LMAO i had to take 2 semesters of spanish and my one professor would like try to talk in spanish and ask us questions about our lives and stuff and one time we were learning like family words and he was like “jill, tienes un novio?” and i was like “tengo una novia” and he was like “hahahaha you just said u have a girlfriend” and i was like “um yeah…. i have a girlfriend….” it was such a yikes for everyone involved
so last night i was rereading house proud by astolat, aka the best harry potter fic there ever ever was, & then i started having Thoughts about hp wizards being the descendants of the fae cuz it just makes!! so much sense!!!
i am perpetually disappointed by so much of jkr’s world-building but this in particular bothers me so much cause like
she placed so much emphasis on blood lines & ~purity but the only ever used it as a shite allegory for racism
u know who gives a thousand shits about blood lines? the fae. u know who goes to great lengths to exist separately from humans? the fae. u know whose society is split into groups based on personality? the fae!!
the evolution of wizarding society makes so much more sense!! if u interpret them as being fae adapting to the changing world!!!
me, sitting on the bathroom floor, wondering how i could’ve possibly been born into a world where he exists alongside me, breathes the same air i do and sees the same sky every morning, for he is ethereal and on a whole other plane: ok
yuri can be grumpy, as a general rule, but he’s exceedingly so when he’s ill. yuri is a hurricane-large personality, squeezed into human form, and he doesn’t have time to be sick; he has so much to offer the world and in a limited time. so when he comes down with sickness, he’s almost overbearingly petulant, and his mood is never any flavour but sour.
otabek sighs lightly. “well, you certainly can’t get up and make it worse for yourself.”
“i know that,” yuri snaps, fever-bright eyes narrowed with irritation. he’s not making eye contact.
otabek sighs again. “want me to put on a movie for you?” he bends down, squatting at the side of the bed. “work with me, yura,” he says softly, searching the stubborn face before him with patient eyes.
yuri looks at him for a second or two, his lip trembling. a brief moment of vulnerability, before his eyebrows furrow, and his expression shutters. his gaze flits off to the side again, but the edges of his scowl are softer, somehow. in a grudging tone, he mutters, “fine.” yuri tucks the blankets around himself a little more securely. “but i get to choose the movie, and you have to watch it with me, and - and you can’t complain.”
otabek smiles, then, a proper smile, and brushes his fingers lightly through yuri’s sweat-damp hair. “not a word,” he promises.
if yuri’s cheeks, flushed from illness, burn a little warmer at his touch, neither of them comment on it.