#the delight is stored in the incompetence

[winepresswrath]

Also while I was sick I painted an octopus. he is jiang themed for my convenience.

#my girlfriend got me art supplies for Christmas and I really need to figure out how to use them #I have oil paints now! ive never used oil paints in my life #and I fear them #I have like three different kinds of water colours and ive only ever used the little cakes people give you when you're a kid #the thing about me and painting is that I'm so bad at it I can't tell how bad I am #I get writer's block because my taste exceeds my abilities by a considerable margin #not so the visual arts #how does light work? what shading? #i made an octopus!!! he has freckles #highly encourage all adults to try things they're miserably bad at #the delight is stored in the incompetence

[tanmono]

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN MAIN ROUTE....

CHAPTER TWO.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

minors and ageless blogs dni.

Recently, I became Prince Gilbert’s friend.

I just returned to the castle from the city's bookstore, not feeling alive.

Gilbert: Come to think of it, friends are supposed to eat together.

Prince Gilbert, who seems to be in a good mood all the time, said it on a whim.

I was already exhausted, and all I could only return was the worn out smile.

Gilbert: Starting tomorrow, every meal and your portion will be prepared next to me.

Emma: And if I say no...

Gilbert: Eh— What? You want to hear about my military campaign?

Emma: I mean, i would be very delighted to be with Prince Gilbert!

Gilbert: Haha, I'm glad you are.

Emma: ………..

Gilbert: See you, little rabbit.

Prince Gilbert easily flips off his cloak and turned his steps toward the guest room.

The moment his back was out of sight, my breath spilled out involuntarily.

(Let's go to Sariel quickly.)

Even after the tramped beast disappeared, the unpleasant palpitations took away my body temperature, and my hands seemed to tremble.

It feels like I have been forced into an extreme situation with a wall in front and a tiger in the back.

(……I don't want to cry, but I feel like I’m going to.)

As I started walking with my face low down, I bumped into something and fell down with a thud.

Emma: Oh, I'm sorry—

Chevalier: ………..

Emma: ……Your highness.

Chevalier: …………

Emma: Prince Chevalier?

Prince Chevalier looked down at me with icy cold eyes, not saying anything.

The cold-hearted prince, who is the leader of the foreign government faction and is sometimes called "The ruthless and merciless as a cruel beast."

Without changing his expression at all, he turned back the way he came.

(Oh, I guess we’re not going out.)

As I stand there, then Prince Chevalier looked back at me, who just tilted his chin.

(You want me to follow you?)

I followed Prince Chevalier to his secret library room.

(I didn't know such a place like this existed.)

What stored on the bookshelf are more of artistic in nature, such as plays, poetry, and stories, rather than books of a practical nature.

Had my mood weren’t so dull, I would have jumped on it.

Chevalier: I heard you went to town with eye patch.

Standing by the window of the moonlight, Prince Chevalier finally speaks.

Chevalier: What did he ask for?

(I'm guessing you can pretty much tell what the situation was rather than asking "what happened").

Emma: It's about being friends.

Chevalier: …………..

Even I, who has only been staying here as Belle for a short time, could see that Prince Chevalier is by far the most intelligent of the eight princes.

Even for such a prince, "friends" seems to have been so unexpected that a short silence fell.

Chevalier: Why did he asked you to be his friend?

Emma: I didn't really understand it either, but...

Thinking back to my exchange with Prince Gilbert, I told Prince Chevalier about exactly what I saw and heard.

Eventually my words died down and the stacks were enveloped in the silence of night.

(Looking back, there was a lot of mystery, but all I know is that there is some sort of plot.)

Emma: Prince Chevalier... Is there a way I can break off this friendship?

Chevalier: Why do you need to break off?

Emma: ...... I feel like the fate of my country depends on me, and I'm scared.

I still can't stop my palpitations of my heart because there is a possibility that the beautiful rose will be stained with blood again depending on my words and actions.

The heavy responsibility as "Belle" is just too much for me, and I don't think I can handle it any longer.

I bite my lip and Prince Chevalier snickers dismissively.

Chevalier: Don't be conceited

Chevalier: Our country is not fragile enough to be influenced by the words and actions of a little girl.

Chevalier: Your statement is almost like you’re saying that I'm incompetent, correct?

(……. That's right.)

There are eight noble fields in the Rhodolite.

Their duty is to protect the country – and what I have just said now is equivalent in saying that they will not be able to fulfill that responsibility.

(Even though the princes of Rhodolite would never lose to Prince Gilbert.)

Chevalier: You are a fool to take his threats seriously.

Emma: .... My apologies.

(I am not alone.)

I felt that the thread of tension that had tightened my heart had suddenly loosened.

Chevalier: There is no need for a verbal apology.

Emma: Ah—

I felt the pressure of his finger poking my forehead and I raise my eyebrows involuntarily.

(Being bitten and poked……. What a mess today.)

Chevalier: As punishment, you must show me your sincerity.

Emma: Sincerity……?

Chevalier: Yes, in fact, I was just thinking of ways to use you

Prince Chevalier, who suddenly lifted the corner of his lips, had the same face as that trampling beast.

Chevalier: Be my pawn, simpleton.

Emma: Pawn?

Chevalier: As your "friend," I'm asking you to find out what you know.

(……!)

Emma: In other words ....... a spy?

Chevalier: An exclusive one.

The proposal was offered took my breath away.

(I see. ...... I thought "friends" was all bad, but it's good to use it the other way around.)

Why did Prince Gilbert showed up at the diplomatic arena and decide to stay at Rhodolite for a long period of time?

In the first place, why did Obsidian who had been severing relations for a long time, start moving now?

There is too little information at hand to counter unknown threats.

But Prince Gilbert should know most of the answers that Rhodolite is looking for.

(If I manage well, I might learn a thing or two.)

(And based on that, Prince Chevalier and the others can take measures.)

When I looked up at him, he snickered at me again.

Chevalier: By the way, exclusive spies don't leak information to anyone other than their master.

Chevalier: You know what this means, don't you?

Emma: .....You mean don't tell the other princes?

Chevalier: Yes. Report to me alone about any and all important findings regarding the eye patch.

Chevalier: Trust neither the prince, nor the bureaucrats, nor the servants, nor your butler, nor anyone else.

Emma: Why is that—

Chevalier: A number of people from Obsidian's side have already infiltrated the castle.

Accepting those words that were calmly told to me felt like swallowing the thorns of a rose.

(But... I knew it.)

(If Prince Gilbert knows the fact I am "Belle", it means that someone has leaked the information.)

Someone "who" is likely to be in a position to gain access to Belle’s national security information.

The prince, some courtiers and Rio are the candidates.

(I want to believe in everyone, but I need to accept reality for what it is.)

Chevalier: Above all, the trampling beast specializes in "dominating others and manipulating them at will"

Chevalier: It is entirely possible that today's allies could become tomorrow's enemies.

(I don't even want to think that such a terrible thing will happen....)

I am sure that Prince Chevalier knows more about Prince Gilbert than I do.

(And I'm not someone else's problem either.)

I already know that there is no "choice" in the options given by Prince Gilbert.

Emma: .... I'll keep that in mind.

Nodding in acknowledgment of the pain, Prince Chevalier pulls out something shiny gold from his pocket pants.

It was placed on my hand.

Emma: This is….?

(Tiger emblem pin badge...insignia maybe?)

Each prince is given a coat of arms.

The personal servants and knights wear plain insignia on their uniforms.

It was the first time I had ever seen anything from Prince Chevalier.

Chevalier: I can predict what the eye patch will do next.

Chevalier: That thing is going to make some nasty demands in the future. In that case, there should be no time to let Glasses be the judge of that.

(Glasses ........ I think you mean Sariel.)

Chevalier: You can make your decision. No need to ask permission every time.

Chevalier: I will take full responsibility for everything regarding your words and actions.

( —! So that’s what this insignia is for.)

It may be a small batch, but the meaning behind it is significant.

Emma: ...... Is it really okay?

Chevalier: As long as it fulfills its role.

Chevalier: I will protect you as long as you are useful to me.

Chevalier: If you lose value, you will be thrown away at worst.

Emma: ……….

Chevalier: That's all I'm going to say.

(...... I was so anxious my hands were shaking, but before I knew it, it had subsided.)

The presence of Prince Chevalier was reassuring enough to bring the heat back to my cold fingertips.

Emma: Thank you........ I will certainly live up to your expectations.

I bowed deeply, and Prince Chevalier snorted and heads for the doorway of the library.

But his back stopped in front of the door.

Emma: ……..Prince Chevalier?

Chevalier: There was once a man who preached that the essence of a human is love.

(…….Love?)

I listened to the words spun without turning around.

Chevalier: Love in this case is compassionate for others.

Chevalier: The theory is that there are no real bad people in the world, just those who are influenced by their surroundings.

Chevalier: What do you think?

(That’s a difficult question...)

And I have never thought about it before.

I try to gather up all the words in my head, but I can't find any answers.

(You want to say that the essence of a villain is "love", right?)

The first thing that came to mind was Prince Gilbert's face.

(I wonder if there is such a thing as "love" in that guy.)

If Prince Gilbert, who can trample on people with a smile has compassion for others —

Right now, I can only lowered my head.

Emma: I don't know, but ......

Emma: I have a feeling the answer lies with Prince Gilbert.

Chevalier: …………

Prince Chevalier doesn't say anything, and this time he left the library.

(I wonder if one day I will understand the meaning of the current question.)

I clutched the insignia and engraved it in a corner of my memory.

After a long night, I nervously headed to the dining room where the guests of honor were gathered.

Emma: ……….

Silvio: ………

Keith: ………

Gilbert: You like sweets, don't you, little rabbit? See, I asked the chef to prepare a lot of them for you.

Gilbert: Eat as much as you want. Oh, and give me all what’s left.

Gilbert: Our country was in a food shortage for a while, so I don't want to waste food.

Gilbert: Hehe, I can't wait to see what you start with.

(.....What the hell is with this situation.)

Prince Silvio and Prince Keith, who stopped eating and looked stunned in front of us — Next to me was Prince Gilbert, who was smiling as he prepared a mountain of dessert for me.

To begin with, the table was set with food for about ten people, not four.

About seven of them are gathered under Prince Gilbert.

(It's strange in various ways and their gaze hurts.)

I was prepared for this from the moment I was invited to dinner, but this morning is tougher than I had imagined.

Gilbert: Go on, eat. Or do you want me to feed you instead?

Emma: Yeah, no...... Bon appétit.

(I can feel some eyes in front of me wanting to say something, but for once I'll let my mind go empty.)

With knife and fork in hand, I cut the cake into bites — then I brought it to my mouth, remembering the table manners that Sariel had taught me, but it didn't taste much.

(.........I’ve never even told Prince Gilbert I liked sweets in the first place.)

Gilbert: How is it? Does it taste good?

Emma: ….Delicious

Gilbert: Hmm.

(....... Prince Gilbert's eyes are not smiling.)

(Come to think of it, you told me before that you don't like lies? I should have been honest.)

Silvio: Hey, gloomy bastard, ya see that?

Keith: ........ Yes, In my eyes, they look like the prey and the perpetrator.

Silvio: So it's more likely that woman was forcibly handcuffed?

Keith: I'm not sure that's the right way to put it......

Gilbert: What? Do you want to know the relationship between me and little rabbit?

(…..The question is finally asked.)

Prince Silvio and Prince Keith must have been wondering about this ever since the day of the goodwill meeting.

For the friendly Benitoite and neutral Jade, the Obsidian is a symbol of threat.

They wondered about the daughter who escorted the prince of that country.

Emma: My friend.

I quickly answered before Prince Gilbert opened his mouth.

(I must prevent any word that would imply that I am "Belle".)

Silvio: Ha, don't tell me you're lying through your teeth.

Gilbert: But it’s true, though? And to prove it, I know everything about her.

Silvio: Such as?

Gilbert: There was a bakery run by an elderly couples near her house.

(!?)

Gilbert: Her hobby is to go to the hills overlooking the city with sandwich and drink in hand while reading a book.

Gilbert: She kept reading from morning till evening to the point she caught a bad cold because of that.

Gilbert: At that time, everyone in the city was worried. It seems that there was a little commotion.

(…………Only people were close to me know that.)

(And the last time I had a cold was before I met Rio, so that was at least three years ago.)

Supposedly, I would say "because I became Belle, Prince Gilbert caught his attention."

I don't think there was a spy who would report even such a trivial episode in the past that would be of no use whatsoever.

(Could it be that Prince Gilbert met me before I became "Belle"?)

(.....Impossible. Because I'm just a town girl.)

I haven’t done anything to catch the eye of the prince with great power.

Yes, I have never met Prince Gilbert in the past.

(Such a characteristic person, once I see it, I should not forget it ........)

However, it is necessary to accept the facts as facts — that Prince Gilbert probably "knows all about me".

(Just how the hell did he finds out about my private life……)

Lost in thoughts, my fingertips trembled and my fork slip to the floor.

As I rushed to bring it, Prince Gilbert cold fingers grabbed my hand.

Gilbert: Little rabbit, dropping things accidentally is something most common people do.

(Ah...)

Emma: I’m very sorry. I'm just feeling a little under the weather.

He returns to his posture and looks toward the servant who had been waiting by the wall.

The whole process of entrusting a dropped item and getting a new fork ready is one of manners.

Fortunately, Prince Silvio and Keith did not doubt that I am a duchess.

Rather, they looked at me with pity.

Silvio: From the looks of her, you got that information from somewhere, didn't you?

Gilbert: Yeah.

Silvio: No way, you know any other craps like that, do you?

Gilbert: What, you want to hear more? Well, there's about a hundred.

(...I'm getting dizzy.)

Keith: Prince Gilbert... Even if you really are her friend, you're invading too much into her private life.

Silvio: Do you know what they say about men like that?

Silvio: It's called a perverted stalker bastard.

(Prince Silvio!?)

Gilbert: Ahaha, I see. I've never heard of that word before because it doesn't exist in Obsidian.

Prince Gilbert only laughs refreshingly as he didn't seem offended.

(………….. I don't understand him.)

Emma: Where did you learn about me?

Gilbert: Secret.

After all that talkativeness. When we broached the subject, they resumed eating as if they have lost interest.

(I don’t expect you to tell me so easily but…….)

Emma: .... It's unfair.

Gilbert: Hmm?

I gathered my courage, remembering the insignia that was in my skirt pocket.

Emma: You know so much about me one way but I don't know anything about you.

Emma: Even though we’re friends, I think it's ironic. Right?

Gilbert: Haha! Indeed it is.

Unexpectedly, Prince Gilbert acknowledged my words.

Gilbert: Friendship is the process of getting to know each other. Therefore, you have the right to know about me.

Gilbert: But I guess one single mealtime isn't enough.

Gilbert: That's exactly why I need to be with you from morning to night all the time to match the amount of information I know about you.

Gilbert: Right?

(Um, why am I in such a cold sweat when I'm the one who started this?)

