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lazywonderlvnd · 4 years

Note

Hi, if you are still taking prompts; A magically powerful Harry not noticing that his magic does things to make Draco happy. This can be pre-relationship or established relationship. Like it starts of with his tea being exactly as he likes and always the right temperature. Then evolves to rooms changing colour or weather changing or people being unable to invade Draco’s personal space due to an invisible barrier or something ridiculous. Btw Draco doesn’t notice as well.

anon.....you really killed me w this one. i’ve been so emo over this wyugeahrwiw might end up writing smth longer tbh bc this concept is literally the only thing that matters to me!!!!!!! i hope u enjoy i had so much fun with it ❤️❤️❤️

“Harry, you do it. Please.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“We’re fucking watching something, Draco!”

“So just pause it!”

Harry grabs the pillow on his lap and slams it onto the sofa next to him. Hermione can see dust rise in its wake. He pauses the telly.

“Are you doing it?” Draco asks hopefully. Harry scowls at him.

“Well you won’t shut up until I do, will you?”

“Definitely not.”

Harry disappears into the kitchen and Draco sits there looking smug.

“It’s kind of sick how you get off on bossing him around,” says Ron, his tone one of simple observation. His fingers are idly playing with Hermione’s hair, but she doesn’t think he notices he’s doing it.

“If I’m not mean to him a few times a week I break out in a rash, Weasley,” Draco says blithely. “Besides, he makes it perfectly. I don’t know how he does it, it’s always exactly the right temperature and sweetness and all that. I s’pose his years as a house-elf for those Muggles gave him plenty of time to perfect the art.”

“You’re a twat,” says Ron. “And my mum makes tea better than him.”

“Well you’re just a pitiful little mummy’s boy, aren’t you, Weasley? We can hardly trust your opinion.”

“Hark who the hell’s talking,” Ron scoffs. “Least I’m not twenty-three and still calling my mum ‘mummy’ like the world’s biggest bloody ponce.”

Draco splutters but before he can retort Harry’s coming back into the room hovering four cups of tea that float placidly to each of them. Draco looks exactly like a satisfied cat as he takes his and Harry drops back down onto the sofa next to him. Not too close, but certainly not too far, either.

“Literally exquisite,” Draco declares after he’s taken a sip. Ron rolls his eyes.

“It’s just tea, Draco,” says Harry, and he grabs for the remote to turn the film back on. “You’re such a demanding little brat. Merlin’s fucking tits.”

But Draco looks happy and Harry looks suspiciously content as well. Ron turns to her and makes a silent gagging face. Hermione snorts and puts a finger to her lips. They’ve decided not to say anything yet.

“Wasn’t this place a lot … uglier last time?”

“What?” Harry says absently. He’s not listening — he’s got all his attention zeroed in on a stack of parchment he’s holding. They’d only barely dragged him along to lunch; earlier the captain of the English National Team had apparently owled him a great number of brand-new Quidditch plays and required Harry’s extensive thoughts and notes before their next practise, which was tomorrow morning.

“Uglier,” Draco says emphatically, and Ron mutters something she doesn’t catch. “Remember? The walls were that tragic egg-yolk colour.” He shivers. Hermione thinks it might have been an honest-to-god shiver of revulsion. She also thinks she knows what’s happened, even though the extent of it surprises her.

“Maybe someone heard you whingeing and changed it,” Ron apparently can’t stop himself from saying with a snigger. Hermione elbows him hard and he shoots her a glare, mouthing, he doesn’t know!

Harry would usually be the one to take the lead and get them a table when all four of them go out to eat together but today he’s too wrapped up in his Quidditch plays, so Ron steps forward and does it, which makes Hermione’s chest flutter pleasantly. He’d blush down to his bones if she ever said it aloud but he’s quite capable of being a leader in Harry’s absences.

“Whatever happened,” says Draco pointedly as they’re led to their table, “it’s a great bloody blessing, I was genuinely unsure I’d have the mental fortitude to survive another assault like that on my delicate senses. And, I mean, this —” he gestures to the walls, which are now an admittedly pleasing dark teal above a white trim “— is stunning. It’s my favourite colour.”

“Is it? So weird they picked your favourite colour completely by coincidence,” Ron says, and Hermione elbows him again. Draco notices nothing and neither does Harry, although he does finally set the plays aside once they’re seated at the table.

“Are you complaining about the wall colour again?” he asks drily. They would both be extremely displeased to know they sound like an old married couple. Draco snatches haughtily at the paper napkin on the table and unfolds it to place over his lap. The first time he’d ever done this at a regular, decidedly not upscale restaurant Ron had taken it upon himself to spend the entire meal adopting a posh accent to match Draco’s and saying things to the waiter like “Don’t you have crystal?” while holding up a glass cup full of Pepsi and then commenting “These aren’t real silver, you know” after making a show of inspecting the titanium utensils.

“I can complain about hideous design choices if I want to,” Draco tells Harry with his nose in the air. “Thankfully they’ve rectified it this time.”

On the other side of the restaurant, Hermione sees two employees talking, one of them gesturing at the wall with utter bewilderment. She doesn’t point it out.

“Twelve o’clock,” says Ron, nodding past Draco’s shoulder. “Some bloke staring you down hard, Malfoy.”

Draco looks excitedly behind him, but what Hermione takes more notice of is the way Harry’s face falls a little. She can’t help but wonder if he even realises it’s happened. She’s almost certain he’s aware of his feelings for Draco even though he still hasn’t said anything to her (and she’s been waiting months now, the effort of holding her tongue growing only more difficult by the day, and she knows Ron’s always seconds away from shouting at him) but she doesn’t think he knows how obvious he is. Draco doesn’t seem to know either, but she thinks that’s because Draco feels exactly the same way. She’d have called them morons, but she remembers too well how long it had taken her and Ron.

“What the fuck, Weasley,” Draco hisses, turning back around with a scowl that makes Ron laugh and Harry perk up again a little bit. “He looks like he hasn’t washed his hair in weeks.”

“Now, now,” says Ron, “mustn’t judge books by their greasy covers.”

“Then you go shag him if you think he’s so fit.”

“Maybe I will,” Ron says airily, as if he really is considering it, and Hermione can’t help chuckling and kissing his cheek. Then his expression changes to one of wicked amusement, which makes all of them look round to see the bloke coming their way. Hermione glances at Harry to find that — oh yes, he looks flustered and vaguely upset.

“Hullo,” says the greasy bloke to Draco as he comes up beside him at their table. He’s really not terrible-looking, but if she’s learned anything about Draco in the last couple years it’s that his standards amount to models and Harry Potter, so this man has almost no chance.

“Hello,” Draco drawls, reminding her fiercely of his younger self at Hogwarts. “I’m not interested.”

“Right little narcissistic bugger, aren’t you?” the man says. And now, finally, he’s begun to look as revolting to Hermione as he’d done initially to Draco — a repellent personality can do that. “Maybe I just wanted to come and have a chat.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at any of the rest of us?” Ron asks, sounding halfway between amused still and a little put off.

“Can you leave, please?” Draco interjects, cringing away from the man encroaching slowly on his personal space. And suddenly, as he looks on the verge of antagonising Draco further, he shifts his feet and slips, landing right on his bum with a yell of surprise. All four of them get to their feet to see, but there doesn’t seem to be any liquid or even slimy food for him to have tripped on.

“The fuck ...?” the man says, getting back to his feet. But when he moved towards Draco, he only slips again, on absolutely nothing at all. Something clicks and Hermione looks at Harry: he seems as confused as anyone else (if obviously pleased).

She looks at Ron then, who catches her eye and lifts his brows like he’s thinking the same thing.

Draco’s suitor gets up once more and steadies himself, looking a bit dazed. Some deep animal instinct seems to tell him to stop trying, and with a wary glance at Draco he finally leaves.

“Well that was a bit of a fucking scene,” says Harry. Draco, coming out of his own startled daze, laughs.

“Yeah,” Ron says sarcastically, “wonder what could’ve possibly happened.”

“I really thought it was going to rain,” Draco mopes where he’s standing at the window. It’s grey outside but it definitely doesn’t look like rain and Draco appears so upset about it that Hermione actually feels badly, even though she’s quite glad for the clear weather.

“Just shut the curtains,” Ron suggests from his place on the floor. He’s sorting through Harry’s collection of VHS tapes, trying to decide on a good Halloween movie. Not that he’s ever seen any of them, and Hermione suspects he’ll end up choosing whichever cover he likes best.

“It’s not the same!” Draco wails. “The thunder and lightning is all part of it, you uncultured pillock! The atmosphere is all wrong.”

“It’ll be just as good when we shut off all the lights and draw the curtains,” she assures him, but it doesn’t remove the look of disappointment from his face. It’s a pouty sort of thing that echoes the brattiness of his youth; she imagines a five-or-six-year-old Draco giving his parents similar looks when he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

At that moment the front door opens and Harry walks in carrying two grocery bags, one of which contains alcohol, which Hermione can tell by the way the plastic is bulging around the cans.

“The fuck are you all doing here?” he says by way of greeting.

“You said eight o’clock, fuckhead,” Ron tells him without looking up. “But it’s fine, I’ve had time to pick a film and Malfoy’s had time to moan about the weather.”

“What’s wrong with the weather?”

“I wanted a storm!”

At that exact moment, a flash of lightning lights up the sky behind Harry where he hasn’t even closed the door yet. Seconds later a downpour begins, and then there’s a rolling crash of thunder.

Hermione’s eyes widen and once more she finds Ron’s gaze, who looks about as shocked as she feels. Draco, meanwhile, has his hands over his mouth and looks like a child on Christmas morning.

For the first time since his magic had begun picking up on Draco’s wishes and granting them of seemingly its own accord, Hermione sees Harry look suspicious. He peers behind him at the storm suddenly raging outside his house before slowly closing the door. When he turns back he looks directly at Hermione, who looks away quickly.

They set up the food Harry had gotten — all kinds of Halloween-themed sweets — and once everyone has their drinks (“Make mine,” Draco tells Harry, “you do it best”) and is comfortable on the two sofas in the room (Harry and Draco are, as usual, as close to each other as they can get without actually touching) they start the movie: The Thing, which Harry swears is one of the greatest horror films of all time.

Funny thing is, an hour and a half into it she looks over and, with a jolt, realises the two of them are kissing half-covered beneath a blanket. She elbows Ron, who positively beams when he notices.

“Fucking finally, dear sweet Merlin,” he whispers, the sound muffled by the continued rain and thunder. “I nearly hit him upside the head when he made it rain, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Shh!” Hermione hisses, though she’s smiling. “They’ll hear you. We’ll rag him about it tomorrow.”

A soft sound of laughter comes from the other sofa that Hermione identifies as Draco’s, and when she risks another peek after a moment she sees that Harry has a hand on Draco’s jaw, and that he’s smiling.

#anna writes #this prompt rly sent me into a tailspin of emotion #Anonymous

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trans-cuchulainn · 3 years

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What are the major details that confused you about the Hound blurb? The major one that stood put to me was the "way of the farmer opposed to the sword" thing which felt very...un-Cú Chulainn. Also, if you don't mind expanding further, which details didn't you question/be confused by?

and also for anon:

okay so it is like. 2am so there are not going to be any sources here but i can't sleep so here goes!! i will go through this blurb line by line and give youse my thoughts

In 50 BCE,

reasonable. this is roughly the right time period for when the ulster cycle is set. maybe marginally earlier than i'd place cú chulainn, but i'm talking a few years, nothing to get worked up about.

Morrigan, the goddess of war,

fine. normally i'm wary of pantheonising impulses with regard to irish characters (almost none of them can be identified as a god of anything in particular, it doesn't work like that) but tbh the morrigan is like, the most plausible exception to that, so whatever. normally her name has the definite article attached to it because it's kind of a species term as well but whatevs.

has become restless as a long-lasting peace settles over Ireland.

dubious. closest i can think of to peace being reference in any texts is togail bruidne da derga talking about conaire mor's reign being like, prosperous and peaceful and whatever, and even there you've got díberg (plundering/reaving) which is what eventually fucks him over and starts the otherworldly hell spiral situation. that's roughly the right period here but conaire's doom proves you don't have to do much to nudge peace into war, and connacht and ulster are at each other's throats for years before cú chulainn comes on the scene anyway

Deciding the time of peace must end, she chooses Setanta, the nephew of the king of the north, to become her ward.

hmm. i mean. like, this isn't the WEIRDEST choice they could have made. it's still completely made-up, don't get me wrong -- cú chulainn has a lot of different foster parents in different texts and they don't agree with each other but none of them ever mentions the morrígan. but like, they do have a connection of some sort, as evidenced by their conversations. and there's that one moment in the r1 boyhood deeds where little cú chulainn is out on the battlefield and hears her (not sure which name is used here) calling out to him and it like. motivates him to do some deeds or whatever, and i guess you could extrapolate that into some kind of teaching capacity.

so like. could be weirder. if you're gonna pick anyone, you could do worse. still seems weird to me! but not on its own a major issue, i could get past this and consider it a Fun But Unorthodox Creative Decision

(the fact that she tries to seduce him in the táin probably wouldn't get in the way of this considering sleeping with his teachers/foster-mothers is far from unheard of where cú chulainn is concerned)

After a young Setanta slays the demon-hound of Cullan, he becomes known as Cú Cullan—The Hound of Cullan.

weird spelling choices, they could have at least bothered to use the genitive properly. also the hound isn't a demon, it's a ferocious watchdog -- making it sound all Otherworldly and Hellish like this kinda confuses the issue of why he would need to take its place. he needs to take its place because the cattle and people still need protecting because it is a watchdog!! but whatevs, again, it's a brief summary so they can't exactly give us all the details and this is not actively objectionable

As Cú Cullan grows older, it is apparent that an extraordinary power lies within him … and a great darkness.

ugh boring. this makes it sound like he's going to be ~tortured~ and angsty about it. give me an unapologetic murder teen please. is the ríastrad dark? sure i guess, if you're going to be boring about it. it's more like, grotesque neon in my head

When he chooses the quiet life of a farmer over the sword,

this would fucking never happen on like five different levels. obviously like anyone who has ever read anything about cú chulainn can see that this is not in his nature. he is never going to choose a quiet life. this is the kid who tricked his way into taking arms before everyone thought he was ready. also juxtaposed with the "darkness" comment makes it sound like he would Angst his way into this quiet life which. again. have you seen this kid. he is an unapologetic murder teen

the only thing i can think of that might make him temporarily want to walk away is connla's death which... depends where you position that in the timeline really, he does seem a bit fucked up by it and maybe he'd want a holiday although i can see that lasting precisely 5 minutes before someone pissed him off enough for him to murder them. but if he's being raised by the morrígan i can't see him going to train with scáthach so then he'd never meet aífe and therefore connla would never be born so that wouldn't happen. so like. whatever.

but also like. he would not become a farmer. he just wouldn't! it doesn't work! the ireland of the stories is super hierarchical, right? and this blurb has already fucking told us that he's the king's nephew (canon) so we can tell that being a farmer is Not His Place. when we see upper class figures becoming menial labourers in texts, like in cath maige tuired, it's because Things Are Fucked, Shit's Gone Wrong. people don't just decide to change their entire social class on a whim lmfao

if cú chulainn really wanted to turn his back on being a warrior he could probably make recourse to certain other Suitable Professions ... his grandad's a druid so he might have a route into that, though his dad's not so that might fuck things up a bit bc it's one of those things that's usually inherited. he does give "wisdom" in at least one text though and we also know he can write (he carves riddles in ogham in the táin) and he composes verses on various occasions so idk, maybe something in a poetic direction, though again, usually requires two generations of inheritance to be a real poet and not just a lower-class bard. warrior's kinda the main thing he's got open to him tbh. but farming? i'm not a legal expert but as far as i'm aware based on what i have read, that would fuck shit up

more likely an upset cú chulainn would just go off in search of an adventure somewhere conveniently far away until he'd calmed down (alba, or the tyrrhenian sea, or -- if we're going to get early modern about it -- somewhere like india, which frequently gets thrown into the texts with absolutely no cultural context and it's always hilarious)

