#its most of my salary unfortunately

[lamaplant]

YO FISH I MADE 1 BIG FINANCIAL PURCHASE TOO ,I BOUGHT GLASSES

not to brag but I just made a big financial purchase (one month of rent)

[frobby]

BLUE EXORCIST FANS

im here to show you:

baby yukio and shiemi

[gavisuntiedboot]

Cherry on Top

Gavi X Physiotherapist! reader (birthday special!)

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: suggestive content!

A/N: I am back once again with more self indulgent fics for my baby boo thang's birthday !!!

~~~

"Doctoraaa! When are you coming home? I'm withering away from boredom and loneliness."

You could practically hear his pout through the phone, imagining him sprawled out on the couch with his feet in the air.

"Gaviraaa I am studying so that I can graduate on time! Or do you want me to keep making a student salary forever?" You held the phone between your ear and your shoulder, still furiously typing away at your sample notes for your advisor.

"What are you even studying? You basically run our whole club's rehab program by yourself. What else do they need to test you on?"

That was actually an excellent question. It was coming up on the two year anniversary since you had become a Barca employee, and you had almost fully taken the reigns. Dr. Gonzalez had checked out, waiting for you to get your degree so that he could finally retire. Nicolas was a good assistant, but was still heavily lacking in his ability to make quick decisions, so he was stuck doing basic PT most of the time. The show was essentially yours to run.

"This last year is testing my leadership ability and teaching skills. When I graduate, I will start running the intern program at the club, and so they have to make sure I can correct staff mistakes."

Your typing was getting progressively louder as you continued angrily editing the note in front of you.

"Take this idiot Aaron. He has not written a single coherent note since he got assigned as my mentoring project. If he were an employee he would have been fired weeks ago. But since this is a "training and learning" opportunity or whatever, I have to fix all his notes and send him the edits so he can learn."

You heard shifting on the other end of the line, and then a soft thud followed by some whispered profanity.

"Pablo please don't injure yourself."

"Maybe it will bring you home faster. Oh no my other ACL!"

Despite his giggle, you went quite on the other side of the line. The day of Pablo's injury had been one of the worst of your life. He had been playing for the national team, so you had no choice but to stare at your TV through glassy eyes, utterly and completely helpless. One of your friends literally had to prevent you from collapsing (though to this day you maintain that it was dehydration, not hysteria). He had called you from the sideline, and the pain in his voice just made you break further.

"I need you."

You had been waiting at the airport to receive him, official team gear on in an attempt to distract fans from the fact that you were fully embracing him and crying into his shoulder. You had almost gone insane in the lead up to his surgery, triple checking the credentials of everyone involved. You stayed by his bed for his entire stay, spending most days and night making sure he wore his brace and didn't make any stupid decisions. It was on one of these nights, when you were once again complaining about not having your favorite undereye cream at his house, that he once again asked you his favorite question.

"Why don't you just move in?"

As usual, you brushed the comment off. Gavi had been asking you to move in weekly for over a year now, always unfortunately dead serious. There was an innocence and simplicity in the way Pablo say the world that you wished you could emulate. He liked you, he was comfortable around you, and he wanted you to live with him. Simple, right?

But it terrified you. You loved Gavi, probably more than anything else in your life. But long withstanding trauma lives up to its name of being long withstanding. That feeling that the expiration date of your perfect relationship was approaching? That never went away. It was like the more time you spent with Gavi, the more you were terrified that he was going to figure out what was wrong with you, why no one could love you until this point in time, and run for the hills. Your apartment was the one space you still had to be irate and disgusting and genuinely yourself without being afraid of scaring him. And it would make it much easier when he eventually broke up with you to date a pop star or a model or Pedri.

"I'm being serious, princesa. You're here every night. You spend more time here than at your own place. You barely sleep in your own bed because you're just obsessed with me and want to take care of me all the time."

"Pablo, we've talked about this..."

"Yes," he said, sitting up and opening his arms in a gesture for you to come cuddle with him. "We have. Back when we had only been together for only three months and we didn't know if you would be able to put up with me."

"Hey!"

"Let me finish." He hugged you closer to his chest, resting his chin on your head and rubbing slow circles into your skin. It was hard to maintain your composure when you were like this, feeling the warmth radiating off his skin and the pressure of his lips kissing your crown every so often.

"We've been together for a year and a half now. I've seen you in bad moods, heard your yelling, plucked your chin hairs-"

He restrained you from getting up, giggling at your embarrassment. He really was the most adorable little thing on the planet.

"I've seen you at your lowest points. Which, admittedly mi amor, were not that low. I saw a tiktok of this guy who had to pull out his girlfriend's tampon. This could be much worse. Hey, look at me."

You turned over, your chest pressed to Pablo's as he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. You had learned how to do this in the last year, how to steel yourself under his intense gaze. Pablo Gavi looked at you like he was in the presence of a divine being, eyes big and soft and filled to the brim with adoration. He looked at you like just your image was all he needed to keep breathing.

"I love you. So much that sometimes I don't know what to do with it. I want you to move in so I can take care of you, and so that it's easier to let you take care of me. I want to annoy you with my morning training alarm and make you coffee and maybe mess up your laundry when I try to do the washing."

"This is not a convincing argument so far, baby."

"I just want to live with you. And be around you. And hold you like a weighted teddy bear while I sleep."

"What if you get tired of me being around all the time?" You asked between smooshed cheeks, finally losing your ability to maintain his stare.

Gavi refused to even dignify the question with a verbal response, instead letting go of your face to lift the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over your head. Your cheek was practically burning up pressed against his abs, still defined and solid despite days of immobility.

"Doctora, this is how close I want you to be. At all times. I am about to sew you to my torso. So will you please move in?"

And it was then that you agreed to it. Now the house was littered with so much merch on the walls and shelves it looked like a sports store, but it was yours. A home. You spent months taking care of Gavi, from driving him to appointments to at-home physiotherapy sessions. You took every opportunity to place a gentle kiss on the scar on his knee (ya know, when you were down there ;) ) and avoided all clips that showed him in pain.

"Come on, Doctora. I'm okay."

"I know, I know... it's just not a memory I can bring myself to joke about. Not while you're still in recovery."

"I'm sorry, amor. Can you come home and scold me about it?"

You groaned again, resisting the urge to slam your head into your keyboard. The progress notes were really terrible.

"And besides, you need to finish packing."

This was true. In about 6 hours, you and Gavi would be on a plane for his birthday trip to Ibiza. He had been buzzing with excitement about his birthday trip for months now, eager to take you someplace where there would be nothing to distract the two of you. Just perfect sand and perfect sea for a perfect weekend. He had talked about going farther than Spain this year, maybe Italy or at least Portugal, but injuries have a great way of canceling travel plans.

You reluctantly agreed, telling Pablo you would be home in about 30 minutes, before you began to tidy your workspace. You sent a polite yet pointed email to Aaron (with the head of department CC'ed) explaining that the work was too terrible to be corrected, and he should clear up some time in September to train with you before the season began in earnest and you would be too busy to teach him how to spell "bradycardia".

It was always a humbling experience to pull into the driveway and park your beat up little car next to Gavi's team-sponsored beauty. You were dreading the day he upgraded to something nicer - the neighbors would start thinking that someone was there to rob him. He was already standing at the door smiling wide when you pulled in. He walked up to your door, grabbing all your bags and ushering you inside away from the heat. This had become a regular for Gavi - tracking your location to greet you the second you arrived - so there was really no need to question it anymore. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, eternally grateful for the gentleness he showed you. After a quick yet heated rant about the incompetence of some of the students in your program, you headed upstairs to continue packing.

"Pablo, you think I need to pack more than two dresses?" You asked, looking over the satins and crocheted pieces that your friend ensured you was "totally in".

"I don't think you need to pack any dresses. Or even clothes for that matter."

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who was leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Am I supposed to be naked for the whole trip?"

"Not the whole trip. Just pack some bikinis for during the day and some cute underwear for the night. The outfit you wear to the airport should be more than enough incase we ever need to leave." He walked over to where you stood in contemplation, arms wrapping tightly around your waist, and his head resting on your shoulder in the perfect position to kiss your neck.

"Be serious, Pablo. What if we want to go for a nice dinner for your birthday? I can't go in a thong or in my plane sweats."

He didn't stop his attack on your neck for an instant, addicted to the warmth and taste of your skin on his tongue.

"Mi amor, mi sol, mi vida - at the risk of being vulgar, I have to say that you will be the nice dinner on my birthday."

Your eyes went wide at this statement, and suddenly you were glad for his arms there to keep you upright.

"I don't even think I have more than one bikini that still fits."

At this, Gavi released you, running to the closet with your yells to slow down behind him (if you had a euro for every time you told him not to run in socks, you could pay off the club's debt). He came shuffling back out with a large black bag, which he promptly dumped out onto the comforter. There were at least ten swimwear sets in various colors and prints, ranging from polka dots to stripes to... was that cheetah print?

"I picked these out the other day. Well, actually, that's a lie. I sent your size to Aurora, and she placed the order online and I just picked up the bag at the store. Can you imagine what Instagram would do with pictures of me buying lingerie?"

"But there's no lingerie here?"

"Fuck." He scampered off once again, returning with another bag to repeat his previous actions. This time the contents were much more sultry, with dark silks and satins staring back up at you. Mainly reds and blacks littered the pale covers.

"Pablo, you shouldn't have. This is too sweet! But we are only going for three days. There's like a month worth of stuff here."

"Are you planning on never going out again after this trip? Just pick your favorites for this weekend. The rest will be waiting for you when you get back, just in case we ever go to the pool or you want to surprise your football star boyfriend by wearing these to work."

You couldn't even be mad at his words when your heart was so full from his gesture. Pablo was always buying you things - that was nothing new. But you had been worrying for days about not looking good on this trip, not having anything new to wear, and he took that burden off your shoulders.

"So I can pick any of these? They look expensive."

"Ay Doctora, don't upset me. Nothing is worth more than your happiness. I do have one request though."

"Yes, mi amor?"

"You have to wear this one on my birthday," he said while reaching past you to pick up a white bikini with red cherries printed all over.

"Why is that?"

"Because you're like the cherry on top of my birthday cake. You always look good, but I want you to look irresistible."

"Okay, let's relax that's a lot of talk for a- oh my God." Your eyes widened, and you grabbed Pablo's face with a dropped jaw.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh my God."

"You said that already."

"Pablo!"

"Yes, princesa?"

"An adult. You're going to be an adult tomorrow. As in not a teenager."

"We arrive at like 11pm so it's more like I won't be a teenager anymore tonig- are you crying?"

"I'm not going to have a teenage boyfriend anymore!" You threw your arms around him, hugging him so tightly there was a fear of his ribs cracking.

"I feel like I should be offended by this statement."

~

"3...2...1... Happy 20th birthday Pablito!" You said softly, a single cupcake with a lit candle on the top held before the birthday boy. It was the same as the previous year (iykyk), but this time with a red and yellow swirl to match the Spanish national team.

"Thank you, mi vida." He closed his eyes, deep in thought regarding his wish, and blew out the candle. He scooped up a dollop of frosting, placing it on your lips before kissing it gently away.

"I can't believe I get to spend another birthday with you," he whispered out, scared that anything louder would destroy the gentle atmosphere around the two of you.

After sharing more sugary kisses, you fell asleep on Pablo's chest, soothed to sleep by his slow heart beat and rhythmic breathing. You woke before him, placing a kiss on his forehead before getting up to dress, snickering quietly at his snoring. The poor boy was so exhausted. You put on the swimsuit he had picked for you, the material fitting you stunningly. You looked at yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. The white and red complemented your skin, your hair framing your face still bare and slightly puffed with the remnants of sleep. Gavi's necklace dangled between your collar bones, the metal cool on your skin. Everything on your body was an expression of love.

Stepping out of the bathroom in your bikini and wrap around skirt, you found the bed suspiciously empty. There was a light breeze coming from the terrace, where you found your boyfriend leaning shirtless on the railing. As if sensing your stare, he turned over his shoulder and wave you to join him. The sun was starting to shine in earnest, the smell of the ocean filling your senses. There was no place you would rather be.

"Good morning, beautiful. I know I asked you to wear that, but I almost want you to take it off. You look too good - I'm scared I'll have to beat every other man away with a stick."

He took a seat on one of the deck chairs, and you took your rightful place on his lap, arms around his neck.

"Good thing this strip of beach is private then."

Your lips found his in a deep kiss, fingers traveling to play with the short strands at the nape of his neck. It was an intoxicating thing to kiss Pablo Gavi. His plush lips molded perfectly to yours, bringing you in impossibly closer. He was always so eager, gently nibbling on your bottom lip whenever he could catch it, soft breaths and little whines spurring you on. Neither of you could bring yourselves to stop, tongues tangled like high schoolers as you made out in the early August sun. His hands were firm on your hips, more for his benefit than yours. He was eager to drag you to the sand, but knew neither of you would leave the room if he allowed your hips to act on their own accord. He relaxed back, allowing you to take the lead, and whimpered a little louder when you bit his lip. It was your giggling that broke the kiss, and you rested your forehead against his, breathless and chest heaving.

"Big Bad Gavi likes having his lip bit. Who would've thought?"

He whined again, finding the column of your neck and to town, nipping and sucking, unwilling to not have his lips and tongue occupied by you just yet. When you started digging into his biceps, he released you, admiring his handy work.

"Pablo people are going to see." You said, pout on your lips and big eyes trained on your boyfriend. He kissed your jutting bottom lip and lifted you off him.

"Like you said - good thing this beach is private."

~

Pablo had so many moments with you where he thought "she could never be more beautiful than this". The first was the first night you fell asleep on his couch, face peaceful with sleep. The next was under the stadium lights, as he thrust a trophy in your hands and lifted you above his shoulders. Then it was in some French hallway, in a ballgown with no heels as he kissed you senseless, finally brave enough to take what he wanted. In coffee shops and grocery store aisles and on his mattress, he always thought there was no possibility for you to be more stunning. But as you lay stretched out on the sand, eyes closed and muscles relaxed, he had the thought again. The sun tinted your skin slightly, making you gleam like a goddess that had just emerged from the sea. The bright white against your skin had Gavi tingling, wanting to remove the pure material and access what it was protecting.

Your hair was soaked, and you laid on your stomach in the sand to gain some color and dry off after the exertion of swimming with Gavi. The sun was phenomenal on your damp skin, and you had never been more at piece. You felt a hand creep up your back, and suddenly your chest wasn't as supported as it should have been.

"Pablo! Did you just undo my top?"

"I'm just unwrapping my present."

He brought you to sit on his lap once again, your loose top fighting to remain around your neck.

"How private is this beach?"

"You think I would let you go topless if there was a chance another soul would see?"

You felt like a teenager again, embarrassed and looking around frantically for someone who would catch you in such an act with your boyfriend.

"I heard beach sex sucks and I'm not eager to get sand in my vagina."

"We're not going to have sex on the beach. I may be more grown up, but I still like seeing boobs every once in a while."

"So you just want to look at them?"

"Among other things. You want to see my checklist?"

You wrapped your arms around his neck once again, kissing him deeply as he fully removed the fabric from your chest. He brought a hand to your back, pressing you against him, your breasts flush against his chest. It was a thrilling sensation, being topless and against your boyfriend with the sun beating down against you both.

Gavi laid back on the sound with you atop him, unclipping you hair to allow it to fall down your back. In your current situation, you were still covered enough to not face public indecency charges. He played with the strands of hair, weaving his fingers into the locks as his teeth caught your bottom lip and sucked on it like his favorite hard candy.

"I'm going to have sand in my hair."

"Guess we'll just have to take a bath together so I can wash it for you."

You kissed him again, his fingers trailing up your torso and brushing the sides of your boobs, sparking electricity in their path. It was so high school: topless on a beach, making out with your boyfriend. But made you stir low in your stomach, a mix of desire and the deepest form of love. You loved Pablo Gavi. You loved his little antics, you loved the pleasure he brought to every aspect of your life.

"Enjoying your birthday so far?" You asked, reluctantly pulling away from his lips, chest heaving against his. Gavi took the opportunity to grab your breasts and squeeze lightly, playing with them like it was his favorite activity in the world.

"More than I can even express."

He brought you against him, arms around you and bodied pressed together, and laid back down.

"So you just wanted to feel me up while we make out?"

"I want to feel you against me, mi amor. I want you to feel how hard my heart beats when I'm around you. I want to do everything that comes to my mind with you. Being topless on the beach. Ordering everything on the hotel menu. Skinny dipping at midnight. Every experience in my life is better when you're in it. I want to make every memory with you, so that when we're old and hold hands in our matching wheelchairs, I can say "Hey remember when we were hot and young and topless making out in Ibiza?" I want to do everything in the world with you."

You pressed your lips to his again, a deep kiss that winded the both of you.

"I love you, Pablo. Happy birthday."

"I love you more, Doctora."