I placed down the knife and fork, and Prince Gilbert wrapped his hands around my fingers.

I felt like I was a rabbit in a tiger's embrace, even though I wasn't being treated violently.

Gilbert: Let me help you with your work.

Emma: What!?

Silvio and Keith: Pff– / Ah—

Prince Silvio spit out the tea he was drinking while Prince Keith dropped the cutlery he was holding on the floor.

(You want to help me?)

(You, Prince Gilbert, the trampling beast and the enemy of Rhodolite.....?)

Gilbert: You are..... well, you're helping the princes with their official duties for the sake of the dynamics, right?

Emma: ….Yes.

Of course, I don't ever recall talking to Prince Gilbert about that.

But that's how we see it externally.

(Maybe he's saying, "I'll help you select a king.")

Gilbert: If I can help you, you will stay with me forever, right?

Emma: But, Prince Gilbert, you have official duties, as well—

Gilbert: Don't worry, I can make as much time as I have to spend with you.

Gilbert: No big deal, right?

Emma: ……….

Gilbert: I wonder if there's something I can help with.

Prince Gilbert, who glanced at Prince Silvio and Prince Keith, gently narrowed his blood-colored eyes.

(If I refused, you'll bring up the topic about "Belle"?)

Swallow the proposal or be swallowed by force.

The choices given to me today were unreasonable.

(But now I have a role other than fulfilling my duty as a "Belle")

If i didn’t listened to Prince Chevalier’s advice, my mind would’ve been blank.

I casually brushed off Prince Gilbert's hand as i lifted the corner of my mouth.

Emma: ..... Understood.

Emma: If Prince Gilbert wants to help me, I'd like to take your word for it.

Silvio and Keith: Ha?! / Emma!?

Gilbert: Heeh?

Emma: Because I too... ...would like to know about Prince Gilbert.

Silvio: Woman, are you an idiot!? It's not a problem that you can manage on your own.

Emma: …….No.

(Maybe Chevalier had read the whole situations.)

If I talked to Sariel and the other princes, they will surely try to keep Prince Gilbert away from me.

But that's impossible--it's "meaningless" to Prince Gilbert.

Prince Chevalier took the lead.

(If I had refused, it could have been used as an excuse to make things more complicated.)

He really is amazing person. He reads all the movements of Prince Gilbert.

Taking out the insignia from the pocket of the skirt and put it on the chest of the blouse.

Emma: It’s no problem.

The first to react to the insignia with the tiger's crest on it was Prince Gilbert.

Gilbert: Ahaha! I see, Chevalier.

Gilbert: I guess he’s reading my actions.

Emma: …………

Prince Gilbert’s smile bursts forth, not in exasperation, but rather as if he is truly enjoying himself.

Gilbert: That's why Rhodolite is one of the best.

Gilbert: It's worth crushing, isn't it........?

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#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen ouji #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri jp #ikemen gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert #ikepri translations #ikemen series #cybird

[fairykukla]

Capitalism rant.

I work in niche retail. My toxic boss actually passed away suddenly earlier this year. And while this has cleared away some of the problems I've been having with my job,bits also revealing some of the other problems in play.

My department has been short staffed for years now. One person retired during Covid, another got a cancer diagnosis and semi-retired. They were both full time people.

We have one new hire. She works two or three days a week, and no more than that.

We had another new person, but her personal life interfered with her availability so she left.

So we lost two full time people, and gained back one very part time person.

And the owner sees that we are functional, and doesn't want to hire anyone else. But if someone has to call in sick, or plan a vacation, we can't cover the floor.

A member of the staff in the rest of the store asked for cross training and agreed to work part time for my department. I'm a big fan of this, but because of my toxic manager literally nobody wanted to work for her.

So we had a new person, someone who only needed training on our department duties and our specific product line.

And I was *warned* about her by the other coworkers on the other side. When I asked for clarification I was told that she's ambitious. She wants to be a manager someday. She thinks she's better than everyone.

And I was like, "So what?" She either is an incompetent person with delusions of grandeur, or she's actually a hard worker who cares about how things are run. If she was incompetent, she wouldn't have been given this opportunity.

So the rest of my department became hostile to her, and tried to push her out.

I wanted her here. I was delighted to train her. I wanted to harness her desire to learn. And one day, we might need someone who is ambitious enough to be a retail manager, which is a horrible, thankless job that I don't want, despite my seniority.

Was she my new best friend? No. Not even remotely. Did I want her to continue to work for us? Absolutely.

So I was discussing it with the lady who makes the schedule, and she said, "Well, her availability wasn't what we needed."

So I asked for what qualities we needed. I said that we need another full time person.

"Well, we need someone that *could* work any of the days that we are open. Someone we can use to plug the holes in the schedule. Someone who doesn't want to work five days every week, but could work five days if we needed them at random moments."

And I laughed. I told her that she's describing a person that doesn't exist. Someone who doesn't need a consistent paycheck, but is willing to work up to 5 days a week? For just above minimum wage?

Anyone available for 5 days sometimes probably needs the five days all the time. Anyone who is content with working 1-3 days a week is either only available part time due to another job, or has a full calendar of non work things.

And I'm doing 3 people's worth of work, because they can't find their perfect candidate?

[quillyfied]

Things I’m noticing on this rewatch, which I’m hoping to take slow and ponder on but we will see how it goes, PART TWO (obviously major Good Omens season 2 spoilers throughout, specifically for S2E2)

- Immediately the first thing I notice and love is the old-timey grainy way the Job storyline was shot with. Aziraphale’s holy background thing is so fun and dynamic, omg. There’s something very Terry Gilliam about the visuals.

- Also want to point out that the different shades of red of Crowley’s hair is a CHOICE, because he’s back to s1 color in this flashback. Also noticed last episode, but the new hair seems to have much darker roots or lowlights visible in some shots. Deliberate?

- Crowley can just summon a small sun. Nbd.

- The idea of a permit. The continuing hysteria of inserting modern parlance into the past. This is why I love this show.

- THE PERMIT IS SO LONG WHY IS THAT LOONEY TUNES LEVEL HUMOR STILL SO FUNNY

- Thing I notice now: the crows flying away after the goats are struck by fireballs. Originally unnoticed ambiance. Now incredibly funny.

- “You know, geese? Big, cross ducks?” I LOVE MURIEL.

- Hello, Jerkface McGee Gabriel.

- My brain, when Gabriel talked about witnessing the first human birth: oh, he was there for Cain? Weird, but—oh. Oh he meant Eve. Oh NO. Aziraphale your superiors are incompetent.

- The marks of irritation the archangels have with Aziraphale…phew. Eye rolling, huffing, the whole shebang. Poor guy.

- The fact that Jim is trying to be helpful and makes the bookshop less comprehensible delights me, actually. As does his hideous sweater.

- The fact that there are edges to Jimbriel’s memory, that he has snatches of himself but can’t encompass the whole…weird. Why won’t his whole self fit back inside of his amnesiac mind? What’s taking up the room? Unless all the room is stored with the rest of his memories? This is a silly train of thought and I’m getting a bit too deep

- Wondering how Hell’s miraculous tracking system works tbh.

- Another note about the opening: last season, we got to the crowd actively falling off the edge of their cliff path and the good ones going up, the bad ones going down. This time…credits end before they reach that summit. And they’re climbing towards something brightly lit. Interesting.

- I love that the seemingly throwaway line of all albums turning to Queen Best Hits when left in a car for too long turns into more of an actual plot point with the jukebox and Buddy Holly. Almost feels taboo.

- The needing an invitation to get in thing is so subtly done, too.

- Keen?? KEEN???

- Yeah the attempt to kill the fly does sort of overly dampen the reveal later. Better foreshadowing would have been to him trying to catch it tbh.

- CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW AZIRAPHALE CAN DRAW

- Dirty Donkey pub. Something about that is tickling my brain. No idea why. Like I know its utility as an elevator in s2 but I feel like there’s something important about it I’m forgetting? Or missing?

- Jane Austen as master spy and novelist is the exact flavor I’m looking for, thank you. XD

- Ehm. Aziraphale. The ball part isn’t where the love realizations happened, from my memory. They’re highly charged events, but they’re for feeding chemistry, not realizations. Idk man.

- Aziraphale almost closes the shop door on him. Noticed it the first time. Noticing it now. Mistake? Or meant?

- Pride and Prejudice is what is zoomed in on. Nice.

- Feels like Crowley is possibly probing Jim’s mind at this stage. Miraculously? There’s a partial little hissing chime when he starts doing it but I can’t tell if that’s a tension builder or an actual miraculous signifier.

- Note to self: go back to first episode and see if any sound effect played during the dual miracle. Result: yes, normal miracle chime.

- Going back to e2, not a full miracle chime but definitely a hiss of something. Don’t think Crowley is rooting around in his head but unsure how Crowley can evoke these episodes in Jimbriel but Aziraphale can’t. Hmm.

- Wondering if there’s a female voice layered under Gabriel’s, or if it’s his own pitched up.

- The fact that Jimbriel has some awareness of himself though!! He KNOWS whatever he can’t quite remember is too big for him right now, but he doesn’t know what it is and goes back to being a happy sieve in no time. Weird!!!

- Aha. Subtitles are wrong, Aziraphale does still call him Crawly in the Job minisode.

- “Technically you can—“ “oh, then technically I will” I SEE YOU, JOHN FINNEMORE. REUSING VERY GOOD LINES.

- GOSH the ACTING I am in a SWOON

- THAT SMUG LITTLE ANGELIC GRIN

- okay but: very important conversation about sides and desires and knowing (gosh that sounds dirty), unfortunate side effect of validating to Aziraphale that the angel he knew as Crowley Before is still in there and still reachable, the demon no different but just more stubborn for some reason. Massive flaw in his cognition to work through in s3, the universe willing.

- The kids being brats feels so…appropriate, somehow. All but the youngest. Who is adorable.

- Aziraphale showing faith in Crowley, though, and being proven correct. My tender heart.

- Crowley being obliging and turning Jemimah into a blue lizard. I cry.

- Aziraphale having a gag reaction to wine is hysterical actually

- The sensuality of the tempting Aziraphale to eat though.

- I…really can’t tell God’s tone or intent in talking to Job? Might just be telling him off. I think that’s what They’re doing. Job and I are on the same page at least.

- Gabriel’s game show host way of announcing this poor middle aged woman can have seven more kids. The Supreme Archangel, folks.

- Crowley stepping up at the nick of time to stop Sitis from committing blasphemy in front of the most powerful angels of Heaven: incredible power move. Only to be topped by his subsequent act of “midwifery”

- The “yes, and”ing of this scene. I’m agog.

- “Reach into his robes—higher, higher” THE LOOK ON JOB’S FACE

- Okay but the very neat forcing of Aziraphale to directly lie to his superiors, to take an active role of disobedience for the actual greater good. Mmm. Tasty for his character.

- THE WAY AZIRAPHALE’S HEAD JUST POPS OUT FROM BEHIND THE BENTLEY. Also had a little miracle chime to it so he definitely just. Popped up. Good grief.

- OUR car. Passed his test 90 years ago. Just like it’s technically my shop but we both get plenty of use out of it. MARRIED. BICKERING.

- GOOD OMENS THE BOOK INSIDE OF GOOD OMENS THE SHOW. I SQUEAL. I GIGGLE. I KICK MY FEET.

- The whole conversation at the end about falling and being lonely…SO many emotions. So many layers. Such setup. I just want to pop it in my mouth and gum on it for hours. This is the second time Aziraphale has lied to his bosses, but he wasn’t near as torn up about lying to God as he was about lying to Gabriel and the rest. Possibly because he had no proof that God DIDNT want him to give the sword to Adam to protect themselves with, and in this case he DID have more substantial proof that God wanted those kids dead. Or, Gabriel and Michael did, at least.

- Once again setting up to Aziraphale that Crowley is a good demon, that trusting him is a good idea, and pitting that against his ingrained trust in Heaven. Difficult dichotomy, difficult situation. Still hasn’t fully untangled that one in the present day. Obviously.

- “I’m a demon. I lied.” The absolute POWER.

Okay that’s it for tonight. More later!

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #gos2spoilers #taking them two at a time might be the best course of action #though I will be skipping a day unfortunately #busy tomorrow night #ANYWAY THIS EPISODE RIGHT

[the-world-annealing]

Witnessing Orcs: Literary Tradition (1)

(reviving a long-dead series of posts, introduction here, further posts in the tags or my writing page)

When orcs on a long hunt gather round the fire, when children ask their peers great questions, when a roaming Brakmor must prove himself worthy of a share of meat, it is then that orcs tell their stories. Already I told you the myth of Yurtrus's death, but a poor guide I would be if I allowed it to remain your sole example.

(though a better guide, still, than those humans who cherry-pick accounts of city orcs, and pass on only the most gory and thrilling of stories, so that their readers are led to presume that even in peaceful tale-telling orcs only think of war)

Here then follow a number of tales, gathered from my birth tribe and others, explained where they may confuse, questioned where they might mislead.

The Tales of Rokal the Oaf A great number of these tales exist, with countless variations for each, unified only by their protagonist. Rokal is a foolish, greedy, and incompetent orc, whose actions inevitably end in disaster, and who thus serves as an counterexample of good behavior.

One tale, for instance, describes how Rokal's hunting band raids a small forest town. As his comrades make off with what they can carry, Rokal comes across a large store with a hand-cart in front. Scoffing at his comrades' simple-mindedness, he loads the cart up with all the store's meat and fruit. As he begins pushing the heavy cart homeward, he loudly dreams of the glory that this haul will bring him.

But quickly, his plan is exposed for the foolishness it is. His cart struggles to move over the rough terrain, gets stuck in mud, and is upturned while crossing a stream, forcing Rokal to scramble to right it and recover the food. He falls far behind his comrades, and when a party of vengeful villagers catches up with him, he is forced to abandon his haul and return empty-handed. The other orcs, whose feast just ended, mock his witless scheme and toss him their table-scraps. But Rokal, who is and remains an oaf, has not learned his lesson, and already plots to tame a feral bear, shoot down the moon with a mighty bow, command a fire with whip and chain, or accomplish some equally foolish feat.

The tale of the lost child This is a story told among the children of the tribe where I grew up. I know not whether it is told still, and place it here to immortalize its tellers as much as anything else.

The tale, told haltingly and inexpertly, and never quite the same way twice, speaks of a young orc who wanders too far off, and loses its way back home. While looking for the path-markers that the adults make, it suddenly finds itself facing down a great dragon.

The dragon is a terrible beast; a twenty-feet long limbless serpent, composed entirely of roaring fire, covered in flaky white ash, with teeth black as coal and eyes yellow like the sun (those in my audience who know this to not be what dragons look like, rejoice! you have proven yourself cleverer than a child of nine summers).

It roars triumphantly, for (so the narrator tells us at this point), dragons love the meat of orcs more than anything, but would never dare attack the bold and mighty adults, and so must make do with the odd child that wanders off too far.

The child runs, and the dragon gives chase, approaching closer and closer, its fiery coils scorching the earth and wilting trees as it snakes around obstacles. Already, its terrible maw is slavering at the thought of this delightful morsel, dripping red-hot oil and setting fire to the grass.

In the tale as I first heard it told, the child's mad flight happened to lead it back to the tribe, who at once formed a line to protect it and chased off the dragon with mighty cries and brandished spears. But on one notable occasion, I heard another ending told, which I will share as well.

There, the running child finds not its people, but a thin and deep shaft, filled with cold and clear water. The child dives in, and the dragon eagerly waits for it to surface. After a moment of indecision, the child turns away from the dragon hovering above, kicks its feet, and dives down into the dark waters. Having said so, the child telling the story simply ceased to talk.

This distressed the children in attendance greatly, but no matter how they begged, the tale-teller refused to utter a single word more, and in fact remained silent for all that day and the one that followed. Shortly after, I left for my now-hometown, and thus I never learned if the story was ever concluded.

How bones became as stone Long, long ago, in a time when the oldest trees alive today had not yet even sprouted, Yurtrus god of rot was much stronger than he is today. In that day, though bones were pale and strong, they were things of flesh and corded muscle, and endured but briefly beyond death. A corpse would decay into nothingness and seep away into the dirt within mere days or weeks, leaving the soul within to crawl away, unbound and unfeeling.

The worthy dead were spared this fate, of course. Their souls would be taken by Gruumsh' servants, and join him among the blessed, as they still are today. But the cowards, the braggarts, the kin-slayers: their souls would toss and turn as they withered away, and bemoan their fates and weakness, and suffer the rot of their bodies.

And in his malice, Yurtrus granted those cursed souls a portion of his power, and allowed them to move once more, not alive yet not truly dead. They became frightful and monstrous things, which shambled from their graves to visit their wrath upon the living, for by Yurtrus' will they would not rot so long as they killed and maimed.

The dead ever grew in number, and the orcs of the land despaired, and prayed to Gruumsh sky-father to embrace the unworthy dead, so they would no longer consign themselves to darkness. But Gruumsh refused to bow to such trickery, for to taint his heaven with the unworthy was the worst thing in the world to him.

And so the orcs prayed to Luthic earth-mother, who visited the restless dead as they rose from their graves. And the monstrous orcs bowed to her, for loathsome as they were they knew to honor she from who their souls sprang.

"Great mother!" one croaked. "Why have you come here? Your power does not extend to us, who are grown and dead. Will you admonish us for killing to avoid final death, as all already must? Though it will fill our hearts with sorrow, we will not change our ways, for it is better to live a life of torment than to rot and disappear."

And Luthic's brow furrowed, for there was truth in these words. And so she left the rampaging dead, and traveled beyond the stone, to that dark and sodden place where Yurtrus dwelled.

"Yurtrus Once-Son!" she called out to the corpse-god, whose white fingers snaked through the dirt like worms. "I propose a bargain! Tempt the dead no more, let their bodies lie still, eat of their flesh as you wish! In return, I shall draw upon my own power, and ensure that worthy and unworthy dead alike deliver pale death from beyond the grave. Should I fail to keep this bargain, then may every leaf on every tree wither away, never to return."

And though Yurtrus was mistrustful, he could not see fault in Luthic's offer. Either she would break the terms, and all life would surely die, or somehow she wouldn't, and even the Gruumsh-chosen would be made to kill. And so, the verminous god whispered a word of agreement through his crooked and worn teeth.

At this, Luthic traveled to the heart of a tall mountain, and retrieved an useful kind of rock in great supply, which she cut into many shapes. And in a great miracle, she gifted these carved bones to orcs dead, living, and unborn alike, and did away with the skeletons that they used to possess.

Having done so, she commanded her servants to take the bones of the dead and make use of them as spear- and arrow-points. And Yurtrus, as he watched arrows tipped with orcish bone fly through the air and bring down great prey, could not but admit that Luthic had kept her bargain, for both worthy and unworthy orcs now killed after death.

And this is why bones are sacred to Luthic, why they are hard enduring things, and why they are white. And most of all it explains why orcs must fashion the bones of the dead into tools and weapons, as they do to this day.

Next, I shall share a single tale that has earned some recognition among humans: the Epic of Ilneval.

#witnessing orcs #worldbuilding

[courtonfire]

I can see you with me

Short Wangxian fic - Optometrist Wei Wuxian, patient Lan Wangji meet-cute!

‘Oh no,’ Wei Wuxian thinks as he walks his last patient of the day to the door. No, no, no. Absolutely no way is he letting this happen.

He calls a half-hearted farewell to his patient and races to the check-out counter with the speed of a man attempting to stop a horrible tragedy – because he is.

Right there, in the middle of his own clinic, the most beautiful man in the entire, literal world is about to buy the most hideous glasses any incompetent, fashionably challenged manufacturer has ever dared to create.

It all happens like a dramatic slo-mo scene from an action movie. As he approaches the counter, arm outstretched, the patient and his optician, Nie Huaisang, turn to him with wide eyes. He thinks he hears Nie Huaisang call his name in alarm, but it barely registers through the haze of desperation.

“No!” He cries and finally, finally reaches the counter. In one fell swoop, he snatches the patient’s credit card and glasses in his hand and steps back out of reach.

“I cannot let this transaction happen, not in my store.”

From the corner of his eye, he swears he sees Nie Haisang heave a sigh of relief, but when he checks, the man looks as anxious and confused as he always does. The patient, a serious, professional-looking man, glares at him.

“Please return my card and glasses,” he requests, an edge to his voice. Wei Wuxian eyes him wearily. With the glasses out of the way, he supposes it should be safe to return the card. Carefully, he extends the card (a black card, the former broke-ass college student in him notes) out to the man, keeping the glasses hidden behind his back.

The man takes it. When it becomes clear Wei Wuxian is not planning to give him the glasses, he raises a brow.

“The glasses as well. Please. I will not ask again.”

"Gege," Wei Wuxian drawls. "You can do much better than these clunky things! Come on, let's go try on some other frames."

He walks towards the display but stops when the man doesn't follow.

"Those frames are fine,” he clips. “Now, return them so I can be checked out."

Wei Wuxian scoffs indignantly. "Gege, if I let you buy these, that's the only kind of checking out you'll be receiving for a while."

The man's impassive expression doesn't shift, but Wei Wuxian clocks a subtle eye twitch with no small amount of amusement. Pretty, mean, and fun to tease. Crazy how a man with so little taste can somehow still check all of his boxes.

"I am not buying glasses for appearance's sake, I am buying them to see," he bites out. "Those frames are sturdy and comfortable for the occasional times I will use them. I do not care how they look."

Wei Wuxian eyes him, taking in the crisp, light blue button-up and dark grey slacks. Both are well-fitted and entirely uncreased, despite it being late afternoon. When he shifts, his sleeve moves up just enough for Wei Wuxian to catch a glance of a very expensive-looking watch.

Wei Wuxian quirks a brow. The man clears his throat and quickly tugs the offending sleeve down.

"That outfit altogether must cost no less than $500 and you're trying to tell me you don't care about appearances?"

The man glares at him. "My clothes are professional," he says with a pointed look at Wei Wuxians own work clothes – a comfy red button-up and black ripped skinny jeans.

Wei Wuxian laughs loudly at the blatant jab. "That they are," he allows. "But, won't these glasses ruin the whole wealthy businessman-possibly-a-sugar-daddy vibe you got going on?"

The man's eyes narrow. The stony glare from before shifts into something more murderous.

"Ridiculous."

Wei Wuxian swallows down a delighted noise. Teasing him is turning out to be the most fun he's had all week.

He tries (and mostly fails, going off the guy’s unimpressed expression) to mold his face into something resembling concern and holds up the frames in question. The frames are a hideous shade of brown and bulky with round lenses.

"These look like they're made for a 13-year-old going through their 'I’m so different and quirky' phase because they saw it in a movie, not a handsome professional like yourself."

The man storms over, snatches the frame from his hand, and slams them back on the counter by Nie Huaisang

"I would like these," he snaps. Wei Wuxian groans loudly.

"Okay, gege -"

"Don't call me that."

"Okay, not-gege, let's make a deal. I'll pick out five frames and if you don't like any of them, you can buy those."

"I can buy these now," he points out with a sniff. Wei Wuxian gives him a look.

"I know you can, but please at least look at other options before you buy the most atrocious pair we sell."

The man straightens. "How do you know I didn't look at other pairs before?"

Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and leans back, unimpressed. "Did you?"

He looks away. Wei Wuxian glances at Nie Huaisang, who subtly shakes his head. Wei Wuxian smirks and looks back at the man.

"I didn't think so. I bet you just grabbed the first sturdy looking pair you saw and called it good, didn't you, not-gege?"

"There is nothing wrong with wanting to choose a sturdy pair," he answers, still not looking at him.

"Of course not," he soothes. "But, the technology is pretty great these days. We have several options that look flimsy, but are just as strong as the ones you picked.”

The man throws him a suspicious look, then turns to Nie Huaisang. "Is that true?"

Nie Huaisang nods frantically. "Yes, yes, Dr. Wei is correct."

He faces Wei Wuxian again, who lifts a hand as though to say 'see?'.

"How about it then, not-gege? Will you give me a chance to blow your mind?"

The man scoffs, but moves to sit at the fitting table. "You may present five pairs. If I do not like them, then I will buy the original ones."

Wei Wuxian grins brightly. "You're on," he agrees, then sets off to work.

He flits about their display cases, looking closely at each pair. When he finds one he likes, he has Nie Huaisang pull up their information sheet to check their ratings in strength, comfort, flexibility and long term fit. He puts back the ones that don't line up with the man's - Lan Wangji is his name, he has recently learned - preferences.

It takes several minutes, but eventually he ends up with five pairs he thinks will work. He lines them up on the table in front of Lan Wangji and carefully presents the ratings for each pair. Lan Wangji, suddenly picky despite his terrible first choice, immediately axes two of the pairs based on color and shape. Wei Wuxian allows it without comment, though he's admittedly irked he didn't even try them on.

"Not-gege," he interrupts when Lan Wangji begins to speak unfavorably of another pair without trying them. "You agreed to give me a proper chance. At least test them before throwing them out!"

Lan Wangji studies him for a second, then exhales in a way that Wei Wuxian assumes is a heavy sigh for him, though its barely heavier than a typical breath. Wordlessly, he slides on the pair he was about to reject and faces Wei Wuxian.

"Happy?"

Wei Wuxian fumbles for words. He is, at a minimum, very happy, edging closer to completely stunned.

Despite Lan Wangji not liking the color, it looks fantastic on him. Wei Wuxian knew it would – that's why he picked them – but it's a whole different feeling to see him actually wearing them.

The gold of the frames perfectly matches his skin tone and brings out the gorgeous golden flecks in his brown eyes. Wei Wuxian feels himself getting lost as he stares. It takes significant effort to tear his gaze away and check the overall appearance and fit of the glasses on Lan Wangji.

The thin, lightweight, square frames highlight his sharp cheekbones and his even sharper jawline. They do a lot to enhance both Lan Wangji's professional and naturally gorgeous appearance.

If he was a 10 before, he's at least a 100 now. "Dr. Wei?" Lan Wangji questions when the silence stretches.

"I - um," his voice comes out embarrassingly hoarse. He clears his throat and continues. "Yes. Those look very nice on you, Lan Wangji."

Lan Wangji blinks in surprise. Wei Wuxian kicks himself under the table. Could he be more obvious? It's not like him to get this flustered, especially with one of their patients of all people. Hot guy or not, Wei Wuxian needs to pull himself together before he lands himself a harassment suit.

"I think gold is definitely the way to go," he declares, tone thankfully level. He gives hands Lan Wangji a small mirror. "What do you think?"

Lan Wangji studies himself. With some reluctance, he nods. "Mn. Gold is good."

Wei Wuxian cries in victory. "Ah ha! I knew I could pick something you'd like!"

"It's not over yet, I still have not picked a pair," Lan Wangji snaps, but his heart isn't in it. When he looks away, Wei Wuxian notices the tips of his ears have turned an adorable shade of red. He bites back a smile, a pushes another pair towards him, also gold wire frames, but a touch shinier with boxy-round lenses.

"These are similar, why don't you try them next?"

Lan Wangji sets aside the previous pair (in a different spot than the rejects, Wei Wuxian notes gleefully) and puts on the offered one. For all his efforts at being professional, Wei Wuxian can't help the little gasp that escapes when he looks at him.

"What do you think?" He asks, as though he hasn't just changed Wei Wuxian's entire definition of beauty.

"I think you better get those and hope I never see you wearing them outside the clinic or else I'll have no choice but to ask you out to dinner."

The words slip out before he can stop them. He immediately wants to bang his head on the table. Lan Wangji's mouth opens and closes again, at a loss for words.

"I see," he lands on. The blush on the tip of his ears crawls onto his cheeks and he shifts awkwardly in his seat. Wei Wuxian bites down a groan. He's clearly made Lan Wangji uncomfortable. He isn't sure if the fluttering in his ears is his heart, tinnitus or the sound of his job flying out the door.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but Lan Wangji speaks first.

"I will get these, then." Wei Wuxian reels back. "You will? But you haven't even seen how they look!"

Lan Wangji picks up the mirror, quickly looks, then puts it back down. "I will get these," he repeats, then turns to where Nie Huaisang has been watching the whole ordeal from behind the desk. "I believe they need to be fitted now?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Nie Huaisang hops up and rushes over to shoo Wei Wuxian out of his seat.

Wei Wuxian watches in a confused daze as Nie Huaisang fits the glasses, discusses an add ons, like a blue light filter, and charges Lan Wangji for everything.

"They'll be here next week," Nie Huaisang finishes and hands back Lan Wangji’s card.

Lan Wangji nods and turns to Wei Wuxian. "Thank you for your assistance today," he says. "You have proven to be very helpful."

Wei Wuxian might be – definitely is – losing his mind, but he swears Lan Wangji checks him out before he walks out the door to the parking lot. Wei Wuxian balks at Nie Huaisang. "Did he just - ? What even happened?"

Nie Huaisang waves his hands wildly. "I don't know, Dr. Wei, I really don't know."

"Huh," Wei Wuxian says and rests his hands on his hips.

He thinks about the encounter the rest of the week. It drives him a little crazy, if he's being honest. Usually, he's able to brush off encounters with pretty people that are obviously not interested in him - but that's the thing.

Was Lan Wangji really not interested in him? It certainly seemed that way in the beginning, but then Wei Wuxian had shoved his foot in his mouth and Lan Wangji had... bought the glasses. The ones he said made him want to take Lan Wangji on a date. Then there was whatever look Lan Wangji gave him before leaving. He is almost certain Lan Wangji was checking him out – but was it like an 'I think you're sexy' or an 'I could take you in a fight' kind of check-out?

By the time Lan Wangji's glasses arrive, Wei Wuxian is barely holding himself back from violating several HIPPA laws to get Lan Wangji's number and demand he lay his intentions out clearly to spare his poor heart.

As luck would have it though, he's stuck in an appointment when Lan Wangji stops by and misses him entirely.

He groans and drops his head on the desk when Nie Huaisang tells him. Nie Huaisang pats him on the back.

"There, there, Wei-xiong,” he soothes. “He did ask about you, so maybe he'll come back?"

Wei Wuxian's head shoots up, narrowly missing bumping heads with him. "He did? What did he say?"

Nie Huaisang flutters a hand. "Oh I don't remember exactly."

Wei Wuxian glares at him. "Oh you don't? I thought you said he left less than 15 minutes ago. Maybe you should get your head checked out."

"Ah ah ah, Wei-xiong," Nie Huaisang waves a finger. "There's no need for all that, I have a perfectly respectable doctor right here who knows exactly what medicine I need to cure my bad memory." He wiggles his brows.

Wei Wuxian sighs.  He will absolutely regret this, but desperate times call for desperate measures. "Fine, I'll pay for drinks Saturday night."

Nie Huaisang raises a brow. Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. "And next Saturday."

Nie Huaisang' face lights up. "Oh! I suddenly seem to recall now!"

Wei Wuxian throws him an unimpressed look. "It’s a miracle,” he deadpans. “What was it?"

"He asked if you’re here and what time you get off," Nie Huaisang answers with a grin.

Wei Wuxian's brows furrow. "What time I get off? Why would he want to know that?"

Nie Huaisang shrugs and lifts his arms in surrender. "Now that, I really don't know. I told him you work until closing, he thanked me, then took the glasses and left."

Wei Wuxian hums thoughtfully. He can think of a few reasons Lan Wangji might want to meet him after work, but then again, the man is too much a wild card for him to be certain about any of them.

Though confused, he also can't help but feel excited at the mystery. Lan Wangji may have seemed boring, but he sure is keeping him on his toes.

He checks the clock, crying internally when he sees there's still around 3 hours before he's off.

The door chimes, signaling the arrival of his next patient. With one last longing sigh, he heads off to prep the exam room while Nie Huaisang checks them in.

It's a relatively busy day, thankfully. All his patients pepper him with obscure questions that require his full attention to properly answer. In what feels like no time, he's packing up his things and rushing out the door, excited to see what's waiting for him.

Though he expected it, he's still shocked to see Lan Wangji, standing there, wearing his glasses and looking even more incredible than Wei Wuxian remembers - which should be impossible, but somehow he's managed it.

He stops just a couple feet away, heart pounding. The door falls shut with a soft thud behind him. The world is silent as they stare at one another.

Wei Wuxian reaches for something to say, but words evade him. Thankfully, Lan Wangji has it covered.

“Oh no,” he intones. “You saw me wearing these glasses outside the clinic.”

Wei Wuxian blinks at him. The ADHD squirrels in his brain scramble for an explanation of what the hell Lan Wangji is talking about. Finally, one finds the answer. Wei Wuxian chortles.

"I guess I have no choice but to take you to dinner then, huh?" Lan Wangji nods remorsefully and steps closer. "Unfortunately, it seems there is no other option."

Wei Wuxian meets him halfway, not stopping until their toes are scant inches apart and he can see every fleck of gold in those enchanting eyes.

"Well, I did warn you," he reminds with a grin. Lan Wangji grabs his hand and laces their fingers together.

"Mn. I was careless."

Wei Wuxian squeezes his hand. "I don't mind. After all, you're the one being punished here."

Lan Wangji smiles softly. "Preferably with vegan food."

Wei Wuxian laughs and tugs him in the direction of his car.

"Vegan food it is, gorgeous."

The end!

They go on an excellent date at a trendy vegan restaurant and Lan Wangji can actually read the menu bc of his new glasses 🥰

I hope you all enjoyed reading! 💗

#mdzs #fanfic #the untamed #meet cute #wangxian

[weabooweedwitch]

Finally went to buy a new TV because I've been sitting on a couch squinting at a 30 inch for ages after uh rage smashing the old one months ago and I show up at the store and I have it loaded into the car when I notice a sticker that very clearly reads "repackage" and is discounted on clearance by almost $100, which is weird because I paid full price for a new tv not some return, also why and how would they discount the price on an online item, you can only do that for in-store items, but anyways so then I go to tell them, and instead of like, simply switching it with another one, you know, the easy and sensical option, they tell me I have to do a return and just order online again and come back later, AND they couldn't figure out how to refund the protection plan I bought that only works for the specific TV that I now don't have, AND also the refund isn't even immediate and can take a couple days so I'm now out several hundred dollars

It's like. Realistically I know this is just a series of unfortunate coincidences and some slight employee incompetence. But my brain tells me this is some sort of cosmic pattern where I am not allowed to relax and treat myself and be happy and that this inherently happened because i tried to let my guard down in the first place. I was just wanting to, get this new 55 inch TV, get a nice affordable 2k you know, i use the tv a lot, and then play Pikmin 4 tomorrow when it comes out and enjoy my weekend, because, my sister may be moving in very soon and I am EXTREMELY stressed out about that and literally everything in my life right now :) it's just :) I'm working 5 days 40 hours a week and I'm on autopilot and everything still sucks and I can't seem to get anything written down half the time and my weight keeps fluctuating and I'm still constantly super unhappy 😊 I am just constantly in and out of Boo Hoo Crying Mode and I'm sure the constant substance use is damaging my emotional regulation but it's like one of the only things I have left at this point 😩 I have a new coworker who is an absolute delight and she may be someone I may actually be able to chill and hang out with but like I've been really going through it these past few months and I'm trying to adult and act my age and keep functioning but this shit sucks so fucking much haha

#juat venting about like unfortunate bs that has me pressed #i probably just need a good cry

[psychoticwillgraham]

talkin about dad/Texas stuff

i’ll applaud my dad for a lot of stuff he did while I was here, but one thing he did is actually kinda sweet (to me at least): he made it his main mission to get me on a regular meal schedule, and buy me snacks that aren’t overloaded with sugar, bc like I said, he’s confident that im at least prediabetic, if not full blown type 2. he made me write down all of the main things I wouldn’t eat/can’t eat due to sensory issues and would go to the store while I was sleeping during the day and just buy everything that he assumed I like while avoiding the bad stuff.

he also didn’t get mad at me for saying if I didn’t like something, he’d just find something there to eat, and man he’s really damn good at improvising when it comes to food (well he did have extensive training in the military on how to cook on ships and use what you have around and just make do) and he’s honestly the best cook I know. he also encouraged me to try the ‘weird’ stuff at restaurants like the flounder and mahi mahi (which isn’t weird but it’s ‘weird’ to me) and gator too, which he was absolutely delighted to see that I loved it and im pretty sure he took a quick video of me having the first bite of it and he was smiling so much which made me happy too.

with everything on this trip, he’s bent over backwards to accommodate me and he honestly thought that I’d be more ‘difficult’ to deal with bc mom made me sound like I was a damn beast to tame. she portrayed me as some sort of wild, batshit insane (well i am, but not like what she says) person that needs to be monitored 24/7. the only thing he had to lock up were his guns, but they’re always locked anyway. so this proves to mom that I can be trusted by myself during both the day AND night, since nighttime is when I get stupid with myself. it also helps immensely that he has a dog. im not ‘feeble’ or ‘mentally incompetent’ like she tells literally everyone INCLUDING STRANGERS. so if she tries to prevent me from leaving, she’ll just look like a huge dumbass. and if my counselor would’ve disapproved, then I would’ve honestly thought twice about it. anyway sorry for the ridiculously long post again.

[thewarriorspecial]

Alright so:

@hobicat suggested an office AU. I don’t work in an office. I work in a dreaded grocery store. So this is a slice of that. And you know, my insanity. Huzzah!

Also included a delightful Ke$ha detail for @kiseiakhun.

This is completely unedited and typed on my phone.

Welcome to Zippys

The only universe in which Barry Allen is fucking evil.

There be dragons at the end of the world. And there be Evil Barry. Deific powers. An unsettling craving for violence fueled by too many years of passive aggressively accepting spoonfuls of shit from middle aged women who felt entitled to discounts. Just because, no explanation really.

One day Evil Barry, who used to be Fake Nice Barry until a middle aged white bitch told him to “go back where he came from” because she didn’t like his accent, was nudged over the edge.

Evil Barry grabbed that haughty bitch by her early aughts bob and threw her through a plate glass window.

You see, the whole thing started because there was a sale on ribs. Barry was Summoned to the front of the store from the Dairy aisle where he had been cleaning up all the overpriced eggs an Elderly Karen had dropped on the floor in protest of ever rising prices. Elderly Karen’s rage was understandable. She’s on a fixed income. When Fake Nice Barry was once young and Actually Nice, he would’ve given her the eggs at a discount. Or for free even if he could find a way to manage it.

Nonetheless here comes the page. So Barry pastes a cordial if somewhat tired smile on his face and asks Meat Karen how he can help her. And it starts. The torrent of personal accusations. The list of made up sins the whole store had committed against her specifically.

“I’m sorry ma’am,” he gently explains, “Our meat manager had a family emergency and since he’s our only trained meat cutter on the team, he wasn’t able to cut enough of those ribs for the sale today. He or a replacement from another store will be in tomorrow to get us caught up. May I take your name and make sure a special order is reserved for you?”

“Well how does that help me today? I need them today. They’re on sale today! I specifically made a thirty minute drive over here just for those and I’m supposed to come back? I have to make two trips now because of your incompetence??”

“I’m sorry ma’am,” Barry forces a steady tone, “What could do I do for you instead that would be more respectful of your time?”

“Have the shit in the store when you put it in the ad! You always do this! You lure people in here, nothing is stocked, everything is dirty! Do you get kickbacks from the oil people to make us drive more? Is that why you built that gas station? It smells! You cut down all those trees and stink up the whole neighborhood with your lies!!”

Barry had tried to answer her accusations as they came up but was stopped each time as she shoved her extended palm in his face, the universal symbol for Im not finished screaming at you yet.

And finally, after countless shifts, after countless hours of meaningless blocking and cleaning, and ordering and stocking and monotonous enduring—Barry snapped. An evil was unleashed in him so unbalanced it ripped a hole in the multiverse and created Zippys.

It is said that the lightning crack of every justified strike, every open hand, every Twisted Tea laid upon a Karen or Kevin results in immediate transmission to the store where you can check out anytime you like but you just respawn in the cart laden vestibule.

When that bitch got launched through the glass, her indignant shriek followed by the shattering glass each hit perfectly in time to the chorus of Keshas Tik Tok.

Meistro? Cue it up please.

Tik Tok on the clock but the party don’t—

“Stop! AGH!!”

Oh woah oh oh

Crash

Oh woah oh oh

A red streak appears next to Barry who’s still frozen in perfect pitcher form.

“Oh SHIT!” Wally cackles like a witch, ripping his cell phone out of his hoodie pocket and leaping after the woman. “World star!! World star!!”

#I am unhinged #especially when I’m bored #freewrite

[outlawqueen2016]

Once upon a time, a young Princess was held hostage by an ancient Duke and an inbred hag. The ancient Duke had mesmerized the inbred hag and brainwashed her into believing that she was a Princess.

The inbred hag decided that she deserved all that the young Princess had worked so diligently to achieve. Every speech the young Princess gave was memorized and repeated by the inbred hag. Every wardrobe the young Princess proudly displayed had been worn by the inbred hag publicly. Every accolade earned by the young Princess was credited to the inbred hag.

The young Princess was beside herself with grief. The young Princess had worked tirelessly to live up to the expectations of her deceased parents, may they rest in peace knowing their daughter, the young Princess, strives to honor their living memory.

The inbred hag refused to acknowledge the passing of the parents of the young Princess at the behest of the ancient Duke; who delighted in making the young Princess out to be delusional and incompetent. When the reality was such that, the inbred hag, who truly believed herself to be the young Princess, was, in fact, incompetent and delusional.

The ancient Duke had a perversion towards children and the inbred hag supported the ancient Duke completely. So much so, that the pair would steal unborn babies from the uterus of expectant mothers and store them in the uterus of the inbred hag.

It had come to pass, that the young Princess was engaged in espionage against the ancient Duke and his inbred hag in Tennessee, #Confederacy. The young Princess witnessed a horrific sight!

The inbred hag was pregnant, to the point where she looked as though she were nine months in. Then the inbred hag threatened a young boy with a knife. The young boy was given the option of performing oral sexual intercourse on the very pregnant inbred hag or being stabbed by the very pregnant inbred hag.

The young boy chose the former in order to minimize the physical damage. The young boy induced labor in the very pregnant inbred hag; causing a dead hybrid three month old baby to fall from the birth canal of the inbred hag.

The young Princess watched in horror as the inbred hag took the dead baby and dropped him into a large stock pot full of boiling water. Later, the ancient Duke ate his fill of baby stew after throughly raping the young Princess and threatening her that she would be next.

The young Princess made contact with the biological father of the young boy; who, then, moved heaven and earth to rescue his son from the clutches of the ancient Duke and his inbred hag.

The young Princess compiled a legal case against the inbred hag, such that the inbred hag is currently in prison awaiting her next trial for international terrorism.

The ancient Duke spent the years leading up to his timely demise in fear of what the young Princess might remember and who she would tell.

The end.

[petty-crush]

“The Hospital”

Rewatching this film for the first time in years has been a uniquely liberating experience.

It is so great, well acted, directed, and smartly written than even when the ending doesn’t really stick (and the film becomes pretty good rather than great) I have no reservation in praising it as a must see.

Consistency is often thought of worth its weight in gold, but that isn’t true, it’s just that it’s rare.

Who cares that the first half of this film is better than the last half? The fact that something this phenomenal even exists in the first place is a extraordinary delight.

Plus, with a guy like Chaffedky, you want him to swing for the fences, try something that may indeed exceed his grasp.

This film concerns a doctor trying to save his sanity and renew his healing purpose while the hospital (and the health industry itself, via parable) threats to be crushed under murder and beauacracy.

Actor George C. Scott...what a volcano. The drunken monologue about being mammoth but healing nothing is an obvious high point. But I encourage attention to the close up where he chastises the head nurse over Dr Schaffer’s death and “radiant incompetence”. He is absolutely zeroed in on this material.

Like a boar in a mushroom store, he consumes and drunkenly revels everything in sight. This is the intention of the film (almost a play) but Scott puts the three exclamation marks on the sentence.

I wasn’t sure what to make of Arthur Hiller’s directorial work the first few times I saw it so long ago, but now I think his packed but clutter free use of the frame (so we are never confused visually) is exactly what this film needs. A rock steady hand in glove.

Notice how he lets in wide frame the disbelief (“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nurse Perez, do you know what she’s talking about?”) grow and our anger build as there too many people measuring four times and never cutting.

The ultimate resolution....isn’t really important, just that it happens. It’s lack of truly convincing power in no way makes us mad that we watched this film. It makes us question how can something like this truly end. It inspires emotions and debate; and to review how great the lead up was.

Not all trains stop smoothly and neatly in the end station. The ride was sure worth it though.

I do admit, I like the very last shot, of Scott walking back into the hospital, his mantra of responsibility over love wrapped around his neck like an anchor.

In my younger years I thought such a notion dumb as shit (and there definitely situations where it is, usually between two people) but here, with the health of the community on the line, it’s wondrous to see someone fight for the overall well being of our world.

The moments of joy and erupted laughter this film inspires in me, even though I’ve seen it before, shakes me. This is a true gem, a fierce howl of black comedy.

#the hospital #film #paddy chayefsky #new beverly cinema #arthur hiller #new bev #george c scott

[adamwatchesmovies]

American Ninja (1985)

If you want an enjoyably bad movie, American Ninja is what you're looking for. The explosions are perplexing, the hero effortlessly cuts his way through legions of incompetent goons, the villains are cartoons, the performances are lousy and the body count is high. I doubt anyone involved in the making of this film even knows what a ninja really is.

Private Joe Armstrong (Michael Dudikoff) is reprimanded after saving Patricia Hickock (Judie Aronson) – daughter of Colonel William Hickock (Guich Koock). His heroism led to the death of four soldiers who might’ve otherwise been unharmed by the rebels and ninjas who were about to highjack their vehicles. His life becomes even harder when the Black Star ninjas decide he has interfered with their plans for the last time.

In the film’s defense, the premise is slightly less ridiculous than it sounds since the ninjas are working in conjunction with black marketer Victor Ortega (Don Stewart), who has bought off several officials on the military base. Even so, their attempts to dispatch Joe are weak. You’d think they’d realize after the first encounter that the amnesiac – did I forget to mention he learned martial arts during a childhood he no longer remembers? – fends off stereotypically black-clad shadow warriors as if they were made of overly cooked spaghetti. Instead of simply sending more villains armed with shuriken, katanas or bows & arrows they should consider trying to shoot him with a gun or poisoning his food. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to count the bodies and realize the "army" Ortega has under his employ (why would anyone need an army of ninjas?) is getting thin even before we get to the big action climax. Then again, the ninja training camp’s leader (played by Tadashi Yamashita) nonchalantly kills his students during training exercises, so who knows?

Michael Dudikoff has appeared in several action films. As of 2018, he’s still acting. After seeing him in American Ninja, you’ll have no clue why. When he isn’t cutting villains to ribbons (although no blood is shown, he’s a one-man gore machine), he sucks. You might as well print his photo, glue it on a broom handle and wave it in front of the camera he’s got so little personality and charisma. It makes you wonder if the whole amnesia character trait was conceived at the last second to try and explain his wooden performance, or if it’s just shitty writing. In fact, I’m going to go on a limb and say that - unless your film is directly tied to the subject of amnesia - if your lead suffers from memory loss but can pull off high jump kicks like it doesn’t mean anything, you’ll soon be calling Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky a peer.

With that said, you can have a lot of fun with American Ninja. The stereotypical opponents are hilarious. I know when you picture a ninja, you think of someone dressed all in black throwing sharp metal stars at their targets. Doesn’t this defeat the entire purpose of having an assassin? If you can point him out in a crowd, your ninja isn’t going to sneak up on anyone, magic abilities or not. Yes, you read that right. This film introduces magic ninjutsu powers out of nowhere in its final act, to the delight of anyone who wants to have a good laugh. Cars burst into flames like they're made of dried matches, staged ramps are obvious to everyone watching and there’s hardly anything about this picture that’s convincing. I can’t wait to see what the American Ninja series has in store next. (On VHS, May 23, 2018)

#American Ninja #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #Sam Firstenberg #Paul De Mielche #Gideon Amir #Avi Kleinberger #James R. Silke #Michael Dudikoff #Guich Knock #Judie Aronson #1985 movies #1985 films

[mccartyberger22]

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[brandon52burgess]

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[narrators-journal]

The final step

This is it boys! The final part! After this, I have no other fic to post, so I’ll probably return to original work or silence lol. But! I’ll try to post what I can to feed ya’ll content!

cw: descriptions of murder, Hint o’ Hisoka, reader’s pregnant

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi spent a while helping you pack before the butlers he'd requested showed up, than he returned to his home across the street to pack up as well. After all, with you now on the track to marry him, he would no longer need the home. Though, maybe we could keep it, and use it as something of a vacation spot to escape mother's unrelenting nagging. He mused.

While he was shoving his clothes into his bag and mulling over that option, he spoke to said mother, or, more-so half listened to Kikyo squeal and giggle in pure delight at the news of your pregnancy.        "Mother, please refrain from shrieking in my ear," he said when his excitable mother had to stop for breath,         "I'm sorry dear, but this is such good news! Your father and I were hoping this woman would prove to be a good wife, and while I will say it's a little soon for a baby, this is good news nonetheless!" She squealed, making the assassin huff,        "I know, I should've waited until after I'd married her to consummate," Kikyo about blew a raspberry at his words, making him blink,        "Illumi, we don't care if you decide to have sex before you get married. My only concern is that this woman isn't the right one for you." she said, "Your father would prefer that you choose a woman a bit more suited for our line of work, but if she's really as submissive as you described, I'm sure she'll be a fine addition to the family. Oh! And I'm sure your child will be absolutely adorable! I can't wait to put little booties on them, and absolutely dote on them like you no longer let me do-"          "Mother," Illumi said, though his mother knew despite his monotone voice that he was annoyed.          "Well, you don't." she sniffed before changing the subject. "Anyway, when are you bringing her home? I want to meet her already!" she said, going into a bit of a rant over his failure to even show Kikyo a picture of you, but her son was no longer listening. Instead, Illumi's attention was turned to his surroundings, his senses on high alert from the waves of malicious intent he felt so suddenly from the direction of your home.         "Mother, was Hisoka released?" Illumi asked, his mother's voice dying at the palpable tension coming through the phone,         "I believe so? Your grandfather was apparently sick of the creep, so he had him thrown out." she offered a second before Illumi hung up. In a flash, the assassin was across the street at your home, his needles at the ready. As soon as he set foot in the house, the assassin was greeted with the familiar scent of blood hanging in the air like a heavy blanket and a silence that ate at his nerves. Your home was quiet. too quiet. It about drove the assassin insane with the possible reasons behind the lack of life. Of course, the butlers that were tasked with helping you pack your clothes were dead, so that helped to explain the stifling quiet, but the sight of the help mercilessly slaughtered didn't justify the way Illumi's heart raced and a strange feeling gripped at his throat until he felt he couldn't breathe. The only time that feeling seemed to finally leave, only to be replaced with wrath, was when the casually dressed assassin slipped into your bathroom, his needles poised to be thrown, and he was met with the one person he didn't want to see inside of your home.         "Hisoka." he hissed, his dark eyes narrowing and his aura reflecting the heated rage that boiled his blood at the sight of the brightly colored magician, who turned to look at him lazily, frowning as if the soulless man was as equally unwanted as the pink haired man was,         "Before you maul me and get no answers, I didn't hurt your precious (y/n)." He assured, plucking one of his signature playing cards and licking the blood of a butler from it before continuing "I believe she crawled out of the bathroom window. So, I suggest you go get her back before you focus on me. Don't want her to get too far away now, do we?" The magician pouted, knowing damned well Illumi wouldn't bother with him after that news, which meant Illumi wouldn't be fighting him, yet. The assassin did, in fact, leave the magician at your house, going out instead to find you. If the help wasn't so fucking incompetent this would be a lot easier. He thought as he forced his wrathful aura into zetsu while he coldly rushed by the corpses and returned outside to prowl down the chilly streets of town, turning that edgy, strangling, anxiety feeling in his throat into energy to fuel his possessive hunt for his wife, his property. On the bright side of the situation though, you were nothing compared to the dark-haired predator, so he had that to cool his unhinged emotions before running into you. You were a recluse, you likely didn't know your way around town that well, so your trail was pretty obvious. In times of life threatening danger, people, more-so women, usually went to crowded areas after all, and you didn't know of many places that would offer help, so you were likely going to head to your grocery store. Knowing that, Illumi was able to get ahead of you, scooping you up before you could slow from a mad dash fuelled by mortal terror to a speed at which you could avoid slamming into the hunter's chest.        "(y/n)," he growled, shaking you once, firmly, to put a stop to your flailing and squirming, "I am this close to jamming one of my needles into your brain. STOP IT." He ordered, the force of slightly panicked rage in his words making you freeze and stare up in terror at him with your wide (e/c) eyes. For a few seconds you stared at one another, your form squished to his in an inescapable grip while his soulless eyes glared down at you until you finally burst into tears.       "Please! Just let me go!" You plead, your voice quivering with barely restrained sobs, so he took a deep breath and ran his thumb down your already tear-stained cheek,       "Why would I do that? I'm only trying to keep you and our baby safe." he reminded you, but you shook your head vigorously, making bits of your (h/l), (h/c) hair stick to your face,        "You're scaring me! Please let me go, I'm begging you Illumi." you cried, trying to shake his comforting hug off,        "I thought you loved me," he said, not releasing you even when your upset tantrum stuttered to a stop. For a moment, you seemed conflicted, but than closed your eyes and tried to kick him to no avail,         "I...I don't know anymore. You've...become so scary recently, I have to p-put my own well being ahead of any shallow attraction." you sniffled, digging your nails into his t-shirt. He brushed a strand of hair from your (s/c) face as you shook against him          "(y/n), I would never do anything to harm you or our baby unless you force me to. Just behave and act like you did before figuring out you were pregnant, everything will be okay." he assured, making his voice as comforting, soft, and loving as he could manage to try and sooth you. Thankfully, he could see the fear and rebellion in your (e/c) eyes dim, returning to their usual, gorgeously submissive state. After that, you only gave one final attempt at escaping his arms before finally giving up. "Good girl, (y/n). Now, let's go home. My mother is about to implode in her excitement to meet you." After that, Illumi returned to the house he had bought for his bag of clothes, then made a beeline for the Zoldyck estate. On the trip there, the long haired assassin tried to make you happy, providing you food, comfortable places to sleep when need-be, and finding you little gifts related to your hobbies to try and entertain and make you smile. He could tell that you were still uncomfortable with him, but you slowly began to warm back up to him when your human need for companionship demanded it. However, the one thing he couldn't save you from or prepare you for, was Kikyo. The woman about tackled Illumi when he pushed open the testing gates, but as soon as you were through and safely on Zoldyck land with your husband protectively at your side, his mother began her fussing.       "She looks so ill! Illumi, did you make sure she's physically healthy?"       "She's not much to look at, maybe if she tried more make-up and clothes that fit her better?"       "Illumi, where are her things? Did you just snatch her up off of the street while she was pregnant?!" The only thing that saved you and Illumi from his mother's judgements and chiding was a firm look from his father, Silva, who was making a rare appearance to greet you in a much calmer manner.       "To answer your questions, I will get the family doctor to look her over, and her things had to be left. A threat came up and I needed to bring her here before harm befell her, so I will need to buy her new clothes." The dead eyed assassin assured his mother, who obviously had more hen pecking to do, but she refrained under the stern look of her husband. After that, Illumi got you nicely settled in to his bedroom, and while you did put up some more of a fight over staying there, you mostly accepted your role as his wife-to-be and mother of his child rather easily. He knew you were simply acting out from your hormones and the stress of your situation, so he did his best to keep his temper with you.         "It'll be okay (y/n), once you get comfortable here, we'll be happy." Illumi soothed one night after one of your bouts of sobbing and fighting to escape while he sat, cross-legged with you in his lap and his hands rubbing your belly. You weren't showing much yet, but it still pleased him greatly to now have his wife and child safely at home. That's right, he thought, letting a rare smile spread across his usually unreadable face, you're home now, (y/n)...

#Illumi #yandere illumi x reader #x reader #yandere #hisoka #hxh #hunter x hunter #part 12 #quotev #fanfiction

[haechanitboy]

summary: Mark’s been holding onto this book for about 2 months now and keeps renewing it and you want it so bad you’re willing to do just about anything to get it.

word count: 10.1k

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut, humor

notes: okay might have gone a teeny weeny bit far with the buildup but i had a lot of fun writing this sort of dysfunctional friend group so i’m actually not sorry w h o o p s

“I’m going to kill them. Johnny, you’re going to have to be in charge of all of my business while I’m locked away in prison.” You growl, looking up at him from your laptop.

“Um, bold of you to assume I wouldn’t be your accomplice.” He retorts, propping his feet up on the library table. You scowl and smack his legs off, snorting back a laugh as his legs thud on the floor loudly, subjecting the two of you to glares and a couple of shushes. “You’re all a bunch of nerds!” He yells loudly, sweeping around to glare at everyone, and you let out a muffled shriek of laughter, frantically shushing him as you hide your face in your Econ textbook, red rising to your cheeks.

“Shut up!” You giggle, kicking him under the table. He yelps in pain, and your laughter only grows, getting louder the more you try to stop it. Within seconds, the library assistant, a tall, balding man in his 40s, swoops down on you two, fixing you in place and silencing you with a glare.

“Am I going to have to ask you to leave?” He all but snarls, leaning down to put one hand on the table, blessing your and Johnny’s noses with the scent of stale coffee on his breath. You wince involuntarily, and as he turns his piercing gaze on you specifically, you’re saved by the actual library director, a sweet, elderly woman with white hair who’s come to be quite fond of you after she caught you organizing the books of your own free will (you were really just very bored, but she still thinks you’re a doll).

“It’s okay, they won’t be causing any more trouble—isn’t that right, dear?” She says, shooting you a teasing grin. You nod emphatically, putting on your best angelic expression and batting your lashes up at her. “Exactly what I thought. Carry on, you two.” They walk off, the male still eying you suspiciously as they leave.

“I still don’t get how you have that sweet old lady convinced you’re an angel. Clearly, she’s incapable of seeing the demon underneath your “adorable” persona.” Johnny shakes his head at you in disbelief, picking up a nearby book, opening it, and holding it up to his face, peering over the top at you. “Share your secret.”

“My secret,” You whisper conspiratorially and lean closer—he leans closer as well, playing along with feigned interest on his face, “Is that I’m just a delightful individual. Also, your book is upside down, genius.” You laugh, leaning back in your seat. “Can we get back to me and my dilemma now?”

“All ears, angel,” He agrees, leaving the book face down on the table and folding his hands behind his head, waiting patiently.

“I’ve been waiting for this book for two and a half months, Johnny—that’s ten weeks. The rule is two weeks, which means this incompetent dingbat has renewed this book five times. Five!” You whisper-shriek, fingers clenching on your laptop.

“Maybe they need it for a class,” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I already looked up the book in the college store—it’s not on any course reserve list.”

“Well, aren’t you just a little Nancy Drew?”

“Fuck off, Johnny. I just need to find this book. I’ve wanted to read Antigonick for ages now, and this dunce has been hogging it for over a month now.”

“Remind me what exactly the book is, again?”

You sigh, blowing a strand of hair out of your face and sit up, pushing your laptop to the side. “Antigonick is a series of hybrid poetry works—false translations, namely—by the absolutely brilliant Anne Carson, and I have been trying to get ahold of it for ages. The bookstore nearby doesn’t sell it, the college store doesn’t sell it, and this library is the only establishment within 50 miles where I can get it.”

“Maybe they’re having a hard time understanding it. It sounds kinda complicated, after all.” Johnny’s always been great at diffusing a situation, but right now, you kind of need someone who’ll get riled up with you—specifically, Doyoung.

“Anne Carson’s work deserves better than to be in the hands of some imbecile who can’t even understand it,” You mutter bitterly, and turn your head at approaching footsteps. You and Johnny crane your heads to the visitor and find Yuta and Doyoung, who walk up to your table and sit down, Yuta next to you, and Doyoung next to Johnny. “Thank God, I was just thinking about you.” You tell Doyoung, who raises a wary brow.

“Thanks, bud. Missed you too,” Yuta scoffs, and you smile, nudging him with your elbow.

“I needed emotional support in a very specific way only Doyoung could provide right now.” You explain, waving Yuta off dismissively. Johnny scoffs, and you glare at him. “You’re too positive, Johnny. No offense.”

“Does this have anything to do with the imbecile you were just talking about?” Doyoung asks with a budding smile on his face, already eager to indulge in your gossip.

“Yes!” You whisper excitedly, and the two of you lean forward in your seats, murmuring hurriedly about the book hogger. “…and he’s had it for two and a half months now, which—”

“Means he’s renewed it five times! Who takes two and a half months to read a book?” Doyoung finishes for you, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Your eyes light up, and you smack the table triumphantly.

“Exactly!”

“You’re right, that’s ridiculous.” Doyoung huffs, leaning back and frowning at you. “Your feelings are…”

“Don’t say it,” Yuta and Johnny groan in unison, rolling their eyes, but Doyoung persists, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards mischievously.

“More than valid, and you should do something about it.” He finishes, nodding.

“I know, so here’s my plan.” You say, bouncing in your seat excitedly.

“Okay, I love you both dearly, but can the two of you shut up? The library used to be a place where you could do work, you know.” Yuta groans, and you and Doyoung roll your eyes in unison.

“We’ll be quiet,” You say, patting Yuta on the shoulder. He shoots you a dazzling, albeit clearly tense smile as he pulls out a thick packet of what you assume to be worksheets. “Remind me why you’re a biochem major again?”

“I’m a dumbass who loves animals, and I have to do veterinarian studies through the pre-med track,” Yuta sighs, and you leave it at that, clearly seeing how stressed out he is. You reach instead for your phone, looking pointedly at Doyoung, who gets the hint and picks up his own phone, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table. You reach over and push his legs off, glaring at him sternly before directing your attention back to your phone.

[You have added ‘johnny johnny bo bonny’ to the group chat.]

[You have added ‘pillsbury do-bunny’ to the group chat.]

[You have named the conversation “mission take down the book hogger.”]

johnny johnny bo bonny [1:32pm] ^ ur literally so dramatic i hate u

you [1:32pm] shut up i’m after /justice/

pillsbury do-bunny [1:33pm] i support you fully. what’s your plan?

you [1:35pm] so i’ve been thinking about how to find out who has the book…and i thought i should attack from the inside, you feel?

johnny johnny bo bonny [1:36pm] [attachment: 1 image] “aTtAcK fRoM tHe InSiDe” ur the absolute Worst™

johnny johnny bo bonny [1:36pm] what does that even mean

pillsbury do-bunny [1:38pm] don’t send that spongebob meme anymore. you know his face creeps me out.

you [1:39pm] nerd

johnny johnny bo bonny [1:39pm] nerd

[‘pillsbury do-bunny’ disliked “nerd”]

[‘pillsbury do-bunny’ disliked “nerd”]

you [1:41pm] coward

[‘pillsbury do-bunny’ disliked “coward”]

[‘johnny johnny bo bonny’ laughed at “coward”]

you [1:44pm] anYway: so you know how the head librarian here is like obsessed w me or something?

johnny johnny bo bonny [1:46pm] still baffles me but yeah

[‘pillsbury do-bunny’ emphasized “still baffles me but yeah”]

you [1:49pm] so i was thinking: i finesse my way onto a shift here at the library and go through the administrative records of the library catalogue, find the book, find out who has it and voila!! i’ve got myself a culprit

pillsbury do-bunny [1:52pm] i heard the library slots are all full though…how are you gonna get one?

you [1:56pm] um. i didn’t get that far yet.

pillsbury do-bunny [1:57pm] isn’t that like step one of the plan?

you [2:05pm] new phone who dis

Doyoung scowls up at you as you giggle at your own joke, eyes scanning the library until they meet a pair of brown eyes staring directly back at you. You do a quick double-take, and you see a—very cute—guy staring at you; however, he would be a lot cuter if he wasn’t staring at you with poorly masked annoyance on his face. He mouths something at you, but you can’t quite make it out. You cock your head in confusion, and he huffs, walking over to your table.

He’s even cuter up close, and he smells really good—like cinnamon and soap.

“Could you guys please keep it down? You’ve been kind of disruptive for the past hour or so, and a lot of people here are trying to do work.” He asks, and you can’t help but feel a little bit bad. You stare at him intently, taking in each of his features and mulling each one over in your head—he looks super familiar, but you can’t quite place where you know him from.

Doyoung and Johnny apologize, while Yuta only mutters an “Amen.” You hear a thud and a grunt from your side of the table and assume Doyoung’s kicked Yuta, but the noises are muted as you continue to stare at the new addition to your table.

“Sorry,” You reply slowly, still transfixed on placing his face. “Where do I know—” You start, but he’s already turned around and rushing back to his table.

“Who is he, and why do I know him from somewhere?” You mumble, still staring after him.

“You look like a stalker right now; you know that, right?” Johnny jokes, and you glare at him. “Stop kicking me!”

“I’m sorry dear, but we’re booked full right now,” The head librarian responds with a sympathetic look up at you. As if to prove her point, three library volunteers shuffle out of the back area, each carrying a stack of books.

“I told you,” Doyoung mumbles, and you smile sweetly, letting one hand drop from the counter to pinch his thigh. He winces, but recovers impressively quickly to smile at the librarian as well.

“That’s okay! I just figured I’d ask,” You smile, waving at her as she turns away and points the volunteers in their respective directions. In their haste to relieve their burdens, one of the workers drops her volunteer ID card as she hustles off. You go to call after her, but you end up stooping to pick it up, staring at it in fascination. You turn to look at Doyoung with a sinister, growing smile, and his eyes widen.

“No. No, no, absolutely not.” He says, as sternly as he can muster.

“Yes. Yes, yes, this is happening whether you like it or not, so you might as well be on board with it.”

“This feels illegal.” He hisses, and you shush him, swatting his arm.

“Shut up, because I’m going to need your help with this.”

“No. That is a firm, unyielding no. I’m not getting in trouble and accessing private school information just so you can read some poetry book.”

“Come on, Doyoung. Be the Tom to my Jerry, the Bonnie to my Clyde, the Frog to my Toad!”

“Tom and Jerry fought all the time.”

“Are we not fighting right now?”

“Bonnie and Clyde died tragically.” Doyoung points out.

“After leading lives of crime, not after peeking online at a certain book’s checkout history.”

“Frog and Toad were lovers, I’m pretty sure.”

“You’re actually the worst. Forget it, I’m asking Yuta.” You grouch, tucking the ID in your back pocket and turning on your heel to leave the library. You pull out your phone instead, typing out a text message as quickly as you can.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking Johnny.” Doyoung says, jogging to keep up with you. You may be shorter than him, but you’re a girl on a mission and you’re virtually unstoppable at this point.

“What, and have him fuck up the diversion? I’m not going down with that beanstalk and you know it.”

“You act as if you’re going to assassinate a king, you absolute drama queen.”

“You love my theatrics, and you know it,” You cry loudly with a flourish, eyes still glued on your phone. Everything next happens very, very quickly. The last you remember, you were walking and chattering. The next, you’re flat on your back, unhurt but definitely startled. “Oh.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” A voice overhead gasps and you’re suddenly very aware of the warm hand holding yours as you’re tugged to your feet. It’s the same guy from the library from earlier, you note, dusting yourself off. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so! Don’t worry about it, also—now we’re kind of even for earlier in the library,” You say, patting him on the shoulder, making what you hope is a friendly, comforting expression.

“Oh—Don’t worry about that, I’ve just been really stressed out, and I just needed to focus.” He mumbles, cheeks dusted with a faint pink as he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“It’s okay, we’re pretty rambunctious. Hey, before I forget—am I crazy, or do I know you from somewhere?” You say, cocking your head, and his eyes widen almost unnoticeably before he opens his mouth to answer.

“We’re in Advanced Poetry together, right? Our teacher scares the crap out of me, honestly.”

You do your best to bite back a smirk. “She’s my advisor.”

Doe eyes wide and mouth open in the shape of a Cheerio—adorable, you think—replace his usual features, and you bite back a laugh as he shakes his head almost frantically, stumbling over his next words.

“I didn’t mean—she’s nice, she’s just scary, and—Jesus, this isn’t going well.”

“I thought you were doing pretty well,” You point out, a smile on your face, and he blushes furiously, looking at you bashfully.

“Thanks,” He chuckles, taking a step closer to you. “I don’t think I ever got your name, by the way.” You grin and introduce yourself, and he beams at you, opening his mouth to tell you his name, but—

“Dude, are you coming or what?” At the sound coming from behind you, you turn around and find two guys standing by the entrance to the library with semi-impatient expressions on their faces.

“Uh. Yeah, I-I’m coming.” He calls out to them before looking at you apologetically. “I’ll see you around, right?”

“Yes, you will,” You nod, waving goodbye to him. He smiles shyly and walks past you and Doyoung (who you’ve practically forgotten was there) to go back into the library. The door shuts behind him, and you sigh in frustration, running a hand through your hair as you keep walking. “Why is the universe determined not to tell me his name?”

“He’s kind of like your Cinderella. Gender-bent fairytales are cute and progressive, don’t you think?” Doyoung jokes, and you growl, knocking into him and ignoring his laughter. “Did Yuta text you back yet? While I don’t endorse crime, I am deeply intrigued to see how this works out.”

“Oh shit, I never actually sent the text.” You yelp, fishing your phone back out and sending the text.

you [3:57pm] yutaaa do you wanna do a top-secret search and rescue mission with me?

thousand-watt smile [3:58pm] no.

you [4:00pm] 1, stop changing your name in my phone. 2, please???? i’ll pay you in love and affection.

thousand-watt smile [4:03pm] 1, i don’t like that my name in your phone used to be ‘biochem nerd.’ 2, fine.

thousand-watt smile [4:03pm] you’re lucky you’re cute.

[you loved ‘you’re lucky you’re cute.’]

you [4:06pm] yay yay yay i love you! i’ll even keep your name as this in my phone. ^.^

thousand-watt smile [4:08pm] you were going to do that anyway…right?

you [4:10pm] yes darling can you come meet me and doyoung in the café? johnny said he’d come too

thousand-watt smile [4:15pm] yes yes after my class. i’m bringing taeyong he says he misses you

you [4:18pm] are you in class??? stop texting me i’ll see you when you get out

thousand-watt smile [4:22pm] lmaO okay i get out at 5

“Okay, can we hurry to the café? We need a big booth and you know those go quickly.” You pout, already picking up the pace as you walk as briskly to the café as you can.

“Can we go over the plan one more time?” Yuta asks through a mouthful of his cheeseburger. “I just want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”

“Dedication—I appreciate that. Okay: phase one—” You start.

“Drama queen,” Johnny mutters, and you throw a fry at him.

“You’re just jealous I didn’t let you in on the plan.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Phase one: you and I show up at the library after the official staff leave, which, I’m pretty sure, is around 6:30pm. Yuta, you stand lookout near the front desk while I go to the main checkout computer and check the book’s history. If anyone asks, I’ll be wearing this,” You smile wickedly, brandishing the volunteer ID, “and I’ll just say I work there.”

“I think this is—” Taeyong starts, and you all shout out different answers.

“Brilliant?”

“Stupid?”

“Really dramatic?”

“Going to be hilarious if it fails?”

“—a really bad idea.” He finishes, a furrow between his brows. You pout and look up at him.

“Don’t worry,” You drag out, beaming up at him as you pop a gummy bear in your mouth. “Things almost always work out for me.”

“Almost,” Doyoung points out with a self-satisfied grin, and you sneer at him, kicking him under the table. “Ow,” He whines, bending down and grabbing his ankle. He seems to notice something behind him as he’s bent over and sits up abruptly. “Wait a minute, isn’t that your Cinderella over there?” He asks, pointing over his shoulder at the entrance.

You, Yuta, and Taeyong, on the same side, immediately look to the front door to see the same guy from the library standing by the utensils, looking adorably lost.

“Isn’t he just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” You pout, smiling as you rest your chin in your palm.

“No,” They chorus in unison, and you glare at them.

“I hate you all. Plus, Doyoung, when I find out his name, then he won’t be my Cinderella anymore.” You grumble, taking a sip of your lemonade through the straw. You look towards him again, only to see that he’s already looking at you. At the sudden eye contact, his eyes widen and he looks away quickly, a blush visible on his cheeks even from where you’re sitting. “Okay, he’s actually too cute. Taeyong, can you scoot? I’m gonna go say hi.” You mutter, waiting for Taeyong to stand up before wiggling out the booth and grabbing your gummy bears, heading towards him.

“Hey!” He greets you, already smiling widely. You find yourself immediately matching his expression, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips until you’re sure you can’t smile any harder.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were following me,” You tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Okay, I’m going to say something weird.”

“I’m weird. Go for it.”

“I wasn’t following you, but I was hoping I’d see you again today. Now that I’m not stressed and I can actually try and carry on a conversation.” He admits, and your heart feels like it’s swollen at least two times its size.

“That wasn’t weird at all,” You say, smiling. “Very cute, but not weird.”

He smiles widely at you, seeming less nervous than before.

“Did you come alone?” You ask, and he pouts for the first time since you’ve met him.

“Technically, yes. I was supposed to meet my friend Lucas here, but he’s actually rushing a frat and I think he got called in on pledge duty, so I think I’m just gonna get something to go.”

“If you want company, I’m free,” You offer, and he raises a curious eyebrow at you, gesturing over your shoulder. You turn to look where he’s pointing and see all four of your friends watching you intently, turning around and “acting natural” immediately once they realize they’ve been spotted. You chuckle and turn back to face him, smiling widely. “Like I said, I’m free.”

“Cool. Awesome. Great. Um, do you wanna eat here? I’m not really super hungry, and you must have already eaten, so whatever makes you happy.” He stammers, and he reminds you, vaguely, of an overexcited puppy. You initially open your mouth to answer his question, but apparently, your brain had other plans.

“What’s your name? I just realized I don’t know it.” You blurt out, shooting him a sheepish grin. His face lights up, and he starts to laugh, the sound sounding like an adorable hiccup fit, and you can’t help but laugh as well. “Don’t laugh at me!” You giggle, swatting his arm, and his laugh only escalates until he’s managed to quiet his laugh to a series of giggles in the café, leaning against the wall for support.

“I’m not laughing at you, I just think it’s really funny and kind of cute that you never knew my name, but I’ve known yours for like, months now. My name is Mark, by the way. Mark Lee.” Mark finally manages to get out, and you try to frown at him, but your smile stays steady.

“Wait. You asked me for my name today,” You say, confused, and you can hear him softly curse under his breath, only heightening your confusion. “Mark?”

“Okay, so I asked you for your name earlier kind of as a cover, because I’ve always known we were in Advanced Poetry together, but you always hung out with Taeyong, so you never really noticed me. I sit, like, two desks away from you.” He stammers out, not even noticing the smile growing on your face.

“I honestly didn’t think you could get any cuter,” You chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief. His eyes widen and a sort of shocked laugh escapes him. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you earlier; I’m just really into poetry. It’s my major concentration, so I just kind of zone in on the class.”

“That totally makes sense—I’ve always thought you were the best in the class. Your analysis papers always get read out loud—”

“Don’t start, she knows how embarrassing that is for me, but she does it anyway!” You groan, and Mark laughs again, that cute laugh that bubbles from his stomach out his mouth. You watch him laugh for a second, your gaze falling to his lips and studying them—their pink color, how soft they look, how warm they’d probably feel, and—

“Do you guys want to move up or what?” The guy behind you says pointedly, and you both jump slightly, your gazes flickering from the guy to the line ahead of you, which is now several feet away from you. As you look back at each other, you notice Mark’s gaze linger on your lips for just a second, enough to make your heart flutter.

“Sorry! You can go ahead of us,” You say, and he does with a heavy sigh, causing you two to wince and look at each other. “If you’re not hungry hungry, there’s a really good rolled ice cream shop nearby if you want to try it out?” You offer, and he smiles at you, nodding excitedly.

“YES—I mean, yes, yeah, that sounds cool.” He says, doing a pretty bad job of hiding his smile.

“Okay, cool, um, I’m gonna grab my stuff really quickly,” You say, pointing over your shoulder.

“Cool, I’ll meet you outside?” Mark replies, and you nod, smiling at him before turning and heading back to your table, where literally all of your friends are staring at you—Johnny and Yuta have matching smirks, Doyoung’s got a big expectant grin with an eyebrow raised, and Taeyong just looks proud.

“I’m getting ice cream.” You announce proudly.

“With?” Doyoung asks, and they all lean in. You put your hands down on the table and lean down.

“With…Mark.” They burst into cheers, and you shush them, trying to glare but giggling instead. “Yuta, I’ll be at the library at, like, 6:45?”

“Sounds good—have fun,” He sing-songs as he passes you your bag, and you stick your tongue out at him. “Save that for Mark,” He teases.

You gasp, and Yuta suddenly yelps in pain, a hand reaching under the table to rub what you think might be his foot. Taeyong smiles up at you, and you throw finger hearts at the group of them before turning and leaving the café.

“Lead the way,” Mark gestures ahead of him, and you do, the two of you walking off.

“Gummy bear?” You offer, holding the bag out, and he nods, taking one and popping it in his mouth. “So how’d you get into the Advanced Poetry class?” You ask, taking a gummy bear for yourself.

“I actually just begged and groveled in her office. I told her I’d work really hard to do well in the class, but she really just doesn’t seem to like what I write.” Mark says, and you could swear you heard a pout in his voice.

“Don’t take it personally; she’s really picky about what she likes and poetry is so subjective.” You reply, turning to look at him. You note with an especially hard beat of your heart that he is pouting and he looks so cute that you just want to lean over and kiss it off his face.

“I could really use help in the class but her office hours are always taken by—”

“Me.” You cut him off with a sheepish smile, and he laughs shyly, his ears turning a light shade of red. “I’ll be sure to hang out with her on my own time, don’t worry.” You offer, nudging him with your shoulder.

“No!” He blurts and, at your raised eyebrows, quickly backtracks. “I don’t mind.” He mumbles, and you could swear you’re turning red now. “Oh, look, we’re here!” He all but yelps, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the shop. The store is cute and small, crisp white walls and soft R&B playing from overhead speakers and you feel, instantly, quite cozy. You move to gesture at the counter with your free hand and realize that his fingers are still locked with yours. He looks down at your hands, up at you with wide eyes, and at the floor as he lets go of your hand quickly, shoving it in his pocket and clearing his throat. “Sorry,” He mumbles.

“I didn’t mind,” You answer with a smile, and dodge his look of incredulity as you saunter up to the counter. “Could I get, um, the Cookie Dough Catastrophe?” You order and turn to Mark, who’s walked up to you and is staring at the menu with his eyebrows furrowed. “You…okay?”

“There are so many options,” He exhales softly, eyes darting from item to item. You watch him observe each item on the list, barely even noticing the smile creeping onto your face. “Um, could I get the Matcha Monster?” He finally decides, looking over to you. He smiles brightly, relieved, and your heart clenches not uncomfortably.

“Congratulations,” You say, grinning, before turning back to watch the worker make your ice cream. “Isn’t that just the most mesmerizing thing you’ve ever seen?” You mumble in awe, eyes fixed on the man’s hands. Mark doesn’t answer, and you look at him from the corner of your eye to see his eyes studying your face and eventually resting on your lips. “Mark?”

His eyes snap up to yours suddenly, a blush rising to his cheeks as he opens and closes his mouth several times, trying and failing to speak. “Sorry. Um, yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

You can’t help but feel flustered in front of him, his eyes studying you like you’re leaving for a year-long trip and he wants to remember every detail of your face. “Maybe you should watch them, then.” You say, a teasing lilt to your voice as you turn back to the front, telling the man which toppings you’d like.

Shortly after, Mark’s ice cream is done, and you both walk to the register, your hand already in your pocket to grab your student ID. “Together or separate?” The cashier asks, and you both answer him.

“Separate,” You say.

“Together,” Mark answers, and you glance at him, confused. Mark’s faster than you, pulling his ID out and handing it to the cashier.

“You didn’t have to do that!” You say, unable to hide your smile.

“You just ate, so, you know, I didn’t want you to have to pay again for me,” Mark mumbles, and your smile widens even as you protest.

“I didn’t even pay for that meal! One of my friends, Jungwoo, works at the café, so he just rang it up for free. Let me pay you back,” You offer, pulling out your phone and opening Venmo.

“No, it’s okay! I have way too much Community Cash—my friends always eat in the cafeteria instead of the little shops around, so I have about as much as we started with the first semester.” He answers, stumbling slightly on his words.

“I have a shit ton, too!” You protest, but he’s shaking his head vehemently, even going so far as to put his hand over yours and covering your phone.

“This—I—You can just buy me ice cream next time.” He mumbles, ears reddening. It hits you approximately two beats later that Mark just attempted to pay for your ice cream as a date and you’ve been completely oblivious, as usual.

“Oh. Oh. Oh.” You stammer, and find that the smile on your face seems to be stuck and also hurting your cheeks. “Okay. Next time,” You say, locking your phone and putting it back in your pocket before looking back up at him and glancing pointedly at his hand which is still on yours.

He pulls his hand back for the second time and laughs nervously, quickly directing his attention to his ice cream, which he takes a spoonful of and looks up at you shyly through his lashes.

“Okay. Um… Cool.” He blinks once, twice, before flashing his staggeringly cute smile and gesturing to an empty table in the seating area. “Do you wanna sit down and hang for a while, or walk around?”

“I have to be at the library at, like, 6:30, so do you wanna walk that way with me? It’s already,” You say, moving to check your phone, and noticing with a wince, “6:15.”

“Sure,” He agrees, already standing to head out. You see a slight pout on his face though and make a note not to call him on it.

“So, if you ever need help with poetry-related things, I’d be more than happy to help you out,” You tell him as you two exit the shop.

“I’d really like that. Our research paper is coming up, and my book is impossible.”

“I’m sure I can help you out,” You say, your heart sinking as the library comes into view. “What book did you choose?”

“Oh, I chose—” He starts, but your phone starts ringing, cutting him off.

“Sorry, one sec,” You mutter as you pull your phone out of your pocket. “It’s just Yuta. Hello?” You answer the phone, holding up one finger to Mark. He nods in understanding and waits with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey—the lady just left, so if you wanna do this, it should be now.”

“Okay, I’m coming.” You sigh. “See you in a few.” You hang up the phone, looking at Mark sadly. “I, uh. Gotta go. I need to do something in the library.”

“Oh. Oh. Okay, cool,” He says, and your heart falls at the disappointed look on his face.

“I’m sorry—I’ll make it up to you!”

“How?” He asks curiously, and you think.

“I’ll sit next to you in Advanced Poetry,” You say, and his resulting smile is so bright, it could almost blind you. “And, if you want, I’ll help you with the term paper.”

“Okay! We’ll meet in the library. Can I, um, have your number? So we can figure out a time?” He asks shyly, and you smile, handing him your phone. He plugs his number in and hands it back to you with a bashful smile. You quickly text him your name and a little heart emoji so he can save your contact, and he does. “Okay, great. This was fun.” He says sweetly, and your heart swells.

“See you in Advanced Poetry. Or in the library—which ever’s first.” You chirp, and he nods.

“It’s a date,” He says, before his eyes go wide and he immediately drops his gaze to his feet, blushing furiously. “I, uh, I meant—I didn’t mean—I mean, unless you want—you know what, never m—”

“It’s a date,” You confirm with an amused smile, and he looks up at you with a dazzling shy smile. “Bye, Mark.” You say, wiggling your fingers and dashing off to the library.

You’re sitting at the computer, typing in the name of the book while Yuta stands guard at the door.

“This is a bad idea,” Doyoung says over FaceTime, his face taking up the whole screen.

“Oh, you hush, coward.” You scoff, slipping your phone into your back pocket.

“Take me out! I can’t see anything,” Doyoung complains, and you snort, ignoring him as you scroll through the checkout history.

“What did you do to him?” Yuta asks curiously, and you look up from the screen.

“Put him in my back pocket,” You answer simply, and Yuta snorts.

“Probably the closest he’s gotten to a girl’s ass in ages.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Doyoung says bitterly, and you shush him as you find the most recent checkout information.

“It doesn’t say a name, it just has the student ID on it,” You say disappointedly.

“Well, write it down and we’ll figure something else out,” Yuta urges. “Someone’s heading this way.”

You pull out a pen from the cup on the desk and scrawl the digits onto your hand quickly before exiting the page and standing up. You take Doyoung out of your pocket, effectively ceasing his complaining.

“Welcome to the world,” You joke, and Doyoung scowls at you.

“It felt like I was back in the womb,” He shudders, and you have to stifle your laughter into your fist. Yuta isn’t so lucky, and outright snickers, alerting Doyoung’s attention. “It’s not funny!”

“Sure, it’s not. Okay, love you, bye.” You chirp, ending the call amidst Doyoung’s protests. You walk up to Yuta and show him the numbers on your wrist—08027823.

“Do those numbers look familiar to you?” You ask hopefully, and he frowns, shaking his head. “Damn.”

“Sorry, dude. We’ll ask the rest of the guys, see if they know.” He suggests, and you nod.

Your phone suddenly pings with a text notification, and you pull it out to check, smiling when you see Mark’s name on the screen.

mark :) [6:37pm] how’d your library thing go?

you [6:37pm] i didn’t get the results i wanted, but i got kinda close :)

mark :) [6:38pm] oh i’m sorry but that’s good, right? you’re one step closer!

you [6:39pm] yeah :) did you want to talk about something?

mark :) [6:40pm] just wanted to schedule our library thing haha

mark :) [6:40pm] and also talk to you more

mark :) [6:40pm] sorry was that weird

mark :) [6:40pm] sorry it was probably weird and i’m probably talking too much i’ll shut up

you [6:41pm] no you’re okay!!! you’re so cute omg

you [6:41pm] so when are you free? i was thinking thursday so i can read over what you have for your first draft and give you feedback so you can fix it over the weekend?

you [6:45pm] mark?

you [6:47pm] ?

mark :) [6:49pm] sorry you called me cute and i freaked out and dropped my phone on my face

mark :) [6:49pm] currently in the fetal position cradling my possibly broken nose

you [6:50pm] that’s actually adorable i’m very sorry i indirectly may have broken your nose

mark :) [6:50pm] haha no worries

you [6:51pm] want me to kiss it better?

you [6:57pm] ??

mark :) [7:00pm] i’m gonna need you to stop flirting with me

mark :) [7:00pm] if it wasn’t broken before, it’s definitely broken now

[you laughed at ‘if it wasn’t broken before, it’s definitely broken now’]

you [7:00pm] again, my apologies 🥺

mark :) [7:00pm] you’re lucky you’re cute or i’d sue for assault and battery

mark :) [7:00pm] oh my god

mark :) [7:00pm] please ignore that i can’t believe i said that

you [7:05pm] sorry had a giggle fit bc of that message

you [7:05pm] i’m definitely not ignoring that

mark :) [7:06pm] great. wonderful. i’m an idiot

you [7:06pm] you’re a d o r a b l e.

you [7:07pm] mark if you tell me you dropped your phone on your face again i think i might die laughing

mark :) [7:08pm] i DIDN’T i caught it in time :D

you [7:08pm] you know what that is? growth.

you [7:08pm] proud of you, mark

mark :) [7:08pm] :D why thank you i really tried

you [7:09pm] and it shows. now what about thursday?

mark :) [7:10pm] oh yeah! thursday works for me :)

you [7:10pm] awesome! see you then, cutie

mark :) [7:12pm] okay i absolutely did not catch it that time. i think i need a hospital

you [7:13pm] HAHAHA I’M SORRY I COULDN’T RESIST

mark :) [7:13pm] it is BRUISING

mark :) [7:15pm] okay i’m going to bed and i’m going to try not to think about my most likely shattered nose

you [7:15pm] hahah okay. good niiight sweet dreams, mark

mark :) [7:15pm] good night :) you too get home safe

You lock your phone and realize Yuta’s walked you all the way back to your dorm in silence, regarding you with an inquisitive raised brow.

“Sorry,” You say sheepishly, slipping your phone in your pocket. “Thank you for walking me.”

“Anytime,” He replies easily, shrugging. “Don’t apologize to me, though—apologize to Mark and his broken nose.”

“You saw that?!” You yelp, and he nods, snickering.

“You’re not very discreet with your texting.” He explains, and you blush slightly.

“Shut up,” You grumble before pulling him in for a hug. “Good night, Yuta.”

“Good night! Sweet dreams,” He teases, and you make to take off your shoe and throw it at him, but he holds his hands up defensively as he backs away with a taunting grin.

Thursday rolls around, and by the time you’re in the library, you’re surprised to note that you’re slightly nervous. The offending hogger’s student ID is written cleanly on your wrist in blue ink, and as you wait for Mark to arrive, you stare at the numbers as if they’d suddenly morph into a name.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mark apologizes, sitting down next to you, clearly having been in a rush. “I got you a coffee! I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you something sweet.”

“Oh, thank you!” You say gratefully, reaching for his outstretched hand and plucking what you think is a caramel macchiato from his fist. “Okay, let’s get started. Show me what you have.”

“Okay,” He agrees, reaching in his backpack and pulling out his laptop, a packet of paper, and a book. Your eyes fall on the cover just as he sits up and looks at your hand quizzically.

“Why do you have my student ID number on your hand?” He asks curiously.

“Why do you have my book?” You confront him, and he blanches, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m using it for my term paper.” He says sheepishly, and you groan, dropping your head onto the table with a thud. “I’m sorry, I heard you talking about it with Taeyong one day and you loved it so much and I really wanted to get to know you better, so I figured, ‘Let’s check it out,’ but then I didn’t get it and I still don’t, and when our professor asked me in office hours what my term paper would be on, I panicked and said Antagonick. Please don’t be mad.”

“Oh, Mark,” You grouch, finding it hard to stay mad at the very cute boy sitting next to you, apologies written plainly on his face and regret in his doe eyes. After a long pause, you sigh and lift your head up, looking at him. “I’m not mad at you. I’m annoyed that I won’t get this book until after the term paper is finished, but I can’t be mad at you.”

“Oh, thank God.” He exhales in relief and slumps back into the chair. “Will you still help me with my paper?”

“Of course; I’m not mean.” You say incredulously, picking up the thin packet of paper. “You know this is supposed to be twelve pages, right?”

“I know,” He complains, now his turn to drop his head to the table. “I don’t get it, so I don’t know what to write about.” He looks up at you with doleful eyes and a pouting bottom lip, and you swear you could kiss him right there.

“Okay, we’ll go through the poems one by one, then we’ll decide a common theme. Then we’ll redraft your thesis, because, and I mean this sweetly, this one...is not very good.” You state, turning to look at him. He’s got his head in his hand, looking at you with doe eyes of wonder, and your brows furrow. “What is it?”

“You’re just...incredible.” He says in awe, his voice low and breathless.

The blush on your cheeks is downright embarrassing, so you hide your face in your hands and squeal softly.

“Thank you,” You say calmly when you’ve emerged from your makeshift cocoon, and Mark’s looking at you, eyes twinkling.

“You’re way more confident over the phone,” He notes with interest. “It’s really cute.”

“Stop, I’ll blush again, Mr. Broken Nose.” You groan, and he huffs petulantly, crossing his arms and staring at you.

“I’m wearing makeup to cover it, but it really is bruised.” He admits, and you tsk sympathetically.

“Poor baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” He defends, and you giggle.

“Poor in denial baby.”

“You know, it’s incredibly emasculating to have the girl you like call you a baby,” He snips, before he gasps, hands flying to cover his mouth.

“You—” You start incredulously, and he shakes his head vigorously.

“Okay! I did not say that. Well, I did, but—I mean, like—I didn’t mean it—that’s a lie, I totally meant it, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I understand and I’m sorry, and please still help me with my paper, but if you don’t want to anymore, I underst—” He rambles, and you decide to put the poor boy out of his misery by leaning over and kissing his cheek swiftly. He yelps in surprise and claps a hand to his cheek, wincing when surrounding library-goers shush him in annoyance. “Oh, my God,” He mumbles, a wide smile spreading on his face.

“Better?”

“Better,” He confirms, and you smile, nudging him.

“Now, let’s look at these poems.” You say, reaching your hand out for the book. He hands it to you and you open it to the first page. “Poetry is all about intent. You have to understand why she’s saying what she’s saying so you can understand what she’s saying.” You begin, and Mark leans closer to you, paying rapt attention to every word leaving your lips.

By the time the library’s closing, you and Mark have made it through more than half of the book, Mark taking diligent notes in his cute but messy handwriting. You’ve also redrafted his thesis, which now makes much more sense.

“You’re actually my angel,” He says gratefully as you two exit the library. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably get a D,” You answer honestly, and he snickers.

“I didn’t think my thesis was that bad,” He pouts, and you find yourself pouting back.

“It just didn’t encompass her intent and you didn’t state how you were going to prove yourself. It was lacking, Mark,” You reply, and he winces. “But—we fixed it and you’re on track to at least a B+. That’s an A-grade thesis, but your analysis has to match it.”

“Oh, God,” He whines, and you pat his shoulder.

“I’m here to help! Just text me if you have any questions.” You assure him, and he smiles, comforted.

“I already have a question,” He mumbles, and you look at him expectantly. “Would you want to go on a date with me?” He blurts out, and you break into a smile.

“I’d love to. After you get an A on your term paper.” You say, and he groans, smiling nonetheless.

“Okay, it’s a deal. Can we meet tomorrow to finish the rest of the poems? I wanna get my first draft to you by Monday.”

“Sure! You wanna meet earlier so we hopefully don’t get kicked out of the library when it closes?”

“Yeah—we can...get breakfast if you want?” He asks shyly, and you smile.

“I’d like that. Well, this is me,” You say, gesturing to your dorm building. “I had fun, Mark. You’re fun to be around.”

“Ah, thanks,” He replies with a grin, rubbing the back of his neck. Everything happens at once. You notice his intense stare and turn to look at him curiously at the same time he leans in, presumably to kiss your cheek.

He misses your cheek. What he doesn’t miss, however, are your lips, kissing you full on the mouth for approximately three seconds. He pulls back, blushing bright red when you gasp softly, and shakes his head vigorously.

“Oh, my God, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m so sorry.” He stammers, and you start shaking your head to comfort him.

“Mark, it’s okay—”

“I didn’t mean to do that—”

“Mark, it’s fine, I promise—”

“You probably hate me—”

“Mark,” You say sternly, but nothing seems to get to him. So instead of talking, you cup his cheeks and kiss him right back, his stance finally relaxing as he squeaks softly in surprise. “I didn’t mind. I liked it. Relax.”

“Oh,” He mumbles, refusing to look at you. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” You say comfortingly, and he nods.

“Sorry—I mean—sorry—wait! Okay.” He bites his lip worriedly, still not looking at you. “You make me really nervous.”

“Why?” You ask softly, careful not to scare the poor, timid deer of a boy off.

“You’re so pretty and smart and cool, and, God, I like you so much it’s crazy.” He stumbles over his words, all of them seeming to come out at once, and you chuckle fondly.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“I like you, too.”

“Holy shit,” He breathes, and you burst into laughter.

“Why do you think I kissed you?”

“I don’t know,” He whines. “Out of pity?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” You assure him, and he smiles, still avoiding your gaze. “Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you look at me? Please?” He obliged, dragging his eyes over to you and focusing on your intent gaze. “I changed my mind.”

“About liking me?” He says incredulously, and you shake your head immediately.

“God, no. About the date. We can go on one tomorrow. After the library. We can go see a movie or something, okay?”

“Oh,” He sighs in relief, nodding. “Okay. That sounds dope. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow before I make an even bigger fool of myself.”

“Okay. Bye, Mark. Get home safe.”

“Thanks. Bye,” He says with a smile, waving as he turns to walk away. You enter your dorm building, only to hear a loud “Whoop! Hell yeah!”

“Oh, Mark.” You chuckle to yourself before heading upstairs to your dorm.

Today was much more productive, with Mark starting to catch on to what exactly Anne Carson was trying to do. The two of you breeze through the rest of the book, decoding each poem, and he even writes some pretty stellar analyses of two poems, with help from you. When the library closes, you two head out before you stop him right outside the building.

“Do you want to watch the movie in my dorm? I don’t feel like paying for tickets or popcorn or anything, and I have snacks.” You offer, and he nods. “Cool. Let’s go.”

When you get to your dorm, unlocking the door and stepping inside, Mark looks around at all your decorations, eyes landing and fixating on the photos of you with your friends.

“You have a lot of friends,” He remarks quietly, seemingly intimidated by the sheer volume of photos.

“I do? I hadn’t really noticed.” You hum as you clear off your bed. He tears his eyes away from your wall and turns to look at you, who is sitting comfortably on your bed, laptop pulled out and open to Netflix.

“Yeah,” He replies slowly, shuffling from foot to foot.

“Pretty sure you can’t see the screen from over there, so do you want to come sit next to me?” You pat the spot next to you invitingly and you can see him gulp before nodding, kicking off his shoes and joining you on the bed at a laughable distance, his leg practically hanging off of the bed. “You can come closer, you know. I won’t bite.” He shuffles closer and you lean in to whisper, “I mean unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

The noise that erupts from his mouth has you dissolving into a fit of laughter, the sound something like a strangled yelp and what sounded dangerously like a moan.

“I’m sorry, I am—you’re just really cute.” You giggle, and he blushes, pouting at you.

“Let’s start the movie before I manage to mess things up.”

After a while of scrolling, you two decide on the classic Lilo & Stitch, both of you settling into your spots as the movie starts.

Halfway through the movie, you notice that Mark keeps looking over at you, a nervous expression on his face.

“I have a question.” He whispers, and you look around in mock furtiveness before leaning in.

“I don’t think you have to whisper. It’s just us here.” You tease, and he swallows hard. “What’s wrong?”

“I really want to kiss you,” He blurts out. “Can I?” His tone is almost pleading, and you find your heart aching for him.

“You don’t have to ask,” You say sweetly, and he leans in slowly, brushing his lips against yours. He pulls back, exhaling softly against your mouth and looking at you for confirmation. You nod, eyes heavy-lidded, and he smiles, leaning back in. He presses his lips to yours with more intent, slotting his upper lip between your two and sucking gently on your bottom lip. You reach up and cup his cheek, and he whines, gliding his tongue along your lips.

“Mark,” You sigh blissfully, and he squeaks, scooting back and blushing.

“Sorry! Sorry, I got carried away.” He apologizes, and you roll your eyes, shutting the laptop and moving it to your desk before looking him dead in the eyes. He averts his gaze, and you turn his chin so he’s looking at you.

“Mark.”

“Yes?” He asks worriedly.

“If you don’t kiss me again,” You say slowly, hoping he’ll understand, “I am going to kick you out of my room.”

“Oh. Oh. Okay,” He mutters mostly to himself before leaning in again, kissing you eagerly. He sucks softly on your lower lip, nipping at it lightly, and you sigh happily.

“Have you done this before?” You ask, and he nods, eyes still mostly closed. “Then why are you so nervous?”

“I told you,” He whines, burying his face in the spot between your neck and shoulder. “I like you so much.” He whispers.

“And I like you, too,” You assure him. “You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“Okay,” He mumbles into your skin. He nuzzles his nose into you, tracing it up the column of your neck before placing a light kiss on your jaw. You crane your neck to give him better access and he starts tentatively kissing your neck, gradually building confidence with each hum of satisfaction from you. Eventually, he’s mouthing at your neck with open-mouthed kisses, his tongue swiping over the skin as his hand finds your knee. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” You breathe, and he slides his hand up your leg slightly, clutching at your thigh. He carefully traces his finger up your leg to the button of your jeans, pulling back and looking at you. With your rushed nod of approval, he slips his hand inside your pants and under your underwear, fingers quickly finding your slit and trailing up your folds.

“You’re wet,” He whimpers in surprise, “I—oh, God, that’s so hot. You’re so hot,” He groans, suddenly pulling you into his lap. You land on his thigh and whine at the sudden contact, pushing him back down when he sits up in alarm. “Do you think you could get off like this?” He asks carefully, flexing his thigh under you.

“Oh, yeah.” You moan, already starting to rock your hips against the tight muscle.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” He grunts. “You’re so perfect.”

You roll your hips against him, core grinding into his thigh sinfully as he grips your hips, guiding your motions gently. You shift your leg so it brushes against his concealed length, and he gasps, his grip on your hips tightening briefly before he relaxes.

“Do you think you can come like this?” You ask him, and he nods in a rush, pulling you down for a kiss. Your lips meet and it’s a bit sloppy, what with the repeated movements of your hips, but it’s very eager and very, very hot.

“You’re so good, Mark,” You praise him, and he whimpers.

“Say that again,” He rasps out, his voice dropping several tones.

“You’re so good, Mark,” You oblige, hips stuttering briefly when his leg flexes and your clit gets extra stimulation. “So good,” You echo as a familiar feeling in your stomach starts to build. “I’m close,” You gasp out, dragging your hips against him wantonly.

“What can I do?” He asks, his head lolling back as your knee presses against his cock insistently.

“Touch me,” You moan, and his hands fly to your chest, slipping under your shirt and cupping your breasts, kneading the flesh and swiping his thumb over the nipples. “Just like that,” You breathe softly, and he lifts your shirt up, pushing your bra down and massaging the bare flesh.

“You’re perfect,” He repeats in awe, pulling you lower so he can wrap his lips around your nipple. “Absolutely perfect.” His voice is muffled from the flesh of your breasts, but his message is conveyed nonetheless.

“I’m gonna come,” He warns you, his teeth grazing your nipple. You shudder in ecstasy at the contact, and he does it again, eyes trained on your face for your reaction.

“Then come,” You reply sweetly, grinding against him again. He climaxes with a soft string of curses, mouth diligently wrapped around the stiffened bud of your nipple.

Not long after, with Mark’s mouth sucking greedily at your breasts and his thigh providing delicious release, you come apart, moaning his name and gasping in little stutters.

“You’re incredible,” He says breathlessly, hands finding your hips once more.

“Will you loosen up around me now?” You ask jokingly, and he nods.

“Yes,” He promises you, and you smile, leaning down to kiss him.

“Good. Wanna finish the movie?” You ask, and he nods.

“We didn’t get to the part that makes me cry.”

“Adorable.” You coo, and he groans, laughing as he shoves you lightly.

“Shut up.”

You’re talking to Johnny by the water fountain when you hear loud, hurried footsteps, and repeated cries of your name. You turn, recognizing the voice, to see an absolutely ecstatic Mark brandishing his phone at you.

“I got an A on my term paper!” He yells, and you and Johnny cheer for him as you wrap him in a tight hug. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close, and you smell his familiar scent of cinnamon and soap.

“Congratulations, Mark!” You exclaim happily, and Johnny claps him on the back.

“Also—I went and got this for you.” He says excitedly, releasing you and rummaging through his backpack. When he pulls out a messily wrapped present, your eyebrows raise in intrigue.

“What is it?” You ask curiously, and he shrugs with a playful smile.

“Looks like you gotta unwrap it and see.” He says with a smile, and you narrow your eyes at him playfully before taking the package from him and unwrapping it.

“Aw, