What a piece of shit. He's a slimy pastor who thinks his daughter is corrupted because she's a goth.

Then after reading his sermon in the locked room in the Sanctum it became pity, because while he's still a piece of shit, he has a sad backstory that explains his motivations. And you know what, if I was holding a rock I didn't realize was magic and prayed to god for sight, I too would think it was god that granted that wish.

Still delusional, but sympathetic, because he's is the a victim of a cult. By the time you face him at the E4 (on the route I played) all his friends are dead and his daughter has disappeared, and he's just a sad old man who has lost everything but his religion.

… Then in the post-game he's come to a 'revelation' about the player's true nature and. well. as uncomfy as that is he suddenly had my attention because apparently that's something I'm into.

--

tl;dr my type is:

scruffy ascetic Protestant grandpa who thinks I'm the second coming of Christ.

great.

[strawwritesfic]

Bilbo Baggins x Female!Hobbit!Reader: Save

Summary: The beginning of your own story might be worth writing down someday as well.

Rating/Tags: All (Post-Hobbit; pre-Fellowship of the Ring; The Green Dragon; Drinking; Alcohol; Server!Reader; family problems; inheritance problems; meet cute)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Save

Any Hobbit worth their salt could recite upon command any number of stories about far-off lands and daring adventures. Children might shudder in their beds thinking of shadowy forests filled with creeping spiders; even adults could blanch over news of wolves spotted near Buckland. But that was all such tales were in the end: Distant news and exciting fiction, meant to entertain and never to touch its listeners. Nothing could ever really involve the Shire. The people of Hobbiton were free to continue their vicarious quests–until one day such a quest did involve the Shire.

“I already told you, Otho, I don’t have a mountain of gold hidden away to give to you. I’m certain that if I did, there would be nothing left after I was forced to buy back my home and all my possessions.”

You looked up from your work behind the counter to see one Bilbo Baggins sitting at a table across the room. He had a mug of ale clutched in one hand and a look of polite distaste on his face. 

Upon recognizing his drinking companions, you couldn’t say you blamed him for looking like that. Otho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins were not your favorite customers when they were minding their own business. Throw in harassing other patrons, and you couldn’t help but shoot them an ugly look of your own behind their backs.

Normally, you would have tried to throw them out. Now that you were in serious competition with your younger brother over the inheritance of the inn, however, you decided it would be better not to make a scene. "A patron is a patron, so long as they’ve got gold to spend," as your father had reminded you since you’d started working at the Green Dragon in your tweens. Apparently your brother had no trouble remembering this, though you suspected his good memory was because he didn’t spend much of his time on the clock doing any work, not because he lacked any hint of your admirable temper.

“[Name], quit lollygagging. Table Eight wanted supper fifteen minutes ago,” your father called over the usual evening hubbub. 

His watchful eye prevented you from eavesdropping further on Bilbo and his guests, so you flashed your haggard father a grin, picked up a waiting tray of food, and dove back into the throng.

The Green Dragon had been owned by your family since it had been built several generations ago. Sometimes you got the feeling your father would have gladly given up five square meals a day to be rid of the responsibility of running the place. Not so you. Working at the inn made you come alive more than any other place in the whole of the Shire. You had been hanging around it since you were old enough to follow your father to work as a youth and working there since you were bold enough to convince him to give you a job. By necessity, you knew every nook and cranny, every regular’s name, and every story ever told by the grand stone fireplace.

Except, that was, for Bilbo’s story. Even knowing that the mere sight of Otho and Lobelia would anger you, you sneaked another peek over at their table as you set the food down on another surrounded by ravenous tweens. Sure enough, the trio was still there. Bilbo’s polite façade appeared to be fading quickly as he listened to the two of them rant.

“[Name],” whined one of the tween boys, “you’re in the way.”

You hastily removed your hand before any of them could mistake it for part of their meal. Your constantly-hungry youth wasn’t so far behind you that you had forgotten what it felt like.

“Make sure to pay before you leave this time. Don’t want me to have to talk to your parents again, do you?” you asked.

None of them replied. 

With a deep breath and a roll of your eyes, you turned away. Before you lay a buzzing dining hall. Hobbits laughed and ate and drank in seemingly every inch of the building. It warmed your heart to see so many happy people enjoying your family’s business. All except for Bilbo, of course, who had dismissed faking politeness entirely and now stared grumpily into the space about his relatives’ heads as they prattled on about whatever it was they had a bone to pick about that night.

Before you could even attempt to interrupt the conversation, your father caught your eye and motioned impatiently at the growing assortment of food and drink waiting to be delivered. You picked your way toward him, progress hindered by the many customers that stopped you to say hello. The conversation at Bilbo’s table had grown quite lively by the time you arrived at the bar to pick up another order.

Truth be told, Bilbo’s fascinating disappearance and reappearance were not the only things about him that kept you looking at him. Neither were his rumored riches; you planned to take over the Dragon and raise your own small fortune, after all. Bilbo had, in fact, always interested you. He had had his own schedule before he’d left the Shire, coming in once a week to drink and listen to the same old stories you did day after day. Always polite, that Bilbo, if admittedly not forcibly friendly like most of the others. You had never had to throw him out for poor behavior, at any rate.

That night was the first night he’d been back to the inn after all his time away. You’d been dying to talk to him since the minute you saw him walk through the door. Between your job and the Sackville-Bagginses, you hadn’t had a chance.

Then an idea occurred to you–a wonderful, terrible, perfect idea. Before any of your fellow workers could guess that you were up to something, you filled your tray with the waiting glasses of ale. Your plan might not have had the best timing, considering the dinner rush and how flustered your father had already become, but he would have to do without you. You were only one Hobbit, and if your father truly believed passing the Green Dragon onto your brother (who was, as usual, suspiciously absent that evening), then what good was your working your fingers to the bone to please customers?

You turned and marched purposely toward the table at which Bilbo, Lobelia, and Otho sat. As you drew nearer, you could understand why Bilbo looked as pained as he did.

“As far as I’m concerned, you forfeited your right to Bag End when you left without saying a word and without electing an heir. The hole is ours,” Otho was saying.

“Is it,” said Bilbo.

Lobelia gave him a very nasty, almost un-hobbotish sneer. “You clearly aren’t right in the head anymore. Dragons? Dwarves? Why don’t you just admit you got into some messy business with that Gandalf fellow and step aside for Otho to be head of the family?”

“Difficult to do when I’m not at all mad, my dear Lobelia. For why should you think I had gold to spare if I never had my grand adventure?”

“You’re a fool,” she said, “a fool and perhaps even a criminal. We could go over your head, Bilbo. Mark my words.”

“Consider them marked. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“We aren’t done here,” Otho growled, getting up to follow Bilbo away from the table.

Oh, yes you are, you thought. 

Just as Otho reached over to pull Bilbo back into his seat, you arrived along with half the dining hall’s drinks. Otho standing up actually provided you with the perfect opportunity. All you had to do was angle your feet just right, and–

Lobelia’s scream told you that you had succeeded. Your staged trip and fall managed to tip all the ale on your tray so that it spilled over the Sackville-Baggginses heads. There they sat, dripping in abject shock, as Bilbo stood staring on in astonishment.

“Oh no!” you squealed dramatically. “Did I do that? I’m ever so sorry. I’m such a klutz!”

With a lurch toward Lobelia, you made to press a towel to her sopping hair. She flinched away before turning the full brunt of her wrath on you.

“You-You-You,” she said. Apparently, your act had rendered her unable to form complete sentences. 

This unforeseen bonus didn’t last long; before you could so much as attempt to offer a fake apology, Otho got in your face: “I’ll have your job for this, girl,” he said, and any desire to apologize, falsely or otherwise, vanished. 

You hooked a thumb over your shoulder toward where you’d last seen your father running around like a chicken with his head cut off. “Boss is that way.”

The two left without more than several glares in your direction. You watched only long enough to see your father shoot you a knowing, aggrieved sort of look when the Sackville-Bagginses approached him. 

Shrugging, you turned away. Well, it was difficult to feel sorry for him. If he really wanted a supper rush without incident, he really ought to have forced your brother to show up for his shifts every once and awhile, especially if you were expected to give up your inheritance without a fight.

All the same, you knew better than to leave a mess behind. You began to pick up the (thankfully unbroken) glasses littering the table and were almost finished by the time Bilbo spoke:

“Thank you.”

You had assumed he had taken the opportunity to escape your inn entirely, actually. His voice surprised you, and even more so that he was standing exactly where you’d left him. 

“You don’t need to thank me for being clumsy,” you answered, then smiled mischievously at his blank expression. “It looked like you could use a rescue. Those two shouldn’t bother you again tonight.”

“Thank you,” he said with more feeling.

“It’s your first time back since your adventure. Wouldn’t want you spooked off forever.”

Much to your confusion, Bilbo hesitated before he replied. His eyes slid toward the door and back to you, and then he took a wide step backward. “Right,” he said. “All the same, I think I had better get going.”

As you looked on, he began to shuffle toward the front door. You realized with a jolt exactly what he thought: Bilbo believed you, too, were after his gold. He didn’t exactly look less nervous when you followed after him either.

“That’s a shame,” you said. “I really was hoping to hear your story.”

That got him to pause. “You…were?”

“Sure. Dwarves and dragons and spiders and elves. Sounds better than half of the stories the rest of them have been telling all week. I'm getting a little tired of the time the creek froze over and let the wolves in, personally. ”

“Mine is a rather exciting tale,” Bilbo confessed, then seemed to decide you weren’t so frightening that he couldn’t size you up. “And you are?” 

“[Name]. My dad owns the place.”

At that, a look of slight disappointment crossed his face. You didn’t understand it, not until he went on: “Then I suppose you wouldn’t be able to join me at my hole for a cup of coffee and a chat? I find myself wanting a quieter atmosphere, but I could do with some company still.”

The words no, not tonight were right on your lips. You couldn’t just abandon the inn, or your father for that matter. 

But on second thought, why couldn’t you? Really, your brother ought to have been there by now to take over, and there were other servers, too, picking their slow ways from table to table. Besides, when was the last time you’d been given time off, or even a break for that matter?

“You know what?” you said. “I’d love to.”

“Delightful!” cried Bilbo, and he held out his arm. 

It took you less than half a second to place your tray on top of one of the other server’s trays as she passed by. She gave you a wild-eyed, panicked looked, but you did not explain. 

You’d hear all about your lack of responsibility in the morning once your father discovered you had slipped away. For the time being, you were just like any other Hobbit. Who cared about work, the inheritance, or the inn when there was such a fine story to hear and such a fine Hobbit to tell it? Even as you thought about the lecture you were in for, you couldn't find yourself regretting your decision. 

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 39: A Future: Katsuko is very much off course, but at least she has found some people who can help her out.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

The stranger squinted at me through the blizzard and asked again. “Katsuko?”

In this weather, I couldn’t make out the man's features, nor could I tell how tall he was because he was on the horse. His voice was vaguely familiar though. But not familiar enough to be coming from someone who knew my true name. Aki groaned, reminding me that this was no time to play guessing games. I simply indicated my increasingly heavy Aki burden and said, "He's been shot."

My rescuer was enough of a man of action over words to leap off his horse take on part of Aki’s weight. Between the three of us, we managed to get Aki onto the horse. "Can he last long enough to get home?"

Home? Where is home?

Again, I tried to place the man. He was perhaps a few years older than I was, with medium brown hair… and… nope. No idea. Sorry, dude.

"He's a tough old bird." I pitched my voice loud enough for Aki to hear, and received a grumpy, "insubordinate” as a reward.

I let my rescuer lead the horse and simply trudged along beside him. Hopefully, he would not notice I had no idea where we were going,. "It sounds like you know this guy?" There was no small amount of jealousy in his tone of voice.

"Well. He's my father." No reason to keep that a secret.

"Your father?" The man looked at me with a frown. That frown… seemed familiar.

I do know who this is!

Sasuke's travelling merchant friend. Yuki. Yuki who has only seen me disguised as an old man. And while he might possibly have recognized me on the street, he definitely should not have known my real name.

"I didn’t know your father was alive." This was spoken in tones that suggested I would have told him. He sounded hurt that ‘Katsuko’ hadn’t mentioned this man to him.

What the hell is going on here?

"It's a recent development. I just found out myself." I gave Aki a glare. "He's a very shifty old man."

"I heard that." Aki’s response was between a cough and a grumble.

“You were meant to.”

Fortunately there was a posting station near the river a few kilometers from where Yuki had found us. Yuki was able to obtain another horse, in fact it might actually have been one of from his “home” as people who often needed to travel far and fast kept extra mounts at these stations, if they had the means to. I elected to ride with Aki, hoping to avoid revealing to Yuki that I still had no idea where he was going, and figuring I could use the “need to make sure my father stays on the horse” excuse to prevent conversation.

"Home" turned out to be a large low castle/manor hybrid spread out from behind two moats and a long wall. More or less protected, but not super defensible, although the fierce looking warriors at the sentry post were a sort of living wall. It had only been just about over an hour away from the posting station, and the weather had slightly warmed up in the meanwhile.

The snow hadn’t stopped, but the consistency had changed from icy pellets to softer flakes. (I like snow, I do, but not when it’s flung in my face on a constant basis.)

Muramasa had zipped ahead of us, baying happily, and he seemed to be a familiar sight to the guards. So was Yuki, who had been addressed as "Lord Yukimura." Ha! I knew he hadn’t been a traveling merchant. The sentries apparently knew me as well, deferentially calling me, "Lady Katsu."

Huh so this really was 'home'? Am I a year or two in the future? That would explain a lot.

But how was I connected to Yuki…mura?

Please don’t tell me this is my husband.

Not that Yukimura was unattractive. But to go from ‘I thought you were an old man’ to ‘wife,’ would be quite the leap. Not to mention, going from loving Mitsuhide to … marrying this guy. A lot would have needed to have happened.

Just sayin’.

I didn’t think we were married though. Yukimura wasn’t acting like a husband. More like someone who considered me one of his closest friends.

We relinquished our horses at a stable, and Lord Yukimura rushed to help Aki dismount. Aki roused himself enough to protest this, saying, "I will walk on my own." I stuck close to his side, though, just in case, as the three of us made our way into the dwelling.

The servant at the main entry let Lord Yukimura in without comment, then did a double take when he got a look at me. Presumably this was someone whose name I was supposed to know. To cover for the giant gaping hole in my knowledge, I simply gestured to Aki and said, “We need a healer – he’s been shot.”

The servant galloped off with any further questions. This galloping was echoed by smaller gallops and then two small children burst into the room and launched themselves at Yukimura, yelling "Yuki!"

The younger one, a girl of maybe two years, flung herself into Yuki's arms. He used the momentum to swing her into the air. "Miss Mayumi, you're twice as big as the last time I saw you."

Mayumi? This child was named after my mother?

The little boy however, halted at my feet, put his hands on his hips and glared up at me suspiciously. “Are you a Yokoi?"

At this point... anything's possible.

And then the servant returned followed by a tall man who paused, then calmly looked from me to Aki. "Akihira, there are a lot of people looking for you.” Then he smiled down at me. "Hello Katsu. It seems the timeline has run amok again."

Huh? This one knows me too?

"What?" That had been Yuki.

And then a woman, her fingers stained with ink, hurried in from a different direction, and the tall man pulled her to his side. "Devil, here’s another one."

The women finally turned and looked at us, her eyes widening when she saw Aki… and she was...

…me?!

What the hell is going on?

"What the hell is going on?" Yuki was nicely doing the work of broadcasting my inner thoughts.

"What the hell is going?" The little boy echoed Yuki’s statement with a look of utter hero-worship on his face.

Other-me winced. "Hana's going to kill us if we return them with an enhanced vocabulary." Then she bowed to Aki. "Four years. Four years and all we get is one letter?"

Yuki looked from me to other-me. Future me? She did seem slightly older than I. "Katsuko, is this your sister?"

"Not exactly," the tall man stated, but by then, my concern had shifted to Aki, who winced and swayed.

"Dad!" It slipped out. But somewhere along the way I had begun to think of him as my father.

Other-me finally looked surprised. "Dad?"

The tall man nodded. "I... had my suspicions." He pulled her closer, gave her a brief kiss on her forehead, and whispered something in her ear. She closed her eyes and leaned on him. For a moment they were the same kind of bubble I had seen surrounding Mai and Hideyoshi. Them against the world.

Then he turned to nod at some of the servants who had gathered in the hallways, and announced in a loud voice, "Katsuko's sister and father have come to visit. Please prepare rooms for them."

Once they had all scattered, he smiled down at me. "Angel, I'm certain you have many questions, but let’s get your father settled first, then discuss this in a less... public... setting." Then he kissed the other-me. "Apparently, the wormhole is not finished with us yet."

It was substantially more than an hour before we were able to gather in a room not far from where Aki was now uncomfortably resting. A local healer had been dragged in from the storm, only to keel over at the sight of Aki's bloody shoulder.

"I could take the bullet out myself," Aki had glared at the lump of healer on the floor, then passed out too.

The tall man, who I had finally learned was Takeda Shingen had looked over Aki in concern, and said that at the moment, all we could do is let him get some rest and warmth.

"Are you a healer too?" I had heard Yoshimoto praise his cousin as a man with a multitude of skills, but not that medicine was one of them.

"I've had a lot of experience at being ill," was the only explanation he gave.

I hadn’t wanted to leave Aki, but other-me stationed one of the maids in the room and instructed her to call for us if Aki's situation worsened. Now, we were in what looked like Lord Shingen's private office; the desk was stacked with reports and correspondence, and a wall of built in shelves contained an impressive collection of texts on history, philosophy, and political theory.

"If you aren't Katsuko's sister," Yukimura asked me, once we were all gathered around a before-it's time-Kotatsu, "Who are you?"

"Well, I'm Katsuko. Just not that Katsuko. Um. At least, I don’t think I am that one." I sighed. "I've been going by Kaya recently anyway, if it makes it easier."

"Never liked that name." Katsuko gave me a sympathetic look.

"Me either.” Which yeah, of course. She was me. I’ve had a lot of surreal experiences, but this easily topped the list. “I think Mitsuhide made me use it for that reason."

"Mitsuhide!" Even without Yukimura's sputter the name landed like a bomb in the room. Yuki edged away from me. "What were you doing with that snake?"

I didn’t want to discuss that in depth. "Um it’s a long story – he was helping me look for Aki and I was helping him look for Mai and Hideyoshi, but I'm not really sure if that part really relates to how I got here...? Uh what year is it?"

"Fifteen-eighty-six.” Katsuko was the one who answered me. "I take it you got here from 1582."

"Are you a future me?" But that wouldn’t make sense? Or would it? A lot could have happened since 1582. Except if she were future-me, she should have known that I had come here from 1578… and I was already confusing myself with the paradox.

"No. I’m a multiverse version of you. Sasuke uses the term alternate." She turned to Shingen. "We should send for-"

"Already ahead of you, Devil. Though it will take a better part of a week for him to arrive." Shingen retrieved a basket of what looked like chestnut buns from behind his desk, and offered it to me. I nearly took one, until I got a look at a warning head-shake from Katsuko.

"Ha! It's Sasuke. He'll ninja himself here in four days." Yuki pulled the kettle off a brazier which was set cozily in the back of the room, obviously very much at home in his friends' castle.

I was still stuck on the term 'alternate,' trying to piece my way through an explanation of the situation I’d found myself in. "Ok, so this 1586 is not my future, but a different timeline." Aside from Yukimura, everyone else was being awfully calm about this.

Katsuko nodded. "Yep. You're the third version of myself that I've met." She turned and poked Yukimura. "Don't you remember that Sasuke explained it all... with strings, back before we sent Shingen to the future?"

"I remember, but it made as much sense then as it does now." He shrugged. "I just never understood why you would focus on the future when you have to live in today."

"An admirable philosophy, Yuki." Shingen lightly patted his friend's shoulder. "In any case, Katsuko has had experience getting stuck in the wrong timeline, so I surmise that's what has happened to you."

"That would make sense." I gave them a brief explanation of what had happened to me when I realized Aki had disappeared, although I skimmed past the details of the whole Mitsuhide part of it. From the look Lord Shingen gave me, it was clear he knew there was more to it than that, but he let it go.

There was an even longer period of shock and awe when I showed them the odd device that had seemed to activate the time travel without a wormhole (but further discussion of that was tabled – we would wait for Sasuke to arrive). "After Iekane and I went over the castle wall, I landed on a battlefield in 1578, which is where I found Aki. I only knew it was 1578 because I saw Sasuke save Kenshin. That wormhole, Sasuke's wormhole, was still open, so Aki and I went through it, and ended up near the Kawaguchi shrine a few hours ago."

"All this that happened with Yoshiaki, it was already winter... Eleventh month?" At my nod, Shingen continued. "That confirms you are from an alternate timeline rather than the past. At that point in our timeline, Katsu and Yuki were fighting Iekane near Togakushi, and I was already in modern Japan getting treatment." He rubbed his throat, and yeah, now that I knew to look, I could see a surgery scar.

“I'm pretty sure that is where my timeline's version of you is too. Sasuke mentioned that he was going to the future with a sick friend." I supposed that meant that whatever Shingen had had, it was the same illness across all timelines.

Picking up on my train of thought, Katsuko said, "I'm glad, I have to admit, I sometimes worry about the alternate Shingens and whether they are getting treatment." She rested her head on his shoulder.

"Trust Sasuke to find a way to convince me... or Yuki to figure out how to send me there without warning." He smiled down at her, and curled his fingers in her hair.

Awwww. I supposed it was nice to know there was a version of me happily... married? That reminds me…. "The children - the little boy and Mayumi. Are they yours?"

I had never been interested in motherhood. Specifically not the whole giving birth part of it. With my family history, I just didn’t want to put myself on a path of postpartum depression leading to clinical depression. But had other-me gotten past that?

After a moment of silence that was almost awkward, Katsuko shook her head. "Oh gosh, you haven't found Toshiie then. They're his children."

"Toshiie's here? In this house?" I jumped up, ready to run from room to room until I saw him, until Shingen spoke up.

"No, he's in China right now. He and his wife, who is an herbalist, went to research medicine." Almost on cue, Mayumi toddled unto the room and crawled into Shingen's lap. She blinked her eyes at him twice, then dropped off to sleep. He brushed his hand over her hair, then added. "This one is apparently convinced I'm her bed."

Ok, Katsu. Catch up here. "Where did you find him?" I’d just have to retrieve him from wherever once I got back to the right timeline. If… I could figure out how to do that.

“Ikuno.” Yukimura was the one who answered my question.

"He's not there. Not in your original timeline, I mean." The explanation come from Aki, who had apparently had enough of ‘the whole lie down because there’s a bullet in your shoulder thing’ and was gripping the wall to keep himself upright. "Each timeline is different. In some, he made it back to modern Japan. In yours, Katsu," he nodded at me, "I'd had word that he could be in Sakai, but I got waylaid in another timeline before I could check it out."

"You should be lying down." I jumped up to steady him before anyone else could react. His face was grey and sweaty and I could feel heat radiating from his shoulder. The bullet might not kill him, but the infection could.

"Yes. You should. Dad." The inflection in Katsuko's tone was flat. Ok. I was pissed too, but the level of her anger suggested that other things had happened between them that I wasn’t privy to.

Yuki found a low chair with actual back and arm support and slid it into the conversation area, and Aki dropped heavily into it. Whatever strength he'd used to propel himself into the room was now gone.

"Akihira." Shingen addressed him as a peer, not an authority figure. "I understand the concept of multiple timelines. What I don’t understand is why there seem to be many versions of myself, of Katsuko, of Sasuke, and Mai… and only one of you."

"Because I was in a place where time has no meaning when the timeline splintered." He closed his eyes, as if completely spent. My need for answers clashed with a bigger need to keep him alive. I had chosen Aki over Mitsuhide, and if he died after all this it would all be for nothing. Selfish Katsu! It's not all about you! I couldn’t help my thoughts though, even as I felt guilty for thinking them.

"That hidden room in your manor." Shingen nodded. "Kayten told us time had no meaning there."

Hidden room?

Aki managed a brief thumbs up. The modern gesture seemed odd on him. He had blended so well in this era, I had never thought to question him. "I heard you had found it."

"We found it at the same time as Okatsu and Mitsunari came through from their timeline." Katsuko swirled her tea. "I don’t know which of the four of us was the most surprised."

The surreal feeling of displacement returned. Okatsu and Mitsunari?

“Ah. She didn’t see the other two. It’s too bad – it might have saved me a rather large amount of trouble if she had.” He turned to Yukimura. “Would have saved you a few headaches as well.”

I looked around the room to see if anyone else had any clue what he was talking about, but all that I got was universal confusion. As much as I wanted to know what he was talking about, Aki wasn’t looking well. For the last few moments he’d been shaking uncontrollably. "That’s enough. Aki should be lying down.”

"I don’t think that's going to help." Aki put his hand on my head. "As far as I know, there's no treatment here for a septic wound."

@mllorei @bestbryn @selenacosmic @lyds323 @akitsuneswife @tele86

[demonslayedher]

Hello!! It’s such an honor to find myself in your ask box. Your work actually helped inspire me to make my own tumblr and AO3! Thanks for giving us such wonderful content! :D <3

My question today: How did Akaza retain his spot as an upper moon when he has such a low appetite? Muzan, Douma, and pretty much everyone else keep insisting that eating lots of humans is essential to building strength. Poor Kyogai even got booted from the ranks once he couldn’t bear to eat any more. But despite Akaza’s apparent inability to eat nutritious women and his preference to gain power through training, he was allowed to keep his spot and even given a special pardon from Muzan. Why do you think this is? Is the whole gaining-strength-mainly-through-training thing an ability that is special to Akaza? Could that be interesting enough to Muzan for him to forgive Akaza for having a weak stomach? Or is this just straight up favoritism because he’s loyal and does good work? I’ve always been confused at how he was able (and allowed!) to keep up with his fellow Moons, because they certainly all eat plenty.

Keep up the good work we appreciate you lots!! :D

Tumblr and AO3?? That is an honor! Thank you for joining the rocks I live under on the fandom internet, I hope you have fun! And thank you for your interesting posts thus far!

As for our favorite gym bro Akaza keeping his spot among the Upper Moons, he perhaps started with way, way, way more Muzan Juice than someone like Kyogai did. Akaza's always had such a focus on training as a means of getting stronger than I think it really does have as powerful an affect as Nezuko's sleeping, for as Daki noted, Nezuko's regenerative abilities were on par with or even faster than Upper Moons. However, we don't know that Akaza lacks an appetite in the first place. Unlike Nezuko he's never had a reason to hold back from eating someone who looks appetizing, and especially in his early days, I'll bet he ate plenty. However, overtime, Akaza has put more faith in his own strength and training, and sets his sights on someone else with a similar attitude, Kokushibo. Kokushibo likes this spirit in Akaza and let him live after he lost their battles (instead of absorbing him like he did with other loser demons), like professional courtesy between martial artists. Kokushibo's problems with Akaza are in his professionalism, not with his lack of eating humans. He's recognized Akaza as having potential as a worthy opponent, whether or not Akaza eats a lot of humans, because by this point, Akaza just doesn't need to. He's not like some lowly Lower Moon who needs to try to do something as crazy as eat over 200 people at once before he's even got a chance of challenging an Upper Moon.

Douma is more like our resident health supplement salesman and I'll bet he's never touched a dumbbell. Although Douma wholeheartedly believes that women are more nutritious because their bodies can support the growth of other human beings, that doesn't necessarily mean he's right. Also, what's most nutritious and beneficial to one demon might not necessarily be the sort of nutrition good for another demon's needs, like who knows, maybe the Snake Demon didn't just enjoy the flesh of babies, but they were easily for her to digest or something. The one common rule is that the stronger and healthier your food the stronger and healthier it'll probably make you, and if you're a strong enough demon to catch and eat a Pillar, that'll probably make for a really good protein shake.

See here for much, much more thought on how eating humans actually works and benefits demons, but even though this is the normal pattern of how demons get stronger, I don't think Muzan cares if Akaza isn't eating humans so long as he's strong anyway. It's annoying that Akaza is such a sissy when it comes to women, but like you said, it probably is straight up favoritism because he’s loyal and does good work. You know, except for that lack of blue spider lily results. Akaza's still an easier underling to have around than Douma, even if Douma is technically stronger.

Could Akaza overtake Douma, and perhaps even Kokushibo if he chowed down more on people, like the Pillars he's killed? While this could certainly help, by this point he's developed his own constitution to be so oriented toward physical training that perhaps digestion isn't even his strong suit (unlike Douma, that show-off who doesn't even need to use his mouth). It make not be that he can't eat, like how Kyogai found his limits, but it just takes more energy than its worth when he could better spend that on training. As for Akaza's eating preferences, he know he likely avoids eating women, and I could see him punching the head off some guy abusing his wife and then nonchalantly eating that guy while the wife runs off screaming, but what I truly wonder if he would had eaten Kyojuro is given the chance. It may be that he'd have seen this as a way for strong people he knew to live on, like mementos of their fights (but this feels like a very Douma style of looking at it), but on the other hand, he may have had too much respect for them and professional courtesy to have found them appetizing. Tanjiro, though, yeah, he'd probably had taken a big bite out of his brains just 'cause he hated him. Not that he'd gain much from eating a weakling like that, though! Eating people of that caliber is probably just like staying hydrated, not a proper meal. But again, this is all guesswork on his actual eating habits!

[teine-mallaichte]

Hi there and happy Friday! I was perusing your prompts post and found this; “They say she sold her soul to a dark god.” <- Could this be about Amber Hawke? 👀

My first thought for this was essentially "I bet Kirkwall is one hell of a rumour mill". In fact I bet Thedas is in general, especially when it comes ot magic and mages... you know this thing that a lot of people are taught by the major religion is essentially a sin and dangerous (massive simplification). So, Amber Hawke's debut for @dadrunkwriting

“They say she sold her soul to a dark god,” whispered Varric from the shadows. Amber recognized his voice immediately as he stepped into the moonlit street, Bianca slung casually over his shoulder.

Amber smirked. “Is that the latest gossip? Last week I was an Orlesian spy.”

Varric chuckled, leaning against a wall bathed in silver moonlight. “Rumors in Kirkwall get wilder by the day. But you have to admit, they make for great tales.”

“I wish people would just mind their own business,” Amber replied, her tone tinged with bitterness.

“Let them talk,” Varric shrugged, "It's better they fear you for something false than something true. Adds to your charm, you know?”

Amber rolled her eyes playfully. “Charm wasn't exactly what I was going for.”

Varric shot her a knowing look. “People fear what they don’t understand. And you, my friend, are an expert at being misunderstood.”

Amber sighed, her gaze sweeping over the cityscape of Kirkwall. The moon cast eerie shadows on the cobblestone streets below. “So what's the latest tale? Dark gods, you said?”

Varric's grin widened as he pushed off the wall, strolling over to Hawle. "Apparently, someone saw you taking down thugs in Lowtown last week with a bit too much flair. Suddenly, you’re not just a rogue, but a rogue with dark powers."

"Dark powers?" Amber scoffed softly, shaking her head. "If only they knew the truth."

"Truth is subjective, my friend," Varric chuckled softly, setting off down the cobbled street, "People see what they want to see."

Amber fell into step beside him, her mind heavy with the weight of his words. "People see what they want to see," she echoed softly. It was a truth she knew all too well. The people of Kirkwall, always hungry for scandal and intrigue, wove tales about her that grew more extravagant with each passing day. She had grown accustomed to it—the whispers, the stares, the glances. It frustrated her. She had chosen to conceal her magic, to blend in as a rogue, to protect herself and her loved ones. But in doing so, she inadvertently fueled the rumors that now enveloped her.

"I think someone caught sight of your lightning," Varric remarked casually. "Last week, in that brawl down in Lowtown."

Amber sighed, her frustration mounting. "I thought I was careful. Guess I slipped up."

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Varric reassured her. "You've been playing this role for years. One slip won't change everything."

She nodded, though Varric's words did little to ease her unease. "It's just… every week the stories grow wilder."

"Welcome to Kirkwall," Varric remarked, his voice a mix of amusement and sympathy. "You're not the first to be at the center of wild tales, and you won't be the last."

They continued their stroll through the quiet streets of Kirkwall, where moonlight painted the world in shades of silver, casting an air of mystery over the city.

"I guess you're right," she admitted quietly, her voice softer now. "Maybe I've been giving too much thought to what others think."

Varric nodded knowingly. "That 'longbow' of yours doesn't help."

"What? Why?" Amber exclaimed.

"Have you ever seen anyone else in Kirkwall carrying a bow AND daggers?" Varric challenged.

"Well… No…" Amber paused, considering his point. "Perhaps I should start a trend?"

Varric chuckled, shaking his head. "I think you have the wrong kind of notoriety for that."

Amber sighed, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Or… here's an idea. We get you a pair of daggers you never use, just to carry. Then we'll match."

Varric burst into laughter at Amber's suggestion.

"And think about it," she continued. "Ranged and melee! We'd be unstoppable."

"I think Bianca might get jealous," Varric pointed out with a smirk. "And she's perfectly capable at close quarters, mind you."

"Well, you'll have to convince Bianca that it's all about fashion," Amber quipped, a playful glint in her amber eyes. "Imagine the stories they'd spin about us. We'd strike fear into the hearts of Kirkwall's underbelly."

"I'll admit, the visual is striking," Varric smirked. "Maybe I'll start practicing my dagger twirls in secret."

As they approached the familiar silhouette of the Hanged Man tavern, Amber glanced sideways at Varric. "You know, maybe there's something to this 'dark powers' rumor after all. Maybe I should embrace my reputation as a rogue with a touch of the arcane." Amber smirked, feeling a sense of amusement and relief wash over her. "Perhaps I'll enchant my daggers just to keep the rumor mill turning."

"That's the spirit," Varric grinned, opening the heavy door of the Hanged Man. The dimly lit tavern welcomed them with murmured conversations and clinking mugs against rough wooden tables.

Amber chuckled softly as they entered the bustling tavern. "I'll leave the dramatics to the storytellers. For now, let them wonder."

"Seriously though, Hawke," Varric paused, turning to face her. "If you're going to keep up this 'longbow' charade, at least start carrying some arrows."

[imjusthereforthegayness]

PSA

Please make sure you have something with you that can be used for help or emergencies. At times I truly hate having my phone on me. It’s a deep seated love hate relationship. And while I did make this post so that I could get my thoughts and feelings out I also made this so that the next time someone does something they bring a “safety net”. This could be as simple as walking to your mailbox, going to the neighbors, getting something from your car. Please just remember to grab your keysfor the car door, flashlight for the dark, phone for emergencies, etc. and if you do what I’ll end up doing on many nights which is not listening to my own words either way do your best to stay safe 🩷

(And yes, I do feel like one of those people who have the most random and rare thing happen to them but then make it their life mission to inform EVERYONE.)

TLDR; I got my thumb stuck in my car door with no keys or phone. Got helped after about 10 minutes.

Trigger warning: Finger injury, blood, shitty writing

Car 1 Me 0

I came home after shopping at 11 PM. I went inside for the first time and accidentally locked my car with the audible arm chirp going off. (My father heard this and recognized it as “okay she’s home”) I then went back outside to grab things out of my car. I set my phone and my car keys on the bannister next to my front door.

I walked off of my porch, passed my father’s car, and arrived at the driver side of my car. As I was locking up I turned off my car lights and went to shut the door. I manually locked the door, this is where it’s fuzzy I don’t remember how I shut the door if I gently pushed the door shut or slammed it with my hip - I frequently do both.

By the time I saw what was happening it was too late I couldn’t move my hand. My left hand had been turning the lights off and locking up and my right hand was on the side of the car where the door shuts on. Again, a bit fuzzy but I feel like my whole hand was there and for some reason I didn’t move my whole hand in time just my main 4 fingers. Maybe that bits wrong. Either way, the next thing I know my thumb is stuck in the door and that’s when I realized I’m utterly screwed. I’m screaming for help, blood curdling screams. I’m begging, pleading for anyone to help me.

Visible representation of mwah

I tried my best to stay calm and think of different ways I could get out.

- [ ] Even though my phone was out of reach I was desperate for Siri to work. This MFer wants to work if I say something stupid like SERIously but not in this situation. I’m assuming she was too far away or didn’t recognize my voice. It sucked though because, while I assumed she was too far away, I couldn’t be sure. There’s plenty of times where I’m in my house in a completely different room, I call her name. No response but I continue with my request of “play music” and she does. I was hoping that I just couldn’t hear her response this time. This was in fact not the case, she definitely couldn’t hear me or didn’t recognize my voice. I think the reason it sucked the most was because each time I tried I had this hope bloom in my chest, lingering thinking that I couldn’t hear but it was working. Each time I was crushed because it kept failing.

- [ ] I tried slamming on the car to see if the alarm would go off. Apparently, it doesn’t cause I was beating the shit out of this thing with no response.

- [ ] I also tried breaking the window to no avail. As I jokingly said later, sad day to learn I don’t have super strength. I was looking for anything that could break the windows, not a single rock in sight. I attempted to reach the tire to see if there was anything, even the tire pressure cap, that could come off and break the window. Because of how I was positioned in the door it wasn’t even remotely possible.

- [ ] I tried prying the door open for even a little bit of room but alas still not she hulk. Bummer. Thumb part but mostly no she hulk part.

- [ ] I even attempted to just pull my thumb out. That was definitely a no go. I can’t find a visual representation but I feel like I’ve seen it in a movie. It felt like the skin was going to just rip right off my thumb…which duh

Me when I explain this to everyone:

Finally, I hear my dad’s voice but it sounds angry and startled. (At this point thank you sweet baby Jesus to my dad but also to my OCD for making me have to keep shut doors slightly cracked open which is probably one of the main reasons he was able to hear me) And now back to our regularly scheduled program. I’m screaming, pleading, begging for him to help me. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s trying to rush to me but I can barely get the words out. He has to turn around to get the car keys off the banister. He said he thought people were outside fighting. I can tell he’s scared, understanding finally that something’s wrong with me. He got the key, comes around the side of the car and finally sees my hand. He’s hesitant to open the door, later saying he didn’t know if somehow it would be worse but that either way the door had to be opened. The door opens and I’m still howling. He brings me inside but now I’m feeling it, reaaaaaally feeling. It. In reality though, while the physical pain was present that’s not what was making me the most upset. I was so thankful I had been heard.

Don’t get me wrong at times I was cursing everyone like “why can’t anyone hear me???? You’re telling me you’re that heavy of a sleeper? Your walls are that thick? Etc” but then when I sat there I was realizing if my dad, who is a LIGHT, sleeper couldn’t hear me for that long how could I expect anyone else to in a way? People are heavy sleeps, are deaf/HOH, have sound machines, TVs, fans, etc. I get it, it was still a scary realization.

Later as he’s talking to me he says something about “well I’m assuming you weren’t screaming the whole time”. I couldn’t lie. I told him I was. That I had been screaming as loud as possible and that’s why I was scared. No. One. Was. Hearing. Me. He looked so sad, like he let me down. I felt so bad, it broke my heart. I feel kind of silly, it’s not like he saved me from dying but I kept/keep saying it anyways “thank you so much for hearing me dad”, “thank you for getting me”, “thank you”. I truly mean it because if he hadn’t I don’t know if anyone would have.

And while I get that 10 minutes is no where near 7 hours and a thumb can seem inconsequential ….while I was experiencing the first 5 minutes I didn’t know it wasn’t going to be 7 hours. It’s so crazy to think about now.

At times I truly hate having my phone on me. And while I did make this post so that I could get my thoughts and feelings out I also made this so that the next time someone does something they bring a “safety net”. Keys for the car door, flashlight for the dark, phone for emergencies, etc. and if you do what I’ll end up doing on many nights which is not listening to my own words either way do your best to stay safe 🩷

On a funnier note,

A few days after turning my car into my own personal torture device I’m seeing my niece. She’s said once or twice “I’m so sorry that happened”, checked on me, made sure I was okay, etc. Later in the evening it gets brought up and at one point my sister says to me “god, that’s so crazy. I can’t even believe that happened” to which my niece then says to me “yeah how did that happen? you’re an adult aren’t you?”

My response but with more giggling

[all-things-fandomstuck-writes]

A Night to Remember - Muerte x GN! Reader

Hi guys! I meant to get this posted on Valentine’s Day, but it wasn’t quite finished yet. This a Muerte (Death) x Reader from Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, but, it’s set during Shrek 2. There had been talk about Muerte being there for Lord Farquaad’s death, but I thought there was a missed opportunity with Fairy Godmother’s death. And, since I don’t know any other way apparently, yes, this is an x Reader. And this is more of a drabble than an actual fic. Well, at least by my usual standards. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.

Also, just a quick reminder, I do you (Y/N) in my fic, so if that’s not your cup of tea, well......

Oh, and forgive me if I mangled the Spanish. I don’t speak it, and therefore, I used Spanishdic.com and Google Translate.

TW: I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this one, especially if you’ve seen Shrek 2, but Major Character death, probably mangled Spanish (please correct me if you speak it)

I also apologize if Muerte seems a bit OOC. I’ve only been able to watch the movie once, and don’t have the money to watch it through Amazon until payday, and my usual site doesn’t have it yet. So, I haven’t been able to do several rewatches to get his character set.

Anyway, without further ado, the fic:

Muerte wasn’t one for dressing up. Not that he couldn’t, but rather, his job made it hard to do so. It’s much easier to blend into a crowd when you look like everyone else. Not that Muerte had the need to, as most people couldn’t see him, save for the dead or dying. That, and the occasional mystic who happened to be attuned to death. Truly, there had never really been a need for him to look nice. Not until today.Today, Muerte had a promise to keep. While he could never truly take time off, he did try to spend as much time with his partner, (Y/N), as his job allowed.

Ah, (Y/N). His heart and soul. The very thought of them brought a smile to his face. Muerte stood in front of his bedroom mirror, taking the time to make any and all necessary adjustments to his black dress tunic, no matter how minor or trivial they seemed. While he recognized that he still had a job to do, he was determined to make this night special. After all, it was the first time in a while his work load had reasonably lessened to allow for a breather. It had been too long since he had gotten to spend a significant amount of time with his beloved (Y/N), and he was determined to at least spend the night out with them. They had insisted on meeting him there, given the potential hecticness of his work. Muerte straightened the last of the creases from his outfit before grabbing his sickles, and opening up a portal that would take him to a special evening with the love of his life.

The night was just getting started with Muerte stepped out of the shadows, which worked well for him. He hated to keep his amor waiting. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for any sign of them. It didn’t take long to find them, as they were conveniently, and perhaps even predictably, near the spot where her arrived.

(Y/N) felt Muerte’s presence before they saw him. There was a certain chill that their lover brought with him that seemed to cling to the atmosphere around him. A smile crept upon their face as they felt their wolf’s arms wrap around them.

“Mi Vida”, Muerte spoke in their ear. (Y/N) snuggled against him, finding comfort in his coolness.

“Mi Corazón”, they replied. “I’m glad you could make it!”

At this, Muerte briefly released them, only to grab them by the hand and spin them out and away, as if in a dance, before spinning them back into his replace.

“As if I’d miss the chance to sweep you off your feet.”

“Alright”, (Y/N) said, before pulling away and turning to look at him. “Let me get a good look at you before you waltz me into a stupor.” Muerte let out a small chuckle while they smiled as they drank in the sight of him.

“My, my, we are going to have to get you dressed more often,” they said playfully. A smirk made it’s way onto Muerte’s lips .

“Don’t get used to it, Mi Vida”, he said as he held out his arm. (Y/N) graciously accepted, and allowed themselves to be lead onto the dance floor. It wasn’t long before the couple of the evening, Princess Fiona and her husband, Prince Shrek arrived, prompting Fairy Godmother to launch into a rendition of “I Need a Hero”. The crowd of onlookers, all too excited to see the couple, goaded them to dance. If (Y/N) had been paying attention, they might have noticed the look on Fiona’s face, and think that something might have been amiss, but they were too focused on the wolf next to them to care. The royal couple began their dance, as the sweet melody pour from Fairy Godmother’s lips. After the first verse however, and with a cry of “Hit it!”, the choir joined in the song, and the tempo increased rapidly. Other couples, including Muerte and (Y/N), joined in. (Y/N) held Muerte’s gaze as he expertly spun them around on the dance floor. His ruby eyes held their (e/c) ones captive, as they enjoyed the feeling of being secure in his arms. ‘How odd’, they thought to themselves, ‘that one could find comfort in Death’s embrace.’ The irony was not lost to them. The moment didn’t last long, however, as a new figure bound into the party atop a white stallion, and brought the whole affair to a screeching halt.

“Hey, you”, the newcomer said as dismounted his steed and strode towards the couple, specifically addressing the new prince. “Back away from my wife”

“Shrek?”, Princess Fiona questioned, recognizing that the man in front of her was her true husband. In an instant, Fairy Godmother came flying through the crowd, and in that moment, (Y/N) felt it. The familiar spine chilling tingle that announced someone was soon to pass. They had spent more than enough time in Muerte’s presence to know the feeling. One look into his eyes was more than enough to confirm it. He gave them a silent nod in response to the question they dared not ask.

“Looks like this night just got interesting”, they heard him say. The ball quickly dissolved into chaos from that point, as a desperate struggle for Fairy Godmother’s wand began. Eventually, it was caught by a ginger cat both (Y/N) and Muerte recognized as Puss in Boots. (Y/N) felt their lover tense slightly under their touch, clearly unhappy with the cat’s appearance.

“Ese gato estúpido”, he muttered, grip tightening on his partner’s waist. Muerte had collected Puss a few times in the past, and he hated the blatant disregard he seemed to have for his lives. The glare that was present on his face soke volumes, as he watch the cat, who now stood atop the stallion, which he then declared a donkey, and held high the Fairy Godmother’s wand in his hand.

The Fairy Godmother spun in the air towards the man who was clearly not Shrek. (Y/N) would later find out that he was the infamous Prince Charming, though that didn’t seem to matter at the time.

“She’s taken the potion!,” the fairy shouted. “Kiss her now!”

Charming swept up from behind Fiona before grabbing her by the shoulders, and planting a firm kiss on her lips.A cry of “No!” was heard from Shrek, and the party goers looked on, unsure of what was happening. Charming, hopeful that whatever plan was laid worked, briefly caressed Fiona’s cheek, as if he were being careful not to overplay it.The crowd watched with bated breath as Shrek looked away and sighed. Fiona took Charming’s face into her hands, and with a resounding cry, headbutted him to the ground. A chorus of “Ohs” and gasps rang through the crowd, before falling into a stunned silence. Charming hit the ground, and Fairy Godmother raced towards the King, and began to give him a rough scolding.

Unfortunately, Charming was quick to recover, and with a shout of “Mummy”, which confused many people, ripped the wand from Puss’s paw and threw it towards the Fairy Godmother. She caught it effortlessly before rising higher into the air.

“I told you, ogres don’t live Happily Ever After!”, she shrieked. With that, she hurled a bolt of magic towards the recently reunited couple. In a flash, Shrek pushed Fiona away from himself, and out of harm’s way. But, the King of Far Far Away was faster. Despite his old age, or possibly in spite of it, he threw himself in front of his son-in-law, and took the full brunt of the blast. The breastplate he wore bounced the beam back towards it’s origins, blasting Fairy Godmother backwards several feet. She spun heels over head, until she was able to right herself, and check for damages. Satisfied that she herself was alright, she prepared for her next attack. But, it never came, as the moment she went to strike, Fairy Godmother burst into a shower of sparkles and bubbles. Her glasses and wand hit the ground as Fiona and the Queen rushed to wear the King had once stood.

“Duty calls, Mi Vida”, Muerte softly spoke, slipping away from his partner to reap the soul of the now deceased fairy. (Y/N) bowed their head, out of acknowledgement or respect for the dead, they weren’t certain. The guests began to mourn their fallen King, before a frog crawled out of his breastplate. From their position, (Y/N) could see that it wore the King’s crown, and the royal family seemed to confirm it as well. They seemed to have a massive heart-to-heart, though (Y/N) was now more focused on their boyfriend to truly care. They loved watching him work, even though it was a rare sight for them. Considering that he’s “Death, straight up”, as he often liked to put it, Muerte didn’t want (Y/N) getting too close to his job. It was a better way to protect them, he had reasoned to himself. Not that they couldn’t handle themselves, but still. Better safe than sorry.

Muerte returned to (Y/N)’s side as Shrek was asking Fiona if she wished to remain human. Muerte’s arm snaked around their waist as the pair watched the tender scene unfold before them. They snuggled into his side, as Fiona chose to return to her ogre form to be with her husband. The royal pair, and the stallion, were lifted into the air in a swirling stream of light. As they returned to the ground, there stood two ogres, and, much to (Y/N)’s amusement, a single donkey.

The crowd cheered as Shrek dipped Fiona into a kiss. However, the sweet moment was cut short by Puss reminding the crowd that they were there to party. Both Puss and the donkey launched into a stirring rendition of “Livin’ La Vida Loca”, as fireworks lit up the night sky. Muerte scowled, clearly not over the annoyance the cat’s presence brought. “I’m gonna kill that cat”, he muttered to himself, but (Y/N) was quick to drag him out of his thought and onto the dance floor.

Pulling him into a dance, they reassured their lover. “Oh come on, Mi Corazón. For once, el gato has a point. Besides”, they shrugged, “He’s got a couple more lives. You could always hunt him down later.”

Muerte chuckled and shook his head. “That is true, Mi Vida” He smiled as he pulled them closer, eyes meeting theirs. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“There’s always tomorrow”, (Y/N) echoed, wrapping their arms around Muerte’s neck. “But for now, I have the Big Bad Wolf all to myself.” That earned then another small chuckle from their boyfriend.

“Yes, yes you do,” he replied as their (e/c) irises locked onto his crimson ones. (Y/N) was quick to notice the mischievous glint within them. Suddenly, their body was tilted backwards, though they had no danger of falling. Muerte’s grip on them was firm as he kissed them senseless.

Yes, there would always be other days. But, for now, the pair would revel in the warmth and joy of the evening, and in each other, as they continued toward their own Happily Ever After.

~

Translations:

Muerte - Death

Amor - Love

Mi Vida - My Life

Mi Corazón - My Heart

Ese gato estúpido - That stupid cat

El gato - The cat

[betsey-laurens-hamilton]

midnight, midday, dusk, and dawn.

an elams oneshot inspired by this post. everyone say thank you @ot3muse

“Shhh… shh… quiet, [???], cry.”

[???] won’t do that, not even if [???] to!”

“Me neither.”

New York City wasn’t known for being the quietest of places, but the nights were fairly generous surrounding John Laurens’ apartment building. Though he had dreaded his choice to pick one of the lowest floors to live in – the second one, to be exact – more times than considered healthy, it made for a nice change every now and then. Detailed sights for drawings, people gossiping and talking about their lives just loud enough for him to hear, pet-parents walking their dogs and looking weirdly similar to them, people living their lives in parallel all while John had the quiet little pleasure of being no more than a passive observer on all of this.

This night, however, it wasn’t any of this that caught his attention. Half-whispered voices apparently shushed each other not under his balcony, but under the other window in his room, one that faced the next building and stared down at an alleyway.

John wasn’t exactly a night owl. He woke up early every single day, went out for a run and headed to med school. Like any aspiring doctor, however, he was doomed to sleepless nights and therefore doomed to hear his neighbors’ nightly activities.

Eh, they weren’t always this pleasant.

“No, no, you can’t be alone here. Go inside, grab [???] and come back.”

“Okay!”

“Be quick!”

“I will. You be careful.”

John peered through his window. A woman was just rushing inside and he could only see her black jeans, but the man was still there, knelt down just by the alley’s opening. He leaned over something, probably their object of discussion, with his ginger hair in a ponytail – which was, by the way, the only detail that made John recognize him from their bump-ins on elevators, or on their ins-and-outs of the building. He was usually a smiler, nice, polite and was on the streets leaning over some sort of cardboard structure at two in the morning.

He kept saying something, different things, but they were all too low for John to hear.

Not very long later, the figure in black jeans and a black top returned, holding a big purse and letting go of a heavy breath she seemed to be holding for a while. John could also recognize her, especially by her long wavy dark hair and the ever-present tender undertone in her voice.

“I got it.”

The ginger looked at her and when he leaned against the wall of his building, John could finally see what they had been speaking about all this time: a box of kittens.

“You got a bag full of every different food and milk you could find in your house?”

“No, I got us a way to smuggle them in,” she knelt down too, opening the purse and immediately taking a little fluff ball in her hands, which John thought she was going to hide, but she just held it instead

“You’re crazy”

“No, you’re crazy. I told you I can’t leave them here. I couldn’t even if it would save my life.”

“It probably would right now, considering you signed a contract that strictly forbids you from bringing in a pet, and you’d be bringing… four,” he counter-argued. “But I wasn’t planning on leaving them here, I thought we could take them to a vet.”

“Open right now”

“It exists.”

“We should just br…”

Enough. John left his window, didn’t bother to do anything more than throw a coat over his pajama pants and tank top, rushed through his apartment, unlocked the door, and took the stairs down.

He didn’t exactly know what he was doing, but it differed from the extremely boring night he was having, which had been dedicated to nothing more than studies about shoulder injuries – a 60-page slideshow, by the way. Plus, there were cats, tiny little cats in need of help, and John knew his fair share of organizations dedicated to taking stray animals in and sheltering them. He even made sure at least one of these, which had been created by his ex-girlfriend, was kept in good shape and always had enough food for all of their pets.

Discreetly, John opened the back door of the building and faced both of them from a distance. The woman looked like a deer in headlights and tucked the box beside her, hiding the kitten she had in her hand behind the enormous bag she had brought. The man, who was now standing, simply strategically stepped in front of the box, in a way it covered the exact spots she didn’t manage to hide.

Huh. What a good mischievous little pair they made.

“Hey, may I help you?” He spoke first, keeping a surprisingly calm tone.

John just stared at them for a few seconds. Oh, yeah, talking.

“No, no. I’m here to help you. I heard you from the window,” now, that sounds creepy. “I live on the second floor. Neither of you are very good at whispering, and the acoustics here don’t help your case.”

The brunette girl looked around and up the walls of the building, but stayed quiet.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. We aren’t doing anything that needs help, we’re just heading back.”

“You’re sneaking a box of kittens in.”

“We weren’t planning on…”

“Yes we were!” She finally spoke. “I had convinced you. We’re taking them. And your help would be very appreciated.”

The ginger sighed, closing his eyes, scrunched up face of frustration.

“…You’re not planning on telling on us, right?”

John raised his eyebrows. So that had been an unplanned attempt at protecting them with a lie from a possible snitch. Smart, however useless it might have been.

“What? No. I want to help, really. I love animals, I have some cat food at home,” John mentioned, getting a confused look from both of them. “It’s a long story. I just bought it to donate- you know what, it’s a story for later. We have to go in, come on.”

The girl briefly tucked the cardboard box twice and stood up with it in hands, looking overly proud of herself. She grinned a bright smile at the ginger man, who looked away from her with a frown and a huff. John just watched, fairly entertained, and wondered whether they were a couple and he just never happened to see them together.

“You have to trust more freely”

“That was luck. I was trying to protect the cats.”

“That wasn’t luck,” she retorted. “That was my sorceress-y intuition. I’m a witch. I just knew.” She shrugged, playful, and stuck out the box of sleeping kittens to John. “Could you hold this, please?”

“Yeah.”

He took the box, at last being able to take a good look at them. It was a scrappy old box with no padding, no blanket, and four little adorable kittens. All four of them cuddled up in each other’s warmth, breathing and well. John gently reached out and pet one, picking the blonde kitten, who immediately reacted and scared him to death, leading John to think he had woken them up. Considering how loud kittens can be, he was fairly scared the woman in black would kill him if he had, in fact, woken it up.

“You look like you saw a ghost,” The ginger pointed, a slight smile in his voice.

Before John could respond, she came back to meet them with the big black bag in hands, opening it to reveal a fluffy pillow. Amazing. It would not only keep the cats comfortable, but also avoid the bag from closing in on them. The man seemed surprised too, but didn’t say anything out loud. John almost giggled.

Gently, both of them took the kittens from his box – blonde, black and two calicos – two at a time, and put them inside the bag.

“I’m sorry, but what are your names?”

“I’m Alex.”

“Eliza.”

“Good, I’m John. Should we, like, pretend we’re arriving together or something to avoid suspicion?”

“Well,” Eliza spoke up. “I’m almost in full dance attire, you’re in pajamas and Alex over here looks like… an avid reader at a Harvard library, so I think we should just get in through the back door and hope for the best.”

So that's what it was. Dance attire with jeans over them. But yeah, she was right.

“Okay, fine, get in,” John moved out of the way and quickly looked around for a trash can to toss the box in, which he spotted pretty quickly. No more awful cardboard homes for these babies. “We’ll head to the second floor.”

The ride upstairs, short as it was, was surprisingly comfortable for three strangers. Well, actually, he still couldn’t tell whether they were a couple or not. What he could tell was that Eliza was an absolute natural at breaking the ice and Alex an expert at niceties. That really made things easy on John, considering his social skill levels were probably somewhere around negative thirteen.

How did people just grow up to be so good at it, and so nice to be around?

“You said you had cat food,” Eliza broke through John’s passive observer atmosphere. “Why is it? Do you have a secret army of cats at home?”

Alex snickered quietly. John opened his door, letting them in.

“No,” John chuckled, “I fund an organization dedicated to sheltering stray animals. Sometimes I buy the food myself, and I happened to have bought a lot last weekend. Didn’t have time to take it there this week, but I guess that was some divine plan so these kittens would have something to eat. Don’t mind the mess, by the way.”

“Mess?”Alex exclaimed, sounding a little outraged.

Well, it was a mess. To him, at least. There were a few unpacked boxes around the living room, books on the dining table and so many things out of place. Even the throw blankets were misplaced.

“Dry food won’t do though,” Eliza chimed in, sounding a little amazed after his explanation. That was sweet.

“I have wet food too. I think that’ll work, considering their age.”

“Amazing! I knew you’d be a good person to trust. You’re even better than I could’ve imagined, really, what are the odds?”

“Fine, your witchy intuition got us someone great, you win.” Alex admitted, silently asking for the bag. “Let’s see them.”

He placed the bag on the floor, opening it to reveal the cats. They were mewing by now, probably because their bodies had warmed up a little bit and they could dedicate their warmth to something other than surviving.

“I’m going to get the food and warm some water.”

“Oh, hi babies…”

Eliza knelt down and Alex followed soon after, both their eyes sparkling just from looking at the little cats. It was a pity to leave the sight, but John was strong enough and turned on his heel to head to the kitchen. He wanted to get them cleaned up as well as fed as soon as possible.

So he closed the drain hole of the laundry room’s sink and turned the water on, leaving it to fill up like a bathtub while he prepared the food. John could hear Alex and Eliza quietly talking in the living room, giggling about the fact that they had actually snuck pets into their building. Eliza sounded excited. Alex sounded like he was containing his excitement and failing miserably. Cute dynamic.

Out of what probably were a hundred bags of wet cat food, John picked one of the smaller ones and spread it on two different saucers. So the cats wouldn’t run over one another. He also prepared a third one with a little bit of milk.

“Dinner time!”

All the cats mewed, walking around a little clumsily with their little legs at this point. Only one calico was still sleeping comfortably – in Alex’s lap.

“He can’t get up,” said Eliza, smiling. “Bring it here!”

John spread the saucers on the floor (yes, he had managed to carry all of them; everything is possible when you grow up taking care of four siblings) and sat near the couple-not-couple. All the kittens, even the one who was asleep, rushed to get food and milk.

“They’re so hungry.”

“Yeah. Hey, are you a couple? Or, like, do you know each other? Or did you just happen to be strangers who flawlessly rescued four kittens together?”

Eliza chuckled.

“You were part of this mission too, give yourself some credit. But, no, we’re not a couple and we don’t know each other. I learned his name the exact same moment you did.”

You should be a couple, John thought. Was that weird? I mean, no, right? Sometimes people just looked like they matched. That was normal.

“I knew her name,” Alex added. “I heard the doorman saying it a few times. I think he’s hitting on her.”

“What?! No,” she exclaimed, and was followed by a suggestive raise of Alex’s eyebrows. “He’s not! This is just, like, overall kindness.”

“I mean, yeah, but he didn’t do that to me. Did he do that to you?”

“Nope.” John chuckled.

“See?”

“No, no, no. People do that to show they’re being attentive. That they pay attention.”

“And… why is he being attentive to one person only?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Because I’m kind? I mean, I know your names, and now I’ll know them every time I talk to you. You’re John and Alex…ander. Please tell me your name is Alexander and not just Alex.”

“It is.”

Nice. Alexander is a beautiful name.

“That’s my witchy intuition. And my kindness.”

“Did you learn his name? The doorman’s?” John asked.

“…Yes?” She paused again… they just stared at her, holding in smiles. “I was just being kind back! How is that wrong?!”

“It’s not wrong, it’s just flirting!” Alex laughed.

“Stop, nooooo!” Eliza covered her ears, shaking her head. “No, no, I don’t want to think I’m leading someone on just because I learned their name! How can that be flirting?! People are so weird!”

Both of them laughed at her. Then a noise came from the kitchen and the three looked fairly confused – until John realized what it was and rushed to get up.

“Oh my god the sink! I left the faucet running!”

He rushed past them, being overly careful when running by the kittens, and finally got to the kitchen, turning it off. John sighed, hands on his hips, looking at the mess. Though not too much water had spilled, it was still enough to be dangerous in case he didn’t clean it. Lord knew how careful they would be around spilled water.

Speaking of them, Alex and Eliza showed up with the four well-fed kittens, some happily obliging and the others struggling in their arms, probably wanting to explore the apartment.

“We brought them. Do you want help?“ Eliza asked, handing him the blonde kitten. Did she know he’d taken a liking to it?

“No, no, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, just- step back, I don’t want anyone slipping.”

“Alex chuckled. John searched for the floorcloth.”

“It’s just a little bit of water.”

“Do you know how many people die slipping on water every year?”

“No. Do you?”

“…A lot, probably. What I do know is a lot of people get concussions from tripping, and falling, and…”

Eliza took the cloth from his hand as soon as he got it, handing him the black kitten in exchange.

“Go clean them. I’ll take care of this.”

She knelt down and got to wiping.

“She’s stubborn. I wouldn’t go against her.” Alex smirked, playful.

“You’ve known me for like twenty minutes!” She looked up, frowning.

“You never get a second chance to make a first impression. And my first impression of you was a girl who would not bend on her idea of smuggling four kittens inside a building that does not allow pets,” he teased.

She just stared at him. Then squinted. Then huffed and got back to cleaning, clearly hiding a smile.

Alex, on the other hand, was grinning like he had just won a contest.

“And who will not admit she’s stubborn,”he added, only to get slapped in the ankle by a wet cloth and giggle like a child in response.

John couldn’t help but smile too, getting to work on the first kitten while Alex held the other three. He gently spread a collar of soap around the kitten’s neck, then dipped his body underwater, leaving only the head out.

Alexander seemed intrigued.

“Why did you do that?” He pointed to the cat’s neck.

“It’s to, uh,“ he chuckled, “stop the fleas that are in his body from coming to his head, trying to escape the water. They don’t get through the soap, so they just die underwater.”

“Merciless.” Eliza added, standing up and getting rid of the cloth.

“No mercy for the little freaks. Then you wash their body and gently scrub their head and faces with wet fingers to kill any other fleas that might have been there already. Just like that,” he demonstrated. “And then, done. Can you dry him with a towel? Not the wet dirty cloth, preferably.”

He handed it to Eliza, who was holding the black kitten again, he noticed. She snickered, rolling her eyes, and gave him the black cat in exchange for the blonde one.

“Oh, no. There goes my plan of wetting the cats even more. Where are the towels?”

“Uhh, third door from left to right, eye-level. Yes, right there.”

They spent quite a few minutes doing just that, washing the cats, drying them; at some point, when Eliza’s arms were getting too full of wet slippery kittens, John told Alex to get one big pillow inside one of his closets to use as a little bed. So she was now humming on the carpet, with three kittens laying in a soft, fluffy pillow waiting for their sister. Oh, yeah, and John had figured there were two male kitties (the orange and black) and two females (the calicos).

“This lady is spicy.”

Alex left with the final calico kitten, and John came soon after opening the drain again, allowing all the dirty water to run off.

“Lay her here. I was thinking we could name these two Midnight and Midday. How funny would that be?” She pointed to the darker one and the lighter one.

“We shouldn’t be naming kittens that can’t be ours,” Alex said, the voice of reason, “but… that is literally perfect. And so cute. The other two should be Dusk and Dawn, in between.”

John thought Eliza might actually tear up after hearing that, but she was just very expressive in her awe. He was melting too, to be honest.

“What do you think, John?”

Yes. Stop that passive observer thing, for god’s sake.

“I think it’s perfect. It fits them. The sky siblings.”

“Hah. That’s almost my name. Schuyler. Sky. They’re my biological children.”

Oh my god, Schuyler.

“Wait,” Alex interrupted her. “Schuyler? As in Senator Schuyler?!

“…Yes?” She sounded surprised. “Do you know my father?”

“Your father? God- Of course I do! Her father is the senator!”

“…I know. My father is Henry Laurens.”

Alexander might pass out. Eliza was completely shocked too.

“You’re Henry Laurens’ child?!” She asked, wide-eyed, and gestured at him. “But- but…”

“I know, I know,” He chuckled through a sigh. “It’s hard on both of us.”

She chuckled, gently scrunching her eyebrows together. Eliza was starting to look a little tired.

“I cannot believe the odds,” Alex was still very, very shocked. Cute. “What the hell?! I’m a law student. I work for Washington.”

“Ah, Washington, nice guy… He knows my name, he’s kind. He’s always like, oh, hello, Miss Elizabeth Schuyler,” Elizabeth. And she came up with a little fancy voice. Cute too. “Wait, so you’re actually, like, a Harvard kind of person. My intuition is on fire!”

“I haven’t got the opportunity to meet Washington yet. He sounds nice,” John added.

He had… gotten the opportunity. Through his father. Quite a few times. Just never attended it.

“Oh, yeah, he can be. He will not believe his ears when I tell him about this.”

“Yeah, and… wait. We should figure out what we’re doing with the kittens.” Eliza said.

“I thought we had agreed that John’s shelter was the solution?”

“No, no, I mean tonight.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. John eyed around.

“…They can stay here if you’d like? I mean, it’s no bother at all.”

Eliza looked a little disappointed. She wanted to take them home.

“I mean, we could, but… just today, what if we all spent the night with them? I mean, it’s not like people will hunt us down for that. They won’t even know.”

Alex hummed, his eyes betraying his sensibility and showing just how excited he really was. I mean, it really wouldn’t do harm, would it? Eliza seemed to have liked the newly-named Midnight more than she should, Dusk and Dawn had absolutely warmed up to Alex, and it would be a blatant lie to say John didn’t feel attached to Midday himself.

It sucked that they wouldn’t be theirs anymore tomorrow.

“It can’t hurt,” John grinned.

“Yes! Eliza celebrated, “Alex?”

“Fine, yes. Can I take Dusk and Dawn? They can’t be separated, look at that”

They were cuddling, forming a little heart shape together.

“I want Midnight. And I think John likes Midday. You’re both blonde.”

They chuckled, it was true. Alex yawned. They were tired, and so was he.

“Okay, so we have an agreement. I really think you should hide them on your way to your apartments, though. I mean, there are cameras everywhere, I wouldn’t want the landlords to have solid proof to get you evicted.”

“Midnight could definitely be mistaken by my black clothes, but I don’t think it’ll be the same for Dusk and Dawn.”

“I can’t believe we actually named them that,” John chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll get a coat. Wait here.”

John left and came back with not one, but two coats. A forest green sweater he barely used with a big pocket on the front, and a dark blue cardigan with stars and two pockets on the sides. Though it would make more sense the other way around given the number of cats they were taking home, he really thought Eliza would fit the cardigan better and Alex the sweater. But that would be up to them.

They got up and met him, leaving the kittens on the pillow.

“Here.” He handed them the clothes and, after a moment of hesitation, each one picked the one he hoped they would. Bingo.

It really fit them better than it could ever fit him.

“Thank you. That’s the perfect disguise.” Eliza did a little spin, her long wavy brown following the motion with grace.

“Unless you see all the camera footage from today.” Alex chuckled, dressing the sweater. Admittedly, John stared just a bit. So did Eliza, he noticed. “I mean, three separate people dressed for three separate occasions bringing in a huge black bag and leaving with coats they didn’t have on? Suspicious.”

“Oh my god, the bag!” Eliza looked around, spotting the big purse. “That’s right, the bag! I don’t need the cardigan, John, I’m sorr…”

“No, no, keep it, it’s okay. We’ll have to meet tomorrow anyway. It’s a reminder for both of you.”

She smiled, looking down, and slid it back on. Was she a little shy now? Blushing?

“Okay, fine, fine. C’mere, Midnight. Cutie”

The three of them bent down and picked their respective kittens, which were now bathed with full bellies and very sleepy. Alex and Eliza tucked them into their pockets, but John just held his tiny Midday.

They headed to the door between sweet nothings, just talking to and about the cats and their plans. Eliza got her bag on the way, but Alex stopped on his tracks before they could step out completely.

“So, are we going to share numbers or apartments? So we can communicate? I’m on the fifth floor.”

“Oh, right!“ Eliza blinked a few times, looking more tired by the minute. “I’m on the ninth floor, let me- can I write on this paper? I’ll give you both my number.”

John nodded, he kept a few tiny notebooks along with pens throughout his house just in case he was suddenly remembered of something important and couldn’t stop to think about it or do it.

Eliza wrote down her number twice, giving half a small slip of paper (almost perfectly cut) to Alex and leaving the other on the notebook. Alex did the same. Then John gave his number to both of them.

“Okay… I think we’re good to go. Whoever remembers it first, create a group chat!” Alex called the elevator, which was still on their floor and opened right away. I mean, it was almost 3 am. People aren’t really leaving their homes right now.

“Right.” They stepped inside. Eliza waved, followed by Alex. They both had a hand inside a pocket, securing the cats. “Bye John! See you tomorrow!”

“Bye John!”

“Bye! Nice to meet you!”

He watched the elevator doors close, slowly covering their faces.

They really should date.

Immediately, John was struck with how tired he actually was. Jesus Christ. He went inside, and took a brief look at the slips of paper with numbers on his notebook.

Eliza’s penmanship balanced round and sharp edges, leaning more towards round, while Alex’s was the definition of rushed, but still charming. John’s was tidier, in his opinion, and he took quite a lot of pride in it considering he went to med school.

[dekuinthelake]

I exist in this weird deadzone between white and PoC where like.... Racist white people will look at me and see a brown person, but brown people see me and correctly identify me as white person.

Like idk... I'm adopted, raised by white mormons, I am by technicality mixed race, but it feels wrong trying to claim BiPoc status when I've benefited from white privilege and growing up in a lower middle class family. And it hasn't been until post transition and moving to an affluent area that certain white bullshit directed towards has become a pattern I recognize.

I feel like I don't really have a culture or a place that isn't what I made for myself. Like I haven't really inherited anything and have claim to nothing. Being adopted is complicated, especially since mine was all done through a Mormon agency.

Idk sometimes I can't help but feel that church just snatched me or something. I know basically nothing about my birth family aside from apparently my mom's gran was living on a reservation which makes the situation especially insidious since the US government has been separating indigenous families forever and Mormonism especially have a fetish for native nations. My mom used to say some CRINGE shit to me about how she was so happy to have an "Indian Baby". Just like... No girl, your son is white. Your whiteness rubbed off on his ass he likes Dido.

Because of that experience of being commodified by my mom, I REALLY don't want to be that guy who is white being like OH I AM NATIVE AMERICAN 1/16TH COUNTS. Like no??? That's not the culture I was raised in and blood means fuck all when you know fuck all about the nation you may be related to. Indigenous heritage isn't a costume or something you can claim you are without being a part of actively imo. And frankly, it just feels disrespectful for me to ever bring up whatever amount of indigenous DNA I got which is why I rarely talk about it... Blood relation feels like a really inaccurate metric for anything. Being adopted, you learn that family is whoever fits the social role. I feel the same for racial identity I guess. I grew up in a suburb and went to mormon hell church every Sunday. I should own my lived experience instead of trying to posture out of whiteness for some bullshit reason. But I am speaking for myself here.

Like the weird white richbitch microaggressions I've been experiencing lately isn't even comparable to what any indigenous American goes through. It's completely different.

So idk... It's a weird feeling. I feel like I can't really claim to relate to what PoC go through, but being also at least "white passing" bipoc has these complications that are difficult to talk about without sounding like a complete piece of shit. Indigenous Americans are actively having their identity stolen and commodified for entertainment or social posturing and I don't want to do people dirty like that. We are not the same, and I hope this comes of respectfully like I intend.

The point is, I'm trying to not overstate the mild annoyance of white people treating me with suspicion on sight because YEAH IT ISN'T THAT BAD. But I also want to complain about it online. Jesus this kinda snowballed into a thing... Guess I've just been thinking about this a lot lately.

Maybe the best way to approach it is to just focus on how fucked it is that wealthy white people are so socially isolated even someone vaguely brown gets their hackles up. Because like what the fuck

[masterghandalf]

MG Reads Embers: Chapter Fourteen

Note: This is a continuation of my reread and commentary of Embers by Vathara, originally posted last fall and winter on my Dreamwidth account.

Chapter Fourteen We open the chapter with Huojin, having just been knocked into a wall, as he reminds himself not to startle a sleeping Imperial Firebender. Zuko, still groggy, protests that it’s the middle of the night – and he doesn’t need a clock to know it, since he can sense the position of the sun. Amaya comes in and tells Zuko they have an emergency and makes sure Huojin’s all right. Zuko apologizes, saying that Iroh usually wakes him up by calling from the door; Amaya tells him to hurry and get dressed. Later, while Amaya tends to Huojin’s bruises, he asks what Zuko and Iroh are doing here, and Amaya explains that it’s for healing and has to do with the spirits. Huojin wonders whether this was a good time but explains that something has happened that wasn’t a regular house fire, and Amaya explains that there are reasons she treats the Dai Li if they need it. They have a purpose in protecting Ba Sing Se’s heritage, including artifacts. Zuko comes back in, having gotten ready, and says he’s got salt, but he doesn’t know much about the sorts of ceremonies that might be needed – that’s more of a Fire Sage thing, and he was never trained for that. Apparently, they’re going to have to deal with what Zuko calls a Tsukumogami, and Huojin calls a ninety-nine year spirit. Noting what Amaya said, Zuko asks if the Dai Li handle spirits, and that if so, they must be pretty strong benders. Huojin agrees they are; he’s having doubts about bringing Zuko, but Amaya tells him anyone who survived the Ocean Spirit is worth having around.

Huojin leads them on their way, and Zuko asks what’s wrong; all Huojin will tell him is “spirits.” At last, they arrive at a burned-out apartment, surrounded by civilians and guards– there aren’t any Dai Li agents in sight, but everyone knows they’re there. Huojin decides to head trouble off and approaches one old man who’s raving about spirits. The one he describes doesn’t sound like what Huojin had already heard about, which means there might be more spirits than he’d thought loose in the area; he heads off to check it out. Suddenly, something grabs him from behind, only to get pulled off him by water bent by – Zuko, stunning Huojin, who’d seen that “Lee” was a firebender. Managing to get a good look at the spirit, he realizes what it’s the spirit of and that he’ll never live down getting attacked by an umbrella. Zuko calls for help, but suddenly Dai Li agents appear, capturing the spirit in iron chains. Zuko recognizes Shirong and tells him that he hadn’t realized the Dai Li handled things like this, and Shirong admits most people prefer not to think about it. Shirong also notes that the move Zuko used on the spirit wasn’t in the scroll, and Zuko admits he made it up; Huojin is left feeling entirely baffled by this conversation. Seeing how calm Zuko is, Shirong asks what sort of spirits he’s encountered before; Zuko admits he fought a plague spirit, and Shirong is impressed. He also knows plague spirits are vindictive, so if it hasn’t been following Zuko, whatever he did to it worked. Shirong warns Zuko to stay out of trouble, and then vanishes into the earth. Once he’s gone, Huojin demands to know what’s going on, and Zuko gives a very brief explanation about the spirits giving him waterbending. He opens up a bit about how he expected Iroh to be angry, but he wasn’t, and while he’d always felt like an unwanted burden to his uncle, and how he hadn’t taken it well as a child when his father dumped Zuko’s training on Iroh. Huojin admits to having also once resented Amaya when she took him in because she wasn’t his parents, and he tells Zuko he should apologize to his uncle. First off, Zuko wants to heal Huojin’s neck.

We cut to Zuko writing a short letter to Iroh, apologizing for how he’s treated him over the years and promising to do better, as well as sharing how Huojin got attacked by an umbrella spirit. Iroh reads it during a lull at work, and smiles. We then cut to Zuko in the outer ring, trying to help someone literally get a cat out of a tree. On the train back to the city, Amaya thinks about how much of a born firebender he is, and some of the other passengers tell them out someone’s pet got so far out of the city – apparently some young upper ring earthbender made a zoo outside the inner wall, and a lot of animals got caught up in it. This leads to a lot of gossip about just what happened, and Amaya notices Zuko watching intently, wondering just how many of these people are Fire Nation. She thinks some more about his plans to create a safe place outside the city for Fire Nation refugees; she quietly asks him about his plans, and Zuko asks her if she wants to hear about them – or if she wants to help him do them. We then cut to the Wens’ house, as Zuko explains to Jinhai more about how to control his fire, he needs to learn to control his breathing, which Jinhai hates. Zuko breathes a circle of flames around both of them and tells Jinhai that if he wants to leave the circle, he needs to learn to control fire. Jinhai says it’s not fair, but Zuko tells him firebending isn’t fair – and Tingzhe tells his son that earthbending isn’t fair, either. Zuko leans on Jinhai, prodding him to admit what he really wants – finally, Jinhai says he wants to stop, and at that, Zuko lets the ring of fire go out, deciding that’s enough for the day. Jinhai runs upstairs, and Tingzhe takes Zuko out back to the garden. As a teacher, Tingzhe tells Zuko that if he’s so tired he’s losing his temper, he should stop the lesson and go home. Zuko explains that he doesn’t think things should be going like this, but now he feels like he was stuck on that raft for three weeks after the Siege of the North for nothing. Tingzhe wonders how that happened but tells Zuko that if he’d been in that position, he’d probably be angry and frustrated too. Zuko finally breaks down and says that when an Agni Kai is over, it should be over, and Tingzhe says maybe that’s true, but Zuko was betrayed even before that duel. Zuko protests that he owed his father loyalty, and Tingzhe says that from what Meixiang told him, loyalty should never demand suicide, and then invites Zuko to the family potluck next week. Zuko wants to know what that is…

We cut to Iroh, after Zuko has explained to him how many people to expect. Zuko thinks it’s a bad idea, admitting he scared Jinhai. Iroh says that a little fear isn’t always bad, especially when teaching firebending. Zuko admits to being frustrated that Jinhai didn’t want to do the breathing lessons, and Iroh tells him that he knows Zuko gets angry, but he also knows that when he does, he always breaks things, not people. Zuko, meanwhile, is working on streaming the water during the conversation, which leads the conversation to turn to bending and the difference between fire and water. The talk then turns to jin. Neutral jin, to wait and listen, is key to earthbending. Positive jin, to always been on the offensive, is key to firebending. Airbending, to avoid and evade, is based on negative jin, and therefore in that sense air, not water, is fire’s true opposite. Zuko protests that he’s seen the ruins of the Air Temples and knows airbenders could fight aggressively, and Iroh tells him that adults know when to set aside ideals for reality. Water, meanwhile, draws on all types of jin, flowing between them like the tides. The talk then turns to Zuko’s plan to build a new colony, and whether it will really work and whether people will go along with it – and whether Zuko being a waterbender will be a help or a liability. If nothing else, at least Zuko won’t be without bending during the eclipse. The thought of this makes Zuko wonder what he should tell Jinhai. Iroh, meanwhile, has some advice for how waterbending can help in Zuko’s plans, and Zuko also has some thoughts about the use of wood and metal in fortifications…

We cut to Suyin and Jinhai, holding leaves as Zuko prepares them for their next lessons – about how to fight distracted, and with self-control. Zuko sets Jinhai’s leaf on fire and tells him to keep it from burning to the edge for as long as he can – and Zuko brought a whole sack of more leaves to practice with, too. Suyin can’t bend, but she has to hold her smoldering leaf and still fight – she has to learn not to fear fire, or to let herself be distracted. First, she has to learn to fall when she can’t use one of her hands. Later that afternoon, Min and Jia arrive home to find the lesson still in progress. Jia thinks Zuko is scruffy, and Min demands to know why he has his hands on Min’s sister. Meixiang chastises them both and asks Zuko to forgive her children’s poor manners. Irritated, Zuko decides that’s enough for today, but tells Jinhai he can practice on his own, with his parents to supervise. Before he goes, he has something else he’d like to show them, and asks Meixiang’s permission. Pulling a handful of leaves from the bag, he sets them on fire and then throws them into the air, using his bending to make them flow like water – a technique like neither Aang nor Azula has ever seen before. A technique, Zuko realizes, that no one has practiced since Kuzon – the name and realization just pop into his head. At last, he extinguishes the fire – Jinhai is amazed, and Min looks taken aback, which pleases Zuko. He really doesn’t want to fight Min, since he knows how that will end, and thinks it’s better to redirect his attention. Meixiang says she’s never seen bending like that, but it makes her think of some things she’s seen Tingzhe studying about sandbenders. She says she looks forward to discussing more with Iroh at the potluck, stunning Min to realize his mother invited them; Zuko neutrally says he knows Iroh is looking forward to it. Studying Min’s expression, he thinks he’s not really cruel, just pushy and ignorant, and he can’t imagine he’d do anything to hurt Jinhai, no matter how much he doesn’t like Zuko. But a part of Zuko isn’t sure about believing that…

We cut to Huojin at the potluck, amusedly watching Zuko eat and thinking about how bad he is at pretending to be normal, and how bad he is at small talk. Meanwhile, Huojin’s children are animatedly talking with Suyin and tolerating Jinhai, which is about what he’d expect. Iroh says he’s tried to get Zuko interested in a hobby, like pai sho, but he’s never been able to. The conversation continues, and Huojin notices Min glaring at Zuko, and knows that a great name has only two responses to a threat, destroy or ignore, and right now Zuko is trying his hardest to ignore Min. Huojin warns Min that he’s picking a fight with the wrong person, but Min insists that Zuko’s a firebender, and he knows what firebenders are trained for. Iroh jumps in to tell him that Zuko has never taken military action against the Earth Kingdom, but firebenders are trained to pursue strategic objectives – and right now, Zuko’s objective is teaching Jinhai and keeping his family safe. Which means that Min does not want to make him an enemy. Jia takes the hint, but Min tries to get his father in on his side – when that doesn’t work, he starts ranting about how Zuko doesn’t care about Jinhai, and Min is going to do what’s right. He storms out of the room, and then Jia also excuses herself to practice her poetry before an upcoming competition. The adults aren’t sure what to make of all this or if it’s just teenagers being teenagers, but Meixiang worries that Zuko doesn’t know how to how to just be a teenager. They decide to excuse themselves to Tingzhe’s study, but Iroh warns them that if Min really thinks Zuko doesn’t care about Jinhai, he’s likely to learn a very painful lesson. Up in the study, Huojin is stunned to learn that it was the Fire Lord himself who scarred Zuko. Everyone in the room is horrified by the story of the Agni Kai, and Iroh admits that his brother would have found it very convenient if Zuko died. Still, with Zuko on his knees and refusing to fight, killing him would have been shameful, so he found other ways. Sill, Iroh hadn’t realized just how much Ozai preferred Azula as heir until she showed up with orders to bring them home in chains. All of this is to say, Min has no idea what he’s getting into by antagonizing Zuko.

Someone knocks on the door, and Zuko comes in. Apparently, the kids want to play “hide and slide” and Iroh has to explain it’s like “hide and explode” without the explosions. Or knives. Zuko leaves, and the Earth Kingdom natives are taken aback to realize how rough play in the Fire Nation can get. They then return to the story of how Zuko was banished, and the only reason Ozai tolerated Iroh to run around free was that he thought Iroh was a beaten, washed-up old man. He warns the others that Zuko’s sister is dangerous, and if they ever see her, to stay far away. They protest that she can’t get into the city, but Iroh wouldn’t put it past her. After all, he knows that Zuko got into the North Pole – and for all of Ozai’s other faults, he is very good at binding people to be loyal to him, even though he’s almost certainly never felt that way about anyone else. Anyway, growing up in this environment messed Zuko up in ways that he’s only just starting to untangle. But he’s not looking for a fight now, while Min is, and the absolute best-case scenario for that is for Min to end up tied up and dangling from a bridge. Fortunately, Zuko is an honorable young man and will behave appropriately – so long as someone makes it clear what that means. We cut to Zuko outside on the house’s roof, listening to Jia practicing her haiku while the kids search for him on the ground level – but haven’t thought to look up. He thinks about how earthbenders never seem to think to look up – except maybe the Dai Li – and a lot of firebenders could stand to learn it, too. Luckily for Zuko, he’s fought an airbender. Zuko is left disturbed to realize how much in common he has with the Dai Li, who’d surely kill him if they knew who he really was, and wonders if the Earth King really knows about all of their orders, though he ought to. Suddenly, he spots some agents watching from another roof, and wonders what they’re up to. They seem to be waiting something – and then suddenly Zuko is caught in baked clay, as voices taunt him, thinking he’s Min and asking if he thinks he’s so good now. Zuko protests he’s not Min, and the attacking boys realize he isn’t and wonder what to do now. Another voice, who seems to be in charge, says they should use Zuko to carry a message – suddenly, in Tingzhe’s study, a lamp flares and Iroh realizes what’s happening. The tiles binding Zuko shatter, and one of the attacking boys is swept off the roof and into the yard – where the children are. Zuko is forced to keep fighting while in the yard below the kids try to get Jinhai to safety. Zuko fights them off – and the Tingzhe appears, demanding to know what’s going on. Zuko says they had a “message” for Min, Huojin wants to know which of them tried to hurt his daughter, and an enraged Jia, who got soaked during the fight, blasts the intruders out of the house with earthbending. Zuko says that’s all of them, and everyone is safe. Iroh compliments him on his restraint, and Zuko tells him there were Dai Li agents watching as the chapter ends.

We end with a long Author Note: A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! I've had great suggestions and a lot of interesting guesses. Yes, Amaya did meet the Lion-Turtle. There are descendents of Roku in this story. Just not quite the way it happens in canon. Canon leaves one big plothole... well, one short, somewhat rotund, awesome firebending plothole. If the only reason Zuko can choose good is Roku's heritage (as all Sozin's descendents are supposedly EEEVIL), how on earth do you explain Iroh? A tactic I find useful for making long-term OCs: borrow a "personality core" from another fictional character. For example, Huojin is based off Commissioner Jim Gordon. Tingzhe? Dr. Henry Jones. (Not Junior.) Amaya, Jedi Healer T'raa Saa. And there are others. If you get a feeling of Buffy... yes, two characters from there were used! Given some reviews, I'm going to mention the concept of the unreliable narrator. Zuko is paranoid... except you can't call it paranoia when people are out to get you. He grew up with Azula, who always lies. (Except when the truth is more damaging.) Both he and Iroh have to think, act, and make plans based on what they know of historical Avatars (Roku shut down Sozin even talking about what he wanted to do with the empire, period. "There are no possibilities. This is the last I want to hear about this." And later, directly threatened the Fire Lord's life.) And based on what they see Aang do, not what Aang says. Aang may talk a good peaceful line, he may mean every word - but look at what he does. Dumping boatloads of men into arctic waters equals large-scale death. Period. And the Northern Air Temple? Hoo boy. Aang may not want to shove people back into four-nation boxes - but Zuko has no way to know that. As far as Zuko is concerned, Aang certainly didn't start by telling him the truth. Finally... Zuko, avoid the main conflict in Ba Sing Se? Not a chance! Remember, the spirits are always gunning for him! Which makes it easy to get a sidelined plot back on track, amusingly enough; the extreme coincidences are canon! MG’s Thoughts This chapter wasn’t nearly as long as the last one, thankfully! I also don’t have nearly as much to say about it; most of the actual content I liked this time around. In both the show and the fic, Zuko the fish out of water is always fun, and much of this chapter involves him interacting with people in Ba Sing Se, so there’s plenty of that here. Most of my quibbles are minor – story wise, we’ve had several chapters now of Zuko’s new friends piecing together his backstory, and frankly, it’s starting to get a little repetitive. Especially since we, the readers, know Zuko’s backstory already. This chapter also slowly continues the whitewashing of the Dai Li, in this case by introducing the idea that they’re an order of spirit fighters who play a totally important and necessary role in keeping Ba Sing Se safe. By itself it’s not too bad, but as part of a continued pattern of taking the edge off the authoritarian secret police, it still bugs me.

I do have some more detailed comments about certain parts of the AN, alas, which points to some specific things about where the fic is going (as usual, direct quotes from Vathara are in bold). There are descendents of Roku in this story. Just not quite the way it happens in canon. Canon leaves one big plothole... well, one short, somewhat rotund, awesome firebending plothole. If the only reason Zuko can choose good is Roku's heritage (as all Sozin's descendents are supposedly EEEVIL), how on earth do you explain Iroh? Okay, I think here is another case of Vathara taking something from canon very literally, taking it out of context, and going weird places in it. In canon, Iroh uses Zuko being descended from both Roku and Sozin as a metaphor for Zuko’s internal conflict – it’s not literally saying that Sozin’s bloodline is pure evil without Roku’s influence (as Vathara even notes, Iroh himself is a counterexample!). But apparently, she has taken it literally and created a plot hole where I don’t think there actually is one, and to “fix” it she’s going to end up really tangling the Fire royal family tree, as we’ll eventually see.

A tactic I find useful for making long-term OCs: borrow a "personality core" from another fictional character. For example, Huojin is based off Commissioner Jim Gordon. Tingzhe? Dr. Henry Jones. (Not Junior.) Amaya, Jedi Healer T'raa Saa. And there are others. If you get a feeling of Buffy... yes, two characters from there were used! I’m… of two minds about this. Like, I can see where she’s coming from in terms of taking inspiration from other works, but I’m not sure just flat out saying you’re copying characters from elsewhere is the way to do it. Then again, I don’t think Huojin and Tingzhe particularly resemble Gordon or Henry Jones Sr. either, aside from being a cop and a professor respectively, so *shrugs*. And a lot of Vathara’s later OCs are apparently based on anime characters who I’m even less qualified to judge.

Given some reviews, I'm going to mention the concept of the unreliable narrator. Zuko is paranoid... except you can't call it paranoia when people are out to get you. He grew up with Azula, who always lies. (Except when the truth is more damaging.) Both he and Iroh have to think, act, and make plans based on what they know of historical Avatars (Roku shut down Sozin even talking about what he wanted to do with the empire, period. "There are no possibilities. This is the last I want to hear about this." And later, directly threatened the Fire Lord's life.) And based on what they see Aang do, not what Aang says. Aang may talk a good peaceful line, he may mean every word - but look at what he does. Dumping boatloads of men into arctic waters equals large-scale death. Period. And the Northern Air Temple? Hoo boy. Aang may not want to shove people back into four-nation boxes - but Zuko has no way to know that. As far as Zuko is concerned, Aang certainly didn't start by telling him the truth. Here… I have more substantial issues. It’s more of Vathara’s weird take on balance=keeping the nations forcibly separated, and she’s really not convinced me that Zuko and Iroh believing Aang would ever want to do that is at all plausible (nor do I understand what that particular line of Roku’s has to do with anything – when your best friend starts giving you the “We can rule together!” spiel, shutting it down immediately is wise, and he only threatened Sozin’s life after, you know, Sozin took over an Earth Kingdom city). As for Zuko being an unreliable narrator – eh, maybe Vathara intended him to be read that way, but while he’s not always right, I do think the narrative sides with him more often than not. On the other hand, we’ll be meeting some more OCs later on who I’m fairly sure are more directly the author’s mouthpieces.

[letoscrawls]

I feel like i need to make a Cute Guy post to update until i inevitably find out he's in a relationship or he hates me or something 😭

Okay so since this thing is getting out of hand and apparently a lot of people in my circle of friends are helping me in this research of The Cute Guy we came up with a plan to actually SEE HIM MORE OFTEN.

I've been trying to track his room and i'll spare you the details because it's a literal riddle and i have like three different leads and none of them is taking me anywhere. I can assure i'm not doing anything illegal JDJWKSJAK just assumptions based on times and places i've spotted him like a wild animal 💀

It's not like i wanna appear outside his room like a mushroom FJSJWJ but idk i thought his room was the one in front of mine and that would have made things so much easier but i'm starting to doubt it honestly. Anyways i don't know if i saw him tonight because guess what. My sight is shit and i can't recognize people's faces without glasses so i don't actually know if the person i saw entering the dorm before i headed to the opposite direction like an idiot was actually him or not. I mean we walked on the same hallway and he was behind me but when i thought he was going to take the same elevator as me he literally continued walking and i just saw him from behind and i don't know if it was him!!! God i'm so stupid!!! So i will say tonight sighting was not confirmed. ☹️

I guess i'll wait tomorrow for other updates boys 😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

My fever keeps going down during the day abd then BOOM spike at night and i have my project presentation tomorrow 😃

I told my classmate we will make it bc i don't wanna ruin this for him and the professor won't take a no for an answer so i guess we ball

Please keep me in your thoughts tomorrow 😭😭😭

[mrsmaybank]

Crushing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.”

A/N: I love baby genius, season one Reid so much. I wanted to give him a soulmate. Soulmate is you: shy and also a baby genius. Okay, thanks for reading. This was honestly just for me. 

CW: Implied Smut, Mild Cursing, shitty writing 

“Who...Who is that?” Dr. Spencer Reid, debatably the wordiest boy Derek Morgan had ever met, was suddenly at a loss for words. Maybe it was your perfectly sculpted face, your shoes, the copy of The Kreutzer Sonata held to your chest, your chest, or maybe a mix of it all.  Whatever it was, at sight of you walking through the office doors, he was stripped of his ability to speak. 

“That’s JJ’s new intern.” Morgan said plainly, before noticing the completely enamored look on his friend’s face. “What, pretty boy?” Reid couldn’t even be bothered to reply. He was too busy studying every detail of your frame. 

“You think she’s cute or something kid?” Morgan playfully jabbed his shoulder, Spencer’s face instantly flushing an embarrassing shade of red. 

“What?!” He shrieked, “I-no! That’s not..No!” That’s a lie. 

“I just..I didn’t know JJ was getting an intern.” That though, was true. 

“She’s supposed to be pretty impressive. Let’s go meet her.” he started in the direction of the coffee stand, where you and JJ had begun chatting. Before Spencer could protest out of his shyness, he was being dragged along. 

“Morgan,” JJ smiled, “Spence,” she nodded in his direction, “This is Y/N Y/L/N. My godsent savior.” JJ beamed in your direction.

You smiled more sheepishly then you would’ve liked, muttering a “Hopefully.” that got a laugh from Morgan and a “Oh, please.” from JJ, but nothing from the man in the glasses. You did your best not to read into it. 

“Derek Morgan.” the muscular agent extended his hand to shake yours, an offer you timidly but happily accepted. 

The taller, lankier, younger, incredibly cute man next to him stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and shifted uncomfortably with a small wave, “I’m uh, Doctor Spencer Reid, oh! Uh, you don’t have to, uh call me Doctor. No..” He shook his head, “Just Spencer is fine.” He looked at you with wide eyes that sent butterflies berserk in your stomach and swiped his tongue in between his lips that only made them go crazier. JJ had told you all about the team. About the magnificently brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, his 3 PhDs and eidetic memory, and all the other quirks you’d have to know in order to work with him, but had failed to mention how utterly hot he was. You felt a crush hijacking your system already. Dear god. 

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Your hands gripped your book tighter as you shifted onto your tiptoes, “I’ve heard really exceptional things.” 

The conversation was set to continue, but Morgan and JJ were summoned by Hotch to the closed doors of his office. Leaving the resident genius and you starting at each other with tight lip smiles. 

Spencer started first, “The Kreutzer Sonata is great.” He excitedly continued, “It uh, it actually used to be a pretty bold book to carry around. After the work had been forbidden in Russia by censors, there was actually a mimeographed version that was widely circulated. Then in 1890, the United States Post Office Department prohibited the mailing of newspapers containing serialized installments of it too. Theodore Roosevelt even called Tolstoy a-” 

His enthusiasm was beyond endearing. You finished for him with a soft smile, "Sexual moral pervert.”

Spencer’s lips upturned in a smile. It was rare somebody in the office could finish his sentences. And he couldn’t help but replay the crass words being said in your soft voice. He felt a crush hijacking his system already. Dear god.  

“Most people don’t recognize it in the original Russian.”  Spencer heard you say. 

“Most people probably wouldn’t recognize it in English.” he retorted.

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re right.” 

Spencer wasn’t even kidding. “I’m not joking.” He shook his head. “It’s unfortunate how many people aren’t even vaguely familiar with Tolstoy.” 

“It is.” you agreed. “You went to Caltech, correct?” 

He smiled, “Yes.” 

“I almost did too. Decided last minute on Columbia.” 

“You went to Columbia?” he asked. 

“I just graduated.” 

“How old are you?” he asked before quickly correcting himself,  “I’m sorry! That was forward! I am not...I’m not trying to undermine your studies with your age, I promise. I’m just curious.” 

“No! It’s okay!” You got out fast. “I’m 19. I graduated high school a little bit early.” 

“Me too.” He smiled. “12, actually.” 

Your eyes went wide, “12?” 

“Yes, um, in a Las Vegas public high school.” He winced, but the self-deprecation somehow came out charming, “I uh,” His eyes narrowed, “didn’t go to a lot of parties.” 

That made you wholeheartedly laugh. “Me neither! I graduated at 15, which you know is the age everybody else starts. It created a really weird dynamic because the older kids in my grade didn’t like me, but the underclassmen my age really didn’t like me.” 

Instead of the laugh you were expecting, Spencer just gave you a pensive stare. 

“Um..I can’t see why. I think you’re very likeable.” The compliment would’ve been strange exchanged by anybody other than Spencer to you.

  “Wait till you get to know me.” You said it through a smile but so softly you were afraid he might not be able to hear it, but he did. 

And that was confirmed when he flashed you the most incredible, toothy grin you’d ever seen. “I uh, I doubt there will be any change in opinion.” 

“Well, um, I’m sure- I think! You’re very likeable as well Dr. Reid.” you said. 

“That’s what you say now.” He retorted in the same coy tone you had earlier. 

You shook your head, “You’ll find I can be insufferably stubborn.” 

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

After two weeks, there was little Spencer could do to hide his massive crush affinity for you from the team. 

In the bullpen: 

You guys had locked eyes and were mouthing out exchanged of No’s and Yes’s from across the room. There was an ongoing half-serious dispute about whether or not Xanthippe slept with Plato. 

Morgan glided in his wheeled chair to whisper into Spencer’s ear. 

“Reid, stop giving JJ’s intern bedroom eyes. It fuckin’ weirds me out.” He said, shoving files into the cabinet below Reid’s desk. 

“I’m..I’m not.. I--what? Bedr--No!” Reid whisper-shouted back. 

On the jet: 

“Reid?” Gideon called Spencer, “Chess?” He motioned towards the board. 

“Yes, sure. Just give me a second. I’m almost done. I’m reading Infinite Jest. I don’t usually enjoy literature if it isn’t classic, even less so if it’s American. But..” Spencer smiled, “Y/N likes the author.”  He continued his fast-paced reading of the third-to-last chapter of the book. 

Morgan and Gideon exchanged glances. 

Even in front of you: 

You opened a sugar packet and began stirring. 

“De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium is still some of the best work on  heliocentric theory out there, I think. Copernicus knew what he was talking about!” You spun on your heels to see Reid’s face contorted in disagreement. You giggled, “Don’t give me that face! I’m right!” 

He took a sip of his coffee as to keep himself quiet. “Listen, cosmological theory is for…” 

But the pair of you were interrupted, it was Elle, standing behind you and in front of Spencer. 

“New skirt?” Elle asked as you turned, back now facing Reid.  She was pouring herself a cup of coffee too.

“Yes!” You excitedly nodded. “You like it?” 

Elle looked up and down, but not at you. The judgmental eyes were for the man behind you. She pursed her lips, “Not just me.” 

The only face redder than yours was Reid’s.

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

Nights spent in a bar after a case that had dragged on far too long was nothing new, but the energy tonight was especially light. Gideon had refused, but everybody else was just relaxed, even Hotch, and the team just got happier at each other's happiness. It was great, really. As Hotch and Morgan sipped on whiskey, JJ and Penelope had already downed four sugary, colorful cocktails and were in a whispered fit of giggles. Elle and Spencer settled on a tamer option of an IPA Spencer couldn’t name. 

“SPENCER!” Penelope excitedly shouted, “Y/N is literally you! You’re both adorable! You’re both geniuses! You’re both young!” She drew on her rant, “And if you have a crush on her you should just tell her!” JJ’s eyes widened in embarrassment as she tried to cover Penelope’s mouth. 

Morgan and Elle erupted in soft laughter while Hotch cracked an uncharacteristically amused smile. 

“Spence, I swear, I didn’t say that! I just...I may have mentioned how happy you get every time she’s around! And how you guys can talk for literally hours!” JJ defended, her words slurring in silly drunkenness. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they teased him about you, and it probably wouldn’t be the last time either. 

“I don’t have a crush on her! We just….we like the same things! It gives us a lot to talk about.” 

“Yeah?” Morgan said through a laugh, “And what is it that boy and girl wonder talk about so much?” 

“Well, uh.. a lot of things. But I find she gets the most excited when we are discussing the theories of postmodernism, in that apparent realities are actually just social constructs and veritable realities are subject to change, and uh... we like to talk about linguistics….political philosophy….history... mathematic theory...and uh, oh! Doctor Who.” 

Spencer was blushing and spoke about you like a teenage girl did their boyband crush, and the team noticed. They didn’t even need to say it out loud. Spencer gathered from the way they looked back at him. 

“I heard she lent you a book too, Reid.” Hotch said before taking a sip from his glass. 

“Yes! She did!” He smiled, “It was her copy of Pale Fire. She has an impressive collection of 19th century Russian literature. All in its original dialect! Some of it’s even annotated, which usually would annoy me but since it’s her thoughts and notes I sort of find it endearing.” 

“Dr. Reid is endeared!” Greenaway shrieked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pushing his glasses up a little higher on his nose, “I find her incredibly endearing.” 

“Y’all that sounded like a dorky love confession.” Morgan said as the team erupted in laughter and Reid’s head fell in a smile. There was no point in denying it anymore: He really, really liked you.

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

Within two months, you and Spencer had finally put your shyness aside, and spent a very lovely evening at watching an orchestra at the Smithsonian Music,  and sharing noodles at your favorite Thai restaurant. And then you guys spent some time on your couch. And then in your bed. And then in the shower. And then in the kitchen. You were both very sexually frustrated. 

For the following two months, as soon as you both stepped out of the office, it was very, very hard to keep your hands off each other. Could either of you help it though? Teenage geniuses don’t experience parties, or football games, or clumsy sex. The time was perfect to make up for it. 

And you guys did. The sex part at least. “Football involves a lot of dirt. And germs. And sweat.”

“Oh my god!” you shrieked. His hands were in a place they found themselves more and more often: Your pants. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked, continuing his pattern of small circles on that particular bundle of nerves. 

“It feels great.” You nodded. 

“I uh, I’ve been researching the female anatomy.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded your head, but trying to focus on your boyfriends newfound intellect. “It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” 

He watched your undoing with boyish adoration and curiosity before swallowing, “Very.” 

“Oh fuck!” Your legs began to shake, “Spencee...I’m gonn--” 

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

You and Spencer just understood each other. 

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 125.2: Accidental Bonding (Part 2)

(You can read part 1 here but basically all you need to know is that Harry and Draco got accidentally bonded on a case and they are coping with the after effects.)

By the end of the first week Harry very much needed a break from Draco Malfoy.

Robbards assigned them to one another as partners for the remainder of the time they were bonded and that meant that they spent what amounted to every moment of every day together. They worked together, went home together, and slept in the same bed together. And they fought every waking moment about nearly everything.

It hadn't helped that all of the other Aurors were constantly taking the piss and Harry was ready to snap.

On Friday afternoon, while Malfoy was in the loo and Harry had a rare moment of privacy, he sent off a patronus to Ron and Hermione asking them to meet him for dinner at the Leaky. Ron's terrier returned not long after, affirming that they'd be glad to meet him.

For the rest of the day, he kept that at the forefront of his mind, the proverbial carrot dangling in front of him as he fought to make it to the end of the work week.

After they arrived home, Harry changed his clothes and came into the living room where Malfoy was sitting on the sofa, then pressed his hand to Malfoy's shoulder until the bond wasn't humming in the back of his mind. "I'm going out," he informed him as he removed his hand

"I don't want to go out," he replied immediately.

He nodded, "Good because I wasn't inviting you with me anyway."

"But the bond-"

"She said that we'd be okay for two hours. I'm just going to go have dinner with Ron and Hermione and then I'll come back."

Malfoy didn't reply, which Harry might have imagined would be an improvement over the bickering but was actually really fucking annoying.

He took a deep breath and then let it out. It wasn't worth it. "Whatever," he grumbled to himself as he stepped back and apparated to the apparation point near the Leaky.

(Read more below the cut)

Ron and Hermione were already at the table near the fire when he arrived and Harry felt something unwind inside of him at the sight of his friends, it felt like coming home when you'd been away for too long.

"Hi," he said as he approached the table.

Hermione stood up and wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Thanks," he murmured, hugging her back.

She nodded, "You looked like you could use it."

A humorless chuckle left his throat, "You could say that," he replied.

"Come on," she said, tugging him over to the table.

"I can only stay for a few hours," Harry said, sitting down across from Ron, "The bond-"

"Then let's just have a few hours that feel normal and have nothing to do with Malfoy," Ron said and Harry nodded gratefully.

---------

Only an hour into their dinner, Harry started to feel the tug of the bond, a low thrumming through his gut that made him feel restless. He tried to ignore it and was doing fairly well by the sheer force of his stubbornness when a woman came up to them.

"You're Harry Potter, right?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Yeah," he replied, "that's me."

"It's so nice to meet you," she said, reaching over and laying a hand on his forearm, scarlet fingernails trailing lightly over his skin.

Harry immediately felt queasy, every fiber of his being screaming that this was wrong. "Nice to meet you, too," he said as politely as he could manage, pulling his arm out of her reach.

"Could I-"

"Sorry," Ron interrupted, "But he's a bit busy. We're having dinner, in case you didn't notice."

She glanced at Ron, then looked back at Harry, "Maybe when you're done," she said, "You could join me for a drink at the bar."

"Maybe another time," Harry said, giving her his best smile which he feared turned out more like a grimace as his stomach rolled.

Fortunately she seemed to take the hint, "Well, it was nice to meet you," she said before turning.

"You too," Harry called. "I've got to go," he said as soon as she was out of earshot.

"What?" Hermione asked, "Why?"

"I don't know, something happened with the bond," he muttered. "I feel awful."

"Go on then," Ron said, nodding at him. "We'll see you later.

"Stop by the house tomorrow, if you'd like," Hermione offered.

"Alright," he nodded. "Sorry," he added as he stood up and fled the bar, apparating straight into Malfoy's house.

"Malfoy," he shouted, the moment his feet touched the floor.

The other man groaned from where he was laying on the sofa in the living room, "What the actual fuck did you do?" he managed. "I was fine and then all of the sudden it felt like I was hit by a train."

Harry made his way over to the sofa and since Malfoy didn't seem like he was going to move he did the only thing his brain could come up with. He crawled on top of him, pressing their bodies together and moaning with relief. "Someone hit on me," he said.

"Poor you," Malfoy grumbled, even as one of his arms wrapped around Harry and pulled him in tighter.

"No, I mean that's what caused the spike. She flirted with me and touched my arm and the bond went crazy."

Malfoy hummed, "Interesting," he said. "People have touched both of us and it hasn't caused this."

"Maybe the bond recognizes intent?" Harry questioned.

"Maybe it recognizes your intent," Malfoy mused. "Was she attractive?"

Harry shrugged, "Maybe? I didn't really notice."

"Pfft," Malfoy huffed, his breath warm and vaguely pleasant against Harry's ear. "You don't have to lie. I won't be offended."

"I'm serious," Harry protested.

"Look, can we just be honest with each other?" he asked. "It's fine if you thought she was attractive-"

"I'm gay!" Harry blurted, "I'm not lying, she might have been attractive but I genuinely didn't notice."

"You're gay?" he asked.

"Yes," Harry replied, starting to pull away because the bond was still tugging but not unbearable, "Go ahead and start making fun of me, let's just end this horrible wee-"

"I'm not going to make fun of you," Malfoy said.

He looked down at the other man, too surprised to come up with words for a moment. "You're not?"

"Well, it would be pretty hypocritical if I did," he replied.

"You're-?" Harry started.

Malfoy shrugged one shoulder and his fingers trailed mindlessly along Harry's spine, "I'm bi," he said.

"Oh." Harry replied and he settled back against Malfoy, "I didn't know."

"You never asked."

"Well neither did you," he protested.

Malfoy looked at him for a long moment, "I didn't know that I was allowed to."

"Why would I be allowed to ask if you weren't?"

He rolled his eyes, "Because you're Harry Potter and you've always thought that the rules didn't apply to you."

"Come off it," he said. "I live by the same rules everyone else does. If anything, I'm held to a higher standard."

"You're held to a higher standard? Potter, you have no idea what it means to be held to a high standard. I'm an ex-death eater, my every move is scrutinized," Malfoy said. "When I started at the DMLE I was told that if I put 'one toe out of line I'd be put in Azkaban faster than I could say Auror.'"

"Someone said that to you?" Harry asked incredulously.

He huffed a bitter laugh, "Multiple people said that to me. So tell me again about being held to a higher standard, Potter."

"It's different," Harry admitted, "But when I do something wrong I get the lecture about how I'm an example for everyone else. The things that I do are a template for what other people will find acceptable. That sort of...stuff," he finished lamely, trailing off uncomfortably.

"I hadn't thought about that," Malfoy confessed.

"I’m just a person," he said. "And I like to think that I learned to respect boundaries and don't ask overly personal questions-"

"Sorry," Malfoy said, stopping the words coming out of Harry's mouth. "You're right. You aren't sixteen anymore."

His initial instinct was to fight about who'd been worse at sixteen and the words were on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them back, "You're not sixteen anymore either."

The corner of Malfoy's mouth tipped up and they just looked at each other for a long moment before the other man said, "Alright, that's quite enough soul searching. Get off me, Potter. I want to finish my book before bed."

Harry chuckled and climbed off the couch, "I'm going to shower."

"Yes, thank you for the update," Malfoy drawled. "I'll be sure to alert the press."

"Prat," Harry grumbled but it didn't hold the venom that it normally did. He couldn't help but wonder if his improved mood was because of the time he'd spent with his friends or because of the conversation he'd just had with Malfoy.

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

This is going to be a couple more parts- this keeps sucking me in. I'll try to get at least one more part posted today.

Day 125: Accidental Bonding | Part 3