Morrigan, angry at the betrayal,

of the entire social order, yes,

instigates an invasion of his homeland

i mean. if they intend this to be the táin then.... táin bó regamna does kinda make the morrígan responsible for it? not in the sense of triggering the pillow talk argument that it's in the book of leinster -- it's her getting up to her usual cow-nicking behaviours for shits and giggles. [note to readers: it is probably for more than shits and giggles but did i mention it's 2am]

but all in all, not particularly out of character that she would be at least some way responsible for this so i can vibe with this. echtra nerai also supports the TBR explanation with her fucking around with otherworldly cows and pissing people off so, yeah, whatever. the morrígan engineered this. sure.

and Cú Cullan must challenge fate itself

this is probably a controversial stance but fate feels like a difficult concept to apply to medieval irish texts. like are people sometimes Doomed? yes. there are prophecies, there are gessi, there's all manner of otherworldly fuckery that can trip you up. is that the same thing as fate? no idea. considering cú chulainn comes out alive from the táin though and his doom prophecies don't catch up to him for like, at least another decade, maybe 16 years depending on who you listen to, hard to see how that would apply here

to keep the goddess at bay.

again like she IS causing fuckery in the táin but also it's like... one time. really not the main character. but she or maybe just some crows, hard to say, do get implicated in the death tale so maybe they're doing what people often do and conflating the two? even though there's like 10-16 years in between them?

anyway as you can see i don’t think it’s wholly terrible / i’m not completely thinkshaming it. like, having cú chulainn raised by the morrígan is unorthodox but it could be a fun and creative direction so i don't object to it. making cú chulainn get sad about murder and choose to be a farmer is just fucking laughable tho, and makes me doubt their characterisations in general. so that's offputting and would probably make me think twice about buying it, if that had ever been on the cards.*

and of course sure, their cú chulainn can be a Sad Boy Who Likes Sheep, but that means he's not the cú chulainn of medieval irish lit / irish myth, because that cú chulainn is a feral murder teen who keeps killing his friends and also is way too high social status to ever be a farmer, and whose only relationship to livestock is as the watchdog who kills anyone trying to harm them (which is an important role on a farm! but like. not the same thing as Being A Farmer. mostly because it involves more murder and is essentially just an extension of his role as a warrior. or rather the other way around. he promises to protect mag muirthemne as a watchdog and this like. gets extended into him becoming its sole defender)

this has been my analysis of this blurb i hope you enjoyed it

it's now 2.30am i should try and sleep now that i've exorcised a few thoughts from my head

*as i mentioned in the tags of my other post, i don't tend to read graphic novels due to disability stuff. they're much harder for me to understand and follow than prose, to the point where some are incomprehensible, so i don't really enjoy them. there are a few i've read, but they tend to be short ones, and i'm usually not reading them in order, just admiring the art separately from the text. so it's unlikely i would read a graphic novel of this size anyway.

#cu chulainn #hound #hound graphic novel #answered #oddnub-eye #anonymous #irish mythology #medieval irish #tain bo cuailnge

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peaches-writes · 4 years

Text

full circle

description: even if you’ve only known him for eight years, if you think about it, you’ve actually been with minho for most of his entire life. member: minho / lee know genre: fluff, historical au, vampire au, time traveler au, college au, neighbour au, best friends to lovers au, fem reader, this is a longer and revised version of reliable source word count: 10k warnings: explicit language, mentions of animal murder, war, death, blood, alcohol note: yay a third entry to the seven hundred and one universe! oc from seven hundred and one universe is named shiyeon here while the oc from kart rider is named soojung! + this prolly has a lot of plot holes & is just generally mediocre but whatever it’s fiction lmao + @skzwriternet

present: February 13, 2020

Even before he saw you on the other side of his apartment door at 9 PM with all of your work materials and equipment, Minho already knew full well that this day was coming. He’s always known most days are coming. He‘s just more excited for this in particular than the rest, given its inevitability that he‘s lived through for almost 600 years of his total 900 years as a vampire. Tonight, as evidenced by the Google Docs displayed on your open laptop, is the night you’d travel to the past for your doctorate thesis and meet his past self for the first time.

He just didn’t expect this in particular to be on the day right before Valentine’s Day, when he and his two other housemates have decided to make a complete mess out of the kitchen with all of the chocolate they’ve been trying to make.

“Hi, sorry for bothering you at this hour but I was thinking—ew, what’s that smell?” You instinctively and bluntly ask first, sniffing the air escaping his side of the door. Minho could smell it too, strongly at that, and the older vampire could only purse his lips and widen his eyes at you. “Are you guys—please don’t tell me you’re actually cooking humans this ti—“

At that, he immediately shakes his head and breaks out into a nervous laugh, pulling the door closer to his body and effectively hiding Jisung scrambling around for the exhaust (and maybe the fire extinguisher too, for some reason) before you could peer over his shoulder. “No, no! It’s just Jisung and Jeongin—well, it’s mostly Jeongin then he dragged Jisung in on it—they’re making Valentine’s Day chocolates for...some people.”

You could sense the slight bluff in his tone (supported further by the little heart-shaped candy on his cheek) and that at least one of those ‘some people’ he could possibly be referring to is one of your friends, Nari, whom Jeongin has not-so-discreetly been pining over since your second year of college, but you easily let it slide. In the eight years you’ve known the vampires who live and own your apartment complex, after all, you’ve definitely walked in on much wilder things than a couple of questionably burnt chocolates (chocolates aren’t even cooked, as far as you’re concerned!). “Um, okay, sure, I’ll trust you with that.” You squint your eyes at him. “Anyway, can I come in? I need your help with something.”

Minho exhales a small sigh of relief which he turns into a smile for you before looking over his shoulder once to make sure that the coast is clear then opening the door wide once again. “Yeah, come on in.” He concludes next, picking up your backpack on the floor and your heavy laptop in your hands as you cross the threshold. “But it’s really messy in the common area right now so we’ll have to stay in my room, if that’s okay with you.”

You’ve never been in his room, not even when you first became friends in your first year of college eight years ago or on game nights when he always asks for help taking out his Play Station sets. All of Jisung and Jeongin’s jokes of his serial killer tendencies when you’re not around could be true for all you know and it’s the only thing going through your head as you wordlessly follow him inside his apartment, pondering on the thought.

In response, Minho bites down a laugh between his teeth next to you as he accidentally reads your thoughts and when you catch him in the act, you make sure to elbow him with your freer arm, careful of your drafts binder. “Ya, stop reading my thoughts without permission, you asshole!” You scold him in a sharp hiss right as you pass Jisung and Jeongin in the open doorway leading to the kitchen. You greet the two courteously and even make a salute to the fallen chocolates, to which Minho laughs even more at and the two boys groan in protest. “Well, shit, it really is...bad.”

“I know, poor people who’ll get that tomorrow.” Minho shrugs.

“You could say Nari, it’s fine, I won’t tell.” You shrug back with a laugh, taking this time to take the candy off of his cheek and walking past him and the other two boys with a parting wave before Jeongin could even process that you caught up to him and his crush so easily.

Minho, meanwhile, clears his throat awkwardly and follows you, in a poor attempt to hide his immediate flustered expression. Some of the chocolates were actually for you but he won’t tell you that too, of course.

Especially not when you arrive in his room not long after, nodding in approval at its cleanliness that clearly contrasts the current state of his kitchen and, by a slight extension, living room. “Glad you to know you don’t murder people in your room, Min. See? We get closer as friends would every day.”

“I’ve been on blood bag and animal diet since we met, you brat. Don’t tease like that.” Minho rolls his eyes, prompting you to laugh.

“So, where do I work, then?” You ask after, turning to Minho on your side and accidentally brushing your shoulders together.

He gestures to his work table in response, naturally placing his other hand on your back and guiding you towards it. He really hopes you’d be oblivious to the way he’s growing more flustered this time. He doesn’t let you in his room for a reason, after all (that being it’s too intimate in his opinion). “You can use my desk.” He instructs you after, following you and pulling an extra chair for himself once you’ve reached his desk. Placing your backpack next to his work bag then your laptop on top of the table, he then asks, “So, are you travelling now or later?”

He already knew you’d do it sometime now, he really just wanted to ask to keep the conversation going. He even has your hanbok ready—bought from Changbin’s wife’s shop last month.

But, to you, he seems to have miscalculated the situation a little bit as a realization dawns on you while you’re taking out the portable time travel machine from your backpack. It’s actually just a watch but your professors insist on keeping them in really fancy boxes. “I can do it now if it’s oka—wait, I haven’t even told you that part yet! How do you know I’m not just going to hoard your wi-fi?” You exclaim mid-thought, your mouth falling agape and forming an ‘o’ shape in surprise. You know he wasn’t reading your mind just now because, usually, Minho would announce his presence obnoxiously loud in your head or make the face he did a while back but he didn’t this time. “So you’re going to agree to my request? Is that it?”

Eyes equally wide in his mistake, Minho falls back in his chair and ends up fumbling around with his words. “Well—no, I mean, you always only need my help when you’re about to time travel so—!” He tries his best to cover up which only elicits a victorious smile from you. “Ugh, fine, you got me!”

“So, you’ll help me? I mean, past you, technically.” You ask again for confirmation, sitting down on your own chair this time as you fully take out the portable machine and place it on your lap. “I have to tell you, though, that I need to travel to three other periods for my thesis this time. Is that okay?”

Minho props his elbow on the arm rest and nods against his knuckles. “You already know the answer to that, I think.”

You chuckle at this. If eight years of knowing him has taught you anything, it’s to pay attention to the smallest details. He’s clairvoyant, after all, and you need to up him at his own game every now and then somehow. “Then, I’ll also need the proper attire. Haseul said that she can’t take in commissions at the moment so I couldn’t—“

“In the closet, furthest right.” Minho gestures to the walk-in closet behind him in defeat. “You can use that for all the times you’ll go, too.”

“Have I told you that you’re my bestest friend in the world today? Even more than Nari, and she’s a witch, might I add!” You dramatically announce with a grin, handing him the machine’s box before standing up and making a beeline to the double doors on the other side of his bed. When you follow his instructions and find a pink and blue hanbok along with a floral hairpin on the very end of his closet, you then take it out and head to the open bathroom across the room. “Oh, wow, you even got my size right! You must’ve been preparing for this for a long time, huh?”

He really has—but, again, Minho is too stubborn to admit it to your face. “Just tell me if it’s uncomfortable or something.” He simply replies to you instead before you could close the door and change. Once he hears you acknowledge him with a hum before clicking the door to a lock, he then quickly prepares the time travel watch for you (by the way he remembers you doing it in front of him countless of times while you were cramming for a school requirement with him) then places it next to your laptop in exchange for his phone to message the rest of his friends.

minho [9:13 PM]: its happening

chan [9:14 PM]: you’re confessing?

hyunjin [9:14 PM]: hey that’s great! good for you hyung!!!

minho [9:16 PM]: no! y/n’s making the travel to 1388!

changbin [9:18 PM]: chan u know not to get ur hopes up w minho alr we all know he’s hopeless

minho [9:21 PM]: just bc ur alr married u brat

Changbin was still typing out a reply in the groupchat when you came out of the bathroom in your hanbok, laughing behind your hand when Minho looks up and momentarily gapes at you. “Why are you looking at me like that, weirdo?” You furrow your brows as you approach, smacking his arm before sitting down on his bed right behind him with a slight struggle. Peering over his shoulder, you smile appreciatively at noticing the time machine already set up. “And I see you’ve set up the machine without breaking anything this time! Progress!”

Minho scoffs, swiveling his wheeled chair to face you properly before gesturing to the hairpin in your hands. “You don’t like the hairpin?”

"I don’t know why you’re making me wear a hairpin that looks like a wedding heirloom.” You frown. Not to mention, from it’s material, you could tell that it’s new as well, meaning it was designed this way on purpose. “Won’t it attract too much attention?”

Minho doesn’t know why you eventually came to him in the past wearing the hairpin too. He thought his future self was being ridiculous then (and he still does in the moment). “I don’t know, either,” He tells you truthfully this time, standing up from his chair to place it on your tightly-made bun. “But you did come wearing it eventually so just go with the flow, I guess? I don’t know, what do your sci-fi movies say?”

You scoff at him, puffing out the heat rising up to your cheeks at the proximity. He could read your mind if he wants to but he doesn’t seem to be in the moment, even when his lips are gently fanning air into your ear as he fixes the hairpin with utmost care. “I guess I’ll just have to follow your instincts, then.” You sigh in defeat. “I can’t miss a detail, even if it’s weird.”

“Right. I was there in the moment before you right now.” He smiles cheekily before sitting back down on his chair, passing you your time travel box after. “Ready to go?”

You nod, fixing your collar one last time before receiving the machine from his hands. “You haven’t met me in the 1388, right?”

“The first time you met me in the past was in the 1910s for that graduate thesis of yours and the oldest version of me that you’ve met so far was the one from the the 1740s.” Minho corrects, recalling your fourth year thesis some eight years ago. “But the first time I met you in my history was for this doctorate.”

Your eyes light up at this. “Really? You’re meeting me for the first time now?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“We’ll have differing first impressions after this!” You point out to which he snickers. “Also, I haven’t met this version of you, you might be a snob in 1388 and think I’m weird or something.”

Minho personally doesn’t think his first impression of you will ever change, no matter when you’ll meet in time. He’ll always think positively of you. “I was already turned for a long time, then. I haven’t met Chan and the others but I’ve seen and heard of weirder things than a time traveler.” He assures you. “Now, go, so I can help Jisung and Jeongin in the kitchen.”

Rolling your eyes, you then set the date to January 1388 (you notice Minho’s already set the location while you were in the bathroom) before bidding a temporary goodbye to him, disappearing into thin air with the watch on your wrist right after. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

In the blink of an eye, you’re already in a flea market somewhere in Seoul (then named Hanseong, you made sure to remember that well out of all of your history and anthropology notes).

past: January 1388

You easily find 1388 Minho wandering around the flea market, a crowd of court men and women following him religiously as he examines the crops, livestock, and flowers being sold in stalls. The sight makes you scoff in disbelief, even more when you approach and see how he ignores each and every one of them up close.

You know Minho isn’t the one of royal blood in his current coven of vampires (that’s Hyunjin—you know it well from the amount of times you’ve pestered him in your other time travels while he was sulking over his present day fiancée) but he has mentioned in passing once about being popular in the palace court, a socialite of his time if you will.

But then, who could blame him? He’s just that handsome and charming.

“Minho...Lee Minho...” You try calling for him in the crowd but to no avail, the slight embarrassment of following the crowd creeping up to you. It reminds you a bit of when you first saw him in your timeline, your first year of college and his fourth year (because Chan keeps insisting that he goes to university every now and then to pass the time) when all kinds of students would also follow him around at the campus library. It’s annoying, regardless of wherever you are in the world timeline. “Excuse me, Lee Minho!”

He only turns to you when you raise your voice, an eyebrow momentarily raised until your eyes meet and a look seemingly of recognition crosses his features.

You became friends with him as an older vampire but why is he more intimidating as a younger one? It’s probably the rest of the crowd’s eyes being on you because of your sudden interruption. Either way, you forcibly gulp down your nervousness and call for him again. “Lee Minho?”

“Yes?”

“C-Can I—Can I talk to you for a moment?” You gesture for him to follow you, his piercing gaze making your hands shake a bit. This is probably what Chan meant when he said Minho was a bit scary when he first met him in the 1400s.

Minho follows you, anyway, which alleviates and heightens your nervousness at the same time. The crowd would’ve followed if not for him glaring at them not to right before you turned to the main entrance of the flea market where a few people were loitering around at. He feels like he knows you from somewhere which, if you knew about, you’d tell him that that’s impossible since, chronologically, you haven’t met him before this.

Once you’re away from the majority of the market crowd, only then do you turn to properly face him and his expectant eyes. He’s still looks the same as he does in the present, just more curious, seeing as you’re a stranger for now. It’s comforting, somehow, so much so that it relaxes you and eventually makes you laugh as well.

“What’s so funny?” He asks you without any hint of malice once you uncontrollably burst into giggles, prompting you to lift your hand up to your mouth. Already developing his clairvoyant abilities at this time period, he could easily tell by the unfamiliar terms in your thoughts and the way you hold yourself up that you were different—far more different than everyone around you. “And who are you?”

You wave your other hand dismissively, taking a step back to recuperate. You end up giggling a few more times before you could manage to take a deep breath and exhale slowly by turning your eyes away from Minho momentarily. “I’m sorry, I’m Y/N and I—sorry! It’s just so...it’s a bit weird!”

“Definitely.” Though your answer is unsatisfactory, the boy nods anyway. “And how do you know my name?”

“I know you from the futur—wait, you can tell that it’s a bit weird too?” You raise an eyebrow and fold your arms over your chest. “It’s…sometime in the 1300s—“

“Thirteen eighty-eight.”

“Right.” You nodded at his correction with a dry scoff, piquing his interest further. “It’s only 1388 and you’re already this good of a clairvoyant?”

Minho was instinctively taken aback with you. His present self forgot to tell you that clairvoyance doesn’t have an established name in this time yet. “How did you—? What? Huh, well…the hanbok—the hanbok’s a bit of a giveaway too, I guess. It looks different from what the court women usually wear.”

You then briefly glanced down at your hanbok, a pout resting on your features when you look back up at Minho again. “Really? But you—I mean, my source told me that this was accurate.” Come to think of it, you didn’t really check the attire thoroughly since you really needed to travel immediately to cram your paper. You’ll have to give 2020 Minho an earful about this later. “Ah, guess it’s my fault for not double-checking. I was in a bit of a rush to come here.”

Minho from 1388, however, shakes his head at you in disapproval then briefly begins pointing out the different design patterns that looked foreign to him. “And this hairpin,” He pointed your hair accessory last, from what you can remember at present. There’s an unreadable expression in his face, one you’re too flustered to interpret as amusement. “This looks like a wedding heirloom but…a bit futuristic for my time, if that makes sense. I don’t suppose you wanted to come here disguised as someone’s wife, right? That’d attract more attention to you.”

And with that, you almost immediately deflate right in front of him with a defeated sigh and he smirks teasingly in return. To the passersby at the flea market, people could’ve easily mistaken the two of you for a quarreling married couple. “So that’s how it is.” You surrender easily, your arms loosening. “I guess even at this time you’re clairvoyant and smart. How annoying.”

His smirk grows even more triumphantly at this. “So, why did you come here?” He asks next. He figures out halfway through your rambles that it’s probably better to go along with you than to insist on his own questions, at least until you’ve organized your thoughts a little bit better.

You ponder on the question for a moment, shifting your weight between the balls of your feet to pass the time. When you do answer, you explain, “Well, it’s a little crazy but my source has said that you’ll be okay with it so...believe it or not, I’m from the future and doing my doctorate thesis on a dynasty that’s about to establish itself around this time.” When 1388 Minho doesn’t immediately and visibly freak out as he would on your worst case scenario, you take this as your cue to continue. “You’re still alive in my time but I can’t tell you what our relationship is or it’ll be spoilers! All I can say is that you’ve helped me passed a lot of my major requirements in school and if you’re okay with it, you can help me with this one too!”

The Minho in front of you thinks that you probably know him very well to know that he’s not easily spooked with anything out of the ordinary, not even by someone who claims to be from the future and is doing an academic paper about the past. You did mention knowing his personal history, as well, which effectively gained you his trust. He just hopes you’re not married or something in the future as the hairpin seems to be trying to imply or else he’d consider this first meeting of yours a bit chaotic for his liking. “Sure. Where do you have to be right now?”

Really? It’s that easy? Is all you can think about, much to Minho’s curiosity when he reads your thoughts. “O-Oh, well, um...if you can take me to the palace courts, that would be...cool, I mean nice.”

And so, Minho from 1388 ends up showing you around the palace courts for the next six months that follows (but, really, it’s just merely six minutes in the present time), even introducing you to people whom you ended up entrusting with your data-gathering. You almost mentioned Hyunjin and his fiancé, Shiyeon, on more than one occasion, remembering how the vampire would be with Seungmin already by this time while the immortal witch would be travelling around Korea, but opted not to instead when you also remember that no one from this time period really liked talking about the previous fire that killed most of Hyunjin’s family.

Besides, you didn’t want to mess up the timeline and have Minho meet Hyunjin before he could meet Chan, even when he would ask you about it right before you left.

“How am I in the future, by the way? Am I allowed to ask that?” Minho asks you curiously as you hold out your watch in front of him. It was starting to get annoying, having to hide it in your bell sleeves all the time. “And what am I doing by then?”

“I can’t say anything specific that’s important.” You scrunch up your nose disapprovingly to which Minho only glares at you in response. “Just trust me, you’re sort of happy with where you are in my present day. You don’t have to worry about it now, it’s still 600 years away, anyway.”

Minho mistakenly interprets that as the two of you being married in the future. He doesn’t have feelings for you in this time period but he takes your word not to worry about it until it’s happened.

Besides, you seem kind. He’ll see something in you eventually.

“When will I see you again, then?”

“Um...around 1418, probably?” You answer with a hint of uncertainty as you faintly recall your thesis’ outline. You needed to see King Sejeong’s court next. “You’ll still be here, right?”

Minho initially had plans on moving to a nearby province but he nods, anyway, thinking that that could wait for a few more years. “Yeah.”

And with that, you’re gone again.

present: February 13, 2020

When you get back to the present day, it’s only 9:35 PM, almost six minutes since you left, but Minho’s already in the kitchen, helping Jisung and Jeongin clean up their mess.

“Back already?” Minho asks with a blood bag between his teeth when he catches sight of you by the open doorway as he wipes the kitchen island clean, immediately noticing the grin you wear on your face. “What did you think?”

“You were much chiller then!” You exclaim, ducking past Jeongin and Jisung to sit down right across Minho on the countertop. “I mean, you were a bit scary at first with the whole glaring thing you got going on but you were very calm and collected, then, like you weren’t even phased about me being from the future!”

Of course he would be at that time, he was literally there when it happened (and also because he’s always had a feeling even from before that you’d meet but that’s also on his long list of things he won’t tell you). Instead, you see him quirk an eyebrow, throwing the rag towel in his hand to the side to pick up his phone and resume his Kart Rider. “Weirdoes vibe with weirdoes, I guess.” He shrugs, chuckling when you protest at this. “Anyway, you got what you need, right?”

You nod happily with a hum, propping an elbow up on the now clean counter and resting your cheek on your palm. “I have enough to write about later when you’re done cleaning.”

“Ya, Y/N, if you’re gonna stick around at least help us clean the kitchen!” Jisung complains as he drags a wet mop across the floor behind you.

“And why would I do that? I didn’t even help you make the chocolates!”

“Because Minho’s been making cho—” Before Jisung could finish his sentence, however, Minho throws his rag towel towards the younger vampire, aiming it directly to his face. “Ya!”

You shake your head in disbelief, turning to Minho again after. “Anyway, I have to fix my notes for a bit and you need to tell me where else I went for this paper!”

Also because you were kinda cute back then, you think to yourself more as an after-thought, not really expecting for Minho to accidentally hear it.

Now, Minho knows why he made you wear the hairpin. Is it normal to be jealous of one’s past self?

present: February 16, 2020

Minho offers you a whole bag of your favorite mini Toblerones the next time that you knock on his door to work on your thesis. The Valentine’s Day homemade chocolates were a fail even when Felix was eventually brought in last-minute (then you just had to disappear for a whole day with Nari and Shiyeon, too), so he rushed to the nearest convenience store to buy you the Toblerones as soon as you told him that you’ll come over again to pester him with his Internet connection and ask him more about your work.

Maybe this is really it, the one you were talking about in his past.

“You’re being nice to me with all this chocolate.” You squint your eyes with a piece of the chocolate in between your teeth suspiciously across the dining table as you work, head buried in papers to revise and dusty reference books. Your professor has you on travel limit as everyone else, only allowing you up to four actual visits to the past, hence the mountainous stacks of library books and journals you’ve borrowed from both the campus library and Changbin’s personal collection. “What do you need? Ya, I’m talking to you.”

Minho, busy in his own academic work on his laptop, only peeks up at you belatedly when he’s reaching out for his blood bag buried underneath all of your papers. “What?”

“What are the chocolates for?” You ask straightforwardly this time, picking up another mini Toblerone off the yellow bag. “Last time you bought me something from the convenience store was when you ate the squirrel I was feeding in the back garden.”

Minho only shrugs as nonchalantly as he could, though he can’t help but feel a little flustered as evidenced by the way his eyes briefly widen. The squirrel incident was a long time ago and yet you still won’t let it go. “Can’t I be nice?” He simply asks back in answer to which you scoff at. He laughs along with you, anyway. “Jeongin bought it then gave me the extra, probably to give to you since I can’t really eat it.”

You wanted to tell him that Nari actually shared the chocolates Jeongin gave her and they were definitely not Toblerones but you let it slide again. For some reason, it’s funny seeing Minho try to cover up something right in front of your face and thinking that he’s doing a good job at it. He’s trained you to see past his bullshit for the past 8 years, he should really know better. “Um...right.” You nod teasingly. “I’m gonna pretend you’re not looking very suspicious right now.”

Minho could clearly tell that you’re doubting him even without reading you but he does nothing more to it. He’s too deep in his bullshit already and you both know that.

Truth is, he was just fulfilling something you mentioned in your second visit to him (and probably as a way to give you something on Valentine’s Day even if it’s two days late).

“Anyway, when are you making the travel again?”

“Right after I finish summarizing this book.”

And it happens to come full circle today, too. What luck does your best friend have.

past: August 1418

You jump between days in a span of six years this time (which is approximately an hour and twelve minutes back in the present time) with the help of Minho, Chan, and Changbin from 1418 helping you by preparing an entire closet of clothes and coming up with a very detailed background story of how you were a distant relative of Chan’s from the province in the case that someone asked about you. The other two boys were more than happy to welcome you despite how foreign time travel was to them in this time period because, apparently, you’re all Minho’s ever talked about since they met.

“It’s nice knowing that Minho didn’t fever dreamed you up or something.” Changbin joked to you once towards the end of the six years of your data-gathering, to which he received a full apple shoved in his mouth from Minho. In this time period, his wife, Haseul, was still in that sleeping curse you still don’t understand fully at present, carefully laid in a tomb somewhere in the capital. Fortunately, you managed to avoid telling him that she wakes up seven centuries later (and that they get married) throughout your entire stay and avoided spoilers. “Vampires who’ve lived long like us tend to do that sometimes. Heck, even Chan does that lots of times these days, telling us about this immortal person he’s been looking for a while now. I guess it’s the human brain’s natural response to having a lot of memories.”

“Minho remembers me just fine in the present, though.” You shrug as you re-write your interview notes, to which Minho mumbles a ‘Really?’ at. When you nod at him, he immediately rolls his eyes up in thought. You want to tell them that the person Chan’s been looking for at this time’s also real (and that he and said person, Eunhye, even live together now), too, but you decide against it later on for spoiler reasons again. “You have really good memory in the present, you even bought me Toblerones today.”

“What are those?”

A realization dawns on you right there and then, a small smile forming on your lips to which Minho quirks an eyebrow at and Changbin immediately asks you about. “You’ll find out soon enough. Just know that they’re my favorite.” You simply answer, standing up from the front porch of the inn you’ve been staying at and dusting the dirt off of your new hanbok. You remind yourself to ask Minho and Changbin about where these are at present later on. “Anyway, I’m off! I need to interview a few court people then I’ll be off your hairs again soon!”

When it’s time for you to leave again, Minho’s still pestering you about what Toblerones are.

“Come on, tell me!” He protests, going as far as holding your wrist where your watch is before you could escape. “Y/N!”

You only grin up at him mischievously, gently swatting his hand away. “February 16, 2020! Also, make me ramen and coffee when I get back to the other side, please! I’d really like that!”

present: February 16, 2020

A steaming bowl of ramen and a warm cup of miraculously decently-brewed coffee are on the kitchen countertop by the time you come back, just as you asked him six hundred years in the past. What you didn’t expect, however, was the way your notes and references have also been organized neatly on the table while you were away and Minho dozing off on the nearby sofa in the open living room (he really likes genuine sleep lately which you’re yet to ask him as to why). You make sure to check that he really is sleeping by pinching his nose (and getting no response which is his usual indication of actual sleep) before placing the blanket he has reserved for you in his apartment over his hunched over body.

“You don’t really need it,” You whisper tiredly, tucking the blanket close to his neck. His skin is naturally cold, as any normal vampire’s, but you’ve slowly grown accustomed to it over the years. “but how else am I going to say thank you for remembering my request after six hundred years? You’re going above and beyond anyone I’ve ever met, Lee Minho, you should stop raising the bar too high for men like this.”

three

past: May 1592

“Are you sure you want to be here?” Minho from 1592 asks you right after you’ve reappeared in his house. Chan is out for work and Changbin is visiting Haseul on this particular day, leaving him to tend to their main house alone. “We’re in the middle of—”

“A Japanese invasion, I know.” You finish his thought for him, casually plopping down on the front porch right next to him and gingerly receiving the cup of tea he offers you. The garden he’s been trying to tend the last time you were around hasn’t made any significant progress even when an entire century has passed. You want to think it’s because the boys have been travelling elsewhere right before you returned but you also know it’s because they haven’t met Seungmin and Hyunjin yet. Those two are still probably travelling with Shiyeon. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re—” Minho leans away and gazes back incredulously at you. He can already tell, with his own abilities, that you’re not thinking of what he’s thinking but he asks anyway to fully confirm. “I’m not letting you go to the frontlines if that’s what you’re going to ask me this time.”

You chuckle at his genuinely mortified expression as you sip on your tea, making the boy furrow his brows at you. You really must be crazy. “You already know I’m not thinking of that! Though, I will ask you crazier things in the distant future.” You assure him. “I’ll only be staying for a year, six years again at most since I only need to complete a few interviews and fact-check a few books.”

“Good.” Minho sighs in relief, taking a long sip of his tea as well. Even in 1592, the only human beverage Minho could stand is tea, you’re quick to notice. “That’s...that’s a relief.”

“Why would you even be worried about going to the field, you’re immorta—ya, perhaps, do you you care about me?” You tease, grinning widely at the sudden realization. “We have a really messed-up timeline but you already care about me as early as now, that’s cute!”

Minho from this time period could only roll his eyes at you against his sudden flustered feeling. If he was curious of your relationship with his future self when you first met, he’s curious as to how his future self keeps up with you this time. “Because you might be important to me in the future or something.” He bluffs to which you only chuckle fondly at. “I can’t really tell since you won’t tell me exactly how I know you in the future.”

“Well, what am I to you now?”

“A friend.” And he means it truthfully.

You’re momentarily taken aback, Minho sees even when you’re quick to hide it. Present Minho won’t even call you his best friend like you do to him. “Then just—just remember that until then.” You point out, smiling when you gaze over to his side and see his sincere expression. Something leaps in your chest at hearing him say those words without his usual playful tone of voice. It’s not what you’ve always been hoping for but it’s a start. “Won’t it be better if you just find out in the moment when it does happen?”

Minho wants to tell you that he can’t wait but his teasing nature always gets the best of him first, “Hm, maybe you don’t actually know me at all in the future, that’s why you’re always being vague when I ask you.”

You scoff, smacking his arm. “Ya!”

“So, really, what are you to me in the future?” He insists anyway, swiftly dodging your hits until he’s caught your wrist in his hands. “Friend? Best friend?”

A lover? He wanted to add further but he bites his tongue back just in time.

“I always call you my best friend but I’ve yet to hear the same thing from you so, honestly, how would I know when you’re so secretive with your true feelings all the time! I’m even surprised you answered my question just now.” You frown, unintentionally coming off as bitter in your tone of voice as you retract your hand back to your side. You place your cup down as well, careful of the remaining tea so it doesn’t accidentally spill on your hanbok. At this moment, you miss the way Minho’s expression turns into confusion. “If it helps, though, I can only tell you that you always let me in your house to hoard the wi-fi—which you don’t have to know about right now!—and you’ve kept me around long enough to know when you’re trying to lie to me or read my thoughts with your clairvoyance thing going on.”

Minho nods along, humming in thought. “So you’re a parasite?”

You inhale a deep breath, focusing all of your energy into restraining yourself from hitting him for a second time. “You’ve called me worse.” You sigh with a controlled laugh. “Expired dinner and ex-wife who has nowhere else to go are my personal favorites.”

Next to you, Minho’s eyes genuinely widen in curiosity. “We got married?”

“Um, no? No, no, it’s an expression!” You shake your head and snicker despite the contrasting heat on your neck. Minho grows flustered at sensing the blood rushing up to your face. “I don’t even know if you’re capable of romantic love, dude. You’re always kinda everywhere and nowhere.”

Minho’s not offended, though, especially not when you try to apologize after at realizing that you’re not as close with this version of him as you are with the version you know in your own time. “It’s fine.” He assures you with a shrug, knowing full well that you were just kidding around. “I’m guessing with that that I’m still single five centuries later.”

“That and a bit of a flirt, too.” You clarify before his words fully process in your head. “Wait, so that means you haven’t dated even before this?”

Minho shakes his head. “No, no one’s caught my eye yet.”

You purse your lips in thought of this new revelation. It’s in moments like this, when you’re meeting past selves of your immortal friends that you realize just how little you actually know of them. “Huh, I didn’t peg you as the type.”

“The type to what?”

You shrug slowly, hunching over in your seat. “To be the fall in love just once type? I don’t know...”

Chan has mentioned to you once about Minho believing in soulmates but you were quick to dismiss that then. Remembering that now, maybe he is right.

And, as if he has been reading your thoughts this entire time, Minho agrees with a nod. “Then, now you know. If you’ve lived as long as I have, soulmates are really nice to think about.”

“But you always tease me about it...you from the future at least.” You pout. “Again, no offense, it’s just that—from the way I know you in my time, you’re very confusing.”

When you glance over at Minho, you see him sit up straighter and lean closer to you again, your shoulders bumping against his as he tilts his head to meet your gaze. “Really? How am I confusing? Maybe I can help.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Ah, but that’s unfair. You’ll take note of this in the future again.”

“Your time’s five hundred years away, I’m sure I’ll forget this with time.” He assures you to no avail as evidenced by your squinted eyes.

“You remembered my ramen and coffee request from last time, though.” You argue back, making his eyes light up.

“I will?”

You nod, placing a finger on his forehead and pushing his face away from yours. “Yeah, so I don’t trust you. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Minho doesn’t bother you anymore about it for the rest of your one-year stay, which you’re more than grateful for.

present: February 22, 2020

He does, however, teases you about it again when you’re back to the present. Closing in on you in one of his bone-crushing hugs when you reappear in his room, he asks, “So, how was meeting me in the 1500s this time, best friend?”

“Excuse me, what did you say?” You furrow your brows at him, your arms going limp on your sides while your entire body freezes on the spot.

“I just called you my best friend.” He repeats casually with a shrug. “Why?”

Minho purposely omits the fact that he double-checked his old journals to make sure that you just time traveled to that period when you mentioned to him how he’s never called you his best friend. He’s been waiting for this opportunity to set it right with you since he didn’t know much of the context back then.

You shake your head in response, reluctantly hugging him back once you’ve regained feeling in your arms again. “Nothing, it’s just...”

“Dude, you’re acting like past me and present me are different people.” He chuckles against your hair, squeezing your frame once before pulling away. “So, we’re good, right? You’re not bitter about the whole best friend thing now?”

You frown, slapping his elbow to which he only chuckles at. “Who said I was bitter?”

“You did in 1592!” He teases, his mischievous grin softening into a fond smile after. “But seriously...sorry about that. I just think it’s cheesy to say most of the time but you really are...my best friend now I guess—maybe until you die in 50 years.”

Minho then runs away before you could even protest, prompting you to chase him out of his room and into the hallway. “Ya, Lee Minho! I’m going to kill you first, you brat!”

But you know that deep in your heart that he’s only joking (and also because Jeongin has gossiped to you once about accidentally reading one of Minho’s journal entries from the 1700s once about meeting someone who shares your name but was already working as a professor in university and may or may not already be a vampire).

present: February 29, 2020

“Okay, to refresh...” You mumble as you adjust the watch on your wrist and the switchblade Minho insisted on you keeping in your pants’ pockets. Next to you, said vampire’s is sprawled on his bed, a reviewer and highlighter in hand. “In 1895, Hyunjin was following Shiyeon around the world, Seungmin was starting out his photography career, Soojung was taking a beauty nap, Haseul was still sleeping, Changbin was going on a Jack the Killer rampage somewhere in Europe, Jisung was still a newborn, Felix, and Jeongin haven’t joined you yet, and Chan was...learning yoga with Eunhye? Is that right?”

“And I’ve met all versions of you by this time.” Minho adds in absentmindedly before going back to chanting his notes over and over again. He really doesn’t need to since he really has sharp memory these days but you let him study for whatever it is he’s studying, anyway, so he has something else to do besides Kart Rider and annoying his other friends. “Just tell past me who I’m meeting when you arrive since you know how I kept mixing graduate studies you and college thesis you up all the time.”

“That’s...you guys have lived lives.” You puff out a tired breath, making Minho glance up to you briefly and chuckle. “Sometimes, it makes me and Nari feel so small.”

“It’s not much.” The boy shrugs back. “It personally hasn’t felt that long.”

“And why’s that?” You hum curiously.

He mumbles something behind his paper but you don’t hear it well. When you ask him about it, he only shakes his head and kicks you with his socket foot, urging you to go already.

Minho actually said, “It’s because you’ve been with me the entire time.” but he’ll just tell you all about it later when you come back.

With a scoff, you then swat his foot away and bid him goodbye. “Fine, see you later then.”

“I’ll organize your notes until then. Bye.”

past: July 1895

Minho sets your location on your watch to his house, now renovated to what was considered modern then. You’ve been here countless of times, albeit in different time periods of your own past (the last being when you had to ask for his help in the 1860s about your graduate thesis), but you’ve never been here in the 1890s, not when a newborn Jisung had the self-control of a toddler and immediately tried pouncing on you the moment he smelled you on their front lawn.

Now you know what the switchblade is for (and the one time Jisung kept apologizing to you in the 1910s).

“Ji, calm down!” Minho growls in annoyance, holding the younger boy by his arms as he drags him back inside the house. He can feel your anxiousness increase just by looking at this unfamiliar side of Jisung, prompting him to send you an apologizing look. “Sorry, um, Y/N, I—”

“I-It’s...it’s fine.” You assure shakily with a curt nod, taking a step back as well when Jisung tries regaining two steps towards you again. “I think I came in the wrong day.”

“It depends. What are you here for?” He asks, his voice growing faint as he successfully manages to lock Jisung inside the house. He then quickly jogs back to you, examining your face for any recognizable hints of where you could be from.

“Doctorate thesis.” You answer for him, earning you a look of realization from him.

“Oh, it’s you.” He smiles in relief. You remember distinctly how these were also the very same words he told you when you first met him in a time travel. “I was thinking you’d never come back.”

You feign a frown in front of him, making him laugh. “Why? Did you think I wouldn’t finish my studies?”

“It’s just that the next time you came back, from my point of view, is when you were only in college to ask me about the 1810s.” He clarifies, to which you nod in understanding. So he does remember. “I thought it weird at first that you didn’t come back sooner to finish your doctorate.”

“Ah, well, you in 2020 has been a big help—well, him and a shit ton of books.” You chuckle awkwardly. “This is my last trip for my doctorate, actually, since I have the smallest amount of resources for Queen Min.”

“T-This is—this is your last?”

You smirk at his briefly dejected expression, elbowing him gently. “Why do you look so sad? You already know we’ll meet again in the future. Plus, you’ll still meet younger versions of me later on for my college requirements which is a bit confusing to hear right now but you’ll get it later!”

Minho opens his mouth to speak, initially to tell you something about being frustrated that he’s only seen glimpses (and different versions) of you throughout his life so far, but he’s suddenly cut off by Jisung banging wildly against the front door, making him and you flinch.

“Um...what if we deal with Jisung first?” You suggest. “I assure you we’re all going to be great friends in the future but no one really told me that this would happen.”

Minho nods slowly next to you, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Yeah, we should probably take care of him first before your thesis. You could spare five minutes to sit down, right?”

“Definitely.”

And so, you spend the rest of your first day getting Jisung to calm down in your presence.

present: February 29, 2020

“Chan, babe, please, please, please promise that you won’t flinch when we use the party poppers later.” Eunhye sighs exasperatedly as she leads everyone into organizing the kitchen and living room. “Felix, good job on the cookies by the way! They turned out really well! Jisung, hurry up with that banner!”

“Babe, I don’t flinch!” Chan yells across the hallway as he re-checks if everyone will have enough party hats, trumpets, and poppers for later.

“Yes you do!”

“What’s so significant about today, anyway?” Nari asks Jeongin as the two enter the apartment with boxes upon boxes of blood bags and alcoholic drinks. “Besides Y/N finishing their thesis, of course.”

Shiyeon and Hyunjin follow closely behind with take-out boxes of chicken wings. “Because today is Y/N’s last time travel before they become a professor! A lot of good things are going to happen after, trust me.” Shiyeon answers with a wink.

“How come you know all of that? You were barely with us in the 1800s.” Jisung asks while struggling to put the other end of your congratulations banner across the kitchen. Soojung is on the other end, arm beginning to fall asleep as she holds up the other end of the banner for Jisung. “Even Jeongin and Felix don’t know that.”

“There’s a thing called correspondence and Hyunjin was a diligent gossiper.” Shiyeon only chuckles, setting down the take-out boxes on the countertop. “Also, hey, I was there in one of Y/N’s visits! It just hasn’t happened in our timeline yet but it will in three years!”

Minho then emerges from his room, phone in hand counting down the seconds until you’re back again. “Okay, we have two hours to get everything ready.”

“Lee Minho where have you been this entire time!” Eunhye complains, finally taking the boy’s presence to take a seat. “I’ve been organizing everyone for a whole ten minutes!”

“You mean you have two hours to get ready.” Haseul teases, seated on one of the dining table chairs and helping Changbin, Seungmin, and Felix make proper chocolates this time. “Don’t you have something else important you need to prepare?”

“No, I can just wing it.” Minho dismisses to which Chan immediately laughs at, catching the younger boy’s panicked expression.

“Sure you do.” Seungmin dryly responds, to which everyone topples over in laughter.

past: November 1905

“You’ll see me again in five years, at least from your point of view.” You assure Minho from 1905 right before you leave. Jisung’s apologizing again about the incident last time but you’re quick to hug him and effectively shut him up. “The one you’ll meet in 1910 is going to be a little different, though, a little younger.”

“But it’s still you.”

You smile at this. “Yeah, still me.”

Minho wants to tell you so badly that he’s met another version of you while you were away, someone older, but he quickly pushes the thought at the back of his head. Is this how you feel holding back spoilers from him? Instead, he ops to tease you. “You know, when people usually meet, it’s not as backwards as us.” When you raise an eyebrow at him, he continues, “You keep meeting me from the past and I’ve met you from the future countless of times. Even if culture’s going to be different in the future, I’m pretty sure this is still not how it goes there.”

Finally, understanding, you let out a laugh, hitting his side playfully. “Definitely not.” You agree sheepishly. “But I think that makes it even more special. It makes you wait until we’re in the same time, right?”

Minho nods. “What date are you going back to again?”

“February 29, 2020. Why?”

He says nothing else on it but bids you goodbye with one last hug instead. “Nothing. I’ll see you again soon...or another version of you.”

“And I’ll see future you.” You chuckle before disappearing.

present: February 29, 2020

You come back to all the lights in Minho’s apartment turned off at the present. You hear whispers and the soft clicking of a lighter as well, prompting you to follow the noise outside.

“I think it’s better if Changbin doesn’t hold the cake, don’t you think?” You recognize Haseul’s loud voice even from the hallways, fueling your curiosity even further.

A slight pause then follows before you hear Chan agree, “Yeah. Hyunjin, you hold the other cake.”

“Lix, you’re stepping on my foot.” That’s Jisung, you know by the way he’s always whiny when he complains.

“Oh shit, sorry!”

“Everyone, quiet! Y/N’s on their way!” Nari scolds and the hushes then quickly fall silent once you reach the kitchen, flipping the light switch on the hallway to the sound of party poppers exploding right in front of you. Only then do you see the big ‘CONGRATULATIONS Y/N!’ banner hanging right above everyone standing in a line with cake, hats, and trumpets.

“Um?” You raise an eyebrow at everyone, breaking out into an uncontrollable grin. “What’s with all this?”

Minho of your time then walks over to you with a Toblerone cake, carefully protecting two candles from the breeze that enters through the windows. “Chan and Eunhye insisted on a party so...congrats on finishing your thesis!”

Over his shoulder, said vampire and immortal immediately shake their heads in denial. “It’s his idea!” Eunhye mouths to you with a smirk, making you chuckle.

You then turn to Minho with a smile. “I haven’t even finished writing it yet.” You point out only for your best friend to shrug nonchalantly. “And my graduation’s in a month.”

“Yeah, we can work on that once everyone’s out of the apartment.” He suggests. “Now, just blow on the candles first, Seungmin’s arms are about to fall off waiting to take a picture.”

You briefly apologize to Seungmin on the side with a sheepish laugh, blowing on the cake’s candles after to the many snaps of his film camera. “Thank you for all this. I really appreciate it, you guys!” You thank your guests after, approaching them with Minho on your side this time.

“We can call you Professor now, right?” Hyunjin playfully asks, elbowing you gently on your side.

“It makes me sound really old.” You pout, making him laugh. “In a few years.”

“Three years.” Shiyeon coughs to which Minho immediately glares them down for.

Catching this gesture, you decide on purposely ignoring it for now. You’ll have to ask Shiyeon what they mean with that later. “Anyway, let’s eat. Have you guys been here long?”

“Not really but I’m already starving!” Soojung exclaims, passing you a plate and utensils. Next to her, Felix and Chan instinctively open up all the take-out boxes of food for everyone to dig in.

“Alright, let’s eat!”

present: March 1, 2020

Minho kicks everyone out after by the strike of midnight, when all the food’s been devoured and the party games have been played at least twice. Surprisingly, even Jisung and Jeongin were directed outside by Minho at this time, which you immediately ask him about once the two boys are out of the door. “Don’t those two live here?” You joke with a dry chuckle. “You don’t have to kick them out so we can work.”

“They’ll come back later.” Minho gently shuts the door before turning to you as you stand with your arms crossed in front of your chest, a genuinely curious expression on your face. “I just...need a moment with you.”

You pretend to take a step back with your best dramatic expression of fear. “Oh my God, you’re going to kill me after eight years of friendship, right?”

“What? No.” Minho furrows his brows at this, making you laugh. “It’s just...fuck, now I’m off-tracked.”

You giggle this time, loosening your arms in front of you. “What is it, Minho?”

There have been times, both in the past and present though rare, when Minho has looked nervous in front of you. The last time he was, from what you can remember, was when he was about to tell you that he accidentally killed the squirrel in the apartment’s back garden but even then, he wasn’t as nervous as he is now—fiddling with the hem of his blue sweater for a brief moment before finally taking the courage to step closer to you. “I-I, um—” He stammers out, one hand instinctively going up to his nape. “What I want to say is that...remember when I asked you in 1592 about how I know you?”

“You just teased me about that last week.” You roll your eyes in an attempt to ease the sudden awkwardness, only to make it even worse for Minho. With this, your expression immediately contorts into worry. “What about it?”

“Then in 1905, where you just came back from, you told me we’ll meet in the right time eventually...” He continues after a while, smiling back when you do reassuringly. “In between those centuries, of course, y-you—you came in for your college homework and your Masteral’s but there was also...there was also someone else.”

This unexpected turn drops something heavy on your stomach, your smile unconsciously faltering. Minho wants to snicker but, knowing you, you’ll probably think of him cold if he does so he takes in a deep breath and tries his best to continue with less stutters this time. “Don’t be too sad, it’s still you, just a few months in the future.” He assures with a chuckle, hands instinctively going up to your sides to rub your arms comfortingly. Your eyes widen at this in response and you freeze in his touch. “Anyway, July 2020 Y/N just told me to do something tonight, if that’s okay.”

It takes you a moment to respond but Minho patiently waits, holding back his laugh by biting his lip down. He’s reading your thoughts as they go into overdrive. Is this how you feel when I hide the future from you before? You internally ask to which he nods at. “U-Um, so...what are you going to do?”

“Just tell you that I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” Minho finally confesses, sighing in relief once he’s gotten the words out surprisingly well. “And if you’d like to go out for a trip after your graduation—and not the time travel trip, this time so we can be together right.”

There’s more to it, actually, Minho has a whole paper written and rehearsed for a span of almost three centuries but he figures you’ll find out about it eventually. He could tell you about how he’s been in love with every version of you that he’s met in the past another time or maybe you already know it.

“So?” He asks after a while when you don’t speak verbally. Your thoughts are still muddled and your heartbeat’s a little too fast for his liking but he holds any impulsive urge he might have in for your sake. “What do you say?”

You purse your lips once, mustering up a relieved smile at him after. “You already met me from the future this time—which I commend you for, by the way, because you’ve one-upped me again this time!—so I think you already know the answer to that.”

epilogue

past: July 1799

You know full well that you’re not supposed to travel back in time for personal reasons, especially not for the reason you’re coming into 1799 to see a past Minho for, but you figure that you’re already in your university’s faculty roster. If I get caught, you think to yourself as you easily spot Minho with Chan at an art exhibit in Paris, the professors will probably understand.

“Minho! Chan!” You call with your hand above your head waving frantically at the two, catching theirs and a few patrons’ attentions. You don’t mind the extra attention as you approach him, though, since they did instinctively made way for you because of it. “Hello there, you two!”

“Hi, Y/N!” Chan greets you happily, giving you a side hug. “Aren’t you back too soon?”

But knowing full well that you’re probably not the same one the two met last time, Minho smirks in amusement as he eyes your choice of clothes and asks, “And where did you come from? By the clothes, me from the future probably doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Yeah, I picked out my own clothes for today. Anyway, I won’t be here long.” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. “I’m from July 2020 and I’m not here for any academic work this time! I just wanted to ask you a quick favor.”

From what you’ve detailed in your own journals, the last time you met from this particular Minho’s point of view was when you were doing a paper on the Baroque movement for one of your college classes.

“What is it?” He asks you anyway, his body turned away from the painting that he and Chan have been previously admiring as he gives you his full attention.

Judging from the amount of times you’ve visited him (and the different versions of you he’s meet as well), his future self seems to agree on your requests all the time.

“I can’t tell you much but please prepare something on February 29, 2020!” You answer, your watch beeping on your side to remind you that it’s almost time to leave. “And make sure to mention me! Remember, Y/N from July 2020!”

Before he could ask about it, further, however, you were already gone.

“What do you think that was about, Chan?” Minho asks the older vampire instead.

But Chan simply shrugs, hands going deeper in his pockets as he thinks. “No idea.” He admits in equal confusion. “Guess we’ll have to see in three hundred years.”

219 notes · View notes

cryingoverafictionalcharacter · 4 years

Text

Red Hair Dye

Request: hello! if you’re taking prompts could you please do 1 + 10 from the angst list (with a happy ending preferably!) for fred with a slytherin!reader? thank you i love your writing even tho i just found your blog! <3 (@greyspilot)

1. “I hate that I love you”

10. “I can’t do this anymore”

Prompt: Fred and Y/N could not be more different. Fred loves to cause trouble, Y/N is more reserved. Fred is loud and extroverted, Y/N likes to keep to themselves. Fred is a Gryffindor, Y/N is a Slytherin. They’re complete opposites, it would only make sense that they wouldn’t like each other, that is until a certain moment makes them question everything.

Warnings: ANGST!!! with fluff at the end lol. Injury to reader bc we love a care taking moment, swearing, Fred being a dumbass, reader being a dumbass, Enemies to lovers type beat, gender neutral reader, Umbridge existing, I think that’s it.

You gritted your teeth as you stared straight ahead, doing everything you could to focus on the words scribbled on the board instead of the endless chattering coming from behind you. Transfiguration was by far your least favorite class, the lessons were boring, the homework was extensive, but above all else, Fred Weasley sat directly behind you, meaning you were now on the receiving end of any jokes or pranks he may try and pull to relieve his own boredom.

You and Fred were, to put it lightly, mortal enemies. It wasn’t always like that though, from first to fourht year you were pretty close, making jokes and having fun together along with George and Ron, but then in fourth year, he had tried to pull a prank on you. He was meant to switch all your Slytherin robes for Gryffindor ones, which would have been annoying but forgivable, but he decided to take an extra step, and dye your hair a sickeningly color of red. Not maroon, not pink, no, he went with a bright, stop sign, ripe tomato red. Some of your house mates had already started making fun of you for your half blood status, but after the incident, many of them had alienated you completely, leaving you with almost no friends the entire semester.

You decided then and there that you hated Fred Weasleys guts, even when he offered to help you in class, or notice when you were having a bad day and leave you alone, or smile in a way that gave you butterflies.

You continued to focus on the board, ignoring the red head who was currently trying to get your attention.

“Hey, Y/N.... Y/N” Fred whisper yelled, saying your name a bit louder with each attempt. You continued to ignore him, scribbling notes from time to time until you felt something hit the back of your head.

Fred must have noticed how your body stiffened, because you heard him let out a quiet laugh along with his friends, but still, you continued to look forward.

You felt another ball of paper hit you in the back of the head, followed by more snickering. You balled your hands into fists, hoping the professor would excuse the class before you lost your patients and gave Fred the well deserved smack you had been itching to give since third year.

“Do you have an answer for us Y/N?” The professor suddenly asked, making you snap out of your haze.

“What?” You asked, clueless of what the Professor had asked, causing a few laughs to pass through the class.

“That’s what I thought you might say, maybe if you were to pay as much attention to this class as you do your own thoughts, your grade wouldn’t be doing so poorly.” The teacher responded, making your face heat up as you slumped down in your seat.

Your mind filled with thoughts all contradicting each other.

“Class dismissed, please read chapters-” You couldn’t hear the rest of the professors instructions, as soon as you were excused you grabbed your things and left, fumbling to put your things into your bag as you rushed out of the class.

“Y/N, wait up!” Fred called, catching up to you quite quickly. Damn those long legs.

You didn’t answer, picking up your pace to hopefully reach your last class before Fred could catch up to you, but of course, he wasn’t about to suddenly stop pestering you now.

“Y/N, I-” Fred tried to say, grabbing your arm to stop.

You ripped your arm out of his grasp, turning to face him.

“What’s your problem?” You asked bluntly, causing a few heads to turn in your direction, but next class was about to start, and the hallways were already quite empty.

“I- I don’t have a problem” Fred said, struggling to find the words as he was quite surprised by your reaction. Sure he had bugged you in the past, but you had never gotten this mad.

“Well, you obviously fucking do Fred. Ever since fourth year you’ve been doing everything you could to make my life harder. It was funny when it was a little joke here and there, but dying my hair? Making me lose friends? Embarrassing me in class? I don’t know if you know this but it’s not fucking funny Fred! What did I do to make you hate me so much? We used to be friends!” You ranted, watching as Fred’s eyes grew with both shock and fear as your voice continued to get louder.

“I don’t-” Fred tried to interject, but it only made you angrier.

“You don’t what Fred, you don’t what?!” You shouted, only coming down from your anger when you heard someone lightly clear their throat behind you.

Your eyes, which were once locked on Fred’s with anger, filled with dread as you slowly turned to see none other than the pink clad devil herself.

“I believe you should both be in class, yes?” She asked, the fake politeness in her voice causing a sick feeling to wash over you.

“I’m sorry professor, I was just-” Fred started, but Umbridge lifted her hand to stop him.

“Weasley, please get to your next class. Y/N, follow me” She said, the smile never leaving her face as she turned to walk back to her office, you following behind, looking back to see Fred, a worried expression on his face.

By the time you had reached Umbridge's office, you were practically shaking. You had heard horror stories of people who went into her office to be punished, coming out with bloody words scribbled across their hands.

You sat in the chair across from her desk, looking around the ugly pink room for a moment before a quill and piece of paper were suddenly placed in front of you.

“You will write, ‘I will not shout during class’ one hundred times” She said, taking a seat across from you, eyeing you like a snake about to strike at a mouse.

“Professor Umbridge, I didn’t-” You started, trying to defend yourself.

“You most certainly did, I could hear you all the way across campus, two hundred times” She said, making you clench your fists.

“What?! I just wanted to-”

“‘I will not shout during class’ two hundred times, and ‘I will not question my professors’ three hundred times” She said, her sickly sweet tone never changing.

Your heart sank to your stomach, already feeling sick. You decided not to try and fight it anymore, knowing you would only end up more hurt, so, you picked up the quill and began writing, already beginning to feel a slight sting in your left hand.

By the time you had finished writing it was nearly dark. With any other quill the task would have taken no more than thirty minutes, but with the pain in your hand worsening as you continued to dig into your skin, it had taken hours.

You wrote the last sentence, almost throwing the pen down as you took deep breaths, trying not to let the pain get to you in front of her. You grabbed the paper with your injured hand, offering it to Umbridge who took it with a smile, looking over the small blood spot that had landed in the corner.

“You are excused” She said with a flick of her hand, allowing you to slowly stand and walk out of her office, closing the door behind you.

You walked into the hallway in a daze, your head feeling foggy from the emotional exhaustion you were feeling. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice Fred waiting for you until he was standing directly in front of you, quickly shaking you from your sleep like state.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice shaking a bit, trying to hide your face by staring at the floor “If you’re here to make fun of me or something...I don’t know what I did to make you hate me but I’m sorry I just can’t- I can’t do this anymore”

You felt a pair of hands gently hold the sides of your face, making you look up to meet Fred’s eyes which were now filled with sadness as he wiped a single tear rolling down your face.

“I don’t hate you. I never hated you”

He pulled you closer to him, enveloping you in a hug and the dam burst, tears freely flowing down your face as you sobbed into his chest. You were crying from the pain in your hand, but also the pain you felt in your heart. You didn’t know why he didn’t like you, why he did all those things to make your life so hard, why despite everything he did you still found yourself looking back to that boy you had been friends with for so long.

You let him lead you back to the Gryffindor common room, setting you down on one of the many couches before he ran off to grab a few things, returning with a first aid kit and some water.

He took a seat next to you, putting out his hand towards you, which you carefully put your injured hand in. He pulled back the sleeve of your robes, exposing the wound which you had yet to fully see yourself.

“I had to use the quill too, though it wasn’t this many words” He said, breaking the long silence between you.

“Yeah, well I guess she just likes me more than you” you said with a short laugh, making Fred smile a bit as well.

“I don’t think that woman likes anything, not even Filtch” He said, the two of you laughing this time. “This might sting a little” He said, soaking a cotton ball in alcohol but not bringing it to your skin just yet, looking at you for permission.

You nodded, your breath hitching as the cotton came in contact with your hand, a stinging sensation running all the way up your arm. You screwed your eyes shut and grabbed onto the first thing your free hand found, which happened to be Fred’s knee.

“I know, I know I’m sorry” Fred apologized, quickly pulling away the alcohol.

You took a breath and opened your eyes to meet Fred’s, watching as he brought your injured hand closer to his face, lightly blowing on the skin to relive the stinging sensation, never breaking eye contact.

You felt your face heat up at you realized how close you have gotten, your hand still gripping his knee, a bit more tightly than you would have liked, and your hand gently being held by both of his, his face only inches from yours.

“Like what you see Y/N?” Fred asked with a smirk, snapping you out of your thoughts, and quickly reminding you of what got you into this situation in the first place. You pulled your hand out of his, turning away and grabbing a roll of gauze to wrap your hand yourself, not answering his question.

“I was just joking” Fred defended, trying to grab your hand back but you pulled it away.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t realize that was all a joke to you, my bad for thinking you could actually go two seconds without making fun of me” You tried wrapping your hand, but the movement stung and you winced, dropping the roll of gauze.

"I'm not making fun of you” Fred defended, picking the gauze off the floor and reaching to wrap it but you pulled back.

“Stop, I can do it myself” You said, grabbing for the roll but he kept it out of your grasp.

“Sure, because you did so well the first time” Fred shot back, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“Stop being a dick!” You shouted, your voices having progressively gotten louder during the argument.

“Then stop being so stubborn and listen to me!” He shouted back “God, you can be so fucking stubborn its unbearable. I hate that I love you sometimes”

His statement shocked you into stillness, trying to process his words as Fred continued his grumbling. He brought your hand closer to him and started wrapping it.

“You love me?” You asked, causing him to stop his movements entirely as he suddenly realized what he said.

“I mean I- well yeah but I didn’t want you to - I do but” Fred rambled as he tried to find the right words to say, only stopping when you brought your uninjured hand to his face and closed the space between you, pressing your lips to his.

Fred let out a surprised sound, but was quick to respond, moving his hand to the back of your neck as he pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss.

“Wait, what just happened?” Fred asked as he suddenly pulled away, making you laugh.

“I love you too stupid, even if you dyed my hair red” You responded, making him give you a worried grin.

“About that... I didn’t dye your hair red” He said

“What do you mean?” You asked

“Well, the switching robes part was me, but the hair dye was Lee” He said, causing your lower jaw to practically hit the floor.

“I’ve been blaming you, thinking you were out to sabotage me and ruin my social life for years, and it was Lee?”

“Yeah, he felt really bad about it, but when we went to apologize you were already pretty set on blaming me so I just never said anything”

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you realized how childish the situation was. You had been crushing of Fred for years, and the only thing keeping you from getting together was a prank he didn’t even do.

“I feel so stupid” You said, covering your face with your hands, which Fred gently pulled away, making you look at him.

“Don’t, I was the one who was stupid and tried to get your attention by teasing you instead of just telling you how I felt” Fred said.

“You’re right, that was stupid” You said, laughing as an offended expression crossed Fred's face. “But that, uh... moment earlier. You weren’t making fun of me?”

“No, I wasn’t, that was real” He said sincerely, making you smile before pressing your lips back to his.

His hands moved to your waist as you climbed on top of him, straddling him as you deepened the kiss. Fred began moving his hands up your sides, and had just dipped under your shirt when you pulled away.

“Heeey” Fred complained as you broke away.

“I’ll be right back, I just need to do something before I forget” You said sweetly, pressing a quick peck to his lips before walking away.

Fred watched you, confused but content as you quietly made your way up the stairs of the boys dormitory, not knowing what you were up to until he heard the dormitory door bang open.

“LEE JORDAN, YOU FUCKER!” You yelled, causing Fred to jump up from his spot on the couch and sprint of the stairs, the sound of Lees screams echoing through the common room.

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

A/N: Hey!!! I hope you liked it, I had a little trouble trying to get a good plot but I think it worked out ok. Also I was literally sweating when Fred blew on your hand SO SOFT YET ERROTIC?!?! Anyway, feel free to leave any feedback you may have, thank you for the request!

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred fanfic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley has me SOFT HOLY SHIT

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thedreadvampy · 4 years

Text

well if I get nothing else out of it my recent obsession with Melanie King has caused me to learn a lot about enucleation surgeries

anyway I think I assumed empty eye sockets would be more out of shape but it turns out there's a lot of Stuff in there that isn't eyeball, who knew?

I find eye surgery fascinating which is unfortunate because for a lot of people is one of their biggest squick points. but like the structure of the eye and eye socket are SO INTERESTING they're so MECHANICAL

anyway if you're interested I'm like 90% sure the Melanie surgical details are more or less as follows: (warning I'm trying not to be gross but it's potentially a bit graphic if eye stuff or surgery stuff is a Thing for you)

DISCLAIMER I haven't had any experience with this surgery, I'm not blind/partially sighted and I'm not a doctor, I'm just googling and reading a lot of patient advisories

In an enucleation, they effectively just sever the muscles holding the eye as close as possible to the eye itself, peel them back, then carefully sever the optic nerve and pop the eye out.

depending on how extensive the damage was, the most likely surgery for this type of eye trauma is eye removal. this could be enucleation, which is where the whole eye is removed (including the sclera and optic nerve) but the muscle, fat, connective tissue and eyelids surrounding it are kept. it could also be an evisceration, where they just remove the innards of the eye, but either way post-surgically they look pretty much the same.

If she managed to fully blind herself, regardless of how badly damaged the eye is, they'll consider removal. Advice says 'if the eye is blind to light [ie fully blind] and painful, removal should be considered'. Removal really substantially reduces the pain in most cases.

It's not a long procedure - the NHS says to expect a 48 hour stay but that's standard overnight observation for surgery requiring general anaesthetic

After the eye is removed, they'll put in a plastic or organic spherical implant to fill the space and hold everything in place. it's made with a bone-like tunnelled surface so that the tissue of your eye socket can graft onto it and give it some of the motion that an eye would have, and they just suture the muscle back into place and leave it to take

In an evisceration it's similar except instead of severing the muscle and nerve, they cut into the sclera (the tissue making up the surface of the eye), open up the eye and remove all the Bits (the lens, cornea, vitreous fluid etc), then they put the implant inside the shell of sclera and suture the sclera and conjunctiva back up over the front.

Evisceration is the preferred method where possible because it's a lot simpler and less invasive. So whether or not Melanie had an evisceration or an enucleation depends on how badly she damaged her eyes (I imagine mostly whether she went in far enough/roughly enough to significantly damage the sclera/eye socket)

There are other eye removal surgeries that remove stuff around the eyes (like the lids) or that don't allow for implants, but those are much more for very extensive damage (or tumors/aggressive infections) not really the sort of targeted damage Melanie inflicted.

After surgery, your eyelids are stitched together for the first few weeks to give them time to adjust. it's a single stitch that's removed after 2-3 weeks. behind that they put a 'conformer' which is a piece of clear plastic to prevent the eyelids contracting as they heal.

It should stop hurting after a couple of days, but for the first few days you may get a lot of headaches and nausea (eyestrain symptoms, basically)

It heals pretty fast (you're meant to be back to normal activity after bit over a week, although you shouldn't rub or touch your eyes for a fortnight). you have to wear bandages and pads for the first week to keep the swelling down, but after that you wouldn't expect to have bandaged eyes.

while your eyes are stitched closed you are going to gently wash them in boiled water periodically to clear up any mucus or dried blood. once the stitches come out you're going to have to do antibiotic eye drops for a while to keep it clean and safe while it heals

It takes 2-3 months for your eye socket to heal well enough to start fitting a prosthetic (I'm not sure what the time scale is with Melanie's situation bc I don't know how long has meant to have passed between MAG154 and MAG160, but my sense is that since 8 weeks is the minimum to start the fitting process and the actual prosthetic production can take a while, she probably didn't have time to get set up with prosthetics)

Prosthetics are an aesthetic choice not a health one. your eye will be fine without one, the glass/plastic prosthetic eyes aren't structural bc you've got that implant they put in during surgery too fill the space of your eye, they're just a cover that fits over the front of the implant to make it look more like an eye (sort of like putting in a giant contact lens). before you're fitted for a prosthetic you're going to keep wearing the conformer to help your eyelids keep their shape.

The implant (sans prosthetic) doesn't fill the whole of the same space as an eye, if I'm understanding right, because the prosthetic has to fit snugly behind the eyelids. Natural eyes aren't spherical, they curve out at the front with the lens and iris sitting on top of the orb, and the glass eye takes up that space.

Because of that, an enucleated eye without a prosthetic in doesn't push against the eyelids the way a whole eye does. There's still a curvature to the lid - you can still see the orb behind it, they aren't falling back into the socket like with a non-surgically removed missing eye - but if the eye is open the lids are likely to be a bit slack and droopy compared to before the enucleation. to me it looks a lot like a severe lazy eye - often very nearly closed and with a downward slant. the eyelid often needs surgical correction even with a prosthetic in to look the way it did before losing the eye.

in the open eye, you can see the implant clearly. when it's healed it will be mostly overgrown with conjunctiva (the tissue that you can see around the rim of your eye and on the backs of your eyelids). this means it's pinkish-red, with fleshy tissue stretched quite thinly over the the white of the implant. then a prosthetic will go over the top of that if it's worn, between the conjunctiva on the outside of the implant and the inside of the eyelid. the fact that the conjunctiva is covering hard white "bone" rather than skin means that the implant looks a slightly lighter pink than the rims of the eyes and has a somewhat different texture.

Light won't cause pain (sunglasses would, again, be an aesthetic choice not a practical one - it's not like some surgeries that leave you very light sensitive, you haven't really got anything to BE light sensitive) but early on moving your eyes too much or rubbing them might hurt.

Unless you get an injection you shouldn't need much physical followup beyond getting your stitches out, but the NHS provides counseling services to help you adjust to losing the eye (and I assume this is more substantial for something like Melanie's case where you go from being fully-sighted to fully blind in a sudden and traumatic way. I'm struggling to find anything about what to expect from bilateral enucleation and I imagine that's because the circumstances that require removing both eyes are fairly limited, since surgical enucleation is pretty rare anyway and usually it's because of an accident or a cancer which are likely to mostly affect one eye)

once you get a prosthetic, it stays in most of the time - you don't remove it to sleep, swim, bathe or anything else. you take it out and wash it once every few weeks. it can be uncomfortable to start with and feel too tight behind your eyelids. you pop it out with a wee plunger and put it in like a giant contact lens.

this means unless she really screwed up her blinding and had to have drastic surgery like removing her lids or muscles, which I don't think is likely to be the case, her face probably won't look super different by S5 except that her eyes will be droopier and more half-closed than before (if she's not wearing prosthetics. if she is wearing prosthetics they'll probably look normal she just won't be able to focus on anything or like. see. but visually the lack of focal depth should be the only tell). what you can see of her 'eyes' probably won't be the classic symbol-of-blindness Empty White Orbs - they'll be a similar shape to an eyeball and a similar colour to the rims of her eyes/her tear duct. she might be wearing sunglasses but she probably wouldn't bother in the apocalypse unless it really worried her how she looked. she almost certainly wouldn't have bandages, pads or patches over her eyes. she might well be wearing a conformer if it's up to a couple of months after the surgery, which will make her 'eyes' shinier and from the looks of photos, maybe look darker/redder? if she's got a prosthetic, it will probably be a standard one (because custom ones are really expensive) which means it may not perfectly match how her eyes looked before and will probably not be anything funky like rainbows or idk, cat eyes, however fun I think that would be. if she's wearing a prosthetic or conformer she's likely to want to use eyedrops because they can be a bit dry and itchy on the eyelids.

#Melanie King #eyes #ok also yeah again I have no expertise here #so please tell me if I've got something wrong

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sparring-spirals · 4 years

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Okay so, an absolute word vomit of thoughts around beau and jester in recent eps. Speculation and possibly projection abound.

TL;DR: first, this meta by @luckthebard. aka: beau doesn't quite know jester.

imo, its bc they lost touch for a bit, and now the smaller differences/arguments all underline the bigger fact of They Don't Quite Know Each Other As Well. I think it will take an argument for them to realize. BUT, after that, I think this is something they can overcome, which is good bc I really miss the blue gals talkin.

alright. thats the gist of the post. you can stop here. read on if you want the trainwreck line of thought in its full glory. its so long. im sorry.

- the thing is, i do really like beau and jester interactions. i dont mind the shipping aspect of it, mostly because i think there are/were paths to it that would also have interesting in implications for both of their individual character development.

- but the point, of their relationship was never exactly based in romance for me. I always liked all of their interactions, the push and pull of "i see that there is more to you." and "i will fight you to make you believe your self worth" and "as your roommate i will see uninentionally vulnerable moments from you but handle them with grace". ...all of which, I guess, some people would argue are points towards the ship, but. Honestly? IMO, you don't need a relationship for those kinds of sentiments. You don't need to be In Love with, or Dating or Romancing someone for any of what I mentioned.

- which is why, its felt disappointing to me that the apparent halt of these conversations coincided with beau focusing romantic attentions on yasha. [also, i fuckin LOVE the disaster lesbians, dont get me wrong. i had to delete a whole paragraph here about it/intricacies of their rel. pls believe me.] They still care about each other! But there’s that something else, a distance there. and like. I get that a lot of times, this is a real life thing that happens if you've got a crush and then something else pans out instead. but that doesnt feel like the extent- or end, of it, for me. maybe this is wishful thinking or something but:

- In my opinion, what happened was more akin to any instance where a relationship predicated on an inherent closeness suffers a- shock? a crack? Some unexpected change, or distance. Not always because of a romantic confession or a betrayal. Like when a close friend moves far away.

- Its not a change in love, exactly, but in people. When you are close to people, a lot of little things can be ignored; you develop shorthand and easy assumptions and ways to read them. But sometimes, for whatever reason, you lose access to them, or that- long enough for things to shift. For the person to change, for you to change. And- both in the case of misplaced romantic affections and otherwise, you end up in a space where you still care, but there is a distance, and your efforts to pick up the easy camraderie don't quite fit the same. The shortcuts you're used to lead to abrupt misunderstandings, maybe terse words. You try to double down on what you know about them, make harder judgements, and it backfires more. Its a tragedy, and almost an insult because: you know this person. You love them. So why does everything suddenly feel so clumsy and wrong?

- but you don't know them. For whatever reason, things slipped a bit and you lost connection for a bit, and now you don't know them anymore.

- I think this is where Beau is now. I think that partly because Beau was wrapped up trying to keep her own feelings under control, partly because they rarely split into rooms in inn's anymore, partly because they've both been a little focused on other people, other things, bigger concerns.

- and I think jester might be guilty of it too, but to a less noticeable extent, maybe because how beau has been treating the traveler, and she has perhaps, been holding a little distance. i think maybe beau notices, and the overfamiliarity, and occasional rudeness is its own form of trying to fix it; like being overfamiliar as an extension of friendship. except the inside jokes don't land correctly, and doubling down on them makes it worse.

- i think that even in the beginning, they didn’t fully understand each other, beau a little more than jester. But it was something that could’ve been worked through, in inn rooms and boat talks. Now, where there’s this distance and some assumption of knowing each other that is making it worse, it requires more.

- and i'm not sure this will be understood until there is a breaking point- or at least a very honest discussion. about the traveler. or about them.

- BUT LISTEN! good news. after that, this is fixable. this is fixable in a way that "beau treated jester good bc she had crush, now she doesnt" isnt. It is rough and hard to fix, because it requires admitting you don't know this person as well as you wanted to, and requires relearning them, a bit. But it's doable. And worth it, because being close to people and knowing them and being known has never been something reserved for romance. Beau and Jes still care about each other- instinctive dimension door grabs, panic when one goes down, general support. That part isn't in jeopardy. And as long as Beau and Jester are both willing, to spend the time to relearn and reconnect to get back that extra something, i think it'll be okay.

- just a bit of a bumpy road to get there.

#some meta i write is very nice and tight and actually about the character #and some meta i finish and then bill myself for the retrospective therapy that it clearly is #anyway i swear pls no bashing of either beau or jester in the notes or tags ok. i love both these gals and want them to both be happy #critical role #beauregard #jester lavorre #blue gals #character meta #speculation #this was absolutely sparked by luckthebards post about the 117 moment w/ the traveler so #c2e117 #honestly i could have talked a lot more about the traveler specifically but just the Whole Situation has been stewing in my brain #so it felt better to just dump this out first #beaujester

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mistresseast · 4 years

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can you explain in more detail why you think the PT weren't good friends for akiren? i'm not asking out of hate or to start drama, i just never interpreted things that way and i'm genuinely curious. i don't think them being brainwashed by maruki makes them "bad friends", but i don't know if that's what you meant either. i'd love to read a proper explanation on this that isn't just people arguing in the notes of that post.

Hi! Yeah, I know the ~discourse~ climate is pretty touchy and not a good place to exchange ideas, so I’ll do my best to put my thoughts on this matter into words.

Settle in, bc this one is long.

I’ll start off by saying I don’t dislike the PT, nor do I think they’re bad people, and honestly I think they love Joker a lot! Ryuji calling Akira after his fake death and talking about how his ideas on what makes a hero have changed because of Akira genuinely makes me emotional, along with dozens of other scenes with the thieves! They’re good kids who could be really good friends to Akira but that’s not what’s shown in the game. I don’t think it’s controversial to say Akira’s relationships with all of his friends are transactional. That’s kind of the point, all of his confidants arise out of deals, give and take, and in the metanarrative of the game, that’s how it works. You as the player help these characters solve their problems, and through ranking their confidants up, you get access to more gameplay perks. So it’s pretty even!! But like,,Akira, the character, isn’t the player. There’s no in-story mechanic by which he can cash in friendship points for being-good-at-killing-things prizes. Yes, he uses those abilities to not die in the metaverse, but there is no literal, in-universe way to explain how hanging out with someone translates to [insert gameplay perk here]. So you have to look at what is physically happening in the story. Akira hangs out with the PT, stands there while they have drama with another irrelevant character, and then one way or another their problems get solved and they swear to be Akira’s blood brother or whatever. Akira is a crutch for these characters, and they say multiple times that they wouldn’t have been able to do what they did without him. So all of their shit gets handled and Akira gets?? Like actually gets?? What? Inquiries about his well-being? Offers to help him? Questions about his life, his interests? No,,,not really,, But he gets access to a super powerful persona!! Yay!!! Bc everyone knows he’s just a little shadow-killing machine, right? And even the relationships he does get something tangible (as in separate from the mechanics of the game) out of, like Kawakami’s, are built on the notion that if Akira stops providing for whatever reason, the relationship will end. So essentially, Akira is under the pressure of filling whatever role his friends need him in for however long at any time, and he’s been led to believe that if he stops or fails, he will stop receiving any reciprocal care and acceptance.

(And I know this is all gameplay stuff, I know it has to be like this to codify the complicated process of human relationships, I know all of that, I’m just trying to find a deeper layer bc that’s what I do.)

This whole thing comes into pretty clear focus for me during the third semester when you visit everyone in the false reality. Everyone is happy to see him, of course, but they’re clearly wrapped up in their own happiness. Which is understandable, again, I’m not saying the PT need to be attached to Akira to be good friends, but it all still feels off to me.

If they know Joker, then they’d know it’s weird that he just shows up and starts asking these pointed questions while they’re in the middle of something. All of their other interactions with him have been led by them. Yeah, Joker approaches them bc the player has decided to hang out with them, but the other character always chooses the activity and leads the discussion. Akira showing up out of nowhere and asking them to “remember” and “move on” and whatnot should be raising some major red flags. And it clearly does, since their memories do start to return, but they’re all too scared of losing their happiness that they nope out of the conversation as soon as possible, without stopping to consider why Joker might be trying to reach out to them like that. They’re his friends; they should know he wouldn’t just be trying to hurt them or make them unhappy. After all, their entire relationship with him up til that point has been exclusively about Joker trying to help them. This doesn’t make the PT bad people, running away is a totally natural reaction in that situation. They’re just kids, and their minds have been manipulated to a point, but it’s not like they don’t remember Joker or the way they’ve grown since meeting him. In fact many of them mention how much they’ve matured recently, but they never actually relate that back to Akira, despite him being the primary driving force behind most of their personal arcs, even though they definitely remember him. Translation vagueness or deliberate nod to the idea that the PT don’t actually credit Akira with all the hard work he did after their initial lip service? Hmmm. Anyway, their failure to recognize that Joker is struggling just demonstrates to me what was set up all throughout their confidant links, that their relationships are transactional and that they don’t necessarily consider Joker and his individual needs outside of what he provides for them. And when they no longer need him bc that hole has been filled, he simply doesn’t occupy the same place of importance in their lives.

Makoto’s flashback in particular stood out to me, bc it was from a moment where she was specifically talking about feeling like she finally found a place to belong with the Phantom Thieves (and by extension, with Joker), but then she desperately tries to brush it off. Obviously that sense of belonging wasn’t meaningful enough to her for her to want it back. And I’m not blaming her, of course, any teenager would choose to have their father back over being in a vigilante group lmao, I just thought it was telling that the devs decided to show us a scene that was originally meant to be heartwarming as an example of the harsh reality Makoto wants to forget. All of the flashbacks are from defining moments for the thieves, but that one specifically got me like *thinking emoji*

So his friends are hesitant, despite the fact that they must know something is wrong. It’s understandable, they all stand to lose a lot if someone messes with the status quo. I genuinely don’t think I would react any differently. But there is someone who reacts differently and against his own self-interest. It’s Goro, the one who has arguably the most to lose, who doesn’t turn away from Akira. He seeks Akira out and teams up with him to uncover what’s really going on, even though he has every reason to believe that prodding too deep will literally mean the end of his life. He forces Akira and himself to face the truth because he knows anything else would just be an insult to what they’ve suffered so far. He’s the only one who never flinches, and that, more than any of his friends’ come-to-jesusing (which Akira still has to initiate) is what Akira needs in that situation. For the first time (outside of the brief instances in the tutorial levels), we see a situation where Akira is actually the dependent one, the one who needs help, who needs support. And the only one who has ever provided that, unconditionally, without demanding anything in return, is Goro. I could go into how Goro’s confidant blows all of the others out of the water in terms of building both himself AND Akira as characters, but it’s been said already and by smarter people than me. But basically, despite competition being a core theme of their relationship, Goro is the only character who is portrayed as Akira’s equal. Their contests are all in the name of improving not just Goro, but Akira too. Goro is the only character who expresses an interest in Akira’s inner life and development, and as such he knows Akira better than anyone else. So when Maruki tries to trap them all in a gilded birdcage, Goro won’t stand for it and he knows Akira won’t stand for it either. That’s why he’s so betrayed if you choose to accept the dreamworld. You’re negating the basis of your entire relationship with him and going against your own principles. Out of every character in the game, the one who knows Akira best and refuses to abandon him even when that could mean his own death is Goro Akechi.

I want to reiterate: I do not hate or even dislike the PT!! And tbh I don’t really think they “abandoned” Akira. That post, imo, is supposed to be kind of hyperbolic. Unless it’s referring to how many of them literally sprint away when he comes to talk to them lol. I look at it more like a commentary on how thoughtlessly the PT act as soon as their wishes are granted. I know it’s set up linearly for story purposes, but isn’t it kind of sad how no one checks up on Akira in the week he’s going around talking to people? Especially after he’s been acting so comparatively weird? It’s not unusual that they might be caught up in other stuff, but while you’re going around and visiting everyone, you don’t get a single text or call from ANY of the thieves, for a whole week!! Goro even comments on it directly with his pointed little “I’m sure you’re just as close as you were before” comment. God, he’s such a bitch. Ultimately, the PT do get their acts together, and it’s partially out of the realization that Akira is struggling alone against something and needs their help, which I love and appreciate. I think they are good friends who want to support Akira, but they can’t understand him past the role they’ve placed him in, and until they do, they’ll never be able to be what he needs. Akira loves his friends and knows he can rely on them in most ways, but those relationships will always be dogged by the pervasive fear that he must constantly earn the right to have the relationship at all. What he needs MOST is someone he doesn’t have to perform for, and from what we see in the game, none of the thieves fit that bill. Except Goro.

I know this was long and rambly and probably pretty disjointed but I wanted to be as thorough as possible and all of my thoughts just sort of gushed out. Obviously ymmv about all of this depending on how you interpret the game, but this is what I arrived at thanks to my analysis so this is what I have for you! Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

#ask tag #anon #this is not an invitation for argument or discourse #i simply wanted to provide my interpretation of things #rude and probing questions will be deleted :)

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lexicals · 4 years

Text

I'M GONNA SCREAM OH MY GOD

Spoilers under the cut, fair warning the first bit is completely incoherent

They're a family......... they're a fucking family and they have stream nights and bicker and love each other.........

Juno is such a buzzkill all the time fhsgdjfj I love him SO much

I THOUGHT BUDDY WAS AVOIDING THINGS BC SHE DIDN'T WANT TO RETIRE NOT BC SHE KNEW SHE WAS GONNA DIE OH MY GOD

MAMA BUDDY NOOOO 😭😭😭😭

Pls be okay ;;

I'm holding out hope that the "keeping landmines in his laundry" joke wasn't actually a joke and maybe the beeping was...... a landmine...... or something....... IDK I JUST WANT TO BELIEVE SHE'S OKAY 😭😭😭

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH NUREYEV ACTUALLY THOUGH THIS IS STRESSING ME OUT

Legit can't tell if he made a mistake or if he was actually?? Trying to kill jet?? My preferred theory would be that he's freaking out at the fact that he's going to betray the family soon OR that he's actually made the decision not to, and it was a genuine fuckup, but I just don't know any more pete my son wyd ;;

MESSY ROOM NUREYEV CANON THOUGH FJSGSFFJHD

Obligatory "rita redacted I love you So much"

"Then I'll have a REALLY good view ;3" RITA THAT'S CREEPY...... ILY THOUGH

He just,, runs up to the weapon,, and gives it a hug,, and starts singing at it,, JET,,

RUBY

Wait

Hm.

No nvm that's dumb this is a sci fi show they wouldn't have a car absorb dead people

Probably

Anyway

I love that ruby is sassing jet now..... eyeliner and posters of sad boys though fjdgjfks

The stuff that buddy was saying about them all having grown but she can't tell w nureyev is so,,, aaaaaa

"Juno, who stands taller than he did in the cerberus province" 🥺

If this was a radio show I would have made a "what the fuck is going on with peter nureyev" jingle by now

"Don't look at me like that, juno - not you" I'm gonna DIE

PETER WHAT IS GOING ON

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I'm actually gonna scream I can't take this 😭😭😭

Okay seriously though who is gonna be narrating the next ep after THAT?? Cause either the format is gonna have to change or they're gonna have to have a last minute twist to save buddy's life I don't KNOW god I'm so stressed. Two weeks is not gonna go by fast enough ;;

WAIT I HAVE ONE MORE:

SHOUTOUT LEVEL PATREON SPONSORS YOU ARE ALL SO VALID

Okay some more thoughts now that I have Calmed Down:

Very interesting to me that jet actually sided with nureyev over vespa. I know he stated his reasons but I would really not have expected that and I wonder how nureyev feels about it

Buddy's relationship with jet?? Really good?? Love them?? Like obvs I don't think she made a good decision in not confiding with vespa about her heart but I'm really glad she has such a solid friendship and support system with jet

I really don't think nureyev fucked up on purpose....... idk maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part but firstly, he respects jet and I don't think he'd go as far as to try to kill him, and secondly..... idk I feel like there were smoother ways of doing it even if he was?? He could have swapped out the plans for an actually wrong set, or hidden them better, or so many other things that also wouldn't have involved putting himself in danger mid-heist, idk the alternative just doesn't sit right with me. But we'll see ig

I think what would be really interesting for me is if this kicked up nureyev's fear of losing his touch again bc he genuinely fucked up and brought that all to a head with vespa right there as well, I'd really like to see that whole situation pop off....... I think this one rly is wishful thinking on my end but idk I wanna see those two work out their issues lol

NUREYEV MAKING NERVOUS PUNS IS CUTE AND FUNNY BUT IT WOULD BE FUNNIER WITHOUT THE MAGGAGE (MAG BAGGAGE)

HEY HERE'S A FUN LITTLE POSSIBILITY FOR YOU ALL CONSIDERING KABERT LIKE TO USE TOYS THEY ALREADY HAVE OUT OF THE BOX: ROBOT BUDDY

This is only half a joke

Okay some MORE thoughts now that I have slept on it

I fully think nureyev is gonna have some kind of breakdown next episode. I think that man is gonna snap like a twig. He's clearly not sleeping, clearly on edge over more than just the heist (his debts, probably), he sounded absolutely, genuinely stunned at the reveal that he'd been looking at the schematics upside down, he almost got jet killed, and given how this episode ended vespa is absolutely not going to stop laying into him any time soon, and it's gonna be even worse when buddy's task for her comes out. Add to that his preexisting anxieties about losing his touch, the way he says to juno "Don't look at me like that, not you", because juno is his main tether to the crew and the one person who he can believe trusts him no matter what, doubting him, and I really do think he's gonna break....

I'm also gonna argue that that messy room is feeling very lived in, isn't it? That's not the room of a man who is planning on cutting his ties and running any time soon. That's the room of a man who's settled - everything unpacked, stacks of books and personal items, idk this could just be me but I feel like this might be a pretty solid indicator that nureyev might have decided to abandon trying to pay his debts in order to stay with the crew...... and if not it's a very fun detail which I love lol

Buddy has been delaying the mission for a year. The last we heard from nureyev, he was telling his creditors that he would have the promised items for them before the year was out. I really doubt that he has enough good will with these people for another extension. Seems like nureyev must be very very close to running out of time here, if he hasn't done so already

I'm still convinced sasha is gonna make an appearance this season!! I know it!! And we also know that dark matters most likely heard rita talking about the curemother prime so like the likelihood of dark matters interrupting the heist/waiting for them with the curemother?? Quite high!! And if that's when we get the juno pov oh boy

#wastepaper basket #tpp #tpp s3 #tpp spoilers #tpp s3 spoilers #tpp meta tag #I was gonna listen again before posting this but idk if I'll have the time/stability today SO

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kate-apologist · 4 years

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could you do 39. Kissing tears from the other’s face. with whoever you want

gotta love that angst. decided to write some thasmin for this bc why not

Yaz dreams a lot. She doesn't quite mean to, though she doesn't have much control over any of that. The moment she's asleep, she's almost a hopeless case but that's not really the point. No, she can't help that she dreams and she certainly can't help what she dreams about. She can't help the thoughts or the nightmares or nights spent staring at the ceiling while her heart races and the sweat dries on her forehead and the edges of dreams move about her brain like they've always belonged there.

She hates it. And she can't do anything about it.

Ever since the Master, ever since the Doctor started glancing over her shoulder at every second, spending every moment they weren't adventuring at the console, Yaz hasn't' been able to sleep. there's something new in the Doctor's eyes, something she either didn't notice before or only appeared recently, but Yaz is sure that it's what haunts her every dream, no matter how hard she tries to shake it off. The Doctor wouldn't want her worrying, after all, no matter how little control Yaz has over it.

So when she wakes up one night in the TARDIS, skin coated in sweat, hair clinging to the back of her neck like a blanket, smothering her, Yaz isn't surprised, after the fact at least. Her heart beats a mile a minute and she can barely draw a steady breath, but she's not surprised, not even when those haunted eyes flash in front of her eyes once more. Whatever haunts the Doctor might as well haunt her by extension with the way she sees followed by the Doctor's haunted gaze every time she closes her eyes.

What is surprising are the tears slowly drying on her cheeks, blurring the edges of her visions, soaked, she thinks, into her pillow. It's the tears and the dip in the bed beside her and a hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles. She doesn't remember where the hand is from, which person on the TARDIS it belongs to and for a heart wrenching moment she remembers the Master, looming in her dreams like a dark shadow, a presence she doesn't quite understand but one she knows well enough to fear. If the Doctor reacts that way around him, he can't be good.

The Doctor.

"It's alright, Yaz." The voice is soft in the silence of her room and muffled against the sound of Yaz's beating heart but she hears it, can barely hear it but it's there and reassuring. Yaz leans into the touch on her back and she looks to the side.

"You're...you're here," Yaz says, and if it weren't for the solid hand against her back she would think it was another dream waiting to disappear.

"You asked, when we got back," the Doctor says. "For me to stay in here, said you were having trouble sleeping." She shrugs and motions behind her, just over her shoulder and Yaz can see the back of a chair poking up. She hadn't realized it was there earlier. "So I just pulled up a chair and kinda sat there for a while?" She sounds awkward now, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry, I didn't know if you actually meant it when you asked me to stay with you and I wanted to make sure that you're okay so I-"

"I can't believe you did that for me," Yaz quietly and the Doctor laughs awkwardly until it peters out into a chuckle as she realizes. Yaz means what she says, afterall, tries not to lie when she can help it and even though being vulnerable tears her apart from within, it's easy with the Doctor around. It's easy when the sweat of night terrors is still drying on her back and her neck and the eyes that shed tears are still damp.

"Of course I did it for you," the Doctor says. "You're part of the Fam. I'd do anything for my fam, anything." Yaz smiles and the Doctor smiles back. "Now you best get back to sleep. I reckon if you start now, you can just about make up everything you've lost so far."

"Thank you, Doctor," Yaz says and the Doctor beams, sliding off the edge of the bed until she's settled in the chair once more, looking at her with as much devotion as Yaz has ever seen before.

"Anytime, Yaz. Now get to sleep, I need you in top shape for when we adventure tomorrow. need my sharpest human at her sharpest."

Yaz settles back down to sleep and the Doctor props her chin up on her palm and watches her, even as she drifts off. With anyone else, it would have been creepy but it puts Yaz's mind at ease to know that the Doctor is watching over her, that one of the best people in the universe is watching over her like it's the most important thing in the world.

It becomes a routing. Well, not a routine because that would imply any sense of normalcy around the Doctor. But it happens more than once, and that's what's important to Yaz. After almost every adventure, at first with Yaz asking and then later, Yaz not asking, the Doctor pulls up a chair next to her bed and props her head up on her chin and eases her off into sleep. The nightmares start to fade, only flaring briefly after particularly hard adventures and even though the Doctor doesn't look alright to Yaz, hasn't looked alright in ages, Yaz accepts the bit of comfort that she gives out.

One such night, after a particularly harrowing escape from a more...nerve wracking adventure that the four of them agreed to never repeat should the opportunity arise (Yaz had spent two hours in an almost suffocatingly small tunnel, waiting for the Doctor to tell her the coast was clear) and after a long, hot shower, Yaz settles into bed without much of a second thought. The chair is empty, and it's not unusual when the Doctor has repairs or needs a bit of time to herself. Yaz knows that the chair won't be empty the whole night and she isn't worried about the Doctor, not that much.

When she wakes up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, the Doctor still isn't there.

In the few times she's had nightmares since the Doctor started looking over her, Yaz has come to expect the dip of the bed at her side and the reassuring hand at her back, rubbing soothing circles there. When she feels nothing, no hand coming to press against her lower back, Yaz's shoulders shake and she tries to suck in breath between the tightness in her chest, the ache in her lungs and her heart.

There are footsteps outside her door and Yaz is scared for a moment that she'd never actually woken up, that she's still sleeping and that she'll wake up and the Doctor will be there and now, along with the utter loneliness and muddled confusion that comes with nightmares, there's fear surging through her, panic clawing up her throat-

The door snaps open and the Doctor comes stumbling in, cheeks coated in oil, goggles hanging about her neck. The word distraught comes to mind, but Yaz has to wonder if she's just projecting. The Doctor makes a beeline for the bed, hopping up across from Yaz, taking her face in her hands, cradling her chin in her palms. Hazel eyes meet hers and the Doctor looks worried, yes, but she also looks so caring.

"Hey, hey, it's alright Yaz," she says quietly, enough to soothe Yaz's frazzled nerves. "I'm right here." And then she's pressing featherlight kisses across Yaz's face, pulling her in, reminding her that she's there, and Yaz lets herself relax further into the Doctor's hold, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief as her heart rate slows until it's almost normal.

"Doctor," she mumbles quietly when the panic recedes and she can trust her voice not to waver as much as it might. "I didn't think you would-" She closes her mouth before she can say something stupid because she inevitably will. The Doctor's lips brushed one more time against her temple, lingering for a second longer than the other kisses had and she shushes Yaz quietly.

"I've got ya, Yaz," she says, brushing a strand of Yaz's face out of her eyes, smiling weakly. "Sorry I wasn't here before, there were tons of repairs I needed to get to." She huffs quietly. "The TARDIS gets pretty mardy when she thinks I favor someone over her. Didn't mean to be gone so long, thought it were only gonna be a half hour, maybe a bit longer-"

"Rambling, Doctor," Yaz says and her voice is stronger. She is stronger, she feels stronger. "And don't worry. You're here now, that's all that matters."

#doctor who #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #thasmin #light angst #hurt/comfort #doctor who fanfic #my fic #prompt #ask #anon

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dawsonscreekwasalwaysbad · 5 years

Text

season 6 thoughts

hey quick question why the FUCK did you start with that

like on the one hand i’m glad that now i know what happened right after the end of “that’s too much man!”. on the other hand… ow

the mountain bojack climbs is called “metaphor mountain” God bless Lisa Hanawalt

i LOVE the way the episodes are framed… like you get one flashback to bojack drinking and you think that was the first time then it’s like NOPE he was even younger

CINDY CRAWFISH AKSHDJDSF

AND BABY BOJACK SNUGGLING UP TO HIS MOTHER… TRYING TO FEEL AN EMBRACE SHE WOULD NEVER GIVE… CATCH ME CRYING IN THE CLUB

WHO THE FUCK CAME UP WITH THIS NEW INTRO

AND THE WAY IT HAS ALL THOSE FLASHBACK SCENES BUT IT STILL ENDS WITH HIM FALLING INTO THE POOL AND DIANE AND PEANUTBUTTER CHECKING TO SEE IF HES OK AND THEN HES JSUT LOUNGING IN HIS APPLE SHORTS;;; it’s just,, he’s going back home in the end, going back to the place where he started, as if everything will go back to the way it was before and he’ll find himself stuck in the same cycles he tried so hard to escape… all im saying is, i dont think this season is gonna end well

and how it dwells on his past, everything he did wrong, all the most heartwrenching moments, and there aren’t any changes to the intro (as far as i could tell) until episode 8… nothing changes if all you do is look back.

I am LOVING the Mr. Peanutbutter we’re getting this season. I was never really attached to him before; it’s not that I hated him, just that I liked all the other main characters better. and now that they’ve had him do something really bad and reckon with that,, he’s plumbing new depths, exploring those dark places, questioning if he’s truly as happy as he says he is

and bonding with bojack??? who would have guessed

bojack keeps giving advice that is, at best, the kind he doesn’t follow himself, and at worst, bringing others down into the well of self-pity that he’s been stuck in the whole series

Someone give Princess Carolyn a break…

SHE NAMED HER DAUGHTER RUTHIE IM CRYING

Guy seems like a cool guy but I feel like they’re setting him up to seem nice so that it’s more surprising when it’s revealed he’s not. I’m probably being too suspicious, but also we don’t know much of the details about his divorce, do we? Lakeith Stanfield's great tho

EPISODE 4 WAS COMEDY GOLD

The return of Queefburglar69

I WANNA WRAP PICKLES UP IN A BLANKET LIKE A BURRITO AND TELL HER EVERYTHINGS OKAY

Oh man Pickles talking about how her subscribers will always be there for her… like… it’s not one person, it’s a cloud of people, the contents and shape of which changes, might even be completely different and unrecognizable from one year to the next, but they’re all still there as this nebulous support system. and it reminded me of what bojack said to young sarah lynn about how her fans are the only things she can count on

Todd is babey.

Also him wearing the ace colors under his hoodie!!

I knew Diane’s rationale for going to chicago was bullshit. she said it makes her feel good, but “it doesn’t matter where you are, it’s who you are,” and she still dwells on her bad feelings and hates herself just as much in chicago as she did in LA. moving somewhere else isn’t necessarily gonna change those tendencies, she has to work on it herself.

OH MAN AND WHEN BOJACK GETS DR CHAMP DRUNK AGAIN… THROWING THE BOTTLE OUT THE WINDOW WAS A WAY TO AVOID RUINING ANOTHER LIFE AND HE ENDS UP DOING THE EXACT THING HE HOPED HE WOULD NEVER DO AGAIN

was honestly kinda hoping that Dr Champ was just pretending he got drunk to show how bad bojack could get if he relapsed but at the end when he was like “stay…” that’s how i knew that shit was real.

todd is so fucking stupid i love him

ngl am kinda disappointed that todd’s confirmed white, cause i’ve kinda been picturing him as latino for a long time and i know rbw said he doesn’t want to alienate latino viewers who relate to todd. but it makes a lot of sense, cause he always gets away with stupid shit and gets to the top of things without even having to try just because he knows a guy. and maybe the reason he’s so positive all the time is because it’s so easy for him to be, he never has to worry about shit bc of the privilege his whiteness affords him. also I love that we got to learn more about his backstory

THE CONTRAST BTWN “all the shitty things I did that I can barely even remember because I was high or drunk or it was thirty years ago” and “I remember everything. I’m sober now.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!

sharona sounds like a cross btwn princess carolyn and margo martindale

I have… mixed feelings about the haircut

Oh man Mr. Peanutbutter had a moment… he finally got that crossover episode… I was kinda hoping for a joke that went “Mr. Peanutbutter and BoJack Horseman in the same room? What is this, Philbert?” or “What is this, a short-lived show on a streaming network that got canceled because the star got addicted to painkillers and strangled his costar in a drugged haze?” but this is SO MUCH BETTER. I've never seen him cry before and the way he reacts to himself crying suggests that maybe he’s never cried before at all, and that’s why he just keeps laughing, almost like it’s forced, cause this is supposed to be his happiest moment and it’s not supposed to make him so sad. fucking,, character development

and the cold open of ep 8… you can forgive yourself and move on from your past wrongs but it doesn’t erase the things you did, the effects they have on people, and the trauma they’ve suffered. and then like, how can you forgive yourself if they never forgive you? how do you maintain that balance? why should you move forward if they can’t?

its weird to have an episode consisting entirely of guest stars but it also illustrates the extensive world they’ve built and i applaud that… also where the fuck is ana spanakopita

GINA RETURNS!!! HELL YEAH

her quote about not wanting to be defined by what bojack did to her has always stuck with me, and i feel like now, that quote has sort of come true. like, her saying that made us avoid reducing her to what happened to her, and thats why i wanted to see her come back this season, hopefully moving past it. but she can’t. it traumatized her. and everyone can see the effects of it but she feels like she can’t come forward, cause if she does she’ll be punished. shit like that changes you.

and it’s another instance on the show where someone chooses to advance their career & preserve their reputation over doing the right thing (like what bojack does with herb & sharona), but bojack does it out of self-interest, and gina does it so she doesn’t have to relive her trauma every time she gets interviewed or recognized by a fan. but even when she keeps quiet about it she’s still reliving her trauma

noah fence but what a waste of the once-per-season fuck word. youre really gonna use it in an episode IN WHICH BOJACK DOES NOT EVEN APPEAR, and not only that, but RECYCLE AN OLD SENTENCE FROM A PREVIOUS EPISODE

netflix places no limits on a show’s use of the fuck word (i think), so… fingers crossed for something better in the second part?

OH MY GOD PETE REPEAT INTRODUCED HIMSELF AS PETER ITS ALMOST LIKE HES TRYING TO FORGET THAT TIME & THAT PERSON HE WAS (im probably reading into it too much, I’m sure it’s mostly so we wouldn’t figure out who it was immediately. maybe im just like the kid with the coffee cup.)

and just… ppl describe this show as “family guy or the simpsons except the protagonist faces consequences for his actions” but bojack has gotten away with everything.

you ever just like… you ever watch a scene and feel the cliffhanger vibes creeping up and you just know it’s gonna end there and leave you unsatisfied and begging for more but at the same time that’s what makes it such a good place to end it. that was me with this. (and also the ending of undone)

the thing about this show is, it illustrates what it’s like to be a toxic person. and sure, he has it hard, but the show never asserts that he has it any worse than his victims, even if bojack himself does so. and he only does it so he can feel better about himself. he deserves a reckoning, he needs to pay for his bad deeds. but then, when you know what made him this way and what goes on inside his mind and that he wants to get better, it makes you feel for him, and forces you to ask if he deserves to get better and forgive himself and move forward. but even if he does, it doesn’t change the things he did. it doesn’t fix the lives he’s ruined.

anyway sound off if you think bojack’s gonna die at the end. hopefully not by suicide

#long post #bojack horseman #diane nguyen #todd chavez #princess carolyn #mr. peanutbutter #pickles aplenty #pete repeat #bojack horseman season 6 spoilers #doctor champ #sarah lynn #gina cazador #horsin' around #mr. peanutbutter's house #netflix #raphael bob-waksberg #lisa hanawalt #phoebe talks #mine

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thepromisedbride · 4 years

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HELLO JESS. BBC GHOSTS ARTHURIAN AU GO (by which I mean the arthurian characters in the premise of BBC ghosts, not the other way around)

REY oh my god i love you for this here we go

So in Ghosts the alive characters are a married couple, right?? Wrong!! Well, not wrong, because yes that’s exactly what Mike and Alison are. But wrong for this version because though I seriously considered having one of the couples as the main characters I then thought “hey what’s more fun than a family!!” and luckily for us (me) we have a ready made family in the form of (drumroll please) The Orkneys!!

The rest is under a read more because I got what some might call “carried away” and others might call “obsessed”

What happens is this: as the Orkney brothers grow up, they rather naturally become separated, until at last Gareth is the last one, at seventeen, living with their mother. Their father (or at least, their supposed father: they all know that Mordred looked too dissimilar to Lot to really be his son, though they never said it) died a while ago, and Morgause could not find it in her to really focus on her children over her job.

The five of them seem to unspokenly care about each other, but in a way where it was clear that they were all waiting to be contacted first.

Nonetheless, when Morgause does die, with Gareth having just turned eighteen and seriously wondering why he had taken a gap year from university, they all show up, and find that they had jointly been bequeathed the old family house in the country.

Gawain has been recently promoted and is now working from home. This meant more time than he usually spent inside his flat, and he had been getting rather claustrophobic. So, after an admittedly short heart to heart with Gareth, who was looking quite nervously towards a future without parents and with no idea what to do, he packs up his brothers in a typically Gawain-like fashion and moves them all out to the manor.

Mordred has been able to see ghosts since an incident in his youth involving a large body of water, an ill-timed trip and a sudden storm. He hasn’t been in water since, but the near-death experience left his with the ability to see those spirits left when their bodies had departed. This is especially unfortunate for him, because half the time he doesn’t particularly want to be able to see living people, let alone ghosts who do not leave when he throws things at them. But he puts up with it enough: there is, beyond all logic, a particular cup he took from Morgause’s house when he left which somehow has three ghosts attached to it, and they happily provide a deterrent for any others.

(It does create a somewhat awkward car journey: he’s being driven by Agravaine, and between the boxes in the back and the only two seats in the front, there’s not much room even for a ghost. Aggs keeps looking at him weirdly when he fidgets, but it’s not his fault that the only free place left is his lap or that Galahad decided that he simply had to see the journey to the house rather than simply confining himself to the cup like Bors and Percival did.)

Anyway, this means that he arrives at the house and immediately sees a crowd of variously costumed figures and tries turning around and leaving. Unfortunately Agravaine anticipates some “young adult hormones” and quickly steers him straight inside.

It takes him a while to finally be alone with the ghosts, who seem to quickly realise he can see them. There are eleven of them in total, though a couple seem to spend most of their time in the little gatekeeper house rather than the main building. He immediately makes a note to avoid Dinadan, who looks at Mordred once and immediately makes fun of his choice in band t-shirts (and like, he’s a ghost, what does he know about bands, it’s like trying to talk to Gaheris—) and Lamorak is instantly relegated to Mordred’s extensive “least liked people” list, which is different to his “disliked people” list. Kay seems kind of mean, which is funny, and Bedivere is responsible enough to try and control the others, but they are clearly “not dating” which honestly Mordred has no time for.

He gets on best with Clarissant, probably, as she’s smart and not too grating but still sweet enough that she likes sitting with him when he wants to be quiet but doesn’t want to be alone. Owain, likewise, has shown him several spaces in the garden for birdwatching or other wildlife (which Mordred doesn’t particularly have used for, but he does appreciate the effort).

Owain is “not dating” a different ghost, Laudine, but in a different way than Kay and Bedivere are “not dating”, in a way that doesn’t get on Mordred’s nerves and lets him acknowledge that Laudine is kind of funny. Elaine doesn’t really talk to him: there’s a river and lake by the house and she seems to prefer it there, or else by the old tower. But she has great stories, and never minds when he really needs a vent, usually about his brothers.

It’s Palamedes and Brangaine who live (in the loosest sense of the word) in the gatekeeper’s cottage. This is very useful, because it means he can set up a little bedroom inside, though it’s mostly for storage now, and sleep there when he wants to pretend he has his own space. He has a strange nervousness that they might see him as a sort of pet, but he’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

Relatively sure.

Not that it matters. They have a clearly delicate history together, one Mordred is not about to ask after for fear that one or both will start crying, but they manage in a sort of sweet domesticity. He’s left the goblet in there for now, because Palamedes seems to enjoy Galahad, Bors and Percival’s company.

And it’s—

Nice.

And then, of course, there is Lancelot. He seems far too well meaning for Mordred to carry on any kind of maliciousness for long, except that for some godforsaken reason he has also decided that Gawain is an ideal muse. He spends way too much time following Gawain around, thinking up sappy poetry about Gawain, or else sighing blissfully out of a window (presumably over Gawain). Mordred thinks that if Lancelot were to ever be able to actually talk to Gawain (physically, he means. Or figuratively? Because even if Lancelot wasn’t a ghost he does not seem to have any cognitive abilities around Gawain anyway) then this image would be shattered. Gawain looks pretty, but so does this waterfall Mordred once read about that falls down into nothingness and despair, or the river stretch that looks like a lovely refreshing swim but actually is an fierce riptide with a 100% mortality rate. Something like that. But the point is that it’s difficult enough with Gawain constantly around without having his admirer hanging round all the time too. Gawain is insufferable already without Gaheris and Gaheris getting to add to their board of “Is Gawain Secretly (Or Not-So-Secretly) a Changeling” with ‘every time he puts something down it always seems to move just within reach when he goes to pick it up’

(If you’re wondering why there isn’t an Arthur, that is a subplot that I just suddenly decided on just now. I was going to have Arthur as a Captain-like ghost but then I was thinking and long story short there’s a tangent here—

It was Arthur’s house. He’s still Mordred’s dad, though here I guess he isn’t their uncle as well, and he left Morgause the house in his will. He heard she was pregnant, and there was a little but if him which knew he could never acknowledge his child but he still wanted to provide in some way. Arthur doesn’t have to be a bad parent.

Incidentally this also solves why the brothers didn’t really know about the house before rather than “Morgause wasn’t a big fan of the country”.)

(OH MY GOD also so Guin isn’t a ghost either bc I wanted her alive. So now she’s an important plot point. She moved into the outskirts of the nearby village because she liked the area but didn’t want to contest for a massive empty house. Anyway she’s smart and despite the problems her and her late husband went through, she does respect him for this. So eventually the Orkneys will have to go for a discovery on the house’s secrets aka there are ghosts and so they will find Guin and discover the Truth. It’s all coming together now lads)

They invite their neighbours over for dinner one night: the house needs some pretty desperate renovating, but it’s now moderately liveable at least and, according to Gawain, this requires a party.

So invite them over he does. The ones to the left, a couple named Tristan and Isolde, though Gaheris swears that when they were introduced in the village Isolde looked completely different, and the ones to the right, Morgan and Vivian. They pass a very pleasant evening, despite the fact that a fox manages to get on the roof.

No one is sure how.

Gaheris and Agravaine are charged with rescuing it, which is by far the stupidest decision Gawain has ever made. However, despite them all living together, the brothers are really not in a brilliant harmony yet, and so Gawain sends those two off whilst he entertains their guests.

The two of them are staring out the window at the fox for a while before Gaheris dares Agravaine to climb up. He doesn’t want to, but Gaheris is his little brother, and if he passes over a dare from him he’ll never hear the end of it. So he climbs out.

It’s a dry night. But it was not a dry day. And the leaves packed on all the footholds are wet and slippery, and Agravaine—

Falls—

And hits the ground, several stories below.

They’re all terrified, of course, regretting every moment they spent apart or arguing. Agravaine is declared legally dead for fourteen minutes, and it is the worst fourteen minutes of any of their lives. But finally— finally— the doctors emerge to tell them that their brother is resting, but is expected to make a full recovery.

Which he does! There are several more doctor’s appointments and physiotherapists scheduled, but eventually he can return to house. (Unsurprisingly, the arguing starts again quickly.)

There is, however, one major difference.

Agravaine can now also see the ghosts.

Mordred, having been able to see them all his life, had not considered this possibility, and thus does not prepare.

Agravaine discovers these new abilities when he walks into a room to find Mordred, pretending to be on a phone call, chatting away with Clarissant whilst Lamorak inexplicably floats nearby. He stares, screams, and blacks out.

When he comes to after a moment he is faced with a lengthy, surprisingly bored conversation with Mordred, and seriously considers blacking out again. Lamorak has not left the room despite his presence being an inevitable disaster, and Agravaine perhaps unsurprisingly decides that He is to be the newest mortal enemy in Agravaine’s list.

(Lamorak is silently gratified that he is on lists for both alive people who can see him, and chooses to ignore the reasoning behind the lists.)

Mordred has been dealing with ghosts for most of his life.

Agravaine has Not.

This means that, pretty quickly, Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth realise something is even more wrong with those two than normal.

And of course they have to come clean.

Gaheris is half convinced that the two have found his conspiracy journal and that this is an elaborate ruse to trick him into confessing love for Nessie or something. Gareth is mostly concerned about the logistics and privacy, though Mordred’s narrated conversations between him and Owain seem to make him much more comfortable with the whole thing. Gawain is genuinely tempted to jump out a window to see if he can join to newly discovered exclusive club of ghost watchers, but eventually decides that it’s too much a risk to his beautiful face.

(Lancelot silently agrees, though it has not escaped his attention that it would be nice if Gawain could actually see him.)

#arthuriana #rey thank u this is the best ask ever #i got so carried away i’m so sorry #the ghosts were just a game of ‘i love these characters and you can’t stop me’#but i’m not tagging them all #just #orkney clan #gawain #agravaine #gaheris #mordred #gareth #the fox is reynard #if you were wondering it is astolet elaine not corbenic elaine #in a more extended version of this her and lancelot best friends #arthurian literature #arthurian legend #bbc ghosts

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