#the realisation bonks me on the head whenever i remember it

[fairy-verse]

Error and Ink, as a couple, make my head and heart feel all fuzzy. What do you think an Errorink relationship could look like in this universe?

It can be a bit messy. Error is lonely and is quite controlling when it comes to his lovers needing to be close whenever he wants them to, and Ink is a free spirit by nature and would become restless and annoyed by being pinned down to one place. Still, it will work, in a way, as long as both of them become more understanding of each other’s needs.

“Ruru,” Ink purred softly, and nuzzled Error’s cheek. “I missed you.”

“Tsk, why be away for so long if you’re just going to miss me? I bet you forgot about me most of the time anyway.”

“Well, yeah, but whenever I remembered you I realised that I missed you,” Ink said, and embraced the other fairy fully once he noticed that he wasn’t being pushed away. “But I’m here now. Do you want to cuddle?”

“In what way?”

“Silly, in the lazy way, the way you like it.”

“…”

“Pleeease?”

Error huffed but couldn’t stop the soft blush that bloomed across his cheeks. “Fine, but put on one of my sweaters. Your bones and ecto are chilled.”

Ink chuckled but kissed his cheek. “Took a while to fly up here, you know, and you always have it so cold here.”

“Keeps annoying bastards away.”

“Like me?”

“Like you on your crazy days.”

Ink laughed. “I wouldn’t do anything that’d make you uncomfortable, Ruru, you know that, right?”

Error didn’t respond but lightly pushed Ink away, or, in the direction of the furs he’d laid out for them both. He wanted to watch the stars tonight, and he’d be damned if Ink started to shiver because of the cold again.

“Error,” Ink called, bringing Error out of his thoughts.

“Wh—” He jumped at suddenly seeing Ink so close, but the soft bonk of their foreheads meeting quickly brought him back to reality, and he soon took notice of the pretty array of colours passing over Ink’s cheeks. He had his sockets closed, and he smiled serenely.

“I really missed you, Error. It feels good to be with you again.”

“…” Error swallowed thickly, but he leaned into the touch and closed his own sockets, savouring the moment for as long as it lasted. “I missed you, too, Ink.”

[getouswh0re]

TOKYO REVENGERS REACTIONS:

❤︎ forever is a long time, but I won’t mind spending it by your side ❤︎

an; how Tokyo Revengers characters realise they have fallen in love with you; warnings: none, slight angst, fluff, slight manga spoilers

characters; mikey, draken, chifuyu, baji

For as long as you could reminisce, MIKEY and you have been thick as thieves, doing all sorts of shenanigans (with most of them being his idea of course) and enjoying the time of your youth together. How you wish good times could stay like this forever; just the two of you running through the labyrinth of streets without having a single worry about what the future has to offer, the thrumming of footsteps echoing against the asphalt pavements as chime-like chortles reverberate in remnants of the dwindling sunset.

The two of you have been through ups and downs throughout the years, yet you and him would always seek for solace in each other’s company. The one incident, though, which brought both of your hearts closer than ever — was Emma’s passing. In the dingy bedroom, it was the first time you saw Mikey’s walls collapsing as he leaned into your chest, raw cries laced with heart-wrenching pain reverberating through the solemn midnight air. It broke your heart to witness the tough blonde in such a state of despair; he had lost way too many people already, and the light that was long lost in his hollow eyes now bore semblance to an impenetrable void — devoid of life, and the will to live.

“Hey, y/n ...” A meek croak cut through the lingering silence. “What does it feel like to be left alone ... before you get to realise all of the people you’ve loved is gone?”

Hearing that, your eyes were glassed with a layer of tears that was threatening to overflow. Nonetheless, you held it back, leaning forward as you pulled the blonde into your arms and gave him a tender hug.

“I know how it feels, Mikey ... it’s painful, you’re left alone, you want the agony to stop ... but you’ll not be shouldering this on your own. I’m here for you ... when you need me, okay? So please ... don’t bottle up all of these feelings by yourself. We’ll share the suffering and live on. Promise?”

People came and go in his life, yet the only one who stayed with Sano Manjiro until the very end was none other than you — his first love.

DRAKEN’S instincts have always been spot-on, and this is the same just like any other time — the only thing special is you being in the picture. From the day you become acquainted with the gang’s vice commander, Ryuguji finds himself gravitating bit by bit towards you. He would look forward to seeing you at every meeting, feeling his heart sink whenever you can’t hang out with him, Mikey and the others; initially the blonde only thinks that it is nothing more than a measly feeling — friends would look forward to hanging out with each other, right?

But it is soon proven to be wrong when an unintentional comment from him reveals his feelings towards you to everyone.

“Where is y/n? It feels a bit different today —“

As if everything is in slow motion, his friends swivel their heads around — stares burning into the back of his skull with their jaws dropped.

“Dude, you’re totally into y/n huh.”

Oh shit.

Before the blonde realises, everyone starts to bombard him with questions; not that they aren’t happy for him who finally manages to find the one, but rather — how do polar opposites like you and Ryuguji attract one another.

“Dude, you’ve totally found the right one!”

“Man I feel jealous that you have your eyes on them first! I would’ve shoot my shot if I were you.”

“If you don’t man up and confess, don’t blame me for stealing y/n off their feet —“

“Hold on!” A yell from him is all it takes to make the gang quiet. “How do you guys know it’s love? I mean it can be anything —“

“Just how dense can you be, idiot?” The others chime in unison.

Someone save him, boy is hopeless sometimes.

To pinpoint how he has fallen in love with you would be immensely difficult for CHIFUYU, there are way too many moments where he just finds himself diving headfirst into love! But if he has to choose the exact instant which kindled the flames of adoration, it would be every little bits about you which make him lovestruck.

He loves how your gaze softens at the sight of pets running around every time you come and visit him at the pet store he works at, cooing over how endearing you look as your eyes crinkle when kids wave to you on the streets, admiring your patience and kindness towards everyone you meet — the list goes on and on. Falling in love with you (to him) feels like a typical romance troupe which he has read ad nauseam in shoujo mangas, yet experiencing it firsthand is definitely a first for him.

And of all the attributes he loves about you, the one which makes Chifuyu ascertain his feelings is how you could see the good in people whom you hold dear to your heart — him included.

The sky fades into a myriad of pomegranate pink and indigo as the two of you hang out at the park after the gang meeting has ended, each of you eating an ice cream. With you finishing yours first, you turn over to look at the blonde, only to discover that he has some smudged on his cheeks. Seeing this reminds you of your childhood years together where Chifuyu also had ice cream smeared over his face — the nostalgia of it making giggles roll off your tongue, earning a perplexed look from the vice captain of the first division.

“What are you laughing at y/n??” It only make you laugh harder as his whining reaches your ears.

“Nothing! It just reminds me of how we used to hang out at the same spot when we were younger, also eating ice cream whilst watching the sunset. You also had ice cream all over your face back then. I can still remember that cute ass look on your face ~”

“Come on, it’s in the past! Stop mentioning it y/n, I’m going to die from embarrassment before long. You better attend my funeral —“

“Cute and dramatic as ever Fuyu.” You give him a tap on the nose. “But you know what? I feel so glad that fate brought me to this adorable kid with ice cream all over his face back in the days, and I’m grateful for having you in my life Chifuyu.”

Poor boy almost suffers from a heart attack.

BAJI adores your duality; whether it is watching you coo over street cats or casually firing comebacks at his occasionally snarky remarks, he embraces both sides of your personality, thinking it is what makes you unique to him. Other than that, the teen finds himself drawn towards you for another reason. Being the motherly figure of Baji and his friends, you would always make sure they take care of themselves, chiding them gently whenever they neglect their health; it is something in which he values a lot — he might be known as one of the toughest fighters in the gang, but Baji is also a teenager at heart.

Whenever he needs to vent, you would be there to lend an ear; every time he falls ill, you would rush to his house with warm chicken soup and all the necessary medications to take care of him until he feels better (despite him telling you that he is capable of taking care of himself, which he isn’t). Occasionally Baji would show up outside your bedroom window bartered and bruised, and you would put aside the things you are doing at that moment to dress his wounds, giving him a nag on how he should prioritise his safety over anything else.

You are like a pseudo parental figure to Baji — his solace and anchor whenever life doesn’t go as what he expects; he could never ask for more from you, but deep down — the teen knows that people would eventually drift apart someday.

And a part of him wished this would last forever, that he could let down his walls and be the middle school Baji that yearns to be taken care of by nobody other than you.

The longer he’s spent time around you, the more the queer sensation in his gut stirs. Baji could feel his heartbeat becoming frenzied each time he is hanging out with you, and his usual confident facade would drop as the teen stutters over words. And being rather dense at the beginning, nothing dawned upon him until Mikey and the rest almost have to withhold the urge of bonking Baji in the head for not realising how he’s fallen head over heels for you, did he realise all of this is love after all.

[calehenituseappreciation]

Tommy thinking Sam Nook and Sam are two different people would lead to such funny senarios.

Especially if you apply this logic to everyone.

what if mexican dream and quackity are the same people and that was just him making fun of dream and making tommy laugh and tommy genuinely thinks dream killed mexican dream and that hes a different person

and when ranboo pretended to be killed by clarencio

he just doesnt realise

he thinks girl dream is someone else too

tubbo genuinely has a bunch of personalities and so he thinks theyre all different people (and also he doesnt realise theyre the same people a lot)

sam, in his normal voice: tommy do you have the- tommy, crying: what happened to sam nook?

sam proceeds to live as sam nook around tommy because he once tried to tell tommy sam nook isnt real and he started sobbing and so sam cant

sapnap, approaching sam on the site: hey sam can you do this for me? sam: su- tommy, running up: SAAAAAAM!? sam, in the sam nook voice: hello tommy! sapnap: wtf??? tommy: this is sam nook! :D have you met him? sapnap: what? thats just s- sam: shakes his head, behind tommy where he cant see sapnap: uhhhhh sam: takes out sword sapnap: h-hi sam nook! tommy: :D

sam is not the only person this happened to. 

tommy: technoblade???? techno, sneaking into l'manberg: uhhh techno, in a highpitched voice: no this is Clarencio tommy: the llama? techno, in high pitched voice: no the pig tommy: hmmm techno: sweats tommy: smiles brightly ok!!!! techno, under his breath: that worked??? tommy: wanna hang out with me? techno, in high piteched voice: i really need to go tommy: buttttttt :(

technoblade proceeds to have to pretend to be clarencio the pig and hang out with tommy all afternoon

phil, coming to check on techno: techno? techno, in a frilly pink dress, in a high pitched voice: hi tommy: phil!!!! have you met clarencio??? but not the llama!!! clarencio the pig!!! phil, holding back a laugh: is that so?

(defenitly happened before he got exiled, i refuse to change my mind)

everytime techno is caught he says hes clarencio (the pig) and tommy vouches for him each time and no one is able to bring themselves to tell him that clarencio (the pig) doesnt exist

sam nook, :handshake: clarencio the pic, :handshake:  mexican dream, (not girl dream) not being able to tell tommy their not real bc hed cry

IMAGINE IF TOMMY WAS GIVEN THE JOB OF LIKE BEING THE BORDER PEOPLE WHILE HE WAS WILBURS VICE BEFORE THE ELECTION AND PEOPLE WOULD JUST FAKE IDENTIES AND TOMMY WOULD JUST BELIVE EVERYONE

quackity: i demand to be allowed to join l'manberg! wilbur: ur american quackity: i shpould still be allowed! wilbur: just say your not, thats what everyone does quackity: what wilbur: just make a fake identity?? quackity: youre... the president???? wilbur: yeah and?? quackity: shouldnt you not be be endorsing that??? wilbur: i made tommy the border person. you think i care? quackity: sksksks quackity: still bad tho

the only one tommy never believes is dream, no matter what, he can just tell when someone is dream, like ya know those police dogs? the only reason he didnt realise girl dream was because girl dream is girl dream he thought it was just a dream thing

TOMMY THINKS BAD AND MONOCHROME BAD ARE TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE

monochrome bad: tommy tommy: whomst? bad: oh uh recolourfies tommy, screaming: WHAT THE FUCK

tommy doesnt have object permanence but for people

techno, while tommy is staying with him: leaves room tommy, crying: I had a big brother once, i dont remember him tho

phil leaves them and (while stabbing wilbur) tommy just doesnt realize its him until techno says "dad?"

quackity works at wendys and tommy goes there everyday but doesnt realise its quackity

tommy went there since the war ended

and at the time didnt realise tommy cant tell and so when he and tommy started a mafia and became friends he thought tommy knew who he was and tommy once suggested going to dennys and quackity is like 'oh my god' and tommy is like my friend works there!!! and then they go to the one quackity works at and quackity is like 'haha funny' and then tommy asks around and then turns to quackity sadly like "my friend isnt here today D:" and then quackity is like o h

tommy, towards sam, in sams house: sam!!!!!! sam, who was sleeping, in his normal voice: w-what? tommy: sam!!! :D sam: hey tommy yawns whyd you wake me up? tommy: sorry but i really needed to ask you a question!!! sam: did you want to ask me where sam nook is again? tommy: welll.. that too but!!! you should meet sam nook!!!! sam: what tommy: please please please sam: no go back what did you ask? tommy: you need to meet sam nook! i think you'd be friends!!! :D sam, internally: shit sam: uhhh i dont really think i should- tommy: pleaasee uses puppy eyes sam: sure sam, internally: why did i say yes????

sam then has to pretend to be sam and sam nook at the same time

tommy: you're gonna love sam nook sam!!!! sam: uhuh tommy: where is he? :( sam: uh maybe hes behind you tommy: turns around to look sam: runs to other side of tommy sam, in sam nook voice: hello tommy!!! tommy: sam nook! have you met sam??? hes right here!!! gestures to sam who has to run behind him again tommy: sam say hi!!! sam, panting, in normal voice: hi tommy: whyre you all out of breath and shit???

this,,, just continues for a while

quackity, watching this exchange, driunking juice: sucks to suck sam: you'd do the same quackity: no. mexican dream is dead lol tommy, only hearing the last part: cries i miss mexican dream quackity, feeling sad: uh- we can revive him maybe? tommy: wipes tears YEAH! sam, whispers to quackity: told you so quackity, hisses to sam : shut up

quackity then has to pretend to revive himself while running around also he has to steal another one of dreams masks

honestly in this au everyone would hear about what happened during exile and stab dream (while pretending to be other people because ig in this au tommy still thinks dream was once his friend and yeh)

tommy, after crying infront of sam nook and telling him what dream did to him: so.. sniffs do you have any more quests for me to do? sam nook: i have one more quest tommy, cheering up: what is it!! sam nook: for myself tommy, confused: what is it? sam nook, taking out a glock: homocide

insanebur: you want to know why no one listens to you tommy? tommy, pouting, on the verge of tears: What? insanebur, unable to finish, clutching his heart: your too cute

this is just au where tommy is baby huh

wilbur isnt mad schlatt exiled him- hes mad he exiled tommy

schlatt and dream are the only ones not affected by tommys baby vibes and thats their downfall

tommy just has to call everyone a nickname, once, and everyone is melted

niki and jack: tommy is the fault of all our probelms we should kill him puffy: he. bonk is bonk baby bonk niki and jack: look over at tommy tommy, with sam in the distance: cries to sam because he cant find sam nook niki and jack: okay... maybe we should be less... violent...

Sam rlly just went

sam: looks at tommyinnit sam: nothing bad will ever happen to this child ever again

huh?

I’ve named this au, au where hes baby ur honour

tommy: i had zero parents (who care) tommy, gestures to puffy and sam: NOW I HAVE TWOOOOOOO

insanebur: god i fucking hate everyone tommy: even me? insanebur: except you tommy

sam: I AM THE TOMMY GAURDIAN! GAURDIAN OF THE TOMMY! sam @ anyone who wants to hurt him: FUCK OFFF

tommy canoanically understands the animal crossing language

ranboo: i can speak enderman! tommy: well i can speak creeper

whenever tommy gets overwhelemed around sam he burys himself he asks sam to cover for him in creeper

okay thats enough of that

[fnf-amateur-writing]

Hey! It’s Fox again! How are you doing? I just started school back up today, so I’ve been busy Xp.

Think you would be cool with writing some Pico with an s/o who is a writer, and tends to ask him about things like “hey, how long does it take someone to bleed out” or other things like that?

I understand if you don’t feel like it, and I hope you’re having fun 😊

🦊

Hello again Fox, I'm doing quite well rn. I'm cool with your prompt, especially since I need more writing material anyways.

Took me a while, because I didn't want to do a hc, but rather come up with a oneshot with a little twist to the style. Well, hope it works well.

Good luck with school, mate!

TW: Mentions of violence, swearing, slight sexual reference, and crime.

Pico with a writer S/O who asks him strange questions

Prologue:

On a chilly autumn morning, you were sitting out on your patio with a laptop and a mug of your favourite beverage next to you. Whenever you looked up, you could see the warm coloured leaves fall as the breeze accompanied you. The whole scene was an aesthetic.

When your boyfriend, Pico, came outside to see this, he knew that the nice environment you surrounded yourself with meant one thing. "You're back in your writing space already. Heh, with that bestseller you published, I thought you were comfy taking a break." You simply smiled and said, "can't waste the inspiration rush I got right now."

Pico had a good point though, with your rising popularity as an author, you were near set to retire before turning fourty. But you wish you weren't given all of the credit, since your boyfriend's stories of his dodgy job has occasionally sparked some ideas for your stories. However the books you wrote in the past were usually meant for the young adult and had few mature themes. This time, you thought maybe it's time to garner extra inspiration from those stories.

You were met with some disappointment when you realised that your mug was empty, only a drop entering your mouth. "Here, babe, I'll ya some more," Pico said, taking your mug and walking inside. "Quick question," you stopped him. "Yeah?"

"What would be the best place for a murder cemetery?"

"... What?"

Chapter 1:

"So you're doing some story about the police hunting down a mass murderer?"

"Pretty much."

"And to think you were gonna write Pixar's next script. Aight' I respect that." Pico takes a seat next to you with a refill of your drink placed next to your favourite writing laptop. "Thanks, Pico. But yeah, I want to branch out to something edgier, and I think you can help too."

"Let me show you what I've got so far." You showed him some of your notes in a little notepad document, detailing the story thus far and your current plans for this chapter. "Oh, that's it? Just looks like boring police preparation mainly," Pico commented. "Yeah, it's not much right now. But it'll get juicy later." "And bloody?" "And bloody."

"Welp, I'm gonna head back in," Pico got up, "let me know if you need anything." He head back inside, closing the door, but then opened it almost immediately afterwards. Pico stuck his head out, "by the way, the guy should use some strong alcohol or something to throw off those sniffer dogs."

Chapter 2:

"And then, because they used a silencer, the police don't immediately notice the--"

"Nope! I'm calling bullshit (Y/N)!" Pico had suddenly interrupted your explanation of the scene you were currently working on. "Silencers can help prevent some hearing loss, sure, but they're not magic."

"Alright," you reply, "no silencer, but the killer still has to kill in a way to not get blood on them, so I thought shooting and killing them from a distance would work." "Well, they're alone. Instead, have the guy get shanked in the neck or something, and have the killer use a plastic bag as a glove. It saved my ass one time."

"Woah!" you exclaimed with a giggle, "you used a knife once? What happened to my trigger happy boyfriend, huh? That's pretty sus."

"I forgot to reload the Uzis, alright?"

"What an impostor would say."

Chapter 3:

"What would be the best way to muffle the scream of someone you kidnapped?"

You two were sitting on the couch together watching a show. You didn't have your laptop on you, so Pico didn't expect you to still be thinking about that book. "I can't say from experience, really," he said as he paused the show. "However, shove a rag in their mouth and duct tape it in, and you should be good."

"Thanks Pico, also one more thing." "Yeah?" "What if our killer also wanted to..." God, this one was gonna be awkward, but you had to say it or else no help. "You know, cut off this victim's willy. How would you do that?"

"Wai-wha-uh-ga," Pico started fumbling his words like never before. He stopped, then took a deep breath. "YO, WHAT THE FUCK?!" "It'll make sense in the story later, I promise!" You watch Pico begin to lose it, breaking into laughter. "Ladies, gentlemen, and others," Pico dramatically stood up, pulling a little Showcaster impression and directing his arms towards you, "my famous 'young' adult novelist partner!"

Chapter 4:

It was in the dead of night, but you awoke to Pico on his phone. His vpn was on and Tor was up. As per usual, he was checking up on his little hitman service, where others could request for a certain someone's guts to fly if they paid him a hefty sum first. Though tired, you ound this to be the best time to ask him some more questions.

"Pico, how do those sites work?"

"Oh, you're awake," Pico blankly stated, sleepy too. But he still answered you. "Basically, some anonymous rich guys in the area give me money and a target, then I just do the thing and send a mission accomplished email." "Do they pay you in person?" "Nah, we use always use Bitcoin. It's a lot harder to trace than real money."

"Thanks Pico. Goodnight," you wish him, yawning and going back to sleep. "You too... So this guy is a hit man too?" "Hush. Tomorrow." "Okay." Pico puts his phone away, leaving it on a nightstand. You then spoon the night away, peacefully thinking of murder as you drifted off.

Chapter 5:

On a morning similar to before, you two sat on the patio with your drinks and laptop at the ready. Pico watched rather awkwardly as you typed away, wondering why you haven't entertained him with another question yet.

"You gonna ask anything else?" "What? Oh, nah," you plainly state. Inevitable, sure, but he was kind of saddened. He liked being able to share his messed up wisdom. "So, you're done?" "Almost." You turn to look at him, "want the spoilers?" Pico smiled, "sure thing."

In the novella you and Pico crafted together, the main character is a cop who hunts down a killer. They eventually notice that there would be two murders at a time for unknown reasons. Well, it was unknown until one victim had left up a dark web hit man for hire site. They that the hit man not only kills the target, but the client as a hidden price for the service.

And any request will be fulfilled, according to the hit man's site.

"Do they catch 'em?" Pico asked. "Well, ANY request is granted. So, if our hero were to... hire him to kill himself..."

"No way!"

"He did. They find both of their bodies in his bedroom."

Pico was a bit impressed with the ending you came up with, but then he remembered something. "Why did that guy get his thing cut off?" "Lol, I forgot," you giggled. "He sent a message to the hit man, saying he wishes the target would choke on his dick."

"That's my favourite part."

Epilogue:

After everything was finished up, you sent the book off to your editor. After the initial joy of knowing how the story ended, you saw that Pico was still in thought. "What's up with you?" "Oh nothing, well it's just... I'm probably just biased, being that I'm a bit of a hitman myself, but it's kind of sad to see the guy go."

"Then I should spoil the epilogue I came up with." Rather than being excited, Pico nervously asked, "what's an epilogue?" He didn't get an answer, only you staring at him. "Sorry, school held too many bad memories for me to pay attention."

"Anyways," you continue, "the rest of the police gang did some background checks, and find that our killer was a normal guy with no criminal history."

"Penilian?"

"No. But I did decide to take a more supernatural approach here. Somewhere across the country, another string of double homicides occur and that site is active once more. And the story kind of repeats itself."

"Penilian."

"You joker," you give him a playful little kiss on the cheek, one that definitely caught him off guard. "So is it canon?" Pico smirked. "Nah, just thanking you for being my cute little co-author." "Oh," Pico started, "so we're flirtin' now, huh. Come here babe!" He tackled you onto the ground, giving you several kisses in exchange.

"Actually, I think we call that 'making out'," you chuckle out, flustered. "But that doesn't mean I said stop'!" You pull him in for more, accidentally bonking your heads together rather painfully. "Nice double kill there, (Y/N)."

[elius-learns-to-write]

Let’s Get Philosophical

Hey Besties, sorry this was so short <3 there are mentions of sick in this os if that’s something you don’t like then feel free not to read and I’m sure I’ll see you at the next story <3

Ever since the Avengers had met you they had come to realise that whenever you got drunk, high or hit your head you turned into Oscar Wilde and Edgar Allan Poe’s Love child

You would say the deepest and craziest things they have ever heard 

And this time was no exception to that rule

“TONY GET THE CAMERA IT HAPPENED AGAIN” was the first thing you heard as your eyes peeled open and the thrumming of your head started. Not being able to focus on the others scrambling  around in the background to get the best view, you chose to focus your eyes on Wanda who had placed herself right in front of you and had placed her hands either side of your head to make sure you were okay. “Are you okay sweetie? You hit your head pretty hard” ahhhh yes the bonk to the head that had knocked you out in the first place. The memory was a bit hazy but you remembered thinking about birds as you hit the ground “Sam what’s it like in the air? Flying ?” you asked, eyes big and shining, curious to whatever answer the man would concoct. “Uhm it feels like jumping but for a super long time” Sam chuckled excited to see where you were going to take this, “I imagine it to be freeing, the air blowing through my hair as I dance through the clouds. If I could fly I’d never stop”. Hollars and hushed giggles flew over the group as you looked at Thor ready to ask another question, “Thor what’s it like to be a God?” no one knew what prompted you to ask such a question but they sure were interested in his reply, because not only did your state bring things out form you that they would otherwise have never known but it brought things out from the group and became some strange bonding experience. “Well it’s nice to know I have the power to help people and” you held your hand up cutting his sentence short as you threw your head back to look at the white ceiling “To be a God is to be a beacon of hope and blind faith” you sighed dreamily. Eyebrows scrunching in confusion as you pointed up at the light “You see those stars? If I was a God I would banish my lover to the stars where they would be free to dance with burning beauties like them”. Bruce had taken Wanda's place to check for any cuts that might need to be stitched up, the scientist decided to comment on your recent pondering “That’s sweet, move your head forward for me”, following the man's directions you groaned. “Even if pain and what it means to us as humans is fascinating I still think it’s stupid” you replied as the man shone a torch in your eyes.

Another concussed habit of yours was making poems up on the spot

Which made for interesting entertainment 

“The air is getting colder as the leaves begin to fall.And I’m left sitting here, under the moonlight remembering the one thing that has stayed the same.My love for you” you declared to Nat as she sat on the edge of the bath, holding your hair back as you threw up. “And I love you my little firecracker but right now isn’t the time to get all poetic” she replied turning away as you began to gag again.

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

“I love pasta 

So bloody Macha

But I don't like math 

Or facing Tony's wrath” you giggled as Steve helped you hold an ice pack to your head, thoroughly enjoying the nonsense you were spouting. “No one likes facing Tony’s wrath and yet you still try to steal his cars” he muttered trying to get you to hold it on your own head.

Yep you sure were funny

So apart from the constant worry that hitting your head was going to give you a brain injury 

It was really funny everytime you did bonk your head

(They did make you where a helmet for a couple of months though)

[pixie-cocaine]

ATEEZ Reaction To: Having a wet dream about you

yourusernames: Omg can I request ATEEZ reaction to having a wet dream about their friend? (Who would start developing a crush, who would want to have a one night stand and who wouldn't care at all?) Thanks!!

A/N: These reactions are based solely off of what I think they’d do, I am in no way, shape or form, telling you that this IS how the members would handle this scenario. Like shit, I dunno the guys :/. This is a gender neutral reader reaction btw :)

(This is very explicit, you have been warned!!!)

Hongjoong ♡:

• It felt like the actual thing

• Your lips; sweet like pink lemonade and eyes staring into his with a soft sparkle that originated from his bedside lamp

• but what felt more real than anything was you

• Your scent, your taste

• Your touch...

• It was all overwhelming in the sense that he found himself breaking out of his dreaming state, breath heavy as if he’d been sprinting for hours, and a lusty sheen screening his mind from acting with any sense of rationality

• He was horny horny, dawg 💀

• I feel for that man, it’s tough...

• He could already tell that he had an...accident, before he pushed the duvet off his body due to registering the last couple twitches of his restricted cock in his shorts

• No wonder he could ‘feel’ everything so well

• He wasn’t able to sleep the rest of the night.

• Couldn’t help but begin to feel a crush blossom for you

• As y’all already know, the man gets attached to the ones he spends the most time with

• You’re no exception

• Would end up telling you about his feelings. It was eating him up inside to keep it to himself

Seonghwa ♡:

• He has no right looking this good, dawg. It literally makes me so mad lmao

• Lemme lick your face, I bet it tastes like expensive concealer and everything I’ll never have >:}

• Anywhore

• He felt feverish, even inside his dream

• It was odd; he could feel you, but he couldn’t feel you. He remembers the surreal sensation of warmth under his palms as he grabbed onto your bare ass whilst you bounced you on top of him, panting hard and clutching at his damp hair to pull his head back

• He groaned, and just as he went to switch positions, he was snapped out of his dream

• Was like “Fuckin pardon?” when he realised where he was; his empty bed, alone in his own room, no sign of you

• Frowned, pushing the covers off of him because dawg, he was heating up OwO

• Then realised the large wet spot at the front of his sweatpants

• “What the...”

• Was never the same™ 

• Everytime he saw you, he couldn’t help but feel that same heat in his hands, and he felt guilty about it. 

• Didn’t know how to approach you about it at all. What was he supposed to say?

• “I nutted in my pants because I dreamt about doing the dirty with you”

• Just wouldn’t bring it up

• Good chance he’d catch feelings. Seonghwa builds bonds with the people he knows, it’s very easy to tell that when he cares, and he would care dearly for you. Once the chance that anything intimate between you two arises, I’m sure he’d begin to think of you romantically once you’re shown in said light.

Yunho ♡:

• Now wouldn’t a flustered Yunho be a sight? Damn...

• He loved looking down at you

• The way you smiled at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling his bare chest into yours as you whispered how good he felt inside you, cooing out words of praise and encouragment 

• It was hazy, but he can still vaguely remember how you kissed him so sweetly. How your fingers smoothed his bangs away from his eyes, and how you moaned into his ear softly with each thrust

• It was only when you cupped his cheeks and spoke, did you break him out of his dream;

• “Wake up.”

• His eyes shot open

• Only a blue ceiling stared back

• “Mmm...?” Yunho sits up and rubs his eyes roughly, already aware of the blush that paints his cheeks and nose because he can feel the heat in his face

• Said ‘What the fawk 😃’ when his brain caught up with what he just experienced, as well as the stickiness that clung to his inner thighs when he moved to go get some water

• This bitch was contemplating his whole life after that

• Is ‘UwU’ with you from then on cuz a babie caught butterfwies ;(

• Rlly bad at hiding his feelings lol, you’d catch on eventually

Yeosang ♡:

• It was messy, to say the least

• Kitchen island sex? Yup :D

• The dream wasn’t at all put into play with any sense. You guys were just... in the kitchen, when you confessed your feelings and made a move on him

• A deep kiss mixed with the pounding of nervous hearts all put Yeosang in a fever outside of his dream

• “Say you like it,” You panted, using the hand on the back of his head to push his forehead against yours while the other kept you from laying onto the island

• “I like it.. Fuck, I like it”

• “Yeah?” His hips stutter when you clench your walls around him, and in turn, he lets out a choked-off gasp

• “Y一Oh my god一Yeah...”

• Damn... he was FEELING it lmao

• Funny thing is that he slept throughout the entire dream and woke up only when his foot did a little mid-sleep spasm

• Stared at the wall while frowning for soooooo fucking long

• Whole time he said ‘ya know wot, that’s real interesting 🤔’

• Then was like “Prolly just horny 😃. oh well, time to change my underwear”

• And that’s what he chalked it up to in the end. Would maybe make a joke about it to you next time y’all hung out if he’s feeling loose enough and doesn’t mull over it for too long

San ♡:

• HEATHEN

• Hold on, lemme get a half-assed feel for the man... yes... mm-hm... ah, I see... OK!

• So, from what I can tell, San would distance himself from you slightly. Maybe. 

• That night, as he lie in his bed, breath coming faster with each motion that went on in his head, he saw you in a way that he never thought would happen.

• Skin, slick with sweat and eyes like burning coals as they focused on him. There wasn’t much to remember before it was already fading, but he could still make out how much his stomach lept and spun, heart oh-so thunderous in his chest. Whatever you did with him in the dream... it sparked something inside him.

• San was in a daze as he woke up, his body not quite cooperating with him when he tried to sit up, and instead, falling limp with the next couple of attempts.

• WHEN I TELL YOU THE SOUL WAS SUCKED FROM THIS MAN AISDIUBFADEBI-

• Really just stared into space with the look of a dead man

• What did he do when he finally saw you again?

•  ✨ pretend he didn’t see shit ✨

• Not the masked uncomfort-

• Depending on whether you’re one for confrontation, he might just cave if you press him about his weird behavior enough, but be fast, because I’m sure he could push his feelings down succesfully if he tried hard enough.

Mingi ♡:

• Dude... the fucking happiness of the dream...

• Silly giggles when you’d accidentally bonk eachother while switching posititons, bright smiles when you stared at eachother after a long time, random compliments, and nothing too serious that you couldn’t find playfulness in. Even when you’d both stop smiling to let out small moans and feel the moment together, it was always lighthearted.

• FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK IM SO ANGRY-

• It was some shit you’d see at the sundance ;(

• Then he woke up-

• You were the first and only thing he thought about as he gained conciousness. He wanted you... you, you, you, just you.

• He’d never wanted anything so bad. A sudden longing that made a lump form in his throat and an overwhelming feeling of how much he’s always wanted you.

• So, like Mingi does, he strived for that goal >:D

• He made an effort to see you as many times as he could and whenever you were free to hang out. And finally, one night when you both lie in his bed and gazed thoughtlessly at the ceiling, he told you.

• “I had a dream about you, you know.”

Not me basically making a summary of a could-be fic-

Wooyoung ♡:

• Now believe it or not, this bitch is hard for me to get a grasp on. All I can say with confidence is that he has the sex appeal of a milf stripper and is kinda stubborn-

• Hmm.... bothered.

• That is the feeling it would pull from him.

• Hungry; frequent patterns of warm breath against sweat-slicked skin, mumbled curses past wet lips, nails dug into his stomach deep enough to draw blood yet barely acknowledged through animalistic films over both your eyes, and teeth furrowed into the flesh of his shoulder as you scratched at the blank canvas of his back.

• It was all raw sexual aggression from both sides. So much so, that you both practically fought during it.

“I hate you. I hate you like you don’t even know, Wooyoung,” You speak, breathless, and reach up to weave both fists into his hair, “I love you so much that I fucking... hate you.”

• Then...

• Gone.

• Just like that, the dream was replaced with the sight of familiar bedroom walls as Wooyoung opened his eyes, a sigh escaping past his lips when he finally pieced things together.

• “As if I wasn’t already stressed enough...,” He murmurs, staring down at the new stain on his sweatpants.

• From that point on, it’s a new habit for Wooyoung to catch sight of you and keep his gaze there; just staring when you’re not looking, and feeling terrible afterwards. He feels like he violated you somehow, and with that ball of dread in his stomach whenever he sees you, he becomes distant.

• It’s not catching feelings so much as it is a new desire.

Jongho ♡:

• Jongho, Jongho, Jongho... whatever will we do with you?

• Upfront about it, surprisingly.

• He caught feelings. How could he not when you’re one of the most breath-taking people he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing?

• That face of yours, along with your voice so soft and encouraging in his ears, was enough for him to cave.

• “Just like that, baby... Just like that.”

• He doesn’t even remember the details of the dream. Just your words and kisses, which still make the touched skin of his body heat with excitement whilst he blinks down at his hands.

• He clenches them; one, twice, then lets them fall back to his sides. He doesn’t need to look into his pants to know that he’s soiled himself.

• He feels kinda... empty? After the dream. Lmao just as exhausted as San was, really, but both at the fluttering his heart when he thinks of you, and the dream itself, so cleans himself up real quick before going back to sleep. 

• The fluttering doesn’t go away the next morning.

• So... he tells you :D

• As soon as you walk through the door, holding a bag of snacks and drinks for preparation to crash at Jongho’s apartment for a little bit, he sits you down on the couch, much to your confusion at the serious face he has.

• “I know that this kind of thing can ruin friendships and I don’t want that. At all. But, I had a... dream, about you last night and now I can’t really stop thinking about you...”

• Not the pounding of his heart making him dizzy :*

[peralta-guaranteed]

When they met Jake had a mop of hair (still looked cute) but then he got it cut and went from cute to HOT AF wonder what Amy’s reaction to that was 🤔🤔 or what her reaction to first time seeing him in a suit (suit Jake can step on me)

(gonna smush those together and add the awesome triple Ask part 2, "Amy realizing how hot Jake is early in their friendship like a moment of realization and then it won’t get out of her head)

also, Jake’s suit: like this

and Amy’s dress: like this but in blue

for your imagination pleasures :D

He was cute in a dorky kind of way, she had to admit even before she ever dared to think she might like him.

Well, she didn't exactly have to admit that to anyone, because no one really asked (except for Kylie, who only got a shrug and an eye roll when she inquired about her new co-workers). But she kind of admitted it to herself, whenever she caught a glimpse of his mop of hair bobbing past her desk with a new file, or leaning over her when they were discussing a new case. He was kinda cute.

Annoying and childish and boisterous and a pain to work with, but... in a cute way.

It made no difference to admit that, anyway. It didn't matter. They were co-workers, and that's it. She wasn't here to make friends - especially not with someone as wild and career-hobbling as him. She’d made that decision before she even came to the 99, and it wasn’t going to change.

-*-

He came in with no curls left at all six months into their working relationship, about a month after she’d also admitted to herself that maybe she wasn’t intentionally here to make friends, but had accidentally ended up with a strangely loyal one. 

“Good, right?” He grinned at her with a proud double-pointer to his head, sitting or rather plonking down into his chair across from her while she tried to pry her eyes from him. She had been staring the whole way from the elevator to their desks, but maybe it wasn’t too late to hide that.

It was a bit harder to hide the blush that started at the top of her ears, but she cleared her throat quickly to pull his eyes away from that.

“That’s quite a change.”

“Yeah, Gina set me up with one of her stylist friends. Didn’t work out, but, uh, guess I got something out of it. Which is probably what she was planning for anyway.” He shrugged, answered with a resounding “Uh, duh!” from behind Amy before he stuck his tongue out at the childhood friend she was separating him from.

Something in her face twitched at the mention of another one of his dates - he seemed to be going on a lot of those, and he had no qualms telling everyone so, even though he never elaborated. Why it made her stomach drop a bit every time, she wasn’t quite so sure. Probably because it was so unprofessional to discuss at work, and she was already toeing the line too much joining in with some of his jokes and pranks. He swore McGinley didn’t give a damn, but she was sure she’d seen their captain’s disapproving stare through the half open blinds the last two times Jake had pulled her up from her desk for something definitely not police-related.

Jake was still low-key squabbling with Gina over her head, so she could slip out of that conversation easily, focus on the files she was working on before he came in looking like that, disrupting her… everything. 

“It looks good.” She said instead, cursing herself for opening her mouth the second it closed again, but continuing. “Frames your face much better.”

The infighting stopped, and she could feel Gina’s stare burn into the back of her head. But far more pressing was the look Jake was giving her now, a short blink of… surprise, maybe, before his face broke out into a grin that wasn’t half as goading or over-the-top as usual.

���Uh, I, mh, thanks.” He mumbled, quickly staring down at the files he’d left open yesterday before he left, and she almost thought she could see a blush on the tip of his ears now, finally visible without being hidden underneath all that hair.

But that was surely just her imagination.

-*-

A very overactive imagination, she sighs as she stands in the copier room. An imagination that couldn’t stop staring at him throughout the day, at the way his profile had changed so much now without those curls always in the way, at the short hairs on the back of his neck, her fingers itching to run through them to find out if they’d feel soft or bristly. An imagination that refused to go back to the simple description of ‘cute’.

“I see you, Santiago.” A terrifying voice behind her interrupts her, and she’s glad her files are already in the copier so she can’t throw them at Gina in shock as she turns around to face her.

“What?”

“I see you, staring at my boy.” Gina points two fingers from her eyes into Amy’s direction, a grin breaking out on her face that almost rivals the ‘boy’ she’s talking about. “Getting the hots for the class clown? Gonna go smoochtown on my little bro?”

“As if.” Amy scoffs, maybe a bit too loudly, shaking her head a bit too much. “We’re talking about the same guy here? The one who claims that jelly beans have 4 calories each, so eating 500 a day should fulfil his caloric needs?”

“Uhu.” Gina seems bored now, which is not unusual for her whenever she’s talking to Amy, staring at her fingernails instead. “Keep trying to delude yourself with those negatives, poor girl. Just channel all that unfulfilled desire into some boring paperwork. I’ll be waiting for the day you snap and tear his clothes off right at his desk, so I can be out sick that day and not have to witness it.”

“I’m not going to-” Amy tries to protest, but Gina has already hopped out of the room, her hair bouncing behind her as she gives a wave and leaves her behind with a growl.

She’s not. She’s not going to do anything. There’s nothing to do something about. There- it’s- he’s-

She’s allowed to think someone looks attractive without immediately devolving into sexual thoughts or interest. She can think one of her friends is good-looking without making that weird. She can… she can admit that Jake is her friend and that Jake is attractive and it doesn’t change anything.

It doesn’t.

-*-

They’re all standing in front of the precinct, half shivering because of the wind swiping through their legs, and Amy curses whoever’s idea it was to meet up there instead of straight at the NYPD party two blocks down. We’re supposed to show a unified front as a squad, she remembers Terry saying, arriving together will help with that. 

Well, they apparently won’t even start off together, because they’ve been waiting for Jake - of course, who else? - for close to 15 minutes now, and none of their messages were even answered. (Amy duly noted that hers were actually the only ones signed off with a ‘read’ notification, but she couldn’t think too much about that now, not while she was freezing in a dress she was still worried might be too low cut for a work event, even while Rosa next to her was sporting the most amazing little black dress she’d ever seen.)

“I swear to god, if Peralta isn’t here in 5 minutes, I’ll-” Terry is interrupted in his rant by a far too familiar voice sprinting at them.

“I’m here! I’m here.” Jake coughs a little as he comes to a stop and leans forward, hands on his knees, before standing up with a wide grin as if nothing happened. “I’m here! Let’s go! What are we waiting for?!”

Terry gives him the most dead-set stare he can muster before the group starts moving, all eager to finally get to a place that not only offers free drinks and food, but also heating.

Amy falls back a few steps, fighting with some uncomfortable heels she also should’ve rethought as much as her dress, and finds herself next to Jake, who’s apparently still trying to catch his breath from his run to the precinct. At least that’d explain the little gasp and baited breath as she bonks against him in her next stumble, and finds she’d rather like to stay there - on account of him being warm, of course.

“Geez, Santiago.” His arm wraps around her, suddenly, an even warmer hand rubbing up and down the thin sleeves of the stylish yet impractical soft coat she’d picked. “If you know you run cold all the time, why don’t you bundle up for the weather?”

Because bundling up doesn’t look good, she thinks with a sigh. Bundling up doesn’t leave an impression with the captains at that party. And because, maybe, Kylie had been a little too convincing about her online shopping cart after two glasses of wine each and clicked Buy before Amy could stop her. 

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to spend more than 5 minutes out in the cold today, but we had to wait twice that for you.” She bites back instead, and hates herself for it, because it makes his wonderfully warm arm drop from her side almost immediately.

“Sorry.” He mumbles while staring at the ground. “Hey, you want my coat? It’s fresh dry-cleaned, I promise.”

“I didn’t know you even owned anything but that leatherjacket and at least twenty similar hoodies.”

“Yeah, it’s my grown-up nice jacket I only wear for special events.” He decides to ignore her dig, stroking down the soft grey wool with a strangely proud grin before unbuttoning it. “Here, put it on. Pre-warmed.”

She can’t protest anymore before he slips it over her shoulders, and it is incredibly warm and soft, but that’s not what freezes her mind entirely.

Jake’s in a suit. That much was to be expected, considering the event they were going to specifically asked for it, but it only now dawns on her that she’s never seen him in a suit before, not accounting for his dress blues. And what a suit. It’s dark green, emerald, she thinks it’s called, a colour that works perfect with his light brown curls (slightly grown out again), and there’s- there’s a waistcoat involved, and a pocket square, a  navy blue coloured pocket square, and she realises it’s the exact same shade of blue as her dress, and her mind can’t even focus on how the cut of his suit seems perfectly tailored around his waist while thinking about that, until Charles’ wolf-whistle pulls her out of her fugue.

“Hot damn, Peralta.” Terry nods next to him. “Didn’t expect you to make the effort, to be honest.”

“Gina has this friend who works at a tailor.” He coughs, and yes, there is definitely a blush on his ears now. “Plays himself as a bit of a stylist, but I think he went overboard.”

Charles “Nuh-uh!” mixes with Rosa’s “Why does Gina keep trying to hook you up with horrible people”, and almost overshadows Amy’s “Do you make any fashion choices that aren’t basically Gina-led?”

“Because she’s Gina.” Jake shrugs and seems to answer both Amy and Rosa with that, staunchly ignoring Charles for the moment, which is probably his best bet.

Amy wants to shoot something back, anything, to keep her mind off of that suit and her eyes from staring, but she can’t. She’s glad she has to look forward as they move on, though, focusing more on not stumbling on the uneven pavement with Jake’s warm, heavy coat over her shoulders.

So he looks good in a suit. That’s fine. He cleans up well. Lots of men do. Terry is wearing a nice suit, too. So’s Charles, she has to admit.

But neither of them pull at the seams of her mind like his does. Neither of them makes her wonder how it feels to let her hands slide down his lapels, maybe grab them midway and pull him forward-

The two block walk is far too short to cool her down again, especially with that cursed warm jacket around her, smelling so much like him and his unusual cologne that he’s definitely never worn to work before, but that will be burned into her nose for a while now.

-*-

He helps her slip both his and her jacket off at the coat check, and there seems to be a short moment where he almost drops hers as she turns around again, his eyes rushing up and down her wrap dress, sporting a cleavage and a high slit that really can only be explained by two glasses of wine and Kylie. At least the sleeves are long enough to not make her freeze anymore now that she’s inside.

“Wow.” He mumbles even as she begins pulling at said sleeves, adjusting the collar that already feels like it’s dropped too far.

“I know, it’s too much, my friend-”

“Too much?!” He interrupts with a stare. “Ames, you look-” He seems to be grasping for something to say, and she can see a flash of a lot of words across his mind before he stares at the ground again for a second to find himself. “Good. You look really good.”

She smiles as her eyes drop to the ground as well.

“Thanks. You look good, too.”

He snorts, before lifting his arm in an inviting gesture, and she doesn’t want to rethink it too much as she slips her arm into the hook of his elbow.

“Well, let’s go look good together then.” He says, and yep, she’s definitely rethinking all of that. For the whole evening. Every time he catches her eyes - she’s not staring, she’s not - and smiles at her. The first time he points to his pocket square, mouthing We match! with almost childlike glee in his eyes. The following five times he does it. Even the one time Charles points it out as they find each other in their little group again, met with a round of sighs and a disgruntled “No, Charles” from Jake himself. 

She thinks about it - and about him, and that suit - when he picks up their coats, both swaying and giggling just a little from the free champagne. 

And then she thinks about something a bit more, when he slips his jacket over her shoulders immediately, his hands gliding over her bare neck for just a second, the scent of his cologne from the collar only strengthened by the scent of him right behind her.

So he’s cute. So he’s attractive. So he looks amazing in a suit. 

So she might be a little bit attracted to all that.

It still didn’t change anything.

-*-

what r u wearing 2 NYPD party, he texts her a year later, and she crinkles her nose at his appalling writing.

You know how to write proper English, I’ve seen your reports. She texts back, and then… Why do you want to know?

Thought it would be fun to match again. comes the well-written answer, and she stares at it for a good ten minutes before finally answering.

Green chiffon.

She was going to change her mind about that dress Kylie helped her pick again, but she won’t. Not now.

-*-

What r you gonna wear babeeeee, he pesters her with the 5th message about it in as many days, ever since she sent him the reservations info for their first anniversary dinner.

I told you it’s going to be a surprise.

Not fair! How am I supposed to match?! She grins as she reads it.

Won’t look good on you if you can’t figure that out, detective.

-*-

“I knew it!”, he grins at her wide at the bottom of her stairs as she descends in her navy blue wrap dress, glad it still fits after years in her closet.

“Easy enough for you to say. You probably have a whole colour range of pocket squares ready.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head, reaching for her hand on the last step already, his other hand unbuttoning the same ‘grown-up nice jacket’ she knows so well by now. “Look?”

She lets out a happy laugh as she’s met with his emerald green suit jacket, a memory burned into her mind for probably forever.

She’s so glad he never changes.

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

what's your favourite memory?

I’m going to talk about a couple childhood memories that are always very comforting and nostalgic  and happy for me

Coming back to this later. I, uh, I really went off, huh. Whoops. I could literally go on about any one of these for hours. And many many others, honestly

Pirating

When I was about four or five my dad was asleep while I played at Pirates, but I decided that his nap had gone long enough and he just had to see my costume. Full pirate costume with bandana, eyeliner moustache and foam hook. In my other hand I held a lightsaber. There’s a picture of me shushing my mum because she was laughing as she took picture of me. I then proceeded to invade the bedroom, jump on the bed [and my dad] and bonk him on the head with the lightsaber until he woke up

Stardust

I remember the first time I managed to stay awake through Stardust very clearly. It’s one of my favourite movies and to this day, whenever I watch that movie I taste Malteasers because that had been my snack that night so long ago

Building Work

I remember building with my dad. When he redid the floor in the corridor between the front door and the kitchen I got to wear my brother’s old patchwork boiler suit and jump around in the foundations. When we changed the loft to a living room I would drag my Bob the Builder toys into that room every single day and insist I was helping. I had my own trestle table to practice hammering, sawing and sanding on when my dad was doing building work outside. When the garage was being built I was trying to dye sheep wool with flowers [surprise surprise, it didn’t work] and without thinking I stuck the wool onto metal sticks in the foundations, only for them to be smothered in cement when I was at school the next day. I mixed up my own cement and made sandwiches with roof tiles

Outdoors

When I was little my favourite thing in the world was to go outside and spent the whole day breaking rocks and making potions and pseudo-cement and “digging to China” and I would spent literal hours crawling up and down my croft collecting pieces of plates and bottles. In the summer holidays before I fully grasped how to tell time my mother would just let me go in the morning and tell me to be back when the sun set [which was often eleven or twelve] Every year for as long as I remember me and my mum get flowers for the garden and every year I would take on more and more of the responsibility until I would do the whole garden in two days

Sheep

My next-door-neighbour used to have sheep. Whenever a lamb was rejected by its mother or orphaned, we would look after it. It only happened twice. First was Buttons. Buttons was more goat than sheep, honestly. He would eat my shirt and my hair and the picnic bench and try and steal my mac & cheese. He would have eaten his own milk bottle if I’d had a weaker grip. He would play with my dog and knock my football around with his head. Second was Peter. He was more cuddly, and like being picked up, but only by me. He would crap on anyone else who tried to lift him. Peter eventually moved into the croft with the other sheep and we would go down there to give him milk and later sheep nuts. We would get mobbed by the other sheep once they realised we had food, and I remember watching my brother walk calmly down the croft but then sprinting all the way back up, being chased by stampeding sheep

October

One October holiday we went to a different beach everyday and even though I was always told, “Don’t go in the water or we’ll go home early.” I would always, always go in the water and get soaking wet

Winter Trip

A few years ago my mum won a weekend away in a bothy on the other end of the island, and it was just incredible. We walked along beaches and visited some historical sights and spent time together on a part of the island we hadn’t been to before. The trip coincided with a youth club field trip, which meant that after three amazing days with my family I joined the youth club at an activity centre. We hiked up a mountain and had a snowball fight at the top. We yelled at the the top of our lungs to Christmas songs while ice skating and the organisers opened the huge doors of the building with the ice rink so we could watch the sunset. We did archery and gave each other stupid nicknames and sat on top of each other while waiting for our turn. We played pranks on each other, switched off all the lights in the centre and chased each other around barefoot

Disney

The rest of you remember the montage at the beginning of Disney movies, right? The one that started with Jack Sparrow and Peter Pan? This? And the mmmuuuuuuuuaaaaaaAAAAAHHHHHHHHH of the THX thing? They had whole sketches with little robots and cow noises

[maandags]

As Long As We’re Together (Zuko x reader)

Pallies. pals. friends. it's here.

-- -- -- 

Word count: 13.3K (y i k e s)

Genre: angst (are we surprised) / fluff

Notes: masterlist - listen. this was supposed to be like 6k. why. but also,,,,, ZUKOOOOOOOOO

------

Five years ago

Zuko had always thought you were beautiful.

From the hair falling into your face, no matter how many times you brushed it aside, to the eyes that seemed to bear a permanent spark in them that made you look so alive, to the smirk you wore every time you caught him staring with a sheepish grin on his face.

He, unlike most people, thought the tattoo your forehead bore–the very tattoo that marked you as a combustionbender–only added to your beauty.

It was clear to anyone who so much as cast you a look at you that you were no ordinary firebender. The red mark on your forehead could be mistaken for an eye, at first glance. Upon closer inspection, however, one could see that it was an intricate pattern of tiny swirls and shapes, and Zuko could spend his days just looking at it–it made up such a huge part of who you were, and he loved discovering new patterns or shapes that he hadn't previously noticed.

You were spread out on the grass now, your head in his lap and your eyes closed, and Zuko traced his fingers along the mark on your forehead, light as a feather. You'd told him it tickled, but when he'd apologised and promised not to touch it again your eyes had widened and you'd said, "Oh, no! It's just sensitive, is all. I actually quite like it. It's relaxing."

The sun was shining above you and Zuko threw back his head, letting the sunlight caress his cheeks, burying his fingers in the soft grass beneath him. He heaved a sigh.

"What is it?" you asked after a while, cracking open one eye when you no longer felt his fingers tracing your tattoo. You looked up at him, sticking out your tongue when all Zuko did was smile.

"Nothing. Aren't I allowed to enjoy the weather?"

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. "You never do something as simple as enjoying the weather, Koko."

The nickname had started as a joke–Azula had taken to calling Zuko Zuzu, so you thought it was only fair if you referred to him as Koko. Granted, it was just to spite Azula at first, but for some reason you'd become fond of it, and soon it was all you called him. As much as he'd tried to threaten the nickname out of you, it had stuck, and he found himself not minding it one bit. Koko it was, and Koko it stayed.

"You're mean."

"I'm honest."

"Whatever."

You pulled a face, sitting upright and stretching as you shot him a pointed look. "What are you thinking about?"

When he chuckled, looking down, you gave his ponytail a small tug and cocked your head. "There's always so much going on in that head of yours. What is it?"

He looked at you, fighting the flush threatening to creep up his cheeks and internally debating how he should say what he wanted to say. You would laugh at him. He was still young–a twelve-year-old prince shouldn't be worrying about anything like marriage.

"When I become Firelord..." he started cautiously, fingering the hem of his shirt, trying to find the right words. In the back of his mind, he realised how absolutely crazy it was what he was doing–he would basically be proposing at twelve years of age. That was nuts. And as he looked at you, the increasing curiosity sparking in your eyes, he felt the short burst of courage crawl right back into its shell. "...nevermind. It's stupid, and a good while away anyway."

You scowled. "That's not fair! You gotta tell me now. What were you going to say?"

"I said nevermind!"

"You're no fun. Well, I guess I'll have to fill in the blanks myself, then," you said with a shrug, tapping the side of your nose and pursing your lips in thought. "When you become Firelord... you'll expand your wardrobe to be half your room. Colour-coordinating socks will be your main activity of the day."

You cast a questioning look at Zuko, who was biting back a grin at your antics. "No? Hmm. Then... you'll redesign the palace gardens. No? You'll abolish homework across the entire Fire Nation. Still no? You could do that, you know. You'd save a lot of kids so much suffering."

Zuko was full-out laughing by now, and he let himself fall back onto the grass, rubbing his forehead. You were still firing ideas at him, each one more absurd than the last, sitting cross-legged and leaning your head in your palms with the most deadpan expression on your face.

"No! No, Y/N, none of that," he said, running a hand over his hair. "This is why I'm going to be Firelord and not you. The Fire Nation would fall into chaos if you ruled it."

You sniffed, inspecting your nails. "Mean. But fair."

Zuko smirked. "I'm just being honest."

But as he looked at you, the thought formed in his head once more. On your own, you'd be no good a ruler, that much was true. But if you ruled by his side... The two of you, together. That was how it was supposed to be. That was how it would always be. You and him.

That night, he woke up drenched in cold sweat, a huge explosion rattling his room. He jumped out of the covers and ran to his window, breathing heavily and frantically searching the palace grounds for the source of the blow. He saw nothing, bar the reflection of his own pale face in the glass.

The pitter-patter of footsteps resonated in the hallway, and Zuko turned to face Azula, who stood in his doorway with wide, twinkling eyes. "What do you think happened?"

Zuko said nothing. Looking out of the window again, he tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. Something was terribly wrong, he could feel it. The explosion had been awfully close to his room, and if he craned his neck the right way he could just see the plume of dark smoke making its way up to the skies.

A servant knocked on his door, coercing Azula to go back to her room and assuring them that everything was being taken care of. But even she looked shaken. Azula rolled her eyes before leisurely strolling out of Zuko's room, not sparing him as much as a glance. Still rattled, he climbed back into bed, hearing the servant's calming voice with half an ear.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

––––

You jolted awake with a gasp, a forgotten name ripped from your lips.

It happened so often you should have been used to it by now. But you weren't. Every day it was a shock, every day the echoes left you shaken and breathing heavily, your heart pounding. Because that was what they were: echoes. Not exactly memories, not exactly meaningless dreams.

You were only confused and scared for a few minutes. Though you may never completely get used to them, by now you knew how to deal with the dreams. Sleeping in the streets of Ba Sing Se would do that for you, you thought bitterly.

Get over yourself, Y/N. It's just a dream. Stupid, stupid dreams. You adjusted your headband, making sure it covered everything it needed to cover as you cast yourself a look in a murky puddle.

Granted, you knew close to nothing about yourself, or where exactly you were born or where you'd grown up until your twelve years of age. Murky memories of Ba Sing Se littered your mind, but they felt off somehow. The exact same few memories seemed to surface whenever you tried to remember, no matter what exactly you were hoping to recall–the same memories, always. And even they didn't feel like real memories; it was more as if you looked at yourself through opaque glass. The main shapes were there, but details got lost in the whole.

The more time passed, the more you felt as if you didn't belong. The more you suspected you weren't from here. It was like an itch you couldn't scratch. There wasn't a lot you could do about it, though–nothing except try to survive from day to day and not starve to death.

The main reason for your suspicions was the tattoo of an eye that adorned your forehead. You'd had it for as long as you could remember and had never seen anyone else with anything that looked even remotely similar. As far as you knew, you were born with it. You didn't know where the urge to cover it–hide it–came from, but there was no use fighting it; whenever your forehead wasn't covered, you got jittery, unreasonably panicky and a bonking headache plagued you until you grabbed the closest piece of cloth available and tied it in a knot around your head.

As you did every morning, you checked your leg and arm sheaths for your knives, counting the blades under your breath until you were sure none of them had been stolen off of you while you slept. It wasn't completely necessary, you knew–you'd established a name for yourself when a guy who had tried to grab one of your knives had lost a finger in the process–but by now it had become a force of habit.

In the Lower Rings of Ba Sing Se, one learned to sleep lightly.

But you were still here, and you were still alive. That was a win in itself.

In any case, you needed food–you'd finished the last of your bread yesterday. So off you went, pulling your hood over your head as you exited your refuge for the last couple of nights.

Over time, you had gotten used to living (and staying alive) in the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se. It was big, and you toured each and every alley–after five years of scouring its streets, running from many an angry shopkeep who caught you trying to steal a loaf of bread or an apple. Back when you'd been nothing but a kid, you thought bitterly, resisting the urge to kick an empty bucket across the street.

You had been a kid, terrified and desperately trying to survive on whatever you could find. Some days, that would be warm, soft bread fresh from the oven that the baker had given you with a smile, along with apple juice and maybe some grapes. You'd try to keep the food for as long as possible, not knowing when the next meal as festive as this one would be. Other days, your meal would consist of a dry biscuit and barely a cup of water.

A fruit stand caught your attention. The apples and oranges looked fresh–a lot better than what you'd been eating for the last week or so. It'd be such a nice treat...

You bent down, grabbing a rock the size of your palm and weighing it in your hand, scanning the area for the place that'd catch the most attention. A fountain trickling brown-ish water hanging from the side of a house caught your eye and you thought, It'll have to do. You closed an eye, took your aim, and threw the rock.

It struck the fountain with a sharp clank, knocking the tap askew and sending mucky brown water spraying everywhere. In the commotion of annoyed shouts that followed, you quickly grabbed two oranges and three apples before mingling with the crowd and disappearing. You acquired two loaves of bread, a bottle of milk and even a small block of cheese the same way, and even though there weren't any fountains around you found another way to create a distraction.

It was a good hunt, you concluded as you weighed your bag on your hip, feeling the roundness of the oranges and apples through the fabric. As you were about to turn and head back to your refuge, a smell wafted around the corner and made your breath hitch.

Tea. It was tea, you were sure of it, and you sniffed a few more times, revelling in the scent that seemed to course through your entire body and warm you to the very bone. It was so different from the smells that usually hung in the air in the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se that for a second, you worried that you were dreaming again, maybe you were just hallucinating– but then you sniffed again and the scent came back, stronger than ever. You needed to get back to your hideout, a voice whispered. It would be discovered by other street rats and you'd lose what little shelter you had.

But it was still early, another voice argued, and if you could just get a look... maybe you could get your hands on a teabag. Just one. For the smell.

So your body took the decision for you, and the next thing you knew you were tiptoeing around the corner and chasing the delicious smell.

Voices accompanied the smell and as you pressed your body flush against the wall–out of habit, you guessed–you closed your eyes and inhaled the scent once more. For some reason, the smell made you think of home. It was strange–you were born in Ba Sing Se, weren't you?

Confusion muddled your mind when you realized that you weren't sure anymore. Even though everyone had always assured you that you had been part of the family since birth, there were still so many questions unanswered. Why were the first clear memories you had of the city at all only dated a few years back? The nice baker you saw sometimes had dismissed your questions with a wave of her hand, saying that it wasn't all that uncommon for young kids to lose their memories when they were forced to live on the streets. After a while, memories could get muddy.

It was still strange, you thought. There were so many memories you vividly remembered of your life in Ba Sing Se; but as soon as you tried to recall anything that dated back more than a couple of years... all you came up with were the same muddy, murky images.

Then a door behind you slammed open and you were harshly pulled from your thoughts. Your eyes widened and you just managed to jump aside before the person dumped a bucket of filthy water on the stones, drenching your shoes in the process. A yelp of surprise and anger tore itself from your lips, along with a string of curses and you jumped up and down, cringing at the wetness of your shoes and socks and waving your arms around.

"Can you not watch what you're doing?" you shouted, hopping from one foot on the other.

The guy in the doorway froze, clenching the handle of the bucket until his knuckles turned white. You sent him a furious look, trying to ignore the soppy soles your feet rested on. The first thing you noticed about him was the scar that stretched across the entire left side of his face, permanently closing his eye halfway. His eyes were widened and startled. A mop of shaggy black hair rested atop his head, and he wore a slightly worn green outfit and apron. The kitchen boy, you assumed.

"I'm sorry."

And that was that, and he turned around and disappeared into the kitchen and you stood by the door, your ankles and feet still sopping wet and baffled by the guy's cut off reaction. Before the door could completely close, though, your hand zipped out and you slipped through the opening, planting a hand on your hip.

"That's it? Just 'I'm sorry?'"

He turned around, annoyance now clear on his face and he threw up his hands. "What more do you want me to say? We don't know each other!"

"'Sorry' isn't going to dry my clothes, asshat."

"Zuko, what's going on?"

Another voice–male, you registered immediately–sounded, and not two seconds later an elderly man appeared in the doorway from the shop to the kitchen. His eyes widened when he saw you standing in the kitchen among the pots and pans, and his gaze shot from you to the guy– he'd called him Zuko.

Why did the name sound familiar?

You weren't given any time to think about it, as the older man smiled and clapped his hands together, even though his eyes were still a little wary. "Well, who is it you dragged in here?" You folded your arms, pointedly shifting your weight from one hip to another.

"I didn't drag anyone here. They followed me."

"Because you drenched my shoes and socks!"

"Then go home and change into a new pair!" he yelled, the amount of exasperation in his voice rising with every passing second.

You pursed your lips, clenching your fingers around your arms until your knuckles turned white. "I would. If I had a home. Or another pair of shoes and socks."

It was funny, you thought as you watched Zuko's expression fall and the widening of his eyes, even though it only lasted a fraction of a second–the time he needed to regain his composure. He wasn't from here, you decided. Definitely not used to the way some people lived in the Lower Rings.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the older man piped up, whacking the boy on the back of the head with a towel, ignoring his startled "Hey!" and pointing your way. "Get them to a table, and make it quick!" He cast you a friendly smile, clapping his hands. "I will make you a most delicious cup of tea to warm you up. Now, get!"

Zuko sighed, but extended an arm towards the door, which you took as an invitation to slip past him, casting him another scrutinous look. There was an unusual kind of fire in his eyes–you didn't see that often, not here. It made your stomach churn, but also spiked up interest.

"That your grandfather?" you asked, following him to a table in the far corner of the shop, manoeuvring through the numerous stools and plopping down on the one he yanked back with a force that told you his boss had probably drilled the manners in his head, even though he probably found them stupid.

"Uncle," he said through gritted teeth. You raised an eyebrow; what a temper. Not something you found often in Lower Ring citizens. Your suspicion that he wasn't from here only grew by the second.

"All right. All I did was ask."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You were liking him less and less. But irritation was rising in your own throat as well, and you leant back in your chair, folding your arms again and sending him a glare of your own. Tension seemed to crackle in the air as you held each other's gaze, both of you determined to win the staring contest. The irritating thought that you should know him from somewhere scratched at the back of your mind, getting increasingly annoying. He looked so familiar. His eyes looked so familiar.

"Here you go, child. Courtesy of Mushi." The uncle in question set a steaming cup of tea on the table before you and shot you a wink, and for a second you forgot all about Zuko and his familiar eyes, the scent reaching your nose and you instinctively inhaled deeply, closing your eyes and curling your fingers around the cup, taking a small sip and blinking against the tears springing to your eyes.

"Oh, Spirits, that's hot," you choked out before promptly taking another sip. "Ow."

"Slow down, slow down," Mushi said with a chuckle as he took the chair opposite you. Then he turned to his nephew. "Sit."

He did, albeit with a scowl and he sank back in his seat as far as possible. The weird image of a pouting kid popped up in your mind, and you shook your head with a start. The kid had also looked familiar. Almost like... like a memory. But that was impossible.

Wasn't it?

"Thanks for the tea," you said, securing your bag around your hips with shaking fingers and downing the last of the tea, revelling in the taste and resisting the urge to smack your lips. "But I gotta–I've gotta go."

"Oh, but your shoes surely aren't dry yet! You should stay a bit, maybe enjoy another cup of tea? On the house, I promise." Mushi frowned up at you, and you bit your lip, fingers fiddling with the cord holding your bag closed.

It was warm here. Warm and cosy and though the company maybe wasn't great–though Mushi was a sweet man, you had to admit–it already felt more like home than the streets ever would. But you were afraid that if you took his offer, you wouldn't have the courage to leave. So you shook your head, heart filling with regret.

"Sorry. I need to get back to my friends," you lied–you didn't have friends–and held up the bag. "Thank you. Again."

Mushi smiled and nodded. "It was our pleasure. If you ever find yourself around again, you are welcome to pop in anytime. Just ask for Mushi or Lee."

You frowned. "Lee?" Your eyes flitted to Zuko–or Lee, apparently. "I thought your name was Zuko?"

There was a stutter in Mushi's easy demeanour, his smile faltering for just a split second. "You're very observant. It's his nickname. He's had it since he was little."

You nodded slowly, gaze travelling from Mushi to Zuko–Lee–and taking a step backwards. Why did you have the feeling he was lying? "All right then. Until next time? I guess?"

Zuko raised a hand, not-so-subtly signing for you to leave. You narrowed your eyes at him. "I'll be calling you Zuko, by the way." You didn't have time to see his reaction as you spun around and zipped out the shop, squinting against the sunlight hitting you from above and making your way back to your hideout.

It had started to rain, and soon your shoes and socks were drenched again, except this time, every article of clothing you sported was drenched too. Your hair stuck to your face, and you muttered a string of curses as you pointlessly secured your cloak around your shoulders and tugged on the hood. You'd be sick tomorrow, you reckoned, and might even get a fever if you didn't find somewhere to stay right now. Somewhere warm you could spend the night.

Shivering, you turned the last corner to your hideout, tucking back a strand of stringy hair that had fallen in your face and stopping short when you opened the door. You had been right: the hideout you had spent just over a week in because it was your only shelter had been found by others. Other homeless people. A fire crackled, a ring of street rats surrounding it. It was a bigger group than you would see usually–close to fifteen of them. They all looked at you now, and you felt your muscles tense up. You had your knives, you reminded yourself firmly, no one would be harming you.

Unless one of them was a bender. It was possible, though rare for homeless people to be benders. You'd find out, you guessed and you sucked in a breath when one of them stood up and turned to face you. Out of reflex, you slid two of your knives out of their sheaths, holding them close to your body and shifting into a fighting stance, critically sizing up the man who was stepping towards you. His eyes widened at the sight of the blades and he raised his hands.

"Slow down, pal. We don't wanna hurt you."

Your teeth chattered. Outside was so cold and wet, and there was a fire crackling just a couple of feet away and it would be so nice to just... rest, if only for a little while. "How do I know that?"

"You don't," the man said simply and you narrowed your eyes, the grip you had on your weapons tightening.

"That's not helping."

"I'm just saying that you'll have to trust that we don't have bad intentions."

You scoffed. "I don't do 'trust' very well."

The man shrugged. "Then don't trust us. But we have a warm place here and we'll let you spend the night, if you want." He sized you up. "You don't look like you have anywhere else to go."

That made you stiffen. He was right, of course. So you straightened, shoving your knives back into their sheaths with more force than was absolutely necessary and taking a cautious step forward.

"Fine. I'll stay, but only because I don't want to wind up with a lung infection tomorrow."

"Of course," the man said lightly. "You don't trust us, we won't even think about trusting you."

"Deal."

You plopped down next to a small girl who sat cross-legged, slightly rocking back and forth and staring at the fire in front of her, her fingers curled around her upper arms. Her hair hung in stringy locks in front of her face. Her eyes were remarkably piercing. They reflected the flames in front of her and you could almost feel the warmth radiating from them.

"That's Hana," said the man who'd taken his own place in the ring. "We found her scouring the streets a few days ago. She zones out sometimes, when she's really tired, but she's usually quite the chatterbox."

So these rats–they'd sacrificed food and water for one little girl they didn't know. Your gaze flitted back to the man, but now you felt more curiosity than mistrust. "Why would you take her? You're already quite a big group. That would mean more mouths to feed."

"It also means we saved a girl who otherwise would probably have died–we may be rats, but we're not terrible people," said the man. "We gotta stick together."

You hummed, casting another look at Hana. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and closed her eyes, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on top. "She's part of the family now."

A shiver ran down your spine, making you cringe and you suddenly are very aware of the heavy, damp cloak weighing down on your shoulders, the clasp in front digging into your skin. The man–you had named him Rat in your head–shot you a look and said, "You can put it to dry by the fire. I'll make sure everyone's grabby hands stay where they are." He cast a semi-threatening look around the circle.

Rolling your eyes at his antics, you unclasped the cloak and as you spread it out on the floor, you yawned. Fatigue and the feeling of safety the group radiated was finally getting to you, making your limbs heavy and beckoning your eyes to close. You weren't in the mood to argue with it, so you curled into a ball and closed your eyes. You were gone within seconds.

You woke from the whispering filling the air. Cracking open one eye, you stayed silent and felt your muscles tense up, your thoughts racing before relaxing as you remembered where you were and with whom. It was strange how quickly you felt comfortable around Rat and his crew–you weren't the trusting type.

Your cloak had dried overnight, and as you whipped it around your shoulders you cast a look at Hana, who was still curled up beside you and lightly snoring. She endeared you, and you hadn't even properly met her yet.

Standing up, you heard a voice ring out behind you. "Leaving so soon?"

Sure enough, as you turned, Rat had sidled up to you and looked at you with his hands in his pockets, an eyebrow raised. You pursed your lips. "Yeah. I..."

But Rat waved any words that would have come away. "You don't have to explain. It was nice to have you here, even if you threatened to stab us multiple times."

You grinned. "Yeah. Well, thanks for having me." You cast Hana a glance. "And watch out for her, will you?"

"I will."

You gave him a mock salute, pressing two fingers to the side of your head before whipping your cloak around you and making your way out of the door and into the gloomy day.

The wind howled in the alleys, rattling shutters and rippling through clothes. You wandered aimlessly, raking your brain for somewhere to go, something to do, some way to spend your time until the evening. Rummaging around in the bag around your waist you grabbed one of the apples and took a bite out of it, munching quietly while wandering the streets.

Little kids ran across the streets, their laughter echoing off the cobbles and clashing with the grey skies and dark clouds above the city announcing rain, and you followed them with your gaze as you chewed your apple, savouring every sweet bite. Their eyes were so bright, you noticed; they shone like stars in the gloomy day and brought a smile to your lips. One little girl–her hair was stringy and the colour of hay, tied in two braids down her shoulders waved at you, a grin plastered upon her face. You couldn't do anything but wave back.

An afternoon passed, and your feet started hurting from how much you'd walked today. For the first time, your stomach was full–you'd mindlessly been picking at the food in the bag, and you'd finished every crumb there. Stupid, you knew. That food had been supposed to last you at least a few days more.

Then a familiar scent wafted around the corner, and you groaned.

Your feet had led you right back to the tea shop.

You didn't have any money. You couldn't buy them anything, and asking for a single teabag would probably result in you getting whisked out of the shop for attempted theft. Sighing, you prepared to turn away–what else were you supposed to do, stand by the back door and wait for Zuko to throw out his dirty water? Maybe you'd get another cup on the house. Mushi certainly wouldn't mind, you reckoned.

As you shook your head, tapping your foot against a cobble sticking out from the ground, your eyes landed on a poster slapped crookedly to the wall opposite you. Your heartbeat sped up as you carefully and slowly read the words–the nice baker had taught you to read, and though you weren't an expert, you got by–and you lowered your hood, fiddling with the hem of your cloak.

You were homeless. A street rat. A thief, a dirty beggar, a savage child. Those were the names you'd gotten slung to your head before, each of them deserved and true enough.

But if you could get a job...

Biting your lip, you entered the tea shop, your head ducked down and your hands balled to fists at your side. The shop owner–he looked quite a bit cleaner than most of the people milling about in his shop, and he wore no apron, so you assumed he was the shop owner–scuttled up to you, and with a disapproving glance to your dirty attire he said, "Can I help you?"

You cleared your throat. "I'm–uh–I'm actually... looking for Mushi? And–and Lee?" Nerves built up in your throat, and in the back of your mind you punched yourself–these people would be crazy to hire you. Thief. Street rat. But you'd be damned if you didn't at least try.

The owner pursed his lips, folding his arms and looking you up and down, gaze sharp. "Whaddaya you want from Mushi? You tryin' to steal him away from me?"

Your eyes widened and you quickly shook your head. "What? No! I'm–I saw your poster, outside. You're looking for waiters?"

His eyes seemed to narrow further with every passing second. "Ah. So you're here for the job, eh?"

"Yes."

"Hm. Why didn't you say so before?" He gave you one more good look before turning and marching towards the kitchen, looking at you over his shoulder and saying, "Stay."

You were frozen, your hands still bunched in your cloak, your mind struggling to process what exactly had just happened.

You were about to get your first job. The first shop owner who would have you. You'd tried to get jobs before, but got rejected more times than you'd like to admit. Because you were untrustworthy. A thief. A non-cultured kid living on the streets. Sorry, try somewhere else. At some point, you'd given up on finding someone who'd give you a chance.

Now, though, it seemed like you had found the place to be.

Mushi made his way out of the kitchen, his eyes widening when they landed on you before he grinned wide. "Look who it is! Child, I'm happy you're back."

You smiled in return, eyes briefly flitting to Zuko who stood behind him, frowning and with his arms crossed. "Glad to be back. It's Y/N, by the way," you added, because if you were going to work with these people it seemed only fair for them to know your name. You missed the way Zuko's scowl deepened and his face paled.

Friendly salutations didn't last long, though; the owner's shrill voice cut through the air and he snapped his fingers in front of Mushi. "Well? Get the kid an apron, and put them to work!"

You sighed, plopping down onto a chair and massaging your feet with a flinch after the last customer left the shop and Zuko made to close up. You were wistful–where would you stay tonight? Surely Rat and his group would have moved on, but the shack was too far away from the shop for you to make the journey twice a day anyway. You'd have to find somewhere else to sleep. You pulled the apron over your head and folded into a neat square, resting it on your knees and biting your lip as you stared into the void, racking your brain for a spot you could set up camp nearby.

"How was your first day, Y/N?"

You looked up and right into Mushi's weary face, the crinkles around his eyes deepening with the smile he wore. You shrugged.

"Fine, I guess. I'm tired, but at least I'm doing something with my time, you know? It's a nice change."

"I'm sure," he said, leaning back in his seat and scanning the cleaned up tearoom with something like pride shimmering in his eyes. You studied his profile. He looked so nice, so sincerely good...

So why did you feel uncomfortable–itchy, almost–whenever you were around him? As if there was something not exactly right about him, and you couldn't figure out what. It was the same feeling you had around Zuko, and it bothered you. You bit your lip, debating on whether to speak up about it, but finally decided against it. You barely knew him; for all you knew, the feeling would fade after a while. Besides, you didn't want to come over as rude to the man who had essentially got you a job.

"So, where will you be spending the night?" His kind voice startled you out of your daze. "Not on the streets, I hope. You'll get ill at this rate–it's raining again."

Again, you shrugged, pulling your knees up to your chest, nodding to Zuko who pulled up a chair next to his uncle and returned your nod, albeit somewhat stiffly. His lips were pursed and he avoided your gaze and you wondered why–he'd never had an issue with you before, or at least not as much as he seemed to do now. You had to admit it upset you a bit. If you were going to be co-workers, you wanted to at least get along.

"I don't know yet," you answered Mushi, your voice muffled by your knees and staring straight ahead. "I'll–I'll figure it out."

He stared at you for a while, rubbing his chin, before he said, "No, I'm having none of that. What if you spent the night with us? At least until we find you a proper place to stay."

Your eyes widened and you let go of your knees. "No, I can't ask that of you. You've already done so much for me–"

But he shushed you with a wave of his hand, ignoring the furious look Zuko sent him. "You'll stay with us and that's that."

"I don't want to be any trouble–"

"See? They said themselves they–"

"Zuko!" The look he sent Zuko was one laced with multiple warnings--it was a sharper look than you'd ever seen Mushi wear.

"Fine," he ended up hissing after a vicious staring contest between him and his uncle. he scraped the chair back, casting you an almost disgusting look and storming off, leaving you wide-eyed and clenching the underside of your chair, following his retreating form with your gaze and flinching when he slammed the door behind him.

"I really don't want to be a burden," you said once more to Mushi, who pursed his lips and cast the door a sad look.

"You won't be," he said with a small smile, then heaving a sigh.

"Lee doesn't seem to like me that much," you said cautiously, shifting in your seat.

Mushi's smile turned sad. "It's nothing against you, child. You remind him of a friend he once had, a long time ago. You share their name."

Oh. "Do I remind you of them?" you asked after a minute of silence.

Mushi smiled again, and for a second he seemed like he travelled back in time as he thought back to your namesake--at least, that was what you assumed--his eyes distant. "So much."

––

"They can't stay here, and you know that just as well as I do."

You stared up at the ceiling, pretending to be asleep when in reality nothing could be further from the truth–while the sofa you lay on was infinitely more comfortable and warmer than cobblestones on a cold winter night, you couldn't get to sleep as easily as you'd hoped. You were wide awake.

"We owe them a place to stay. Because we're not terrible people."

"We don't owe them anything, uncle!"

"Keep your voice down."

Zuko grunted, and you could hear how he tried to steady his heavy breathing--he sounded close to panic and it worried you. "This is not going to end well. They're bound to find out somehow."

"At the moment, I think all they worry about is surviving to see the next day."

"You know what I mean. We're fugitives for a reason, uncle."

"And we both took the decision to leave those identities behind the second we steppe foot in this city. It is no longer enemy territory, Zuko. Here we are no longer Prince Zuko or General Iroh."

"Oh, spirits help us–don't say that out loud!"

"I'm trying to make you understand–Y/N knows us as Mushi and Lee. There's no reason to think we can't keep it that way."

There was a moment of silence and you heard the floorboards creak where Zuko paced. The creaking stopped--he'd taken a seat. "They're--they're so much like them, uncle."

Mushi–or should you say Iroh?–sighed. "Go back to sleep, Zuko. We'll talk about it later."

Silence, again. "Right."

He tiptoed past you and you quickly closed your eyes and evened out your breathing, pretending to be fast asleep until you heard the door shut behind him, and even after that, until you heard Iroh stand up himself and entering his own bedroom. When you were sure they were both out of sight, you opened your eyes again.

A tornado of thoughts zipped through your mind as you stared up into nothingness, a feeling of betrayal clawing at your heart, which was stupid in itself–Iroh and Zuko never owed you anything. Still, being lied to like that stung.

You bit your lip, wondering if that was your cue to leave. Did you want to live under the same roof as these people who'd lied to you ever since you'd met them? Iroh had called him Prince Zuko. What did that mean?

But then you realized that you didn't care as much as you probably should have. Weighing the pros and cons: you had a roof over your head. A place to sleep, a place to eat, a job. Besides, you knew the truth now anyway! What did it matter if they wanted to keep secrets from you? They had just as much right to do so as anyone else.

Still, it gnawed at you. The feeling that you should know them–really, actually know them–got stronger with each passing second, every time Zuko's voice reached your ears. It was so familiar and yet so foreign it made you want to scream. You turned on the couch, curling up into a ball, the names echoing through your mind; Iroh, Zuko, Mushi, Lee. After a while, you own mingled with it too. Y/N, Zuko, Iroh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N...

––

"Hey, Zuko. Look."

He turned, an eyebrow raised and scoffed when his eyes landed on you, putting his hands on his hips and trying--and failing--to keep a straight face. His eyes twinkled.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you viciously tried to keep the platter balanced on your head, the plate of pastries perched on top wobbling dangerously. In both your hands rested another platter, those adorned with steaming cups of tea and you straightened your back, taking a cautious step forward and testing the balance of the platter on your head. Satisfied, you stepped towards the door and clicked your tongue at Zuko.

"Shoo. Make way, kitchen boy."

He raised his hands and let you pass, your steps still agonisingly slow and moving with an immense amount of control. The tip of your tongue peeked past your lips. You just had to get to the table by the window, you repeated to yourself over and over like a mantra. Halfway through, you realized that it would be an impossible task–the clatter of the pastries on the platter gave away that your control was slipping.

You were aware of the looks you were getting, and you stood up straight, collecting your bearings and fixating on a point right in front of you, sticking up your chin slightly and pacing the last few metres over to the table, where you set down one platter and swiftly sliding the pastry platter off the top of your head, throwing a wink over your shoulder to where Zuko stood, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen with his arms crossed and he stuck his tongue out as a response.

With a smile you slid back over to the next customer, a bubble of pride bursting in your chest. You and Zuko had steadily grown closer over the last four weeks–the time you had spent working in the teashop and spending your nights with him and Iroh–or Mushi, as you still called him.

It was nice to finally have him be a bit more relaxed around you, you thought–he actually smiled at you now. You could hold a decent conversation with him before he turned away. It was an accomplishment.

But with every second you spent in his presence, the feeling in your chest–that feeling of vague familiarity that you'd had ever since you'd met him–grew stronger. You wanted to know more than anything who this other Y/N character was. All you had to do was find the right moment to ask. Even though you got along better now, it didn't mean he suddenly would open up and tell you all about his childhood.

But the right moment didn't seem to come, and you were getting impatient.

"Congrats. I seriously didn't think you'd make it."

"So little faith in me."

"It was wobbling," he laughed.

You shrugged, pressing past him and putting up a new kettle. "Listen. A bit of danger makes it fun."

"Then you and I have different definitions of fun."

You turned, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at him, gears turning in your head. Fun. It was time you had a bit of fun.

"What if I took you to have some fun tonight?" you blurted.

His eyebrows shot up. "Meaning?" he said cautiously.

You grinned as the kettle behind you began to whistle. "You'll see."

"Y/N, is this necessary?" Zuko said, tugging at the black cloak you'd dug up and draped over his shoulders, and you nodded, pulling the hood over his eyes and ignoring his indignant squawk. Your knives jingled against your belt, their weight familiar, and you were glad for them. They'd been lying untouched wrapped up in your own cloak for weeks, and having them back gave you a strange sense of nostalgia.

You turned, planting a hand on your hip and casting him a grin. "Ready?"

He nodded impatiently. "Where are we going?"

Suppressing a smile, you said, "Just try to keep up." And then you were gone.

In five seconds you'd climbed to the roof of the nearest building, ignoring Zuko's hushed "Y/N!" and stood, your arms crossed, waiting for him to join you, your eyebrows raised. He sighed, and you could see him internally debate if he should do it or not–but then he was at your side, having clambered up surprisingly quickly. He cast you a weak glare. "If we're caught..."

You flicked his nose. "If I didn't know what I was doing, I wouldn't be here right now."

"Hm. Fair."

So you took off again.

You sprinted your heart out on the Ba Sing Se rooftops, The tap tap tap of your feet the only sound in the still night. You felt like you were flying, and you had the urge to push forward, push, push, push to your limits and see just how fast you could truly go. Your hood got blown off. You didn't care.

Zuko wasn't far behind you, and as you leapt through the air to get to the other side of the street you cast a glance back at him–his eyes shone in the moonlight, his face lit up by the grin stretching his lips. He was enjoying this just as much as you were, and he didn't seem to have a problem with your speed, so you accelerated, grinning at the surprised grunt he let out.

You wouldn't know for exactly how long you ran, but you ran until your lungs burned and every breath was torture, and even then you kept running, the cold caress of the wind on your cheeks enough to give you energy for another step, and another, and another. It was only when you couldn't feel Zuko's presence beside you anymore that you skidded to a halt, panting and pressing a hand to your side.

He caught up to you just a few moments later, his breathing just as heavy as yours and no longer running but jogging, hopping from one roof to the other. His amber eyes sparkled. You never paid much attention to how pretty his eyes truly were. Now you did, drinking in every detail of them.

You shook your head with a laugh, plopping down on the edge of the roof and looking up at the stars. How many evenings had you not spent stargazing? Those warm summer nights where temperatures hovered around a comfortable chill, perfect for a street rat such as yourself to sleep outside. You'd set up camp on a rooftop and stare at the stars, making up constellations until you felt like you'd studied every single one of them.

"Tell me about Y/N," you whispered to Zuko, who'd taken a seat beside you, unable to tear your gaze away from the sparkling night sky. "Your Y/N."

He sighed, leaning back on his hands. For a while, neither of you said anything, and you wondered if you'd overstepped the boundaries, but then he sighed again and began to talk.

"Y/N was... they were my best friend. We grew up together, back... back where I'm from. It's strange how I can still remember everything about them, even though the last time I saw them was around five years ago," he chuckled, but there was no humour to his laugh. "They always knew what to say and what to do, always had to be the wittiest person in the room, always observing, always thinking. They never stopped thinking.

"They'd tell me the most baffling stories, just making them up as they went, looking at passersby and then proceeding to recount me their whole lives as if they'd been there. I could spend hours just listening to them." Zuko smiled, fiddling with the hem of his cloak as he thought back to his time with them. There was an ache in your chest that you couldn't quite explain.

"They sound great."

"They were."

A few minutes of silence, and you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. You pressed one cheek to your knees, looking up at him. "Did you love them?"

He looked back, conflict clear in his expression, hurt and anger and sadness all swirling around and fighting for dominance in his eyes. He shook his head, sighed. "I did."

A bolt of white-hot pain seemed to split open your skull, and you just managed to bite down on the cloth of your cloak to smother a scream. Your heartbeat sped up and you screwed your eyes shut, gripping the edge of the with a strength that turned your knuckles white, your whole body tense. But before you could draw a shaky breath, it happened again, this time ten times more intense and you couldn't stop the scream ripping from your lips. Dark spots cloud your vision, your head suddenly five times as heavy and you're struggling to breathe, feeling yourself slip in and out of consciousness.

Beside you, you vaguely registered Zuko grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards him, panic clear in his expression but you couldn't hear anything he said, it was like he was shouting at you from the other side of a cliff, and it scared you because you have no idea what's going on but then it happened again and you doubled over and Zuko's arms were around you–to keep you from toppling over the roof–and you couldn't see, and you couldn't breathe, and you didn't know what was going on.

Your forehead grew a thousand degrees hotter and it's like someone pressed a burning iron into your flesh, and you were still wearing your headband and you need to get it off, get it off, get it off get it off get it off

You ripped off the piece of cloth covering your forehead and the wind was deliciously cool on your skin, soothing the burning sensation and you sucked in a huge breath before bursting into a coughing fit, doubling over again and your eyes tearing up but at least you can breathe again. You tried to focus on your heartbeat, drawing deep breaths to slow it down–it was like you'd just run a marathon, and you were shaking and your skin felt feverish. A chill ran down your spine.

You finally scraped up the courage to cast a sideways look to Zuko, and you flinched at the absolute terror on his face, his hands hovering just a couple centimetres over your skin, and then his eyes landed on your forehead–where your mark was–and he scrambled back, the colour draining from his face.

"It's okay, Zuko, I'm fine," you said weakly, tucking rebellious strands of hair behind your ears before carefully brushing over the tattoo, every touch fire on the skin. It scared you–it had never acted up this way. But no matter how you tried to calm him down, Zuko's eyes stayed fixated on your forehead and his lips moved quietly, the words lost in silence.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered.

You blinked. "I'm–what?"

Scrambling up, he cast you a look that sent you cringing back. "I can't believe this. You lied to me. To both of us."

Nothing he said made any sense and you frowned, scared to say anything lest you upset him even more. "Zuko, I don't know what you're talking about."

He scoffed.

You stood up, your hands bunched in your cloak. "I don't know what you think I did, but–"

"Don't! You have–you can't say anything right now."

"If you just talked to me–"

"You lied! For weeks and weeks you lied to me and my uncle when you knew how much you'd hurt me!"

You just stood there, your hands clasped in front of you, confused beyond words. How could you possibly convince him that you had no idea what he was going on about?

Turned out, you didn't have to.

"Y/N's right, you know." A voice rang out behind you and you almost toppled off the rooftop in surprise.

A man stood there, his hands joined behind his back and his robes blowing in the wind. For a while, no one said anything, then Zuko stepped forward and glared at him, his fists balled. "This isn't your business."

The man smiled. That's when a vague memory flashed through your mind: you knew him. You definitely knew him.

"See, that's where you're wrong." The man cast you another chilly smile. "Long time no see, Y/N."

Zuko turned to you. "You know this guy?"

All you could do was shake your head. Your voice had given up on you. But Zuko must have seen the terror on your face and shoved his own anger towards you aside because he scowled and took a protective step in front of you. The man rolled his glinting eyes.

"Oh, please."

And then you felt hands curl around your arms and wrists and you were forced to your knees with a scream, before another hand clamped down on your mouth and cut off your voice. Memories flashed through your mind in quick succession, everything coming back to you at once, and your heartbeat quickened, your breathing following. You looked at Zuko, wanting nothing more than to shout at him to watch out because you remembered, you remembered everything and–

Everything went black.

Five years earlier

A crash woke you with a start. Your hair hung in your face and you brushed it aside, squinting into the dark night. "Who's there?"

No one answered.

You just started to think that maybe you'd only imagined that sound, lying down and half closing your eyes again when footsteps sounded outside your door. A lot of footsteps. Okay, so something was definitely up.

You called out again, balling your small fists in your bedsheets and scanning the room, your gaze constantly coming back to the door. Charging up with energy, you got ready to blow up anyone coming through that door.

The doorknob turned, agonisingly slowly. Azula poked her head around the door. "Y/N?"

You exhaled, letting go of the tension in your muscles. It was just Azula, you scolded yourself. It was only Azula, you'd probably imagined the other footsteps. It might have been the echoing from the hall that turned the pitter-patter of little feet into an army of angry firebenders.

"What's wrong, Azula? Can't sleep?"

She sniffled. "No. I keep having these nightmares."

"Oh," you said, stifling a yawn. "Do you want to come in?"

She looked up at you then, and there was a glint in her amber eyes–the very eyes that so resembled Zuko's, and yet were completely different–and that was when you knew that something was horribly, terribly wrong.

Because Azula didn't get nightmares.

You tore out of your bed, dropping to the floor just as dark projectiles came flying at you and rammed into the wall behind your bed. It cracked.

Jumping upright again you brought your hands up and shifted into a fighting stance. Your eyes furiously scanned the slight opening of the door–Azula had disappeared–your fists balled. C'mon, you growled, give me a target. And a target you got.

The first man rounded your bedroom door and immediately dropped to the ground as you exploded a piece of the ceiling on top of him. But more of them were coming; these footsteps weren't just echoes.

So you jumped out of the window, rolled on the ground and came up standing, and tore across the courtyard to the main Palace.

All you could think of was Zuko. You had to warn him–if they came after you, surely they would come after the Fire Lord's son too. On your own, you weren't much interesting. But before you could do anything of the sort, a wall of men appeared in front of you and you skidded to a halt, breathing hard. Your gaze swept along the barrier of soldiers and you realized that this was it. A couple of soldiers you could handle. Actual dozens, not so much.

So you did the only logical thing your terrified brain could come up with at the moment and turned towards the Palace. Warn Zuko. And you screwed your eyes shut and aimed for the overhanging piece of roof, right above the entrance to the courtyard.

You heard the satisfying crash, and the next moment you were being held on the ground by men, a cold and heavy thing clamped on your forehead. And everything went black.

–––––

You gasped for air, your head clanging against something hard and cold. Screwing your eyes shut against the sickly greenish light that shimmered around the room, you registered the cold metal bands around your upper arms, wrists, waist, calves. They kept you secured to a wooden chair–a chair you knew all too well. Your knives were gone, too--of course they were.

"Ah, there you are. We were beginning to think we'd overdosed on you."

Your eyes snapped open, though you didn't even need to look at his trademark smirk to recognise the owner of the voice. "Long Feng," you growled through gritted teeth.

"So you do remember. Eh, I should have seen it coming, really. That you'd get your memories back, I mean." He started pacing around the room, his hands eternally clasped behind his back and hidden in the wide sleeves of his robes. "Time for an update, I reckon."

No, no, no no no no no

"I'll have to put you somewhere else, too," he muttered to himself as if deep in thought, "maybe in the Upper Ring? Scum like you shouldn't be allowed anywhere near the Upper Ring, but with a few small changes... Or the Middle Ring. Yes, we’ll go with the Middle Ring. At least your friend won't be able to get to you and trigger your memories again."

He swept towards you, robes billowing around his ankles. "Let's begin, shall we?"

Your mind was working a thousand miles an hour. Now that you had got your memories back, you were not planning to lose them again–never seeing Zuko again or remembering everything you'd gone through together sounded no less like torture than the brainwashing you were about to experience. Your breathing quickened.

You knew that nothing you could say would change his mind. Long Feng wasn't someone who could be convinced with a few sweet words and pleading looks. But you were also tied to a chair, and a heavy metal lock was bound to your forehead: if you tried to get it off by using your bending, it would explode on you and you would die. Simple as that.

But Long Feng would die too. And that was a plus.

The only thing that kept you from blowing the room to dust was the fact that you still didn't know where Zuko was. And you were determined to at least get him to safety.

"What did you do to him?" you spat, red flashing in front of your eyes.

Long Feng cocked his head, stopping his pacing. "You know what, I almost forgot about him. Almost. Thanks for reminding me."

And he snapped his fingers and Zuko entered the room–was shoved into the room–flanked by four Dai Lee agents, a bruise blossoming across his jaw and cuts all over his arms and face. You whined low in your throat–you'd selfishly hoped that the Dai Lee had let him go to roam the streets of Lower Ba Sing Se. Street rats usually weren't worth the trouble of brainwashing. That meant only one thing, you realized: Long Feng knew who Zuko really was.

Your suspicions were confirmed.

"Prince Zuko," Long Feng murmured, sliding across the room and stopping short in front of him. Zuko's eyes flitted to you and they widened for a fraction of a second before glaring daggers at Long Feng.

"Let them go."

Long Feng didn't miss a beat. "No." He spun around again, stalking back your way and you instinctively pressed against the back of the chair, as if you were hoping to sink into it. "I brought you here not to negotiate, disgraced Prince, but for you to watch as all memories of you drain from their being. Again. And then it'll be your turn."

Zuko paled. Balled his fists. Cast you one more desperate look, one that you returned, because you didn't see how either of you would make it out of there alive. You closed your eyes again, biting back a scream of frustration. Being reunited with your best friend–the only boy you had ever truly loved–after five years only to be robbed of your memories yet again. It was sad, really.

But there was no time for you to lament over lost time. If you wanted to at least make sure of Zuko's safety, you'd have to be quick. How? screamed a voice inside your head, one which became progressively more difficult to ignore as your situation worsened. You were running out of ideas.

"I just want to know one thing," you said–at this point, you were purely stalling for time, hoping against better knowledge for Zuko to come up with a plan. "Who ordered my kidnapping, five years ago?"

Long Feng froze, raising his sharp eyebrows. He seemed to be debating whether to answer, and you rolled your eyes in response.

"Dude, you're going to brainwash me anyway. I have the right to know who ruined my life."

"No, I know, I'm just surprised that you haven't figured it out yet, is all." He lazily ran a finger along his moustache. "It was Firelord Ozai, of course. You posed too much of a threat."

From the corner of your eye, you saw Zuko's eyes going wide and his knuckles go white. "No. My father–he wouldn't do that."

"Your father banished you, his own son, for speaking up. You don't know what he is capable of."

That knocked the air right from your lungs. You knew Ozai had never liked you much, but for him to have ordered the hit on you... that was a bit much. What you had really not expected was what Long Feng had said afterwards–about Zuko being banished. One look his way, though, confirmed Long Feng's words. A pang of irrational guilt pierced your gut and you gritted your teeth.

For a while, no one said anything. Neither you nor Zuko wanted to give Long Feng the satisfaction of begging for your lives back, begging to be released. It would be no good–you were desperate, yes, but not that desperate.

One thing he'd said still bugged you.

"You said I was a threat to Ozai. How, exactly?" You tried keeping your voice level, which was hard, considering you were tied to a chair.

Long Feng sighed. "You're stalling for time. Let's just get this over with." And he started to advance towards you, giving the lantern a nudge and sending it flying over the metal ring.

No, no, no, not again not again not again

But it was no use. He started talking to you, his words strangely soothing and you felt the combination of his voice and the lantern glowing its soft yellow light work its magic, relaxing your muscles and making your mind groggy.

Everything slowed down. The fear that had been coursing through your veins only minutes before seemed to dissipate, your thoughts cloudy and you released a little sigh, your eyes stuck to Long Feng's face as he talked.

Maybe it wasn't so bad after all, you thought. Maybe it was for the best, maybe you were a threat, maybe everyone was better off if you were safely confined, your memories stored in a little airtight pocket in your brain.

It'd be so easy to just let go.

But Zuko.

And as you locked eyes with him across the room, your mind sluggish as ever, you couldn't help the smile from creeping up on your face because he was here and so were you and five years, for five years he had been stolen from you, and there was no way you'd let him go again.

You deserved a happy ending together.

The fog retreated from your mind. Your thoughts cleared. And you didn't have a plan, didn't have anything that could have prepared you for what would happen next: all you wanted was to get out of that chair and out of the room, and you had no idea how--

But Long Feng was still talking, and now that you had your mind back and you could actually hear what he was saying.

"You were born in Ba Sing Se. You lived on the streets until you were fifteen, when you were taken in by a merchant of the Middle Ring where you have lived for three years now. The tattoo on your head is just that--a normal tattoo--"

"But you and I both know that's not true," you muttered, and Long Feng's voice faltered.

"What?"

"Well, none of what you said is true. My tattoo's anything but a normal one."

You risked a look over at Zuko, whose face lit up when he saw you--still tied to a chair, but with all of your memories intact. His shoulders slumped in relief, and in that split second of locked eyes, you could see that both of you thought the same thing: if you were going down anyway, you'd give them a hell of a fight.

So you gave him a faint smile and started shouting.

The point wasn't for Long Feng to actually listen to what you were saying--which were variations of the most horrible insults you could possibly think of--but for you to confuse him, and preferably also the soldiers holding Zuko captive, just long enough to break free, sprint across the room, vault over the metal ring and yank the heavy lock from your forehead.

Whilst Zuko worked at the straps tying you to the chair, you squinted, focusing your energy on a spot above the dazed Dai Lee agents' head and took a deep breath. Something unfurled in your chest, a feeling so foreign yet familiar, and reaching for it, you gave it a tiny nudge.

The piece of ceiling you'd been targeting rumbled and exploded, shards of rock and debris crashing on the agents--the only reason why they weren't immediately on their feet and fighting back was that all of this happened in the span of two and a half seconds. But your victory wouldn't last long--Long Feng had only stumbled back from the blast and now whipped around, his mouth twisted in a snarl.

"You--"

He got cut off by a wall of flames soaring up. He grunted as he immediately erected an earthen shield. You craned your neck to look behind you: sure enough, Zuko stood with his hands outstretched and his own fire reflecting in his eyes.

Meanwhile, the bonds around both your arms had been loosened enough for you to wriggle out of them, albeit with some struggling. You scraped your hand against its sharp edge and you hissed in pain, immediately blocking it off again. There was no time. Zuko fussed with the straps around your legs but you shooed him away.

"I'll do this. You buy me time."

He set his jaw. Nodded. Then stood up and shifted into a fighting stance, the ring of fire around you climbing higher and higher. You bent over, fiddling with the clasps, muttering a string of very creative curses under your breath and blowing strands of hair out of your face.

The last of the straps became undone. You wriggled out of the chair, leaping up and with one swift kick sending it flying back against the wall. It shattered. It felt good. Your fists balled you joined Zuko's side and tapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm ready to go."

He nodded. "All right. How are we getting out? Long Feng's called for backup already–we're about to be surrounded."

Yeah, we'll see about that.

"Which way's the way out?" you asked above the roaring of the flames. Zuko nodded towards a wall to your right.

"There's the corridor we need to take."

"All right. On three, you push the flames that way." You pointed in the opposite direction.

"Okay."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself and focusing on the wall. "One."

There was loud shouting on the other side of Zuko's fire. A crash. "Two."

"Wait, wait. Wait." Zuko's voice cracked and his eyes were wild as he looked at you. You mouthed What? because right now was not the best time–but you froze at the words that came out of his mouth. "I love you."

His hair was stuck to his forehead, his face red, but his eyes were determined and you knew he'd meant it. Probably waited a long time to say it, too. You wanted nothing more than to fling your arms around his neck and kiss him right there–but you were still fighting for your lives, and maybe now was not the best time.

"Three."

And then all hell broke loose.

Zuko's wall of flames soared towards the Dai Lee agents that had gathered on its other side, and you heard them yelling. You could have sworn you saw some of them catch fire and forget what they were doing, frantically trying to put out the flames. At the same time, you blew a hole in the wall to your right, barely waiting for the dust to clear before hurling yourself through it and screaming for Zuko to follow you.

You had expected the corridors to be packed with agents ready to fight, but the lack of any was almost unsettling. The few soldiers you did encounter were easily beaten with your combined bending powers. You tore down different halls, following Zuko's directions and skidding around corners and exploding walls and ceilings around you to make it harder to follow you–while you had been unconscious whenever you'd been brought in, Zuko had been fully awake and had memorized the route. Finally, there was a hatch.

"Wait–wait, wait, wait, Y/N, don't–"

You ignored him, focusing your energy on the hatch and blowing the hinges.

Water spurted from the leak you'd created, spraying around and startling you with a yelp.

Then there was creaking, and a moment later the whole hatch came crashing down, water roaring inside and drowning all other sounds out. You stumbled back, having stood too close to the exit, now soaked. Zuko didn't fare much better, his own hair drenched and sputtering.

"I was going to say. We're under a lake."

As soon as he said it, you remembered–Lake Laogai. Of course. You wanted to slam your head into the wall. Looking down, you noticed your feet had gotten wet: the water had already reached your ankles. And then you turned, and you saw something even worse.

The wall you'd blown up was blocking your path, keeping the water and both of you in. You were trapped, and the water was rising fast. You cursed.

"Okay. Okay, this is fine. This is okay, we can handle this," you mumbled, rubbing your hands together and screwing your eyes shut. You waded to the blockade of debris, trying to find an opening, a loose rock, anything that could mean a way out–but you were tired. You were tired and the battle and shock of getting your memories back were starting to take their toll on you, and your hands were trembling as they ran across the rocks.

It would be impossible to try and swim up from the hatch: the water was pouring in and the pressure would never let you leave. You were fully and utterly trapped, at least until the whole room had been filled, and even after that–the lake was dark. You'd never find your way out.

The water nipped at your knees.

Another hand came to rest on yours and you closed your eyes again, taking a deep breath and squeezing Zuko's fingers. Then you whipped around and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder and sending him staggering back slightly, splashing through the water, muttering "Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry," over and over, breathing shakily.

He said nothing, only hugged you back, because there wasn't anything left to say. Your hips slowly disappeared underwater, your clothes floating in the darkness and you shivered, goosebumps littering your bare arms.

"I love you, Zuko."

It was barely a whisper, but it was something you had to say before you'd inevitably drown. He had to know exactly what you felt for him, except you didn't think you could ever really put it into words. So you just muttered it again, louder now, balling your fists on his chest and looking up at him, lips trembling from the cold. "I love you."

He pressed his forehead against yours. "We really do have the worst of luck," he muttered after a few agonizing seconds of silence. The water had reached your chests.

You sniffled, breathing a laugh. "Yeah, we do."

And then you were kissing, and you kissed until the water nipped at your chins and even then you only held each other closer and kissed again, because if you were going to die you wanted to spend your last moments as close to the other as you could.

The water crept up above your cheeks, and you drew one last breath before closing your eyes.

When a light appeared in front of you, you thought you were dead. You thought you'd died– but why did your lungs hurt and ache for breath, and why did you still feel the sting of water in your eyes and the bite of the cold on your skin? And then you felt Zuko's warm body pressed flush to yours and you realized that you were still very much alive.

You squinted, trying to make out a shape of the light. It was red-orange, and strangely resembled... a hand?

Your eyes widened and you squeezed Zuko's arms, frantically pointing towards the hand. He spun around, swimming to it and following whatever the hand was attached to with his gaze, and then he turned back to you and beckoned for you to come, as excitedly and forcefully as he could. You joined his side and he pushed you up and through the hatch.

There was Iroh, floating above the hatch and extending his glowing red hand to you, waving you over and pointing up. Above, you vaguely distinguished a small oval shape bobbing on the water–a boat. You made a swim for it.

Your lungs were aching and you needed air, but you pushed and pushed until you broke the surface, sucking in relieved breath after breath and blinking against the sudden change, letting the air prickle your skin. With the last of your strength you grabbed the side of the boat and let yourself hang of the side of it, taking deep breaths until the black spots had disappeared from your vision and the world had stopped spinning.

Zuko came up a few seconds after you, followed by Iroh, and latched onto the boat next to you, drawing shaky breaths. You let your head loll onto his shoulder, pressing a small kiss to his skin. We made it.

Iroh helped you climb into the boat, and he accepted your bear hugs with a laugh, saying that he was just extremely glad to have the two of you back, safe and sound. He barely looked up when you told him, curled up in a blanket and shivering, who you really were, a small smile gracing his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, and then it hit you that he had probably known all along.

When asked about how he knew where to find you, he explained about how he'd woken up and found the two of you missing, and after some asking around had finally stumbled across someone who had seen you on the rooftops that night–before disappearing. He'd connected the dots to the Dai Lee pretty quickly, and when he'd gotten to the lake he'd seen your explosions shake the ground–the base wasn't that deeply underwater, after all–and had swum to your rescue.

He'd saved both of your lives, and you would forever be thankful for that.

As you sat there, next to Zuko, in that small boat floating on Lake Laogai, anyone casting a look on it would never have guessed the carnage that had taken place just below it. You naively hoped that the Dai Lee base had been damaged beyond repair. They probably had survived–after all, these were a couple hundred of the most skilled earthbenders Ba Sing Se had ever known.

But you hoped that in the near future, at least you and Zuko would be safe.

You couldn't stay in Ba Sing Se. That much was sure. But where you would go...

You looked over at him, his face strangely shadowed in the moonless night, and found you cared very little about your destination.

As long as you were together.

––

The sun shone through the curtains and you groaned, burying your face in Zuko's chest.

He was already awake–of course he was. Today was his coronation day. He must have been bursting with excitement, fear, happiness, all at the same time. "Koko, what time is it?" you mumbled with a yawn.

Zuko shrugged. He took a deep breath before sitting up, leaving you pouting and curling up in the now empty bed and blankets. "Come back! The coronation's only this afternoon!"

He was too silent for your liking. Granted, he'd never been a morning person, but you had expected him to at least wish you a good morning, as he made sure to do every other morning. But he was–quite literally–shaking with nerves.

"Hey." Slipping out from beneath the covers, you perched on the side of the mattress next to him and wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. You could feel him relax beneath your touch. "You'll do great. You'll be the best Firelord to ever rule this nation."

He looked back at you, returning our kiss with a peck on the cheek. "Hm. We'll see about the best." But there was a small smile on his lips. You grinned cheekily.

"Besides, I'll be ruling at your side! What could possibly go wrong?"

"Oh, so much. Let me remind you that you're the one who insisted on delivering pastries and tea from a platter balancing on top of your head."

"And that went well! I never dropped it!"

"Yeah, not in front of the customers. I, on the other hand, have seen some stuff," Zuko said as he slipped on his bathrobes, you still sat on the bed and hugging a pillow.

"Hm. Well then, if you can handle my shenanigans, you surely can handle being Firelord."

There was a twinkle in his eyes. "I guess."

You jumped up, planting a kiss on his lips and smoothing the collar of his robes. "I couldn't be more sure."

[aikainkauna]

Fanfic trope meme

Apologies to those of you who see this for a third time, as I’ve crossposted it to both LJ and Pillowfort. Feel free to comment over on there (or my other posts) if you like. And of course, feel free to grab this one and do it yourself, if you like.

***

Grabbed this meme from a couple of people on LJ. It's... well, apparently about fanfic tropes. Some of them more terrifying than others.

I have written:

-Hurt/comfort (Yeah, baby! Most of my fic is this.)

-Body swapping (Sort of? Souls slipping into each other's bodies for a bit? Jaffar feeling what Yassamin feels? Sex swap, I've definitely done.)

-Soulmate identifying marks (tattoo, red thread of fate, etc) (I have! The Throne of Solomon. And maybe The Past Forgotten counts, in its way. I may have written more, but I forget.)

-Snowed-in cabin/isolated together for extended period of time (The Jaffar/Pwinzezz Cavefic!)

-Found families (I guess the Samarkand gang counts for poor old Fadl? Even if Jaffar *is* his brother, so technically it is his family. But he does have his religious congregation and Zainab, and is... well, he always does seem to be seeking something, so he's the kind of guy to go for this trope.)

-Fairy tale/mythology AU (And not just when I am  writing in *actual* fairytale/mythology fandoms. Which I am doing most of the time, what with Thief of Bagdad being a 1001 Nights fanfic anyway. So I'm writing fanfic about a fanfic of some age-old RPF (fantasy AU!) about historical figures from the late 700s/early 800s...)

-Enemies  to friends to lovers (Yes, please! Aplenty. I'm surprised that  enemyslash/FoeYay/Hero(ine)/Villain(ess), whatever you want to call it,  isn't mentioned on this list.)

-Characters swap roles AU (Uh... I've written sexual switching in some isolated chapters? Like when Laura  briefly doms Torsten in The Fall of Angels, to help him get over some traumas?)

-Friends to lovers (With RPS, Veidtbone in particular, and Theta/Koschei. This also seems to happen whenever I write femslash.)

-Magical  connection (telepathy, etc) (Doctor/Master basically ruined me for all  my other ships what with their telepathic ability. So that now, it feels less interesting for me to write love/sex that *doesn't* have telepathy.)

-Fake dating/fake marriage accidentally turns into feelings (see next trope)

-Royals/political marriage turns into feelings (These last two are pretty much the same thing in ToB, as I've had Yassamin marry Jaffar a couple of times--like The Past Forgotten and The King's White Falcon, but without him laying a hand on her for up to a year, until she finally grows a brain and realises how loveworthy he is after all.)

-Seemingly unrequited pining (Emphasis on the "seemingly." Jaffar's unrequited   pining is painful enough in the movie, so there's no point in making him  suffer any more.)

-Accidentally fell in love with the mission target (Well, *kind of,* what with Torsten. Lars-Erik was definitely his mission target in the original film, and at the start of Because The World Belongs to the Devil, he made no bones about having wanted to kill Laura Erika [the teenage girl version of Lars-Erik in this AU, to those of you just joining in] when she was born.)

-They break up (but then they get back together) (With Jaffar/Fadl.  Fadl's stormed off in a huff at least twice in the past. And Doctor/Master is always the same old on-off car crash, isn't it? Although this is not a favourite trope of mine, as the setup would usually necessitate them being an existing couple in the first place,  and I tend to not write canon or "plausibly lovers" ships because   they're already happily together. What do Two and Jamie, Holmes and   Watson etc. need me for? They're already as good as married. Let them have their happiness.)

-Supernatural creature/human romance (Sort of. I've written Time Lords/humans, humans/djinn at least. And surely wizards count as supernatural romance, anyway?)

-Reincarnation/'25  Lives' AU (What's with the 25 lives? Is this some big fandom thing again? One of the darkest, most fucked-up fics I ever wrote was the Master killing the Doctor during sex and fucking him as he regenerated around him. As you do. And there's reincarnation in one of my Jaffar/Pwinzezz fics,  but I won't spoil it for the new readers by telling you which one it is.)

-Selfcest (possibly due to time travel) (I am scratching my head trying to remember when I wrote this and in which fandom, but I have the distinct feeling I've written it. I've certainly whacked off to  that World Of Simm!Masters clusterfuck what with the pink dress so many  times I... I think I broke two clit buzzers during that time. I've certainly drawn it. And drawn some Connies on Connies. And then there's, of course, Sarosh the Sexbot  who's a clone of Jaffar, looks-wise, but he is very distinctly just a robot, not a living character as such--not the sort with which you could  have a real, interpersonal dynamic. My problem with selfcest, in general, is that I like having that character dynamic--and that requires  the characters to be different from one another. If it's two characters  that are too similar--if they fulfill a similar role in the canons--it's hard to create a dynamic between them and to make it   interesting.)

-Polyamory (Swinging away ALL the bloody time with the Roses!Jaffar and Yassamin, and Torsten/Laura. Sometimes I miss the monogamous 'verses.)

-Amnesia (I've got a post-movie "Jaffar comes  back from the dead" WIP I'll probs never finish, because it doesn't seem to get off the ground. If I wrote this trope, I would have the characters gradually regain memory, though; complete mind-wipes are   horrid. I did have Handy lose the majority of his cognitive/motor/Timey skills in No More  and that was the main reason I had to... well, I'm not going to spoil it if someone hasn't read it yet, but it wasn't the cheeriest of fics. The Past Forgotten *sort of* has this, but I don't want to spoil as to how that happens.)

***

I could write:

-Daemons (Why the archaic spelling? I have written djinn, so I almost put this in the 'have written' section. I can't remember if I actually *have* written real demons, because I might have. Surely, Torsten counts...)

-'Everyone is evil'/mirrorverse AU (Well, mostly, if I want to explore "evil"   characters, I write about those types of characters in the first place, without having to turn anyone evil. Devilry is the 'verse for that. Hell, usually it's the other way around; I try to look for the human elements of the baddies, or at least explore their logic--what makes them tick, what makes them the way they are. So, IDK, I could've also   put this in the "unlikely to ever write" section.)

-And they were roommates! (This would be terrible and also hilarious, whatever characters ended up becoming my victims. Even if I'm more interested in those hurt/comfort plots, overall. And I have always found it *impossible* to live under the same roof with other people because I need peace and quiet and solitude too much. So this is almost a bit too much like the sorts of negative RL experiences I don't really want to get more of in fic.  But I *could* write it as a comedy for cheap lols, especially if the stress were resolved by hot bonking, ASAP.)

-'They  all work in an office' AU (Otherwise, I would've put this in the "just  no" category, but... the Barmakids were civil servants. So I *could*   write Jaffar and Fadl drowning in paperwork--"WHY DID WE EVER introduce paper into THIS EMPIRE?!?" and cursing their fates and Jaffar restraining Fadl from braining Harun al-Rashid with a paperweight. Same with Lina doing Zainab's books and trying to hold back The Fist of Death when Fadl carelessly drops a piece of his lunch over her perfectly calligraphied accounting.)

-'Falling for a coworker/teammate is a bad idea' except this is fiction so it works out (Maybe. Just maybe. But it'd also be in a medieval ToB context.)

***  

I will probably never write:

-'Groundhog  Day'/karmic time loop (I just never got the appeal of this. Sounds like the sort of thing experimental writers would like? The sorts who really  like filling in bingo cards and challenge lists?)

-Vampires/werewolves  AU (I'm not that big on either. Super-unpopular opinion coming up: I prefer sex to the sublimation of it that vampires are often all about; bloodsucking in lieu of sex, and/or being seen as way better than sex just always feel to me like a cheap cop-out from writers who are disappointed in sex, or afraid of it. I've never grokked it any more   than that stupid, stupid "chocolate is better than sex" quip from women who don't know what masturbation is--yes, it fucking well is sex, TYVM! I much prefer to make partnered sex better than it is IRL by adding supernatural stuff like telepathy to *that*. Immortality alone is interesting to explore, as are Gothic themes, but all the usual themes that vampires *specifically* usually represent just... either hold little interest for me, or then, I can explore them in other ways.)

-'Pride  and Prejudice' AU (I don't hate Jane Austen, but it's not my fandom. That kind of society stuff and being witty over teacups in bonnets has never really been my thing--if anything, I usually have my characters exist in their own bubble, isolated from society and its restrictive mores and social stresses.)

***

JUST NO!

-Coffee  house AU/food service AU (AUGH! Please, no coffeeshop AUs for me; the world is full of them already. Maybe I could write it as some terrible, short parody? Or doodle it? But no more than that.)

-Hogwarts AU (Haven't read HP. Young Adult isn't really my genre. I know, I know; I've just lost all my WLW cred.)

-High  school/university AU (I've done Time Lord Academy-era stuff with Doctor/Master, but I expect this means a sort of American high school/university AU with jocks and cheerleaders and shit. Hell, no. Again, the exact sort of horrid society stuff I would rather have my characters escape from.)

-Adopting/raising a baby (Erm, not unless you count Jaffar/Yassamin adopting a cheetah? They do have kids in some 'verses but there's none of that everyday baby stuff that this question/trope probably implies. I'm squicked by   babies, sorry.)

-Unusually specific occupation AU, like, the Author clearly has the same job (It worries me that this is, by virtue of its inclusion here, apparently seen as normal and acceptable..? When it's crap fanfic, inserting yourself into something that should be about the *established* characters instead. Jesus, I don't want to go in expecting a fanfic, and then find out it’s your diary instead! Unless you're Anaïs Nin. And even if you really *do* want to write about yourself, then just... write original fic? An autobiography? A blog? Write an OC that has your job. Don't do this false advertising where you insist it's fanfic when it's not. That's a dick move towards your readers.)

-Loyalty kink (see next trope)

-Alpha/beta/omega (Too creepy. I can write about piss, shit, incest, necrophilia and cannibalism, but not these last two. Any more than I can glorify the Nazis I've written about; I either take the piss out of them, as with Strasser, or just step outside of their politics and bring them into the land of happy sexings like with von Kolb, with the aim of dragging him out of that madness and leaving it behind.)

-Hot single parent(s) (Please. Rundvik: "You love children." Torsten: "I loooooathe themm.")

-Unrequited pining (Too much of an emotional squick. Has to be requited. I write fanfic to fix things, to avenge wrongs, to set things right. I don't write them to make the characters more miserable than they already are. Unless it's for temporary, character-development purposes, that is.)

[hydrus]

Version 438

windows

zip

exe

macOS

app

linux

tar.gz

Hey, this causes errors if you are running from source and using PyQt5 (PySide2 is fine)! All the releases above are PySide2, so they are ok! I will fix this for next week, so if you are source+QtPy5, please hold off for now.

I had a great week overhauling the media viewer's image rendering. Zooming and navigation should be a lot smoother now!

image tiles

tl;dr: the media viewer now zooms and navigates with less lag and flicker

Zooming in a long way, particularly for large images, has been pretty hellish for as long as the program has existed. Historically, the client drew the whole image in memory at the zoom you desired so it could quickly show you the bit it needed on screen. Of course this meant zooming in to 400% on anything above 4k was suddenly taking a very long time to set up and eating a lot of memory to do it. As images have naturally grown over time, the problem has occurred more often and was starting to affect other systems.

My plan to fix this has been to break the image into tiles that then render on demand. The parts of the image off-screen are never drawn, saving CPU and memory and allowing arbitrary zoom. This is a significantly more complicated idea, and rewriting the whole rendering pipeline was always expected to be a multi-week 'big job'. I originally planned to just optimise and tweak the secondary systems and add in some sanity brakes this week, but I ran a couple of small tiling tests and realised if I went bonkers it would be possible to hack in a prototype. So I did!

In the media viewer, images now draw in tiles. It works a little like a browseable satellite map, where when you zoom in and pan about you see squares of data fading in (except in hydrus they appear instantly). You should now be able to zoom in as far as you like on an image pretty quick and you won't have any sudden memory needs.

Furthermore, I have written a cache for these image tiles. This saves CPU when revisiting different images or zooms, so when you flick back and forth between two normal things, it should now be instant! It still takes 20-200ms to view or zoom most images the first time, but going back to that view or zoom within a minute or so should be really smooth. The cache starts at a healthy 256MB this week. I think that will cover most users very well (in screen real estate, it works out to about 35 x 1080p worth of tiles), but you can alter it under the settings at options->speed and memory.

And I did some misc work improving the rendering pre-fetch logic when you browse in the media viewer. Huge files won't stomp all over the image renderer cache any more, which should make browsing through a series of giant images far less jank. If you are feeling advanced, you can now edit the prefetch timing and distance settings too, also under options->speed and memory.

I am really pleased with this week's work, but there are some drawbacks: I did it quick, so I cannot promise it is good. The most obvious bug already is that at around 200-500% zoom you start to see tiling artifacts. I know what causes this (interpolation algorithms not getting full pixel neighbour data from my simple tesselating tiles) and have a plan to fix it (adding a tile border pre-resize, and then cropping). There is also an issue when the 'virtual' image exceeds about 32,000x32,000, so I hacked a zoom block for that. There may be some weird files that render with other stitching artifacts or bad tile data. Note also that hydrus's 'Animation' renderer (the soundless fallback if you do not have mpv support) does NOT use tiling yet, so it still sucks at zooming! Please let me know how you get on!

If you have a steam-powered GPU or a machine with only 4GB of ram, you might like to wait for 439 so I can address any surprise bugs or performance issues.

PTR and account permissions

The PTR is changing how its accounts work. The shared public account is transforming to a 'read-only' account that can only download, so if you want to upload, you'll be going to manage services to auto-create your own privileged account. This is being done to improve janitor workflow for the various petitions, which were all being merged together because of the shared account. With the recent network updates, it will soon be easier for janitors to send simple messages back to these individual accounts, like 'that proposed sibling was not approved because...'.

Unfortunately, various permission and account-management code has not been tested much until now, so as the PTR guys have been trying this stuff out, I have been working to improve bad notifications and workflows. This week I rounded out account permissions testing with uploading. Hydrus no longer tries to upload content the current account does not have permission for, and if you end up in that situation, popup messages now tell you what is going on. It also catches if your account is currently 'unsynced', with instructions to fix.

Similarly, under 'manage siblings/parents', you can now see and edit all tag repositories (previously, they were hidden if you currently had no permission), but you get a label telling you if you don't have permission.

full list

media viewer:

I have hacked in tile-based image rendering for the media viewer. this has always been planned as a larger, longer-term job, but the problem of large images is only getting worse, so I decided to just slam out a prototype in a week. if you have a steam-powered GPU or 4GB ram, you might like to wait until next week to update so I can iron out any surprise bugs or performance problems

images are now cut into tiles that are rendered on demand, so whenever the image is zoomed larger than the media viewer window, only those tiles currently in view have CPU and memory spent on resizing and storage. as you pan around, new tiles are rendered as needed, and old discarded. this makes zooming in super fast and low memory, even for large images!

although I am happy with this, and overall we are talking a huge improvement on previous performance, it is ugly fast code. it may fail for some unusual files. it slices and blits bitmaps around your video memory much faster than before, so some odd GPUs may also have problems. I haven't seen any alignment artifacts (1-pixel thick missing columns or rows), but some images may produce them. more apparent are some pretty ugly tile artifacts that show up between 200% and 500% zoom (interpolation algorithms, which rely on neighbour pixels, are missing border data with my simple system). I will consider how best to implement more complicated but stitch-correct overlapping tiles in future

futhermore, a new 'image tile' cache is added. you can customise size and timeout under _options->speed and memory_ like for images and thumbnails. this is a dedicated cache for remembering image resize computation across images and zooms. once you have seen both situations once, flicking back and forth between two images or zoom levels is now generally always instant! this new cache starts at a healthy default of 256MB. let's see how that amount works out IRL--I think it will be plenty

I tuned the image renderer cache--it no longer caches huge images that eat more than 25% its total size--meaning these images only hang around as long as you are looking at them--and the prefetch call that pre-renders several files previous/next to the current image no longer occurs on images that would eat more than 10% the cache size. this should greatly reduce weird flicker and other lag when browsing through a series of mega-images (which before would stomp through the cache in quick succession, barging each other out of the way and wasting a bunch of CPU). in real world terms, this basically means that with an image cache of 200MB, you should have slower individual image performance but much better overall performance looking at images with more than about 5k resolution. the dreaded 14,000x12,000 png will still bonk you on the head to do the first render, but it won't try to uselessly prefetch or flush the whole cache any more

if you are currently looking at a static image, neighbour prefetch now only starts once the image is rendered, giving the task in front of you a bit more CPU time

new options for prefetch delay and previous/next distance are added to 'speed and memory'

note this does not yet apply to the old hydrus animation renderer. that still sucks at high zoom!

another future step here is to expand prefetch to tiles so the first view of the 'next' media is instant, but let's let all this breathe for a bit. if you get bugs, let me know!

due to a Qt issue, I am stopping zoom-in events that would make the 'virtual' size of the image greater than 32,000x32,000

.

account permission improvements:

to group sibling and parent petitions by uploader (and thus help janitor workflow), the PTR is moving to a system where the public account is download-only and accounts that can upload content are auto-generated in manage services. this code has not been tested much before, and it revealed some very bad reporting and handling of current permissions. I move this forward this week:

if your repository account is currently unsynced from a serious previous error, any attempt to upload pending data will result in a little popup and the upload being abandoned

manage tag siblings and parents will now show service tabs even if the account for those services does not seem currently able to upload tags or siblngs

if your repository account is currently unsynced from a serious previous error, this is now noted in red text in manage siblings and manage parents

if your repository account does not have sibling/parent upload permission, this is now noted in red text in manage siblings and manage parents. you will be able to pend and petition siblings and parents ok

if your repository account does not have mapping/sibling/parent upload permission of the right kind, your client will no longer attempt to upload these content types, and if there is pending count for one of these types, a popup will note this on an upload attempt

.

the rest:

added https://github.com/NO-ob/LoliSnatcher_Droid to the Client API help!

improved some error handling, reporting, and recovery when importing serialised pngs. specific error info is now written to the log as well

fixed a secondary error when dropping non-list, non-downloader pngs on Lain's easy downloader import window, and fixed a 'no interesting objects' reporting test when dropping multiple pngs

added a 'cache report mode' to help debug image and thumb caching issues

refactored the media viewer code to a new 'canvas' submodule

improved the error reporting when a thumbnail cannot be generated for a file being imported

fixed an error in zoom center calculation when a change zoom event was sent in the split-second during media viewer initialisation

I think I fixed an issue where pages could sometimes not automatically move on from 'loading initial files' statusbar text when initialising the session

the requirements.txt now specifies 'requests' 2.23.0 exactly, as newer versions seemed to be giving odd urllib3 attribute binding errors (seems maybe a session thread safety thing) when recovering from connection failures. this should update the macOS build as well as anyone running from source who wants to re-run the requirements.txt. I hacked in a catch for this error case anyway, just a manual retry like a normal connection error, we'll see how it goes (issue #665)

patched an unusual file import bug for a flash file with an inverted bounding box that resulted in negative reported resolution. flash now takes absolute values for width and height

next week

Back to multiple local file services. Mostly more backend cleanup and prepping File Import Options and the Client API for talking to multiple locations.

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 18: Belgrade(ish)/Kotor – Sonambullshit

Travelling from destination to destination had been, without exception, absolutely fucking terrible, on this particular trip. From my delayed 4am nightmare arrival to Moldova, to the 6am departure to Iasi, to the nine hours of grinding tedium on a train to Cluj...to the additional seven hours I spent on a bus that should have taken three to Timisoara...to the (I swear this bit will be over soon) admittedly short, though fume-laden minicab journey across into Serbia, there had not bee one leg of this journey that I had really managed to enjoy. You'll be shocked to learn that my 12 hour long Serbian night-bus did not buck this trend.

Though I had managed to swindle an entire two seats to myself, the design of the bus' interior was so angular and minimal, that no matter how I positioned myself, I could never quite get entirely comfy. Instead, If I was comfy, my purchase on whichever tiny ledge I would be resting my maelstrom of limbs on would fail and I would bonk my head against the window, and if I had good purchase, I was sure as shit not comfy.

I decided to stay up until about 3am, in a bid to make myself tired enough to sleep. This plan proved to be an effective one, as, even before my 3am cut-off time, I could feel myself drifting off, in spite of my jagged surroundings. I folded myself into a crushingly uncomfortable position and enjoyed a system I devised wherein I had twenty minutes on and twenty minutes off, of sleep for around three or four hours. This is a clever little trick you can try, for if you want to feel the most fucked up and non-functional as you possibly can for the remainder of your day. Try it. It really works!

So, at about 6:30/7:00ish, I decided that trying to get any more sleep would most likely result in permanent neck damage, and instead, just got up to listen to podcasts and weep, uncontrollably into my sleeve.

After another five gruelling hours (yes, the bus was late.), I was unceremoniously spat out into Kotor's seedy little bus station. I didn't mind, though, I was overjoyed to be able to stretch my legs.

My next airbnb hostess, a rather curt lady named Jana had told me that, despite her apartment's listed check in time of 2pm, I was welcome to come, whenever I was ready. I was excited about this; I was barely functioning and every fibre of my body was telling me to go to sleep. I stomped through the city's old town (which, by the way, is a very nice old town) to the meeting point she had set up- restaurant bastion. I had texted her while on the bus, when I had gotten off the bus and while I had arrived at the restaurant all to no reply. Realising that was getting me nowhere, I pushed all my phone-phobia deep into the pit of my stomach where it wouldn't bother anyone and just called her. She had slept through my texts. Good start. She told me she would be another fifteen minutes. Ehhh. Ok. I would wait.

Twenty minutes later, she showed up, greeted me sharply and led me to the flat. She told me I could dump my stuff in the room and come back in a few hours, when the cleaner had been. What? But I thought th-...ah, for fucks sake. I nodded in apparent complete agreement, not wanting to cause tension over something that tension would not solve and, after a very, very long widdle, cast myself back out onto the streets of Kotor, to kill some time.

I stumbled around the city, taking in nothing and with no discernible direction in mind. In the end, after god knows how long, I wasn't paying attention – it might have been five minutes, it might have been an hour – I decided to warm up by returning to a cafe that my nice girlfriend and I had visited when we were here during the summer and in which, consequently, I felt safe.

I ordered a very cheap, and very, very good sandwich and a very welcome cup of black tea (honestly, I would highly recommend this place, if I could remember it's fucking name) and sat for far longer than I was welcome, munching through it, reading an e-book on my phone. I wasn't having fun, because I was fundamentally fucked at every level, but, crucially, I was having as much fun as I could at the time. So success. Kind of.

Finally, Jana's text came through and the apartment was mine. I quickly paid my bill, not knowing if I should tip of not, because 10% of what I had spent was 27 cents and that seemed sort of insultingly low (in the end I erred on the side of frugality and did not), practically skipped back to the flat, collapsed into bed and promptly slept for the next six hours, effectively ruining any chance I had of doing anything else productive with my day. In this instance, at least, though, I think that's forgiveable.

[aikainkauna]

@originallonemagpie replied to your post “originallonemagpie replied to your post “*Emerges from pile of...”

Well, if you writethe bonking, I'll look at sabres... And that description of zainab getting surprised in the tags sounds fun!

Here’s what I’ve got right now of the resident twat making yet another showy entrance (still an early draft):

***

"I, for one, have no desire to rise against my mistress, the one who holds my heart in her hand," Lina says and clasps Zainab's hand, kissing her palm with genuine affection. "And it's not only the Barmakids I am worried about, madam," she says, searching Zainab's eyes, her own flickering with worry. "The rebels might not stop at the Sultan; they would be glad to get their hands on your fortunes." "Everyone wants to get their hands on my fortunes," Zainab sighs. "Oh, but this is horrible, Lina. We must tell Jaffar at once; we must see if he can look into this through his crystal." It is then that a bell chimes at the door: both women jump, as this is an alarm bell, signifying only one thing: an intruder. The shabestan is entered via an aboveground antechamber, an antechamber usually guarded by the eunuchs; they mute the bell whenever they let someone in, so this can only mean someone has made it past the guards unannounced. "A thousand apologies, mistress," Nusayr's plainitive voice cries from upstairs--he sounds as if he has just been awoken from sleep--but as he doesn't sound particularly alarmed, this means he has recognised the visitor for a friendly one. Indeed, there's the click of high-heeled riding boots across the floor and soon enough, a pair of long, sinewed legs--clad in the vainestmost, tightestmost of green trousers--leap down the stairs and their owner emerges into view, smirking irreverently as is his wont. "Some bodyguard you have!" Fadl chuckles as he casts off his cape and opens his arms to embrace Zainab, striding towards her with a broad grin. Yet, soon enough, he notices neither Zainab or Lina are smiling; rather, they both look extremely uneasy. "Pray, what kind of a welcome do you call this?" Fadl asks and puts his fists to his hips. "Now, I knew it was cool down here in the basement, but I did not expect to walk into an ice-cabinet!" Ignoring Fadl, Zainab turns her head in the direction of the doorway. "Nusayr, you useless son of a dog!" she barks loudly, still shaken at the eunuchs' incompetence at guarding her house from invaders. If a sixty-year old former warrior can slip into her house just like that, what chance have they got against an army of reckless youths? "Bring wine! The strongest you've got! And hurry, if you want to keep your head!" "To hear is to obey!" Nusayr cries, his voice distant already. It is only then that Zainab addresses the intruder. "I think you had better sit down, Fadl," Zainab says, looking at him with such a grave expression on her face, with such a wintry desolation in her eyes that now a chill truly does run through his bones. She did not call him "my stallion," did not call him names, and has not even sent Lina away--even if, normally, Zainab is always overcome by jealousy whenever Fadl and Lina are in the same room, worried his eyes might wander to Lina instead of her. Therefore, Fadl realises, this must be serious. Zainab, the daughter of berserkers, has seen wars and revolutions and has still fought her way through them all to the very top of Sogdian society: she is not a woman easily shaken. Truly concerned, now, Fadl pulls up a cushion and sits cross-legged opposite the divan, facing the women; he even hesitates to take Zainab's hands at first. But when he does, even her ordinarily warm and soft skin is cold and dry to the touch, and her palms are slightly damp from sweat. "Please, my lady," Fadl says, laughing nervously as Nusayr pours them a large bowlful, "do not keep me in suspense any longer. Whatever is the matter?" "Leave the bottles and the sifting-cloth, Nusayr," Zainab says and dismisses him, looking as if it's only thanks to Fadl holding her hands that she doesn't punch the slovenly eunuch's nose in. "Lina, I think you had better tell Fadl everything you have just told me. And anything else you might remember."