Arthur: Teller of Cookies Fortune.
In which Arthur predicts the future, Alfred bakes and tries to remain cynical. USUK/UKUS.
"'Everyone has a photographic memory. Some just don't have film,'" he reads, raising his eyebrows. Alfred puts the slip of paper down and gives the other man a sarcastic thumbs-up. "Deep. Real deep."
Said other man takes the fortune back gruffly. "Maybe the person who gets this fortune is in need of something vague like this as a pick-me-up."
Alfred snorts, propping his legs up on the couch. He finishes off the rest of his fortune cookie thoughtfully. "It sounds like you're saying that they've got no sense or something."
Irritated, Arthur tells him: "You just stick with the baking and leave the soothsaying to me."
"Only you believe in that sort of cheap, two-penny mysticism, you superstitious old man."
"Do shut up, dear."
"'Your tongue is your ambassador,'" he reads slowly. "Did you just move on from mysticism to plain eroticism?"
Arthur frowns, holding up another slip of paper. "Would you rather have gone with 'A kiss is upper persuasion for lower invasion,' then?"
A smirk finds its way onto his face. "Now that's an invitation, darling."
"'How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?'"
"'Now is the time to make circles with mints, do not haste any longer.'"
"'So live that you wouldn't be ashamed to sell the family parrot to the town gossip.'"
He pauses after reading those. "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?"
"'For rectal use only,'" Matthew reads.
They all laugh, and Alfred tries to garner some sympathy from his friends about just how difficult it was to live with a fortune cookie writer. He laughs even harder when he reads his own fortune: "'You laugh now, wait till you get home.'" It must be some sort of odd coincidence—funny, nevertheless.
It's funny until Yong Soo holds up a slip of cookie fortune that simply reads: run.
Alfred had baked a fresh batch of fortune cookies, and he hands one to Arthur, who was taking a break. Raising an eyebrow, Arthur cracks it open. Chewing on one half of the cookie, he glances over the fortune written in his loud handwriting: PLEASE HELP, I AM BEING HELD HOSTAGE IN A FORTUNE COOKIE FACTORY.
"Oh? I wasn't aware of the hostage situation," he says mildly.
"It's okay. I've got Stockholm Syndrome anyway. And luckily enough for you, I don't have film."
A/N:
All of these are real fortunes I've seen in real life or photographs of. Think you've gotten a crazier one? Please tell me. I love a good laugh. :)