~~~

Okay here it is!! Happy birthday to the love of my life, the light of my soul, Pablo Gavi. I love this boy more than I can express, and he represents so much good in my life. I hope his 20th year is filled with every happiness in the world.

As usual, please like, comment, reblog - all the good stuff. If you like this dynamic, I have a full 10 part series of these two idiots in my masterlist. I also have an ongoing Pedri series! Check that out if it's more your speed.

Please also take a moment to check out the links on my pinned post to help families in Palestine. If you don't have the money to donate but still want to help, every comment with a watermelon emoji under my pedri posts = $1 I donate on your behalf. I think that's all I have to say. Love y'all <3

xoxo, GUB

[cecilysobsessions]

THIEF (m.) | zuko

↬ word count: 8k

↬ fem!reader, enemies to lovers except zuko is insanely attracted to reader (so lowkey its not enemies to lovers lol) from the start and makes it really fucking obvious, zuko writes reader letters, some parts are from zuko’s pov

↬ summary: born into poverty with practically nothing, you managed to get through most of your life as a petty thief. turns out, you were pretty good at stealing and getting away with it. one night, you decide to target the great fire lord zuko of the fire nation. and it turns out, he’s kind of into it, and kind of into you.

↬ genre: fluff / smut

↬ warnings: slight knife play (is that a thing???), violence, blood, zuko attempting to stab you, zuko actually has rizz (unfortunately no canon awk zuko here 😓 but my fic DESTINY has that), pussy eating, hair pulling, swearing probably, typos

↬ a/n: when he threatens you with a knife in order to get you to kiss him and throws you in jail then burns your house down 😍

m.list

•••

“It’s you again,” he began, his hands at his side as if there wasn’t a whole ass dagger against his throat. “I was beginning to wonder where you had been. I missed you breaking into my room.”

“You look like you enjoy being threatened with a knife.” you spat out with a sly smirk.

“I wouldn’t say I hate it.” he teases, making no effort to resist you.

•••

There was a thief. A thief who could only be described as some low-life peasant that was terrorizing the kitchens in the middle of the night, never to be seen. But of course, the palace staff were always exaggerating the smallest things. As far as Zuko knew, it was only food that the thief ever stole. He didn’t mind much, after all, he used to do the same. However, clearly the thief thought they could do more than just steal kitchen scraps because that’s exactly what started happening. 

First, it was food scraps. Leftover lunch Zuko would throw away. 

Then it was the fruits and bread laying out on the counters in the kitchen.

The thief felt a little bold, so they began stealing trinkets here and there in the palace, some worth merely a meal, others worth the monthly salaries of the palace staff. 

Finally, the thief had found Zuko’s room.

Zuko was fed up. First, it was his food, but now it was his personal items? The newly crowned Fire Lord was sitting in his closet, golden eyes peeking through the cracks of the closet door. He was waiting—he had been for the past two hours—for the thief to enter his room. Perhaps there was a better way to catch the thug, but Zuko wanted to see them for himself, and capture the criminal with his own hands. He had been waiting and watching and he was growing more exhausted as it was later in the night, when he saw you.

Covered in head to toe black, he watched you silently climb to pick the lock on his window, and enter. Your face was covered in black, too, and all he could make out was the stunning gaze from your eyes. He watches you silently roam around his bedroom familiarly. You had clearly been here before. It was as if you were looking for something specific. Maybe something you had your eye on already. Zuko watched your figure search the room, and it was dead silent in the room except for the sound of his heartbeat. He watched—no, observed your movements. You had moved around stealthily and expertly; you were experienced. You knew what you were doing.

•••

You noticed the Fire Lord the moment you stepped into his room. How could you not? He wasn’t in his bed when you entered and judging by the way it was still made, you knew he had probably been planning something. You didn’t even try to make an effort to hide your presence; you knew there weren’t going to be consequences. For months you had been overhearing Zuko brush off the palace staff when they brought their complaints about you to him, so of course he wasn’t going to do anything. 

Tonight, you were going to look for some sort of jewelry his mother owned. When spying on the servants, you heard he kept her most precious necklace somewhere in his room. It was made of some rare stone that was only found on the palace grounds and nowhere else. Luckily for you, you were a good thief and just so happened to be short on money. That necklace was going to be yours, and all you had to do was figure out where it was. 

When you’re searching through his nightstand, you hear an inhale. It wasn’t yours. Your eyes dart to the closet where you heard it, and that’s when you see a pair of amber eyes staring back at you through the cracks of the closet door. His gaze stays on your figure, watching your every movement while he tries to decide what to do in that half-second you make eye contact.

But you’re faster.

You’ve already sprinted to the closet door, practically ripping it off its hinges. You fist up the robe he’s wearing, dragging him out in a single and swift movement. One hand automatically covers his mouth to suppress any noise, while you tackle him to the ground. You pull out a small dagger from beneath your clothes, quickly pressing the sharp blade to his throat. You stare at him from up above his body as you trap him between you, your legs and weight holding him down.

•••

Zuko hadn't had a woman on top of him in God knows how long.

Your hand was forcefully pressing down on his face so hard he could barely make a sound. You were sitting on top of him, a small knife pressed against his throat with harmful intent. Your breathing was steady and controlled, all while he was practically panting from the panic–no, the excitement. Nothing about this situation was sexy, so why was a part of him excited that the mysterious thief was sitting on him threatening him with a knife?

It’s you, he tried to mumble against your hand, but you only pressed the blade into him more forcefully. He held his hands up to make peace; he wasn’t trying to die. Not now, not after he had just discovered that your piercing gaze had him giggling on the inside. 

“Not gonna put up a fight?” you sounded like an angel from heaven. He makes an X with his arms, and you remove the knife from his throat. “I only want one thing, Prince Zuko.”

I’m the Fire Lord, was what he tried to mumble against your gloved hand. He wondered if it was soft and nice to hold. 

“You scream, and I’ll kill you. Got it?” you promised.

He was still focused on your hand. It was smaller than his; it would for sure be lovely to hold. 

But he nodded, and in return, you hesitantly lifted your hand from his mouth. 

“GUARDS—”

You had already knocked him out with the opposite end of your dagger. 

“What a fucking turd,” you mumbled to yourself as you dragged the royal piece of shit back into the closet. You had gagged and tied up Zuko after knocking him out, and now that would let you carry out your mission in peace. Luckily the guards outside his chambers either didn’t hear him, or he wasn’t loud enough, because they didn’t make a move to enter or check up on him. You were going to find that necklace and sell it off the market, and probably do the same thing a couple of months from now when you run out of money again. Only with a different piece of jewelry. 

After searching the room, practically ransacking the entire thing, you were still unable to find it. Every drawer, every surface, every nook and cranny of his stupidly large room was uselessly empty. Although you had stumbled upon other pieces of jewelry, they weren’t nearly as much as his mother’s necklace. Settling with that, you left Zuko in the closet and took off.

The next time Zuko awakened he was parched and tied up. After struggling to escape the tied rope around his wrists, he searched his room for you. Most of the jewelry he had owned was gone, except for his mother’s necklace. Something precious and rare like that had to be hidden. If hidden counts as Zuko just wearing the necklace himself and hiding it under his clothes, then it was hidden. 

•••

Zuko hates that you haven’t shown up in weeks.

He also hates that he has noticed your absent presence. 

He knows he should be happy about not seeing you. After all, you are a thief and all you were doing was stealing precious valuables from him and the palace. Yet somehow he was beginning to find himself watching his windows at night, and at some point, he had become desperate enough to leave them unlocked throughout the night in hopes you’d visit.

You still didn’t. 

Although he hadn’t known you that long or that well, he had understood why you were doing what you were doing. After having to be on his own for a bit in his teenage years, he was able to realize the reality of what you were doing. He had assumed you felt the same way as him in his youth: lost and angry and desperate. Perhaps you had a family to feed. Perhaps it was just you. Perhaps you were just trying to survive, and this was the only way you knew how to do it.

Fortunately for him, his questionable rising feelings for you were ripped from his heart when he heard the news of why you had been gone for so long.

“She was seen harassing some girls by the river.” he had been told.

“She was jailed for a couple of nights for assaulting a group of men in a bar.”

“Not only was she stealing from you, but she has begun stealing from our citizens.”

“The people are scared, Zuko. She is a terror to our towns.”

Zuko knew you weren’t the greatest person to ever exist, but he didn’t expect you to go around assaulting people.

Harassing a group of girls? Stealing from innocent citizens? You were far from kind, and now that it was affecting people besides himself, he knew he had to do something. His people were in danger, and he wasn’t going to let some petty thief get away with assault and battery. He had to do something. His hand automatically came up to touch his mother’s necklace around his neck, knowing the fastest way to get you to come back would be to use that necklace. To sacrifice it.

•••

Sitting quietly on a tree branch as you munch on stolen bread, your gaze follows Zuko, who is pacing back and forth in his room. You knew you hadn’t been on your best game lately. More people were seeing you and there were growing numbers of your wanted posters each day. But you were growing desperate for money. You were aware that Zuko knew; how could he not? But he wouldn’t understand why you were doing all of this. While you’re busy watching his moves, you notice a shiny glint of a certain stone sitting on his chest. 

His mother’s necklace. 

Of course! You couldn’t find it anywhere in his room because he had been wearing it this entire time. You quickly decide tonight would be the night you’d sneak in to steal his necklace. But how? If he was wearing it the entire time, he would for sure wake up in the midst of you removing it from his body. You could probably knock him out first. Given that he was easy to knock out the first time, the second time shouldn’t be too hard. You bested him before; you could do it again.

After dropping down from the trees, climbing some bushes, and making your way up through walls and vines, you had managed to get to his window. 

It was unlocked.

Odd, since it was usually shut tight and locked. But it was unlocked and open and so easy to climb through. Zuko looks asleep, but he could be pretending to be. Was he trying to bait you? Get you to come in because guards were hiding and ready to ambush you? You hadn’t heard or seen anything, and since you had been watching him for a couple of hours, you hadn’t noticed anything. Shrugging, you decide to climb through anyway. You’d be able to fight back. Probably.

You silently land on his rug, walking over to him and standing over his body. His mother’s necklace sat around his neck, the moonlight shining on the precious stone and highlighting it in a beautiful glint. You watch him for a second, and this is the first time you get to look at him up close. 

His skin is practically flawless—perfect, even. The soft locks so perfectly frame his face shape and his jawline is so chiseled it could probably cut through ice and—

“Admiring my beauty?” his eyes slightly open, staring up at you.

You panic, rushing to grab your dagger from your side and practically climbing on top of him on his bed. In a split second he’s beneath you, your dagger to his throat once again.

“It’s you again,” he began, his hands at his side as if there wasn’t a whole ass dagger against his throat. “I was beginning to wonder where you had been. I missed you breaking into my room.”

“You look like you enjoy being threatened with a knife.” you spat out with a sly smirk.

“I wouldn’t say I hate it.” he teases, making no effort to resist you.

You press the blade to his throat once more, this time with much more force, and you hear his breath hitch. You weren’t actually planning on killing him; the cleanup would be far too messy. You just wanted to scare him, but he was looking more turned on than he was afraid.

“Do it again,” he tells you. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

“Making jokes when you’re the one in danger? That’s not very smart of you.” 

“I’m in danger? Oh, please. Don’t be ridiculous.” he grabs your leg from under, quickly turning the tables as he forces your body to his bed. You find yourself in his position, looking at him. He watches you from above, his long hair barely covering his face. His hands effortlessly pin yours above your head as you struggle against him. He’s pushed aside your legs so he’s fit snug between you and you can’t help but look down. God, what would the guards think if they walked in right now? You toss and turn against his silk sheets as he continues to stare you down, his gaze arrogant and inviting. Stealing your dagger, he tips your chin upwards with the end of it. He leans in closer, his body heat radiating off of him and his chest is practically pressed up against yours.

“So you could overpower me this whole time and only choose to do it now?” you question him. What the fuck was wrong with this guy?

“It joys me to be looking at you on top of me. But the view of you beneath me isn’t too bad either.” his voice is dangerously sweet and if you weren’t trying to steal from him you’d probably try to fuck him instead. With his body on top of yours and with his hips pressed against your own, your mind was beginning to cloud with the thought of taking his pants off instead of that dumb necklace.

“Is that so?” you ask him, raising an eyebrow.

“Turns me on.” he still has your knife on your chin.

“I figured you’d be a freak. Makes me wonder what other weird shit you’re into.”

“You could come and find out.”

“For a price I could.”

“I thought you were a thief; not a prostitute.”

“And I thought you were supposed to be good at fighting. Why have I bested you?”

“That’s simply because I let you.” 

You scoff. What the hell was up with this guy? “I bet you don’t even know how to use that. Put it down before you cut my precious face.”

“Oh, I would never do anything to hurt your beautiful face.” he lightly drags the knife against your skin, slowly and teasingly. 

“Having fun?” you tease, but you feel yourself swallow anxiously.

“Very much so. I know what you’re here for.” you watch Zuko as he continues to trace your skin with your own dagger. His eyes aren’t looking into yours, but are taking in your body.

“Alright, let’s make this easy then. Give me your necklace and I’ll leave,” you tell him. You were starting to grow more nervous the more he traced your skin with your dagger. Strangely though, you almost liked it. The sensation of the cold sharp metal against your skin was sending shivers of excitement down your spine.

“Have you seen your wanted posters? They’re all over the place.” he ignores your demand with a question.

“They could have drawn me better, but they’ll do.”

“It would appear no piece of art could capture your beauty so well. Looking at you up close and personal, those posters don’t do you any justice.” Zuko leans down, his mouth almost against yours, eyes droopy as he stares at your lips. 

You swallow nervously. Being trapped beneath him had you feeling anxious, but somewhere deep down excited. The way he was looking at you right now was definitely not the way you’d be looking at some criminal. He was staring at you like he was about to kiss you. 

You shakily exhale against his cheek, and he laughs lightly. Did you have asthma or something? Why were you breathing so heavily? You dare to look into his eyes, and it looks like a fire has been ignited in them. He moves his head so that his mouth is practically on your neck. You tense and shudder at the feeling of his hot breath against your bare skin.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers and his other hand moves to dangle his necklace in front of your face.

“Isn’t that what I just asked for?” you answer sarcastically. Being in close proximity to him was messing with your mind and body.

His robe is lazily draped around his body and his necklace dangles teasingly from his neck. Looking further down his body, you watch his broad chest heave as he teases you.

“It’s going to cost you.”

“You know I don’t have money.”

“It’s not money that I want.”

“What is it, then?”

Zuko smirks, and watching him has you feeling suspicious. Where was he going with this? Shouldn’t he be calling his guards in? You were wanted, and here he was sitting on top of you teasing you with your own knife? 

“Kiss me.” he finally tells you. His voice contrasts his expression; he speaks softly, gently.

“Are you fucking crazy? No.”

“I’m the one with the knife.”

“That all you got? Use it then.” you scoff.

Zuko hesitates, considering your statement. “Wouldn’t it be so sad to get stabbed with your own knife?” he smiles sadistically, and before you know it, he’s no longer on top of you. Your eyes widen in surprise as he grabs your hand and pins it to the wall above his bed, your dagger coming down about to stab your hand to the wall. 

You react quickly, dodging the stab and tackling him to the bed. Knocking the weapon from his hands, it falls to the floor louder than you thought it would. The heavy metal is obnoxiously loud in the silence of his room, and you both pause when you hear a guard from outside his room. 

“Are you alright, your majesty?” it’s one of the guards.

You panic once again, leaning down and pressing your lips against his to shut him up. If Zuko yelled that you were in here, you’d be thrown in jail again. You could handle fighting Zuko, but you probably couldn’t handle it if all his guards came in to fight you. 

He stills for a second against your lips, surprised you’re kissing him when just a few seconds ago he was aiming to stab your hand and pin it to the wall like a poster. But he knows you’re just doing it to shut him up, so he pulls away. Or at least, he tries to. But you’re pinning his hands above his head and holding his legs down with yours. 

Zuko struggles against your lips, trying to ignore the fact that you’re a good kisser and it’s distracting him from trying to get away from you. He should be pulling away from you; not pushing into you. When he comes to his senses, he manages to break free and scream.

“She’s here! The thief is here!”

•••

When you awaken, you see that you’ve been placed in a dark and dirty wet jail cell. You look up to see Zuko, standing on the other side of the bars, his hands holding on to the cell door as he stares down at you. You notice a glint of metal peaking out from the pocket of his pants. The keys.

“You’re a good kisser, I’ll give you that.” 

You ignore him. “What am I doing here?” Looking up at him makes you feel inferior, so you stand up, walking to where he is on the other side.

“Did you forget you’re a criminal? You’ve harassed two young girls by the river, assaulted four men at a bar, and stole from six houses in the area.” he lectures you. “You’re a menace to the town and you’re frightening my people. At first, I didn’t mind you stealing from me, but you’re going after innocent people now, and I will not stand by and let that happen,” he tells you, his voice high and authoritative. 

You scoff, did this guy even bother to investigate? “I was telling those girls by the river to fuck off or jump in because they were bullying a girl their age earlier in an alleyway and I saw. I beat the shit out of those men at the bar because they were trying to drug someone’s drink and nobody saw but me. Those six houses I stole from were just their homes. I may be a thief, but I’m not some crazy criminal that goes after innocent people.”

He looks taken aback, his knuckles turning white from gripping the cell bars too tightly. He stares at you, dumbfounded. 

“Even so,” he starts. “You can’t take matters into your own hands. We have law enforcement for that. You should’ve reported it. Why did you get involved?”

“Your police officers are trash. That shit show of a place is my home neighborhood, and your uptight officers don’t want to bother policing around because it’s poor. No one else is going to do something, so I did.” you tell him. Not that Zuko needed to know much about your shitty and poor upbringing. He wouldn’t understand anyways; he grew up in a fucking palace. 

“I’m working on that.”

“Not fast enough, clearly. If you’re not going to fix the problem of crime, then I will.”

“You can’t fight fire with fire.”

“Well I did and it worked. You wouldn’t know; you’re just a spoiled prince born into the royal family. You don’t know shit about struggle.”

It was like a slap to his face. “You don’t know me,” he snaps, his jaw tightening.

Looks like you've hit a nerve. If Zuko wasn’t pissed earlier, he was definitely pissed off now. You couldn’t understand him at all. First, he stares at you like he wants to fuck you, then he tries to drive a dagger through your hand, then he’s complimenting the way you kiss him, and now he’s looking at you like he’s going to keep you locked up forever. 

This man was attracted to you. 

And he had no idea how to deal with it.

A smile dances on your lips, feeling cocky and confident you’ve figured him out. He wants you, but he hates you. He hates what you’ve done, but he can’t help but be attracted to you. 

“You want me,” you begin, your hand forcefully grabbing the collar of his shirt. You eye his chest; his mother’s necklace is gone. “And you hate it.” you figured maybe you could use the fact that he wanted you to get out of jail. Maybe, just maybe, if you seduced him successfully, he’ll let you go. It was either that or violence.

“What the hell are you doing?” he rasps. His eyes search for yours in the dark in a panic. He is unsure of what to do, unsure of how to react, unsure of what to say. “Why the hell would I want you? You’re a criminal,” he says in disgust. “A thief,” he continues. 

“I just told you why I did those things. Can’t you let it go just this once?” you peer up at him, tilting your chin towards him. Your lips hover over his, and if it weren’t for the stupid metal bars between the two of you, you’d have hugged him. You hoped your shit way of seducing him was working at least a little.

Zuko’s eyes draw together in irritation. He was struggling to breathe, the close proximity throwing him off. It was dark, moody, and he could barely make out your face but even so, he was unable to tear his gaze from yours. He wasn’t sure if you were actually feeling him, and his gut told him you were just some filthy liar, but he couldn’t help but begin to feel bad for you. After hearing your explanation for your questionable actions, he was starting to feel that maybe you weren’t just some menacing thief the town made you out to be.

He ignores your question. “You can’t take my necklace this way,” he tells you, wondering if you were pulling this close to try and snatch it from his neck.

“I noticed you’re not wearing it,” you reply, wondering what more you might need to do to get him to slightly lean into you a bit more. “Please, Zuko.” you plead. “I have a younger brother to feed.” a total fucking lie.

His face leans closer to yours between the bars, and when you see in his eyes he’s let his guard down, you make your move. The keys are in one of your hands and the other punches him straight in his face, knocking him down. His body unconsciously slides down the bars as you quickly move to unlock the jail cell door. When you step out, your eye catches the shimmering glint of a stone on the ground. His mother’s necklace had fallen out of his other pocket.

“Fucking idiot.”

•••

She’s a filthy liar.

She’s a filthy liar.

She’s a filthy liar.

Zuko told himself that over and over like it was some sort of mantra. He thought that if he said it enough times, he’d eventually believe it. He had been absolutely humiliated by you. He was in utter shock that he let you seduce him, feel guilty for jailing you, feel bad for your supposed horrible life, and knock him out to escape jail. 

While he had to begrudgingly admit that you outsmarted him, at least he got you to stop your crimes. It was almost as if you didn’t exist at all. You had disappeared from the Fire Nation completely, nowhere to be seen in nearby towns or cities. When he sent out a search party, they had come back to him with news of your where your home was. 

“Burn it down,” he had told his men. “Burn it all down. That’ll get her to come out and give me my necklace back.”

“Are you sure? What about the people?” they were unsure.

“Stage it as an accident. And make sure there is nobody nearby. She took the most valuable thing from me, so I will simply do the same.” he could have totally gone after your brother, but he wasn’t a murderer.

God, Zuko was such a genius for that! You would for sure come marching back into his chambers demanding answers if he showed you that he meant business. And maybe you’d threaten him with a knife again.

God, Zuko was such an idiot for that.

He wondered if you were causing chaos in other places, but if you were, he would have been informed of it. He was unsure how you were living your life until he went back to his chambers that night.

Now that you had stolen his mother’s necklace, Zuko guessed you probably broke it up to sell it in pieces and were probably living quietly off of that money. But if that were true, then it was only a matter of time before you ran out of the money and were going to strike again. He debated if he wanted to send out a search party of his own to capture you, but he didn’t want his citizens to fear you again.

Instead, he merely sent out a search party to figure out your location. You were currently residing with a couple of farmers in the countryside, living quietly as you worked for them in the fields. He thought it was odd that you were working; after all, his mother’s necklace was worth thousands, so you could definitely live off of that for a while. It had only been half a year since he’s last seen you, so realistically maybe you did run out of money. 

He wanted to know what you did with his mother’s necklace. Where you sold it, who you sold it to, and when. That was one of the few items he had left of his mother, so he had held onto it like a child holding onto their favorite stuffed toy. And you had ripped it out of his hands like an angry parent. Zuko wanted to keep the whole situation under wraps, so instead of visiting you in person, he figured he’d do it some other way.

•••

“Lin, you have a letter.” one of the farmers handed you an envelope. You had taken a job under a fake name for some random people in the countryside after stealing Zuko’s necklace and running away. After coming back to your house burned down, you had no other choice but to leave. Sitting on some hay bales in the sheds, you tear open the envelope.

I want my mother’s necklace back. Send back with messenger.

Zuko

You scoff. Was Zuko that much of a coward he couldn’t show up in person and demand things with his own voice? He really had to send a whole letter and waste paper? When you didn’t respond, another letter came two weeks later.

I know you didn’t sell it. If you did, you wouldn’t be working for these farmers.

Zuko

and I know you don’t have a younger brother.

So Zuko was watching you, or at least he was having someone do the watching for him. But he was right about you not selling his mother’s necklace. You had stolen it in hopes of making some money off it by selling it on the black market, but after inspecting it further you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

It was something small and insignificant, but you could tell it meant everything to him. There was an engraving on the back of the stone, possibly hand carved by his mother. For My Zuko. You didn’t know much about the royal family, but you did know Zuko very much cared for her. Inspecting the necklace in detail reminded you of your own mother who had disappeared when you were younger. You hadn’t seen her since she disappeared without a trace, as Zuko’s mother did. Although she had left you, prior to that she was loving and caring and did her best to raise you as a single mother. 

You hated how his mother’s necklace made you think of your own. It opened a floodgate of emotions you didn’t have time to deal with. As weak as it made you, you didn’t have the heart to sell it. If anything, you were just going to give it back and move on with your life. But when Zuko sent word asking for it back, you knew what would happen if you did.

You’d give him back the necklace and in return, ask to be pardoned for your crimes. He’d probably oblige, and that would be the end of it. You would go back to being a petty thief and he would go back to ruling the Fire Nation. And the two of you would never interact again.

Something about the thought of Zuko no longer chasing after you had you hesitating to give the necklace back. Something about Zuko not being completely afraid of you had you hesitating. Something about Zuko being more intrigued than terrified of you had you hesitating. 

You hated it. You hated how he tugged at your heart strings and had you stopping in your tracks and thinking of ways to get him to keep reaching out to you. To keep chasing you. 

When you replied to his first two letters with silence, he sent another one a week later.

I apologize for the inconvenience I might have caused you by burning down your house. I didn’t realize that shed made of rotten wood was actually a home to you. Please accept the gold coins included to get you by.

Zuko

Shed? That shed?! Zuko was the one who burned your home down when you thought there was some sort of accident? If Zuko was trying to piss you off, it was working. Your blood was boiling and you felt your rage rising in your blood and all you wanted to do in the moment was hunt him down and punch him square in the nose for doing that to you. Although it wasn’t much, it gave you shelter and kept you dry and warm. You were grateful for it; besides, some people had it worse.

You continued to stay on the farm under a fake name, trying to get by as you planned your next move (you did not have another move) when you received another letter.

The gold coins were for you, not my messenger. Feel free to use them. There is no catch, in case that is what you are thinking. And you do not owe me anything in return except my mother’s necklace. 

Zuko

“Got a lover?” the farmer asked as he watched you read the letter.

“No,” the word escaped your mouth too quickly than it should have.

“Friend?”

“Not really.”

“Family member?”

“Nope.”

“Then?”

You paused. You weren’t sure what Zuko was. A lover? Not quite. Besides being on top of him an odd number of times in a short period of time and kissing him, the two of you weren’t in love. Enemies? You did knock him out and he tried to stab a hole through your hand and he did threaten you with a knife and throw you in jail and burn down your house, but—

“Ah, I see it’s complicated,” he told you, his eyes on yours.

Over a couple of weeks, you began to receive more letters from Zuko. Each one grew more desperate than the previous.

It gets quiet here around the palace now that you are gone. It is far too peaceful and I am beginning to crave the chaos you previously brought to my life. I wouldn’t mind if you reintroduced that chaos again.

Forget the necklace for now. Write me back.

Zuko

•••

In case you did not receive my previous letter, I am writing a new one. Your wanted posters have been taken down from the city, and like I told you, they do not do you justice. Perhaps a visit from you and we can redo the posters. Not to hang up again, but only so that I do not begin to think you are a horrendous hag as they make you out to be. You are completely the opposite.

Zuko

•••

I apologize if my previous letter offended you. I do not have a way with words. I only meant to compliment your beauty. Unfortunately, I am unable to describe it with words, so I apologize for not being a poet. The only thing I can think of is how you make me feel when you are trying to kill me with that dagger of yours. My heart stops and my gaze can only follow your actions. It is dangerous. You are dangerous. But I like it. And I miss it.

Zuko

•••

I do not know how many letters I have sent you. Normally I write them during the day because writing them at night makes me feel unnecessary emotions related to my longing for you. Please respond to at least one. I am getting desperate. So desperate I woke up in the middle of the night to write this one. The moonlight is shining through the window as I write this, and the only thing I can think of is how the moonlight highlights your beauty and how your sharp gaze pierces through my soul every time I gaze into the warm universe that is your eyes.

Please forget about the necklace entirely. I do not need its return. I only need yours.

Zuko

•••

Zuko is a light sleeper. Any sort of noise, whether it is a footstep or a gust of wind, he can and will wake up. It’s a footstep. His eyes twitch open in annoyance. Why are they opening his window? He had specifically told the servants to stay out of his chambers when he goes to bed, so why are they opening his windows? It’s far too cold and he didn’t need any fresh air–

There are no servants.

Zuko’s body jerks to life, abruptly sitting up and rubbing his eyes to clear his vision. Across from his bed is his window being forced open, a loud gust of wind interrupting him. There is a figure at the window, barely crawling in. Struggling to make it through the entrance, he watches the practically lifeless body stumble through onto his floor before he steps out of bed in a panic.

It’s you.

You’re hunched over on the floor, hand gripping your stomach as blood seeps through your fingers.

“What–” he barely has time to talk as he’s rushing over to you, lifting you into his arms effortlessly as he brings you over to his bed and lies you down. Hurriedly, he shrugs off his robe and presses it down over your stomach. He’s shirtless now, basically naked, but that doesn’t matter. But he did see you look him up and down. “What are you doing here?” he presses down on your wound to apply pressure.

“I–I didn’t know where else to go.” you managed to let out through clenched teeth.

“Who did this to you?” Zuko demanded, his tone of voice high and authoritative. 

“I’m fucking bleeding out and you’re asking me that?”

“Put pressure on this. I’ll call my doctor–stay here.”

After rushing out of his personal chambers to wake his doctor up in the middle of the night, he waited outside as they worked on you. It was a fresh stab wound. It wasn’t too deep and didn’t hit any vital organs, but you’d still be in pain when you woke up.

When you wake up, you instantly feel the pain from your stab wound. Your hand automatically moves to your stomach only to feel you’ve been wrapped up in bandages. Blinking, you sit up. A fire is going across the room, it is warm and cozy as opposed to the other nights you’ve spent in here. The other times you’ve been here have been cold and empty, but now it is the opposite. 

“Tea?” Zuko suddenly speaks up from the other side of the room. He crosses the floor and hands you a mug. “It’s jasmine.”

Taking a sip, you feel the hot liquid soothe your dry throat. “It’s nice to wake up in a bed rather than a wet jail cell.”

“You wouldn’t have been in that jail cell had you not assaulted me,” he slightly jokes, sitting across from you on the edge of the bed. 

He looks rugged, and tired, almost as if he hasn’t been sleeping. He gazes at you, his eyes softened as he watches your movements. He almost looks worried.

“So I suppose I’ll be going back to jail after you let me rest up a bit?”

He ignores your question, only choosing to tug his blanket further up your body in an attempt to warm you up. “Didn’t you get my letters?”

“I did.”

“You didn’t reply to any of them.”

“I didn’t know what to say.” A moment of silence fills the room, and you feel the need to fill it by continuing to speak. “I didn’t sell your mother’s necklace. I still have it.”

“You do?” his eyes light up, hopeful.

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Why’s that?” he ponders as you reach into your pocket to hand the precious jewelry back to its rightful owner.

“Reminded me of my own mother.” you don’t elaborate further. 

Zuko seems to sense this because he sets the matter aside with a small and quick nod, opting to watch you instead.

“Here,” you pull the necklace out from your pockets with a trembling hand and reach to hand it to him.

He notices your trembling hand, choosing to close his own hands around yours instead of taking the necklace. His hands feel like a warm embrace that engulf you in safety and warmth.

“Thank you,” he says as he sets the necklace down beside him. “But I’m more worried about you now.”

“After I stole from you and assaulted you?”

“It would seem I’m into women who can kill me.”

He looks up at you through his curled lashes, the soft locks of his hair caressing his face as he stares into your eyes, holding your gaze. “What happened to you?” he whispers gently, leaning closer to you.

It’s intimate, really. He’s in such close proximity it makes your heart beat with anxiety the closer he gets. You’d never noticed this before, but Zuko truly holds such a soft beauty to him it’s hard to look away. 

“One of those guys at the bar I beat up. Found me walking on the street alone.” you explain.

“You shouldn’t be out on the streets alone at night.”

You scoff. “Please, you should’ve seen what I did to him.”

“He stabbed you.”

“I stabbed him back. And at least all my bones are nice and intact. His, however, are not.”

A crooked smile spreads across his face. “Impressive.”

There’s an awkward silence and suddenly your mind goes back to the letters that he sent you. Each one grew more desperate the more time that passed and the more you ignored him. You recall each one practically confessing his feelings for you. 

Why though? How could Zuko even fall for you? After all you did to him: the stealing and thieving, the assaulting, everything. Yet he confessed through his letters, and you were sure he was about to confess again right now.

“Those letters,” you begin before he can even say anything. “Did you mean what you said in them?” 

“Every word.” he confirms. “You don’t believe me?”

“After all I’ve done to you, it’s hard to.”

“You can consider yourself pardoned for your crimes. Happy?” he offers.

“That’s perfect, actually. I was going to dangle your mother’s necklace in front of you and demand to be pardoned.”

“It’s too bad you got stabbed before having the chance to do so.”

“Still hard to believe your feelings though, I’ll admit.” you tell him.

A pause. Then, “Why don’t I show you then?”

The question hangs in the air. The air that’s slowly been filling with the unspoken sexual tension building between you both since you woke up. 

“Alright, prove it to me then.”

Zuko simply smiles in response before his lips are on yours. Despite what you thought, his kiss is gentle and you find yourself melting into it. You relax into his touch, into the fingers that find your hair to gently stroke the back of your head with such tender love and care. 

You’re out of breath quickly as he pulls away, his lips meeting the hot skin of your neck. You lean back slowly, trying to be mindful of your fresh stab wound. 

“Careful now,” he whispers against your neck and you shudder. “Lie down.” 

He guides your body so that you are comfortably laying on your back and his lips are at your neck again, leaving hot kisses across your skin. His hands firmly stroke your thighs, squeezing assuredly as he continues sucking and kissing at your skin. You arch into him, wincing at the pain in your stomach before he pulls away.

“Didn’t think a couple of kisses would have you arching your back.”

“Shut up and go down on me.” you demand as you begin to wriggle out of your pants.

“A former criminal telling the Fire Lord what to do? My my, think of the gossip that would go around if word of this got out.” he teases, propping your legs up and setting his hands on your knees. 

Zuko playfully spreads your legs open with his hands, stroking the exposed skin. He leans down, leaving a kiss on your thigh. His mouth continues on your skin, leaving kisses and bite marks and you feel yourself softly moaning from his kisses. Your hips slightly jerk up, and in response he gently holds you down with his hands. 

Pulling away from your thighs, he runs an experimental lick into your slit, and you feel yourself tremble in arousal. He holds your thighs open as you tense around him, yanking his hair to pull him further into you. You feel him softly laugh in response before he opens his mouth. He slowly and teasingly drags his tongue up your pussy, eliciting a moan from your lips. You gasp when you feel him sucking on your clit, expertly working on it as he gently sucks on it. 

You yank on his hair again, and you both moan at the sensation of pleasure running through your veins. You feel yourself heating up as your hips hump his face and his tongue drags up and down your pussy. You feel yourself throbbing, sweat beading at your forehead as he allows you to practically ride his face and pull on his hair. 

Something about Zuko letting you have your way with him has you throbbing and tightening around nothing. You whimper breathlessly and you feel him smile in response. He pulls away only for a second to blow cold air against your throbbing pussy, and you feel yourself shudder at the sensitivity. 

“Pull away again and I’ll give you a matching stab wound.” you threaten, yanking his hair again to drag him to where he belongs. 

“You’re lucky I’m into this.” he chuckles as he gives into your demand, tongue going back to your clit. 

You feel his fingers creep up to your slit, teasingly rubbing at your entrance before he slips a finger in. It slips in instantly, your slick wetness coating his finger as he moves it further into you. Your legs wrap around his neck and while he may or may not be able to breathe, you’re not worried about that. He’ll find a way. You enjoy his finger working you with his tongue in your clit, but you need more.

“More.” you demand.

“More of what?” he pulls away and stares at you from between your legs. 

“Your fingers.”

“So greedy you are.” he complains, but obliges anyway. 

You feel him insert two more fingers and you find yourself riding both his face and his fingers. You let out a moan of pleasure, your chest heaving as you ride closer to your high. You can feel Zuko squirming in his pants and you’re sure he might be uncomfortable, but in this moment you’re only worried about your own pleasure and it would seem he feels the same way. 

“F-Fuck,” you stutter, your hands fisting his bed sheets. 

“Careful, that’s silk.” he warns you against your pussy.

“Shut up and keep sucking.” you yank him back and he continues.

You continue to rock your hips up into his face as he fingers your slick pussy, fucking you harder and faster as your moans grow more desperate and your hips begin to clumsily rock against his face. He sucks at your clit and adds another finger and that’s when you feel yourself spill over the edge, shuttering and shaking against him as he helps you through your orgasm, fingers slowly helping you through it.

When you’ve come down from your high, he sits up, a visible boner against his robes. “Did you think we were done?” he smirks, wiping his face with the back of his hand and leaning in for another kiss.

•••

a/n: it’s my one year anniversary of writing on this blog! my next zuko story will not be him as fire lord i’ve written too many fics w him as fire lord, so i’ll switch it up in my next one <3

also nanami from jjk is next if anyone cares (ik i said i’d post levi after but he can wait lmao)

m.list

[starryyskies]

Lil update in case y’all care ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

I’m moving from my shit apartment starting the beginning of august, and my current semester ends near august 13th. My next semester starts almost 2 weeks after (classes start on the 22nd but it’s good to get it started earlier since most classes open early).

Hopefully by then I’ll be moved out, feel more organized and less stressed, and manage my time a bit better.

Classes are going well despite being super fucking stressful, I’m at the very least passing for now lol

But as for drawing, besides that one doodle I finished and coloured, I haven’t been able to do anything at all. It really disappoints me because I see all this amazing art and my fomo (fear of missing out) gets so bad lol. But I am being responsible and doing my best (╥ᆺ╥；)

Thank you guys for your support and kindness and understanding ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

So in case you’re curious my struggles currently read below lol

So, the place I work at, my store is a corporation and we’ve been basically getting babysat by managers from other stores who are also watching their own store, getting paid a shit amount for creating and maintaining not just the scheduling for both stores, but also managing any issues that arise. So we’re on our 4th manager now, and while he’s the sweetest and fucking raddest manager of all times, he is doing the bare minimum for our store. And trust me, I do NOT blame him. To be honest, he is getting paid salary for being a manager of his own store, and it’s like 56k a year or something which isn’t bad at all. But watching a completely different store?

75. Dollars. A WEEK?! That is LITERALLY a slap in the face. That is the CEO saying a big ass fuck you to its employees. So of course he’s doing the bare minimum. Coping and pasting parts of the schedule, he never comes into our store, and while he’s attentive when it comes to issues, he’s our only source of upper management support we have.

We have workers who have worked with the company for 3+ years, 8+ years, and 20 years. They know what they’re doing, but when I am running the shift by myself, I can’t rely on my coworkers to get back to me, because they are not obligated to.

So the schedule is pretty awful sometimes. Sometimes we’re over staffed when we could’ve used the help other times, sometimes we’re severely understaffed. Like for example, today was a shit show. We had 3 people during our busiest time. (I work at a coffee shop) and so we have one person on register who also takes care of the food and packs the deliveries, and then one person on the coffee bar is not enough to handle the amount of drinks they get, so I was basically running back and forth to support both positions while also making sure my coworkers got their breaks. Icing on the cake was when we realized it was way too hot inside the cafe and learned our AC is broken AGAIN! It was 84 degrees before I left work. That is miserable running around taking care of hot drinks and food.

This is something I deal with at least 2 times a week

While also doing school work full time, having a strict deadline to follow to submit assignments (thankfully it’s all online so I can be somewhat flexible)

And on top of all of that, I’m moving in 2 weeks, school finals will be going on by then, and life has been kicking my family in the ass.

My step dad, who I’ve know since I was 6-7, he’s been that second dad to me, I think of him as a hero. He unfortunately has been diagnosed with single cell lung cancer. It had spread to his ribs and femur. While he’s still fighting and going through aggressive treatment, I’m not sure what the outcome will be. He’s putting on a strong face, so I can’t tell how serious it is.

My grandfather is also in the hospital. He’s had a heart condition that requires him to wear an AED pacemaker in his chest, and recently it was used because he had a seizure. He’s not doing too well, and who knows what will happen.

Oh! And my older sister’s wedding is IN TWO MONTHS! I’m the damn maid of honor, and I do nottttt like the attention. She’s the kinda person who likes big fancy weddings but she’s doing her best financially to make it happen, though she also was promoted to manager for her store (we work for the same company) and going through that crazy long training is surly not fun lol.

But anyway, thanks for reading my rambles. Sometimes I feel like nobody really cares but I get reminded that there are people out there who are wondering how I am. So this is for you people

(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[nardo-headcanons]

Hello!

I'm currently planning out a fic centering around an oc from kiri, and I was wondering if you could expand a little on the scenery of kiri? Maybe just idea's of how kirigakure looks on the inside, specific buildings that could be of importance inside the village, ect if thats alright with you.

omg a request fjsanag

Hi there nonnie! Of course I can do that! I love talking about the scenery of different places in Naruto and Kiri is one of my favorite places to explore! I'm also currently planning on posting about holidays and festive occasions in the big ninja villages, where Kiri is included as well. So make sure to stick around ;)

This is the third expansion of my current Kirigakure Worldbuilding Headcanons, which can be found here and here.

Kirigakure Worldbuilding III - The Scenery of Kirigakure

Rice fields around Kirigakure

As previously established, rice is an important part in the local eating pyramid of Kirigakure. The population of the water country is very small and lives rather centralized, most water people are Kirigakure citizens. The few ones that aren't usually are rice farmers or fishermen.

Directly around the village

As we know, the village of Kirigakure itself is surrounded by mountains. However, there are also depictions of Kiri being a coastal city. This made me come to the conclusion that the landscape around Kiri probably looks similar to the coastline of vietnam.

Inside the village

Unfortunately, I haven't found any pictures resemmbling Kirigakure architecture. I even tried dabbling my toes into AI image generation, but the results were very bland and unsatisfying. Since the only canonical depiction of Kirigakure as a whole is the image below, we have a to use a little more imagination here. However, I got a little more inspiritation from imagines of the Kirigakure minecraft building project.

Buildings in Kirigakure

Kirigakure is criss crossed by rivers, so the urban planners of Kiri had to maneuver around that. Unlike Iwagakure, who can just erect buildings out of nothing due to their earth chakra affinity, Kirigakure's builds are carefully planned and constructed and involve a lot of bureaucracy.

The architecture of Kirigakure is compromised of large, cylindrical buildings which have vegetation growing on their roofs. This is a fantastic way to emulate the shape of the mountains surrounding the village, which makes it hard to spot, all hidden in the thick wades of fog. The residence of the mizukage is the widest and overall largest building of them all. It serves as both the home and the office of the mizukage, the Oi nin headquarters are also located in the same building.

Other important buildings of Kirigakure include the Kiri hospital, the Kiri academy and the Kiri waste management facility.

The Kiri hospital

As previously established, Kirigakure offers free healthcare for everybody, even lower castes. The kiri hospital is a tall, sky-scaper- like building which looks similar to the other buildings. Medic ninja are trained here, however their pay is very sparse. They are provided with housing and basic food rations and their salary is just enough to be able to afford eating out once a month. Members of lower castes often have to wait long waiting times to finally get an appointment with the only way of cutting it short being a 'voluntary' member of Kirigakure's experimental treatment program, where, as the name implies, experimental drugs and other therapies are tested.

The Kiri academy

As opposed to other villages, genin, chunin, jonin and anbu are all trained in the same building, which is the Kirigakure academy. Since the government has enrolled policies to encourage its citizens to eat and drink healthy, genin are handed out sauerkraut juice and lunch boxes for free, others are expected to pay.

The Kiri waste management facility

Kirigakure is a very clean village with a nationwide reclycling system. Inside the waste management facility, reusables are autoclaved and redelivered to the businesses that need them. Biodegragable waste is sorted by its biodegradation speed and then composted or used to produce natural gas. Due to its advances in scientific research, Kiri scientists have developed microorganisms that can slowly degrade many organic materials, including plastic. This is a highly controlled process, which is why the Kiri waste management facility is almost as well locked and protected as the Oi nin headquarters.

The Kiri waste management facility and the Kiri hospital both also serve as Kirigakure's main research facilities where biochemical, medical and general scientific research are conducted. Its advantages in research paired with the authoritarian nature of the goverment have proven to be an advantage in the face of catastrophes, such as endemic outbreaks of pathogens or natural desasters.

Aside from these buildings, there are other buildings important to the Kiri infrastructure, such as a thermal power plant on the outskirts of the village.

Other important places in Kirigakure

Big restaurants are a rarity in Kirigakure since most people can't really afford to eat out. Most of the time it's a small family owned business with a specialization in one dish or two. Cultural sites aren't found often either, since many ethnicities and cultures have been wiped out due to the ongoing political unrest in Kirigakure. The only remnants of clan culture in Kirigakure come from high ranking castes, such as the Hozuki and the Hoshigaki clan. The remaining places where people can meet up are Kiri's luscious parks and the public bathhouse. It is a place to meet and talk with all your friends, as Kiri bathhouses are traditionally unisex.

Dear anon, I really hope this is what you were looking for when making your request. As I said, finding fitting pictures really wasn't easy. If you have any more questions, feel free to make another request!

That's all, folks!

[thefirsthogokage]

So, the AMPTP basically said that the studios take too much risk to pay people anything for streaming shows. Here's John Rogers and David Slack responding to that.

(link to top of thread)

[Image ID: A tweet thread from John Rogers on July 23rd, 2023 that reads in its entirety:

Last time I had a failure - which was collateral damage in an argument between the studio and the network - I had to personally fire 200 people, they all were off payroll by that afternoon, and I was also out of a job. The executives all continued to get paid. So fuck off.

Actually, that’s not true. The failure after that one happened as collateral damage in one of the mergers, so it had nothing to do with the quality of the show. And I had to wait, forbidden to work, not earning a dime, as they shopped it for six months.

Also several of my writers were cheated of their expected salaries, some losing up to 75%, for reasons too complicated to explain here. Those executives, both studio and streamer, all kept their jobs. So double fuck off.

Actually no, my last failure was a show where after delivery the network made us wait *seven months … for a PASS*. Seven months where I was in first position, and again, was forbidden from working.

Do that was one pilot fee, cut in half with a partner, for a year and a half’s work counting development. Those executives, both studio and network, kept their jobs.

So *triple* fuck off.

Luckily I had my tiny sliver of back end from TRANSFORMERS - no, wait, no, because according to the Hollywood accounting while that movie grossed something like a billion dollars all in, it unfortunately wound up $36 million in the hole.

So QUADRUPLE fuck off.

If you’re dumb enough to take that AMPTP statement at face value, responsible adults should remove all the scissors from your home. You are the reason hair dryers have the “Do not use while sleeping” warning.

/End ID]

I believe that merger one was Leverage or The Librarians. Both were doing REALLY well before they got cancelled due to network shit, I know that much. So the network/studio one could be either of those as well. Probably Leverage?

(Link to top of thread)

[Image ID: A tweet thread from David Slack posted July 21st, 2023 that reads in its entirety:

The studios claim they shouldn’t have to share revenue for the success of the shows we make succeed because they assume all the risk.

Well.

To paraphrase a famous actor: There’s more than one type of risk, motherfucker.

While the studios and their new hedge fund besties may assume some modest financial risk, any losses just go on a balance sheet next to the C-suite’s golden parachutes.

The workers in this industry, on the other hand, risk a hell of a lot more than that.

Most working actors live with the constant uncertainty of never knowing where their next paycheck will come from or how long it will be between jobs. That’s risk.

If they work a second job, they often risk losing it every time they take time off for auditions or jobs.

Actors also generally have little control over the final product, so *every* role is a risk for them. Sure, it could be the hit that changes everything. But it could also be a flop that hurts their career for years. They become “the guy from that thing” and can’t get more work.

Under our old contract, writers put in untold hours of free work developing and rewriting pitches and scripts for features and TV. Much of this work is on spec. That’s a huge risk writers take on — yet the studios are happy to benefit from the upside without taking on any risk.

Writers, actors, crew, and directors also risk our personal relationships, spending long hours at work, frequently across the country or around the world. Our partners soldier on without us. Our kids miss us and we can only hope they’ll understand.

That’s a huge risk.

Stunt performers literally risk their lives for the shows we make. Productions and crews take every possible precaution to ensure their safety, but accidents still can and do happen.

You gonna try and tell us that’s not risk?

All of us risk our health and safety working insane hours to keep up with the schedules our bosses create. When was the last time David Zaslav or Bob Iger worked a Fraturday? Do they even know what one is?

In production, where 14, 15, and 16 hour days are common, people have died from falling asleep at the wheel driving to and from set.

And the studios have the fucking gall to say they’re taking all the risk?

We risk our finances, our families, our friendships, our futures, and sometimes our lives to make a product for you that you have no idea how to make yourselves.

All you risk is money.

And by the fucking way, we *know* you can afford to give us success-based pay — because you’ve been doing it for 83 YEARS.

Remember 1960? When both the WGA and SAG went on strike and won…

residuals for TV?

Residuals for TV *are* success-based pay. Great movies and TV shows re-ran more often, so the people who created and starred in them got more money as a reward for that success. It’s a great system that incentivized workers to bust their asses to make great shows.

And you know what happened to the entertainment industry in the 8 decades studios have been making these success-based payments?

IT THRIVED.

Studios made billions in revenue selling our product all around the world.

But now, the studios say they can’t afford it. They say it’s not “fair” for actors to ask for success-based pay because they don’t take on any risk.

That’s stupid.

It’s offensive.

And it’s a lie.

It’s shameful that the AMPTP and their studio bosses are trying to deny the workers who make their product a bonus for success that is time-tested and has 83 years of precedent.

And that they’re lying about it?

That’s just… uncivilized. #WGAStrong #SAGAFTRAStrong

/End ID]

The absolute fuckery of this statement that came from the AMPTP is that the studios thought this would gain them sympathy. They were wrong. They genuinely thought this was a good statement from them because they DO think they take all the risk because they can't see people who don't have their wealth as real people. They can't.

Wealth is a disease.

No one should make the kind of money these people make. It makes them so out of touch they think of themselves as gods among ants. They step on those ants? They don't notice. They don't care. They just keep moving forward to gain as much money as possible, even though they have no way to spend it.

Fuck the studios, a new system needs to be built around them so that they'll die.

[angeltreasure]

“Stojan Adasevic, a Serbian abortionist when Serbia was still a communist country, managed to kill 48,000 children in utero in his 26 years as a purveyor of death.

Sometimes up to 35 per day.

But that's all on the past, as Stojan is now one of Serbia's most important pro-life voices.

As explained in a recent interview with the Spanish daily newspaper, La Razon:

The medical textbooks of the Communist regime said abortion was simply the removal of a blob of tissue. Ultrasounds allowing the fetus to be seen did not arrive until the 1980s, but they did not change his opinion. Regardless of what he believed, or thought he believed, Stojan began to have nightmares.

In describing his conversion to La Razon, Adasevic "dreamed about a beautiful field full of children and young people who were playing and laughing, from four to 24 years of age, but who ran away from him in fear. A man dressed in a black and white habit stared at him in silence. The dream was repeated each night and he would wake up in a cold sweat.

One night Stojan asked the man in black and white in his frightening dream as to his identity.

"My name is Thomas Aquinas," he responded. Stojan, educated in communist schools that pushed atheism instead of real learning, didn't recognize the Dominican saint's name.

Stojan asked the nightly visitor, "Who are these children?"

"They are the ones you killed with your abortions," St. Thomas told him bluntly and without preamble.

Stojan awoke in shock and fear. He decided he would refuse to participate in any more abortions.

Unfortunately, that very day in which he made his decision, one of his cousins came to the hospital with his four months-pregnant girlfriend―they had hoped for an abortion. Apparently, it wasn’t her first which is not uncommon in countries of the Soviet bloc.

Stojan reluctantly agreed, but, instead of the usual Dilation and Curettage (D&C) Method in which the fetus is torn apart with the use of a hook shaped knife called a curette, he decided to chop it up and remove it as a single mass.

Horrifically and providentially, his little cousin's heart came out still beating.

It was then that Dr. Adasevic realized that he had indeed killed a human being.

Stojan immediately notified his hospital that he would no longer perform abortions.

No physician in communist Yugoslavia had ever before refused to perform an abortion. The hospital and government's reaction was swift and severe.

His salary was cut in half and his daughter was immediately fired from her job. In addition, Stojan's son wasn't allowed to matriculate into the state university.

After many years of surviving the many privations orchestrated by pro-abortion/pro-death fundamentalist atheist government, Stojan was about to buckle under the pressure and give into its demands.

Fortunately, Stojan had another dream about St. Thomas.

St. Thomas assured Stojan of his friendship and Stojan was in turn inspired.

The physician became involved in the pro-life movement in Yugoslavia. In fact, he was able to get the state-run Yugoslav television station to twice broadcast Bernard Nathanson's anti-abortion film The Silent Scream.

Since then, Stojan has told of his anti-abortion stance and his reversion to the Orthodox faith of his childhood to newspapers and television stations throughout Eastern Europe. In fact, he has a strong devotion to St. Thomas Aquinas and is rarely, if ever, without the saint's books―his constant reading material.

Stojan often reminds his listeners that in his Summa Theologiæ, St. Thomas wrote that human life begins forty days after fertilization. Perhaps, Stojan would opine, "the saint wanted to make amends for that error."

Today Stojan continues to fight for the lives and rights of the unborn.”

[13thdoctorposts]

I just ordered all of Jodie's era on DVD (I'm a physical media lover) and can I say how wonderful and ironic it is to see the thousands of top star reviews for her merchandise and how stuff like certain figurines and her TARDIS figurine are either totally sold out or priced up hundreds of pounds when the haters say she's unpopular and doesn't sell. I mean she even has her officially licensed scarf and everything lol. People love her Doctor.

People seem to take the downward trend of spending during the pandemic as some sort of indictment that 13/Jodie doesn't sell, when in fact in 2018/9 there was a ton of merch that sold just like all Doctor Who merch does, we got the 10inch doll, a barbie, action figures, her sonic, her series 11 funko pop set, 3 novels with matching audio books, 5 YA/Kids books, Comics, games, eaglemoss figures... and thats just off the top of my head and doesn't even include all the generic DW merch... then 2020 came... 13 era merch seemed to vanish... gee I wonder what happened that year that heavily effected the economy, the workforce and businesses, not to mention peoples LIVES? People were losing their jobs, hoping not to get sick, dealing with having sick loved ones and trying to make sure they had enough toilet paper somehow I don't think any shows merch was top of peoples minds, and businesses that were essential to making merch were losing money, making it harder to make things!

I don't believe there has ever been a problem with 13/Jodie selling, unfortunately during her tenure one of the most disruptive events in our generation happened and merch wasn't a priority and even made for fans to buy during that time due to the conditions, restrictions, and economy to know if it wouldn't sell, so its a ridiculous argument.

But as you said theres also a number of items of her merch that are not only expensive if you want one now but you'll be lucky if they even come up for sale because clearly people want to keep them.

For example... 13 Build a Bear, 13 Blush bear from Children in Need, the 2018 SDCC 13 Pop, the 1/5 signature edition Big Chief Studios figure.

You want any of these not only will you have to wait who knows how long for one to come up to buy but expect to be paying a small fortune... However you want a 10th Doctor Build a Bear? They are on Ebay now, more pricey then buying originally from Build a Bear but no where near as much as a 13 Bear when it comes up I've seen 2 come up in 12 months. You want one of the other Doctor Chidlen in Need bears that were release? Yeah you can get them pretty regularly on Ebay too and a pretty good price, head over there now and you'll find them, never seen a 13 one for sale, Big Chief Studios figure? You can find most all the other Doctors, 13 I've seen it come up twice in the last 12 months on Ebay, and only 1 was in its original condition so good luck, and hopefully you have a weeks salary you don't need to buy it if you wanted it they are so expensive, you can still find listings for the 2018 SDCC 13 Pop but you got a spare 250+ pounds to pick it up? Haven't seen any other Doctor pops cost that much if you want to get one.

If Jodie was soooooo unpopular why is she one of the most expensive and elusive Doctors to be able to get merch for when she is technically the most recent Doctor with merch you should just be easily able to pick up.

Jodie also recently had prints of an image she painted sold for charity they were not cheap! There was only 50, they were gone in under 1 day.

Haters are just gonna make things up because the truth doesn't fit their narrative.

[k-s-morgan]

I heard news about a snowstorm in Ukraine that caused several deaths, and I was so worried for you. Are you okay, Morgan? Is your family safe? Are things calming down there? I keep checking for news that announces the end of this war, and it's disheartening to see that it never arrives. I can't imagine what it must be like to live through this. Is there anything we can do for you? Do you need somewhere to take refuge outside the country? Is the money you receive from your job sufficient for you and your family to live comfortably? I always check the updates you post, and it's admirable that these horrible events haven't changed the golden heart you have, you are a wonderful person and you don't deserve any of what is happening, I hate that I can't do anything to stop it this war, but whatever I can do for you I will.

please be safe, please keep fighting.

Another ask: Hey, I hope you're just busy but please give us some sign that you're okay, please. I'm worried

Another ask: Katrin, you are okay??

Another ask: You okay??

Another ask: How are you going?? Is everything already? Please asnwer 😭

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

Hi! Thank you all, you wonderful anons (and my lovely first anon, I'll respond to your questions further down in this reply). I'm so touched that you've been thinking about me! There was indeed a serious snowstorm that caused some deaths, but I'm fine: honestly, I'm such a hopeless stay-at-home introvert that I usually leave only for short trips to the shop and to feed pigeons & stray cats. So I meet most storms safely tucked in my bed))

It's all right now, though everything is still covered in snow. If there is snow where you are, too, and you see miserable pigeons or other birds around, please feed them if possible! They rely on us entirely during winters. Some grain would be ideal.

I was hoping to make a monthly post, but my tight work schedule + migraines ruined these plans, so I decided to give up on it. Russians haven't attacked my city again yet after that the most massive attack by drones. I'm pretty sure it is coming, though, especially on holidays. They tried to tun our last New Year into hell on purpose by sending missiles during the day, killing people, and then sending drones at night. I worry that this year might be even worse, but I've been teaching myself to live in the present and enjoy peace while I still have it, so I manage to keep my fears at bay.

First anon, thank you so much for your kindness! I have places where I could go and stay beyond Ukraine, but for the next year at the least, I intend to keep holding on because I can't leave without my family (and the bigger half of my family is not allowed to leave legally yet). If Russian attacks get completely unbearable, I might go to Poland to my relatives for a month or two just to unwind and to repair my sanity a bit.

As for the money, I'm doing more or less okay, and people who keep supporting me on Patreon help me to stay afloat. I have some debts, but they are under control - I owe the bank $300, which is 1/3 of my monthly salary, so I'm capable of paying it back little by little. The situation is not ideal, but nothing to worry about.

Like many Ukrainians at the moment, I feel burned out regarding the war. There are many amazing, kind people in this world, and our soldiers are absolute heroes who deserve all respect in the world, but those with power to make decisions like money way too much. It's an unfortunate fact that has been making people all over the world suffer generations after generations. Many US, European, and Chinese companies continue to help Russia manufacture its missiles and other things they use to kill us. The help Ukraine gets is enough to let us survive but not enough to let us win. Those who can make money on it eagerly grab the chance, including some members of our own government. I'd like to be optimistic, but I really don't see a scenario that would end with justice. It's very difficult to accept the fact that terrorists and murderers won't be punished - on the contrary, many of them will continue to live in luxury, unable to imagine what an explosion even sounds like, until the day they die. But like I said before, it is what it is. The world is full of bitter examples like this.

Thank you for being with me and supporting me, reading my stories and sending your asks. I hope to end this month with posting two chapters for my two stories. My second job comes to an end December 15, and hopefully, I'll get a chance to really dive into writing after this!

[f--e-u-e-r-t-r-u-n-k-e--n]

My gender is salaried worker. I am sexually attracted to the welfare of the proletarian class. I have a fetish for class-conscious political subject formation. My pronouns are Exploited/No civil rights: A colletion of notes.

"The growing proletarianization of modern man and the increasing formation of masses are two aspects of the same process. Fascism attempts to organize the newly created proletarian masses without affecting the property structure which the masses strive to eliminate. Fascism sees its salvation in giving these masses not their right, but instead a chance to express themselves."

Walter Benjamin, The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction

"It was actually the question of class and the notion of sex difference as class difference as theorized by Monique Wittig in Straight Mind and Other Essays (1992) that helped me think about “queer” in relation to embodiment. What does queering do to a subject of violence – and by that, I mean different “kinds” of violence: symbolic violence,material violence, state violence, physical violence, and the violence of gendering? How can we consider the material and economic implications of symbolic violence, such as discursive violence? Wittig’s “material lesbianism” frames the constitution of gender opposition “in terms of class conflict” and approaches sex difference as produced in exploitative economic relations, and within this framework, she considers heterosexuality as a political relation of domination that establishes divisions at the material and economic level. Her critique of heteronormative theoretical and cultural discourses that perform “material oppression” and violence on individuals and her analysis of their implications in terms of material realities of economic, classed existence enables a queer analysis that does not ignore embodied existence. In that way, class as a concept helps me to think in terms of lived, material experience when thinking about queer, and I see it as a way to negotiate the ongoing discussion about the question of embodiment in queer theory. Thinking of how gender, sexuality, race, and class shape subjectivity in terms of the implications of their interactions for material existence and embodiment is central to the interrelations I see between class and queer theory (…)"

Tijana Ristic Kern in Reading Literature and Theory at the Intersections of Queer and Class

"Because a worker without work, no matter whether he is a Marxist or not, no matter whether he is a Christian or not, no matter whether he has no political ideology, is a man who has the right to work and we must give it to him; that is why sectarianism, dogmatism, bureaucratism, which freezes revolutions, and that is a process of conscientization which is very deep and which must begin with the youth: but the youth is facing problems that are not only economic, but are problems that unfortunately manifest themselves with greater destructive violence in the contemporary world".

Salvador Allende, Speech at the University of Guadalajara.

"The task is for radical queers to become class struggle militants. We need to be constantly conscious of moving toward a holistic queer praxis, one that examines the conditions of the lives of all queers, and also that locates those lives in the larger context of the struggles of all workers and all the oppressed. This is not only a position of solidarity and a refusal to leave other queers behind, but it is also the realization that queer liberation is inextricably tied with the self-emancipation of the working class. Queers, like other oppressed groups, are hit particularly hard by capitalism, and this is especially true of the queers most often erased, ignored, or left behind by queer and feminist movements: queers of color, trans and gender-nonconforming people, queers with disabilities; and queer sex workers are some examples. Many queer anarchists and other anticapitalists come from anti-oppression backgrounds, and, while analysis in anti-oppression circles continues to improve and greater understandings and explications of intersectionality continue to be the case in those circles, a good, critical anti-oppression analysis is not enough. We need to be both anticapitalists and to understand how capitalism functions to truly understand the conditions of the lives of the working class, from those struggling against multiple systems of oppression to the “middle class” existing in a position of (far too often temporary) comfort in the suburbs. Through this understanding of class struggle, we can contribute to mass movements for collective liberation."

Gayge Operaista, Radical Queers and Class Struggle: A Match to Be Made.

"Although it varies from country to country, LGBTI people face exclusion throughout the region and to a great extent. In Latin America and the Caribbean, this exclusion is often grounded in religious beliefs and principles as well as prevailing gender norms, and sometimes even enshrined in the law. For example, transgender women are given little option to engage in official employment in the labor sector because of the discrimination and stigma they face. Regardless of educational level they often have to engage in begging or sex work. Sex work is usually illegal and stigmatized, and the sex workers are subject to great vulnerability, including violence and murder. The Organization of American States has found that transgender women on average don’t live past the age of 35 due to the violence and discrimination they face on a daily basis."

Clifton Cortez, How LGBTI Exclusion is Hindering Development in Latin America and the Caribbean.

"More Americans feel comfortable coming out. That doesn’t mean they’re all progressives. (…)

Yes, the Reagan era saw the creation of the religious right and union of social conservatives with the GOP. But then it was a Democratic president who enacted the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy to prohibit LGBTQ servicemembers from being out in the military in the 1990s — Bill Clinton. It was also Clinton who signed the Defense of Marriage Act, which defined marriage in heterosexual terms and banned federal recognition of same-sex marriages. It would remain the law of the land until the Supreme Court recognized the right to marriage for same-sex couples in 2015.

Christian Paz: As you write, LGBTQ conservatives and Republicans have always existed. But is there a common misconception that came up while working on this book, or that you have heard since? Neil J. Young: The biggest misconception is that there aren’t that many of them. The overwhelming idea is that all LGBTQ people are Democrats, or have politics that align them with the left. Both contemporary data shows us — and also this history I’ve delved into — this is a much bigger phenomenon than even I anticipated, and certainly [than] the average person, and even the media, talks about. It’s one thing to talk about how many LGBTQ people vote for a Republican candidate in any election — and again, those numbers are higher than most people think — but it’s another to think about how conservatism and right-of-center politics incorporates a much larger swath of LGBTQ people than people appreciate."

Christian Paz, What the rise of queer Republicans tells us about America. Interview with Neil J. Young author of Coming Out Republican: A History of the Gay Right.

"In 2018, 30% of the Brazilian LGBTQ community voted for the right-wing populist Jair Bolsonaro against 57% of votes for left-wing Fernando Haddad in the presidential runoff, according to Datafolha. Following the conservative wave that contributed to the emergence of the Gays com Bolsonaro Movement (inspired by the Gays for Trump organization), the 30% of LGBTQ votes for Bolsonaro shocked many in the Brazilian Media, as Bolsonaro is seen as a socially conservative homophobic politician.[25] The reasons attributed to these votes were the widespread fear of violence, economic insecurity, attachment to traditional values, discontent with the Workers' Party, as well as a perceived political manipulation of LGBTQ activism by the left."

LGBTQ conservatism, Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

"Behind the hypnotic grimace of official pacification there is a war being waged. A war that can no longer merely be called economic, social, or humanitarian. It has become total. Although everyone senses that their existence has become a battlefield upon which neuroses, phobias, somatizations, depression, and anxiety each sound a retreat, nobody has yet really grasped what is happening or what is at stake. Paradoxically, it is the total nature of this war — total in its means no less than its ends — that has allowed it to remain invisible. Rather than open offensives, Empire prefers more intricate methods, chronic preventative measures, the molecular diffusion of constraint into everyday life. Here, internal police conveniendy."

Tiqqun, Preliminary Materials for a Theory of the Young-Girl.

"If it were a matter of the ladies of the bourgeois, then the capitalist state could expect only a real prop for reaction from them. Most of the bourgeois women who play the lioness in a fight against ‘male privileges’ would, once in possession of the suffrage, follow like meek little lambs in the wake of the conservative and clerical reaction. Indeed, they would surely be far more reactionary than the masculine portion of their class. Apart from the small number of professional women among them, the women of the bourgeoisie have no part in social production; they are simply joint consumers of the surplus value which their men squeeze out of the proletariat; they are parasites on the parasites of the people. And such joint-consumers are commonly more rabid and cruel in defence of their ‘right’ to a parasitic existence than those who directly carry on class domination and the exploitation of the working class. (…) The women of the possessing classes will always be rabid supporters of the exploitation and oppression of working people, from which they receive at second hand the wherewithal for their socially useless existence."

Rosa Luxemburg, Women’s Suffrage and Class Struggle

"Although he was born Pedro Mardones Lemebel, the writer decided to adopt his mother's surname as a way of strengthening his commitment to the feminine, perhaps his first great political decision. A perspective that would be reflected in all of his literature, a work in which Lemebel explores homosexual issues, poverty, classism and marginality, deployed with a pen as unique as his personality. “All of us who are LGBTI in the '90s read his books, which for the first time were not about the classist and discotheque gay, but the most precarious, the 'pobla'. The marginal gay is always left aside, who has a much harder life because of his sexual orientation as he wrote in his Manifesto,” explains Erika Montecinos (…)"

 Daniel Martínez, Víctor Rivera y Hernán Melgarejo, Pedro Lemebel: the legacy of a “poor, communist and queer” writer.

"Thus the poor neighborhood, for one night dreamed of Chinese theater and tropical sidewalk of the movie set (…) There Madonna was the most photographed, not because she was beautiful, but rather because of the mischievous mischievousness of her gestures. For that sentimental halo that crowned her grimaces, her mutant body contortions that spread generously to the photographers' flames. She was the only one who totally believed her, stamping her thick hands on the asphalt's face. (…) And she imitating Madonna with the piece of skirt, which was a beatle vest that fit her long. A canuton vest, made of wool with lamé, one of those that they sell in the second-hand clothing store. She rolled it up with a belt and it was a regal mini-skirt. The transvestite was so creative, she could invent a dress out of any rag."

Pedro Lemebel, La Muerte.

"As the cost of living soars, I’m reminded of how my socioeconomic status has impacted my queer journey. For me, class and queerness feel like two sides of the same coin.

Queer identities don’t exist in a vacuum; terms and conditions are attached. My hometown is one of the most deprived in the country. Being working class compounds all the barriers my queerness, brownness and Muslimness pose.

Hidden in my identity’s small print is that I don’t have any financial safety net if I was ever outed. I wouldn’t have the emotional or economic support of my religious or cultural communities or my family. (...) Mainstream media rarely considers class through a queer lens. We’re in the midst of a cost of living crisis, so lots of us are feeling the financial squeeze more than usual. But that’s our normal as the queer working class.

From homeless LGBTQIA+ youth to queer Londoners and trans people, financial problems have always been a queer issue.

When we think of queer identities, it’s easy to immediately think of rainbows and parades. But we often gloss over the starker reality for the queer working class and the classism embedded in queer spaces and media. Our world is at the mercy of capitalism, which pits profits against people.

So it follows that the fight for LGBTQIA+ rights should go hand in hand with helping people survive financial difficulties. It doesn’t necessarily fit the fun flamboyance of Pride, but Pride began as a protest.

And now more than ever, we need to consider the class struggle as part of the queer struggle."

Deenah al-Aqsa, We can’t forget the role of class in the queer struggle

[evermoredeluxe]

Yeah, Travis is a team player through and through so it's gotta be painful when the loss was that brutal even though he played so well. Even Patrick was so mad that such a good play got taken away.

I keep coming back to the fact the everyone in the league agrees he's severely underpaid for being the second most valuable player on the offense (he's not even the highest paid TE) but has said "Unfortunately, in this business, things gotta get ugly, they gotta get unpleasant [if you want more money], and I'm a pleasant son of a buck."

I know its estimated he's making close to five times his salary with just his endorsements but still. This man cares about the team winning more than watching out for himself.

all of this and his character and how he moves about life make me like him. like ofc he has tough times, but i think he always has the attitude of “what can i do to make this situation better?” instead of “why me? this is unfair.” also, he never ever shies away from taking accountability.

the underpaid thing and him staying, like as recent as 1-2 weeks ago, he was like “im never leaving the chiefs. i love coach reid, i love my QB, i love the team and the fans so im staying” and that’s speaks a tonne about his priorities in life. people (and he himself) joke about is IQ, but his EQ is just breaking records. he has worked so hard to be well-adjusted, and from what im seeing, grown so very much as a human. it’s amazing.

[backtoneverland]

Well I guess now that the collection’s complete I can make a merch post about these beasts. Ominous in nature

Please excuse the lighting - hurricane Helene is on her way right now. More pics under the cut!

These dudes are from a 2013 series of peter pan plushes made by the disney store. Its a set of 15 plushes with pretty much all major characters from the original peter pan film! (16 if you count the twin twice). Pretty sure the set was made in celebration of the film turning 60 years old.

also all the prices I mention include shipping and tax fees! All plush received a sponge bath and air dry when I got them

I'll go over them in order of when I got them!

Starting with Slightly - the only one I didn't buy for myself. He was a gift in 2018 - the one i've had the longest. He's traveled outside of the country with me so he's a little roughed up on the back, but otherwise in good condition!

I think they did a good job translating his 2d design into 3d, my main gripe is that they opted for giving him a 1 piece suit instead of a 2 piece suit (the 1 piece suit is his return to neverland design) but thats a problem most Slightly merch has so its not a big complaint.

I really like just the design in general here, the color is great and i think his big nose is really funny. good stuff

Next up is Nibs! Got him in May 2024 for about 29 bucks on Ebay which was a good price. Other than his tail falling off and needing to be sewn back on I've had no issues. Such is the nature of buying a 11 year old stuffed animal

To be honest he is my favorite plush design, his face is perfect and in general the plush is very faithful to his movie counterpart. His big haircut is doofy but Nibs' hair is inconsistent across all disney peter pan media (he's essentially the red headed step child of the lost boys in terms of merch and movie relevancy lmao) and its fun, no complaints here

Then we have Cubby! Bought him on Mercari in August 2024 for 30 bucks.

Definitely the funniest looking of the bunch - that face. He's also pretty flat, not sure if that's just an issue with mine or if thats a problem consistent with all cubby plushes. Not a big gripe but it is funny and again a consequence of buying a well-loved stuffed animal online.

I swear he looks better from the side and the back - that front view is just hilarious. He's seen some things. Overall wonderful and whimsical

Up next is Tootles! I managed to get him still in the bag for about 46 dollars on Ebay in September 2024. Haggled the price down from 50 which was a score

He's the softest one I have, probably due to the fact that he was in a plastic prison for 11 years and untouched by sticky children hands.

The colors are great here and I love his round freckled face. Very cute and the tail is very nice, too

And lastly we have one of the twins! This one broke my wallet costing 80 bucks by the time all was said and done - ouch. Unfortunately thats a steal when compared to the prices for every other twin plush on the market right now. (my twin is the same one in the second listing on that post). Was the price worth it? Seeing as I have a first grade teacher salary and I'm fresh out of college - I'll let you decide. Let's just say theres no plans to get a second twin for the foreseeable future

This dude is great - very appealing colors. His big ass head and tiny feet are also great to look at. I like what they did with his hair - the twin's hair is also inconsistent in nature across disney peter pan media - but I think they struck a good chord with this one!

Overall I'd say yes it was worth buying, especially when all other prices hurt so bad, but still .... ouch.

And that's all I have to say! Overall having these dudes feels like a great part of my collection, I'm glad to have them :]

[cataztrophi]

TAZ November Celebration 10: Eyes

Fun fact: I actually had a completely different fic idea for this @taznovembercelebration prompt, but this story hijacked my brain last night and made me write it. My card was "eyes," so we're talking about the things people see and fail to see. A little angst, but a happy ending and mostly just certain people being very bad at seeing what's right in front of them.

This was not how Kravitz imagined using his degree in music performance. He supposed he should have known better, with the state of the world and all, but music was the only thing he'd ever really wanted to do, and he had to at least try to make it work. So here he was, twinkling out piano covers of Christmas songs at a party where the average salary was more than he'd make in his lifetime. It was a holiday party for the big shots of some biotech company, where the word “holiday” was doing a lot of heavy lifting for “Christmas, but the trees and reindeer and assorted ornaments are white and gold rather than red and green.”

Maybe he was just salty because of the man who’d come by earlier to chastise him for making Silent Night “too jazzy.” At least he was in one of the party's side rooms, so he was spared the worst of the opulence. Elsewhere, the black tie-clad servers with whom he’d felt instant solidarity had told him, there was a chocolate fountain that was a full-size replica of a fountain at the CEO’s mansion. Here, all he had to look at was the jewelry that could cover six months’ rent for his shitty one-bedroom.

As he launched into All I Want for Christmas, he began to feel like someone was watching him. That was unusual for this party, where most people seemed to treat him like a particularly ostentatious jukebox. He figured it was either the music police again or another tipsy guest coming to hit on him. Surely no one could accuse him of making Mariah Carey’s classic holiday anthem too jazzy? 

“What’s a nice guy like you doing in a dump like this?” The voice was quiet, flirtatious, and… familiar? 

“Taako?” He twisted half around on his bench to get a look at him.

“The one and only, my man!” Taako obligingly stepped around to the side of the grand piano, wearing that same gap-toothed smile that always made his heart skip a beat in college. Unfortunately for him, time had not lessened its effects.

Kravitz stared, taking in Taako’s emerald green sheath dress, ostentatious gold jewelry, and elaborate updo studded with sparkling hair pins.

“You look incredible,” he said, feeling that familiar warmth creeping up his neck. He looked, Kravitz thought, like he belonged there, much more than Kravitz did.

“You’re looking pretty good yourself, handsome.” Taako winked, and it was like an old scab tearing open all at once. There was that familiar ache, the breathless hope, the tantalizing thought that if he could only say the right thing he’d have a chance.

“Are you….” What was the right way to ask this? Are you a corporate sellout now? Did you give up your big dreams for something that actually paid the bills? Are you single? “Are you still acting?”

“Oh, I’m acting right now, baby!” He gestured around at the party with the champagne flute he held delicately in his hand. “What is acting if not lying entertainingly?”

Kravitz frowned. Acting how? Acting happy to see him? About him being handsome? He didn’t have to wait long for his answer. Taako leaned in conspiratorially, and Kravitz mirrored him instinctively.

“I’m crashing this joint,” Taako whispered.

Kravitz almost missed a chord, but found his rhythm again before his brain ran away with his fingers. “You’re what?”

“You know, sneaking in. Doing a grift. Mission Impossible-ing this shit.” He said it like it was self-explanatory, despite being very much not. 

Kravitz blinked. “But… why?”

Taako shrugged. “What else am I gonna do on a Saturday night?” 

He could think of any number of things, including all the things he wished he was doing right now, but he doubted Taako was taking suggestions. 

“Besides,” he continued, “you wouldn’t believe the food they have at some of these things! I must have eaten my weight in caviar this winter!”

Kravitz couldn’t help but smile. At least someone was benefitting from all of this. “Okay, so how do you get in?”

Taako’s eyes lit up with a spark of mischief. “Ooh you’re curious now, huh, Krav? Want Taako to give you the Ocean’s 11 rundown?”

He nodded, half-tempted to start playing David Holmes’ Gritty Shaker, or maybe the Mission Impossible theme, but you could never tell when the piano cop was lurking nearby. 

“First, I need an invitation. The people who get invited to this sort of thing can’t help but brag about it, so there’s always some good reference photos on the ‘gram. Luckily, cha’boy knows the best forger in the biz, and she can whip one of those up in her sleep.” Kravitz nodded, remembering that Taako’s sister was in art school when they were in college and putting two and two together.

“Now, I can hear you thinking, ‘but Taako, oh clever and radiant Taako, don’t they have a guest list they check the invitations with?’ And the answer is yes, but you can get pretty much anyone to bend the rules for you if you’re rich enough, hot enough, or upset enough, and Taako can do all three.” He paused for a sip of champagne, and Kravitz took a moment to be thankful that Taako couldn’t hear his thoughts, which hadn’t been completely coherent since he’d noticed that Taako’s dress was largely backless. 

“Oh, that reminds me,” Taako continued, “if anyone asks, I’m some rich dude’s date and a runway model.”

“You could be,” Kravitz said earnestly, before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

Taako grinned, quick and genuine, and Kravitz’s heart lurched like it was going to fall out through his ribs and onto the keys. 

“Don’t let my fictional crypto-douche boyfriend hear you say that. Although,” he added, giving Kravitz a long look, “I think you could take him.”

Kravitz’s face was burning now. “Pianists… aren’t usually known for their fighting prowess,” he said, his voice barely audible over his rendition of Oh Come All Ye Faithful.

“True,” Taako said, his smile turning sharp enough to slice through whatever defenses Kravitz still had left. “I’ve heard they’re good with their hands, though.”

He really did miss a chord then, and the piano cop hurried over to yell at him again. 

“Now, listen here, young man,” he began, this time really getting into it and waggling his finger in Kravitz’s face. “We hired you because we thought you were a professional, and–”

“Oh my God, Susan, hi!” Taako exclaimed, waving to someone apparently across the room. He stepped back, eyes still fixed on “Susan” rather than where he was going, and tripped over the piano’s leg, flinging the contents of his champagne flute over the piano cop as he stumbled to keep his balance.

“Oh my goodness!” Taako fluttered over the man, his voice suddenly too high and too loud, a slight drag in his speech hinting that he’d had too much champagne already. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry! Please let me help–” 

He made a show of checking his dress for a handkerchief, realizing he didn’t have pockets, and grabbing the piano cop’s ivory silk pocket square in an attempt to sop up the mess he’d made. The piano cop stumbled backward in turn, trying to placate Taako before turning on his heel with Taako in hot pursuit, clucking out apologies the whole way. Kravitz watched the farce in amazement, if possible even more smitten than ever. 

He didn’t see Taako again after that, and he hoped Taako hadn’t gotten in trouble trying to rescue him. It left a hollow feeling in his chest as he walked out to his car. He wished he’d gotten Taako’s number, or even made plans to meet up. Not a date; he wasn’t brave enough for that in college and he still wasn’t brave enough now, but they could at least catch up, and maybe he could work up to it. Then again, maybe it was only fitting for the night to end with one more missed connection. 

He had one last choice to make that night: whether to pick up dinner somewhere or go straight home. On the one hand, he hadn’t eaten anything for about twelve hours now. On the other, he could save money on food if he just crawled into bed and passed out. Never great at keeping his own best interests in mind, Kravitz headed for home.

He dragged himself up three flights of stairs before stopping dead at the end of the hallway that led to his apartment. Someone was sitting in front of his door. Someone in an emerald green dress with hair that was beginning to fall out of its elaborate style. 

"Taako?" Kravitz asked for the second time that night. Taako’s head jerked up, and that warm smile spread over his face again.

“Took you long enough!”

Kravitz hurried towards him, excitement and confusion and relief chasing each other around his head like unruly squirrels. 

“Taako, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I felt bad about not seeing you again, and I remembered how much you sucked at feeding yourself in college, so I thought I’d bring you some goodies!” He gestured to a round, tinfoil-wrapped bundle he was holding. Kravitz continued to stare, half-convinced he was imagining all this.

“The building’s locked. How did you get in?”

Taako rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Krav, cha’boy snuck into one of the most exclusive parties in the city, you think I can’t get into an apartment building? I just waited until a nice older lady let herself in and said, ‘Oh my gosh I’m so sorry, I’m staying with a really nice guy who lives here, but I forgot my phone in my car and I just ran down to get it, and silly me I completely forgot about the front door!’ And then I shivered and channeled my inner wet cat and she let me in!”

Kravitz considered this for a moment, still slightly dazed. While he waited, Taako began unwrapping the bundle, which proved to be a large china plate clearly stolen from the party, piled high with hors d’oeuvres and pastries that Kravitz had seen but hadn’t been able to eat while he was there.

“I brought you all the best ones!” Taako said proudly. “We’ve got some fig and honey canapes, caprese skewers, bruschetta that was, eh, fine, but you can jazz it up with some salt and pepper. Let’s see, what else… we got baklava, eclairs, cannolis, wait, one of those is mine.”

He plucked out a cannoli from the recesses of the foil package and took a large bite, closing his eyes and leaning back against Kravitz’s door with a sigh of contentment. It did not help Kravitz’s thought processes at all.

“Wait,” he said finally, “you said an older lady let you in?”

“Yep! Well, old lady if I’m being honest, white hair, like, a million shawls?”

“Paloma?” If it was Paloma, she talked to him in the hallways sometimes, which meant she was definitely going to ask him about Taako, which meant he was going to have to answer a lot of questions that he didn’t really have a response for yet. Questions like ‘Why are you such a coward, Kravitz? Why couldn’t you ask a guy out in four years when you knew you liked him around day 14 of college? Why are you so bad at dating that even when the guy pops back into your life like a miracle, you still can’t tell him how you feel?’”

“That was it!” Taako gestured towards him with half a cannoli. “She seems real sweet. She said she was gonna bring you scones tomorrow morning, so either I should spend the night or you should come up with a reason why you kicked me out super early.”

Suddenly Kravitz felt very hot again, and a little lightheaded. “Spend the night?”

Taako finished his cannoli and sucked powdered sugar from his fingers, and Kravitz almost managed to be a normal human being about it, until Taako looked up through his eyelashes and made direct eye contact with him while he drew two long, delicate fingers out of his mouth, and Kravitz thought he was going to pass out.

“Is that a question or an invitation, my fella?”

He took a deep breath, shook himself a little, and earnestly pondered this for a moment. On the one hand, God, he missed Taako. He missed having him as a friend, and staying up all night watching bad horror movies, and Taako pointing out which character actors were absolutely killing it while he dissected the intricacies of horror soundtracks. He missed bad dining hall meals where Taako identified every culinary misstep, and the comfort of passing out in each other’s rooms when the stress got too bad to bear alone.

On the other hand, he’d lost touch with him for a reason. It got too painful to keep dancing around it, to watch Taako date other people and know, absolutely for sure know that he didn’t have any right to complain because he never worked up the courage to say anything, but God, it hurt, and if he couldn’t be brave then he at least had to be kind and cut the tie before that hurt rotted their friendship from the inside out. 

That was it, then. He could send Taako home, resign himself to never seeing him again, and try his best to get over it. Or he could invite him in, gather up every ounce of courage he had, and pray that being honest didn’t have the same result.

He offered Taako his hand, still not entirely sure what choice he was making, but Taako allowed Kravitz to pull him to his feet. 

“You’re covered in powdered sugar,” Kravitz said. laughing. “You look like-” He stopped himself before he said the dumb reference he was thinking of, but Taako already knew where he was going.

“Were you going to say I look like fucking Cocaine Bear?” Kravitz’s grimace was the only reply he needed. “You were, you fucking dork! I mean I gotta say, it’s the first time I’ve been called a bear.”

Kravitz snorted. “Come on, that was low-hanging fruit.”

“Now that-”

“Fuck off!”

They stood there until their laughter petered out, hand in hand.

“Here,” Kravitz said, once he’d caught his breath. He laid his hand on Taako’s cheek and brushed sugar away from his face with his thumb. Before he realized it he found himself tracing the curves of Taako’s mouth, saw Taako’s lips part slightly in response. His heart pounded in his chest as Taako looked at him with half-lidded eyes, and he found himself wondering if he’d been the dumbest person alive. He didn’t notice how close they’d gotten until he felt Taako’s breath on his skin. With trembling hands and legs that felt like they might collapse at any minute, he lowered his face to Taako’s and kissed him. 

There was one terrifying moment of freefall, when it was too late to go back and he had no idea if anything would be there to catch him. Then he felt Taako melt into him, one hand clinging to his shirt, the other wrapping around his neck to draw him closer. He put an arm around Taako’s waist and heard him whimper as their hips pressed together, felt the gentle sting of Taako’s teeth against his lip. After what might have been hours or minutes, Taako drew back from the kiss, still completely entwined with him.

“Krav,” he said, breathless, “If you don’t invite me inside in the next ten seconds I swear….”

As though his brain had been jolted back to life Kravitz grabbed his keys from his coat pocket and fumbled them into the lock.

“Come inside,” he said, his voice rough and low. Taako smirked.

“If you insist, hot stuff.”

Before he could object to the double entendre, Taako pulled him through the door and let it swing shut behind them.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 50: Radiance -While waiting for the next wormhole, Shingen and Katsuko enjoy domestic fluff, birthday cake, and snowboarding… but an old video leads to an unsettling discovery.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

With ten weeks until the next wormhole opened, modern Japan ended up being kind of a vacation for Shingen and I. Rather than join Sasuke in Kyoto, we elected to stay in Nagano since it was more or less home turf for both of us. Thanks to Aki’s generosity (I considered it an employee bonus and figured I had earned every penny – especially since he hadn’t ever paid me an actual salary), I had more than enough money to rent a decent furnished apartment for a few months.

Before the winter kicked in, we rented a motorcycle several times and toured through the countryside, riding down to the Yamanashi Prefecture, formerly Kai. After some discussion, we elected not to visit the Tsutsujigasaki historic site – it would be too strange and jarring. “When we go to Tsutusjigasaki Castle,” he told me, “it will be as it was, so I can introduce you to its people.”

In return, I showed him all of my old kid haunts – not that there were that many – and my favorite places to hike and climb. And of course, Shingen being Shingen, we created our own tour of Teahouses and bakeries around the city.

Sasuke came up from Kyoto every other week, mostly to hang out, but also to report what was going on with the wormhole and his investigation into the mystery of Aki. The latter was unfortunately stalled due to his parents having taken a sabbatical trip through China – they’d rented their house out to a businessman from India.

On my own, I was doing similar research on my old mentor, but to no one’s surprise, he kept an extremely low internet footprint. Nothing like putting your primary residence 450 years in the past to help you stay off the grid. Similarly, though I haunted the library and archive sites, I was unable to find a lead on “Hikosane.” If he had done something important during his lifetime, it wasn’t in the historical record.

The first weekend in December, Sasuke came up and took Shingen out for a man-bonding afternoon. That was how Sasuke described it. I described it as “get him out of the house so I can bake him a birthday cake.” The birthday meal itself, I would trust to delivery, but I wanted to at least make him something sweet.

Cooking and baking were not activities I had done a much of after my mother died, but prior to that, I’d been the primary cook, not just for meals but also desserts. I had gone through a phase where I baked the most decadent things I could find, hoping to tempt her to – Ah… maybe that was why I wasn’t a huge fan of sweets now? I jotted that down in a notebook my therapist was having me keep. I had decided to see a therapist for my claustrophobia and nightmares. They were never as bad when I was with Shingen, but I felt it wasn’t his job to deal with my mental health – I needed to take responsibility for that. Obviously, there wasn’t a lot I could accomplish before we headed back through the wormhole in the Spring (I told my therapist I was moving to Vancouver) but I hoped to at least have the tools I needed to keep moving forward.

I checked the temperature of the cake layers that were cooling on wire racks. Online, I’d found what looked like (per the number of stars the recipe had) an extremely decadent recipe for chocolate and strawberry cake. While I might never win any cake decorating contests, I was confident the cake would at least taste good. Just as I finished mixing up the buttercream frosting, Shingen and Sasuke came through the door, stomping snow off their boots.

“Sorry to bring him back early – the snow’s getting fairly deep.” Sasuke hates driving in snow. For that matter, Shingen’s not terribly fond of being a passenger when Sasuke is driving, so I ought to have expected an early return.

“No worries.” I’d been listening to the weather reports. Deep snow tonight meant this weekend I could finally take them snowboarding – an excursion that we’d planned for as soon as the weather cooperated.

“What’s all this?” Shingen eyed the cake and the bowl of frosting with the intent interest of a sugar fiend who’d been held hostage in a health spa for a decade. “If it tastes as good as it smells, then I’d say we’ve gotten back right on time.”

“I hope that wasn’t supposed to be a surprise.” Sasuke headed to the coffee machine that we kept out just for him, as neither Shingen nor I had ever developed a taste for it (though Shingen did have a fondness for those fancy caramel mocha lattes they sold at the chain coffee shop – go figure).

“No, it was to prevent… that.” Shingen had grabbed the bowl of frosting and a spoon. I took the bowl away. “That goes on the cake,” I said. He gave me an adorable little boy frown. I leaned closer and said to him quietly. “If there’s any leftover after that, we can have it later… I’ll take the role of the cake.”

Shingen had been stealthily reaching the spoon for a raid on the frosting, but upon hearing that hastily aborted the mission. I ran my finger along the edge of the bowl, scooping up a small amount of frosting on it, and held it out to him. “Will this hold you for a while?”

He sucked my finger into his mouth and licked away the frosting. “For dessert, yes. For you, my sweet Devil, not even close.” He backed me into the counter and dipped me into a kiss. He tasted of chocolate and snow and promises.

“Not a full wall, so I suppose that’s a half-kabedon,” Sasuke toasted us with his mug of coffee.

“Only the Russian judge will care.” I scooted out from under Shingen’s arms, then handed him my phone. “This cake will not frost itself. Why don’t you guys pick a place and order dinner. In this weather it could take a while to get here.”

Shingen opened up the restaurant delivery app. “Any preferences?”

“Your birthday, you pick. Just order something vegetarian for me.” I began putting the crumb coat of frosting onto the cake and pretended not to notice when Shingen stole another taste.

Sasuke rescued the cake from becoming a “naked cake” by taking Shingen into the other room to watch TV – they were working their way through the original Star Trek. I’m not sure Shingen was all that into the show, but it was fun to watch Sasuke watch it. Apparently, he and Gene Rodenberry had incompatible views on the science of space travel. Already I could hear him grumbling that spaceships didn’t need to ‘bank’ in zero gravity.

While I lost myself in the soothing rhythm of cake frosting (given the number of tiktok and youtube videos of people frosting cakes, I wasn’t the only person to appreciate the ASMR quality of cake decorating), I let my gaze wander from where I could see Shingen and Sasuke joking around in front of the tv set, to the window, where the late afternoon snow was lightly brushing against the window.

Respite.

There was that word again. Away from the stress and danger of the Sengoku, Shingen and I were cocooning in this little apartment, learning how to be together without distraction. Once we got back, we’d both have our battles to fight. I was determined to find Aki and demand an explanation, while Shingen was making plans to try to wrest Kai from Nobunaga. But until then, it was nice to have this comfort of daily living together, in order to strengthen what we’d need to face these challenges, both as individuals, and as ‘us.’

Later, after we’d finished dinner and a good portion of the birthday cake, the sugar crash hit, and we all sprawled lazily on the couch, good naturedly debating what to watch, without making any real effort to actually make a decision.

“Are you going to finish that?” Shingen indicated the remainder of the slice of cake that I hadn’t managed to eat.

Oof. Even if I thought I could move (too full), or wanted to move (too comfortable under Shingen’s arm) I didn’t want it. I’d made the cake to his tastes, not mine. “It’s about eighty percent frosting – go ahead. I’ve never liked that much sugar.”

He reached for it, then paused. “Except for the sweets from the Teahouse in Kasugayama – you liked those.”

I made a show of looking innocently at the ceiling and folding my hands penitently while Sasuke snickered quietly from his end of the couch.

Here came the forehead flick. “Really, Devil?”

“I never actually said I liked them. I simply didn’t correct your assumption that I did.” I resisted the urge to rub spot he’d just flicked. No need to encourage him.

“What am I going to do with her?” Shingen addressed Sasuke, who looked like he wanted to yeet out of the conversation completely. “She happily lies to me, steals my clothes” (oh yeah, I was wearing his shirt again), “-falls out of trees-”   

“Alright, enough about that.” I gestured to Sasuke’s tablet, which was currently wirelessly connected to our TV. “Sasuke, go to youtube.” I gave him the address of the old youtube page that Toshiie and I had put up when we were still teenagers. Hopefully after so many years, it was still there. “We’re going to settle this tree thing once and for all.”

Sasuke did that ninja typing thing again. “Password?”

“Tony_Stark1610.”

“Ironman? Really Katsuko, you need better privacy settings than that.” He brought up the page. The freerunning videos were at the top, but we were going to go further back than that.

“Shut it, Spidey I was fourteen when I created this page.” No one would have been looking for it in any case.

He sighed. “At least you didn’t use your pets’ name or your birthday.”

“Sixteen ten is her birthday,” Shingen offered.

Also, Tony Stark had been the name of my cat, but I was not going to bring that up to Sasuke. “I’ll change the password later.” I directed him to the oldest video on the page.

It had been the last time I’d ever competed in artistic gymnastics – a small local competition. My mother, who normally was my biggest supporter had been having a bad week and that morning hadn’t left her bed. Toshiie had filmed the event so she could see it later. As far as I knew, she’d never watched. I’d quit soon after that – I’d only been doing it for her to begin with, and I didn’t have the funds -or the talent - to move up to an elite level. Not that that mattered now. What was on the video would likely look more impressive than it actually was.

Shingen and Sasuke watched my fourteen-year-old self tumble and flip across the balance beam. “There will be no more talk of me falling out of trees.”

“Can you teach me some of that? It would come in handy for a moderately awesome ninja.” Sasuke had a faraway look in his eyes. Likely imagining surprising Yuki or Kenshin with new tricks.

“Ah, now I understand what you meant about training as a performer from a young age.” Shingen watched teen Katsuko slide into a full split then dismount the beam with a flourish. “Are you still that flexible, Devil?”

Nobody with breasts and hips is that flexible. I was about to reply to that one with a forehead flick of my own, when the next video began. “I had no idea he posted this – Sasuke click stop.”

It was the freerunning video from the day of the wormhole – just seeing the view of the building that I was about to ascend brought back the feelings of restlessness and anxiety from that year.

“What’s wrong?” As usual, Shingen was tuned into my emotions and he picked up my hand and held it comfortingly.

“The day we got swept into the Sengoku, Toshiie filmed this. I was just surprised that he’d had time to put it on the page.” Discovering this was like time-traveling to my younger self in an archival wormhole.

“May I watch? I’d like to get a sense of the weather conditions that day – it’s a rare opportunity to have this type of data for analysis.” Sasuke had instantly become alert, ready to flip into Weird Science Mode.

“Um, if we play this, I need to warn you in advance – I was a lot more of a daredevil back then, and my brother and I fought about what I did here.” Which was why I was surprised he’d uploaded it. Maybe to try to talk me out of taking risks.

“So noted.” Shingen didn’t actually promise not to get upset, but Sasuke had already pressed start. I resisted the urge to watch Shingen, especially when I almost fell off a three-story building, but I could feel his tension at that point, and… what was that? “Wait, Sasuke, can you play that back?”

“I really don’t want to see you almost die again.” Yeah, Shingen sounded upset and his hand was almost squeezing mine too hard.

“Don’t watch me – look beyond that… left side of the roof.” Something had distracted me that day – that was why I had nearly fallen to begin with. “There.”

“I see it!” Sasuke paused the video and pinch zoomed. “What the hell is that?”

There had been someone else on the roof – a blurry, foggy figure who then vanished into the horizon almost as if they’d unzipped the sky and climbed in. “Now I am creeped out.” There wasn’t any way to tell who – or what – that had been. “Sasuke..?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He zoomed in some more, but that just added to the blur. “Permission to send a copy of this to myself?”

It might have been Aki.

It might have been Iekane.

It might have been someone completely unknown to us.

Who the hell were these people?

In any case, tracking down and confronting Aki suddenly became a lot more important.

The snowboarding expedition was a mixed success. Sasuke’s Ninja training had come in handy, and after a few basic pointers, he had left to try out his skills on an intermediate course… or more accurately, he’d wanted to further bond with a cute tourist he’d met on the ski lift.

Shingen was athletic, but this was one of the places his height was a disadvantage. With his higher center of gravity, he’d had some trouble getting into his knees. Eventually though, he’d picked it up, and soon was swooping down the training hill. He did fall a couple more times after that, but since both times he’d managed to take me down with him, I figured those had been on purpose.

After a couple hours, he noticed I was eyeing one of the half-pipes. “If you want to do that, I’m ready for a break.”

Hm. It had been seven (or, was it eight – I was never sure how to count the unknown amount of time I’d been stuck in the wormhole) years. Could I still manage it? But with Shingen voluntarily encouraging my daredevil tendencies – why not? I gave him a quick kiss. “See you at the bottom of the hill.

In no time at all, I’d dropped in and traversed the pipe. I’d kept it simple, without trying any of the tricks I used to do, aside from simple 180 turns at the top of each wall. But the rush was still there, and I zipped to the bottom with a whoop. Flying. Me and the sky. But the bigger rush? Seeing Shingen waiting for me at the base of the hill, smiling as he watched me skid to a stop.

“I once called you a moon goddess,” he said as I disengaged from the board. “I was wrong. You’re pure sunshine – made for daylight – the most radiant being I’ve ever seen.”

I smiled up at him and took his hand. “You keep that up and you’re going to melt all the snow.”

“What time are we meeting Sasuke?” he asked, while we were waiting to return our rented equipment.

“We’re not.” I pulled a hotel key card out of my pocket. I’d already packed some luggage for both of us in order to keep this a surprise. “Sasuke took an uber back to the apartment.” Or possibly he was furthering his acquaintance with the tourist he’d met earlier. “You and I are going to that hotel over there,” I pointed to the resort attached to the snow park. “Where we can celebrate your birthday by soaking in a private hot spring.”

Later, under the clear star filled sky, Shingen lowered himself with a sigh into steaming hot water. He leaned back against the natural rock formation and gazed out on the view of Mount Kosha. “This was a good idea you had.”

“I do have them, occasionally.” The combination of the snow kissed air and the hot water felt wonderful on my skin and ok- slightly – aching muscles. “I am a little sore after that… are you?”

“Given that I am close to five hundred years old, yes. These bones aren’t what they used to be.” In opposition to his statement, he swiftly pulled me onto his lap.

“I think you’re in great shape… for your age.” I ran my hands over his chest muscles.

“I fell a little bit in love with you the moment you said that. You had this challenging glint in your eyes.” He put his finger under my chin and drew my face up to his. “Yes, just like now. You hung onto that basket of pastry and acted like an insubordinate recruit.”

“In my defense, you had just set me up to be killed – hey!” Shingen removed my wet tankini top and tossed it aside. My nipples immediately tightened in the cold air. “That is not a place I want to have icicles dripping from.”

“Can’t have that.” He fastened his lips to my breast and warmed it with his mouth and tongue. “Hold still, Devil. I want to see if I can put the same look on your face that you had when you were zipping across the half-pipe.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him closer to me. “You do, Shingen. You might not always be looking my way when it’s there, but… you do.”

@bestbryn

[breathenbounce]

It's Just a Game

I grew up in a household that loved to watch sports. I was always against the grain when it comes to sports because in the past, I was a very antagonistic sports fan. My family tried to raise me on two premises. There are two baseball teams in Chicago, and you should always root for the team from where you were born. I disagreed with that as I was a White Sox fan through and through and despised the Cubs. I wasn't down with the 1985 Bears, but the 85 Dolphins since they beat them. I also loved the Blackhawks, and eventually found a way to root for the Miami Heat (because I was a very antagonistic sports fan.) However my feelings about sports have been starting to change over the years.

At the end of the day, sports is a game. It's where people compete, but unfortunately it has become much more than that over the years. What started as friendly competition between different humans has now become a pissing contest and a money heist.

First let me talk about the sports industry itself. There are billions of dollars at play here. Billions. Sports is a very marketable commodity and the athletes who participate are paid very large sums of money. I understand that this is what it is and it isn't' anyone's fault. As with most things, human begins find a way to take something beautiful and make it crazy. However, the way some of these athletes present themselves is not cool at all. They are role models to very impressionable young men and women who look up to them. Some of these athletes really do their best to maintain a positive image. People speak of hard work and getting your craft right, which i don't have a problem with. However, the drama show sports has become sucks. We should care more about what goes on in the field, than the locker rooms. The NFL has made itself a year round spectacle with the draft, the combine, and ofcourse we have salary caps and things like that which create much debate between fans.

Fueling the fans anger and "passion" about sports is the talking heads of ESPN and FS1. Listening to the ugliness that comes out of the mouths of people like Colin Cowherd, Skip Bayless just to name a few in insane. These people never have played sports, but they talk like they have so much knowledge about the game. They are very dismissive of people and their opinions. They add fuel to the hate machine that sportsmedia has become.

And the fans are taking things way too far. I have seen so many videos of fans fighting each other over silly stuff. I have seen fans dump popcorn on players heads. Anyone remember the malice at the palace? that was a result of a fan throwing a drink on a player.

As I said earlier, I like the Miami Dolphins. Their quarterback Tua Tagovailoa is one of the nicest, humblest, players i have ever seen, and he had led Miami to a couple of winning seasons, something us Finfans haven't seen since the days of Marino (the guy who made ma fan.) Yet all the complaining and personal attacks on Tua are crazy.

My bottom line is I believe the sports world should be looking at ways where they put kindness and sportsmanship first. I respect peoples opinions but some of the sports talkers out there need to go. Sports has become a world of toxicity and I never really became a huge sports fan until I reached my late 20s and early 30s because I felt I couldn't identify with anything. As I have taken a deep dive into my life, I find myself caring less and less about sports, with the exception of football. Sports is quite the commitment. As I said the NFL runs a year long business. But its only 17 weeks and if you are lucky your team plays a few games in the playoffs where they win and go home. Its not the 162 game marathon baseball is or the 88 game season in basketabll and hockey. It goes by fast, easy to keep up with. However, something needs to be said about the sports culture. The innocence of sports is gone.

People need to remember at the end, its only a game. The players don't care whether or not you have negative feelings towards them. The media only wants you to buy the stuff they advertise in between innings, downs, time outs, whatever. People need to stop taking it so seriously. Start looking at why you take it so seriously. What are you missing? What will help you feel happier? What will make you feel joy? It may be the thrill of victory, but that's not guaranteed. What is guaranteed is the impression you leave on the people around you, and I would strongly caution many sports fans to take that in stride. When you make hurtful remarks, they cannot be taken back. When you go after players, you forget they are human too because of the pedestals they have been placed on. Many sports fans will say they're just spitting facts. Facts don't care about feelings, people do. So maybe less facts, and more empathy is what is needed in the athletic world. These athletes leave the game not the same, and they are lucky to make the money they have, but they bleed red like all of us.

I asked for kindness on a Dolphins fan page on Facebook one day, and people told me to shut up. That this is a sports page and this is how people talk. Change is the most beautiful thing in the world. It has to start somewhere. I hope there are others who feel like I do and want to see less anger and sarcasm. I was there. i was the worst, Looking back I am ashamed how I behaved during my Sox vs Cubs days. I have been trying to grow and at the end of the day, I can only do what I can do. I can decide what I allow in my environment and maybe if this continues, I may have to reconsider my fondness for football and choose kindness and grace instead.

Sorry I rambled alot this week, but it just was on my mind so I spoke on it. How do you feel?

M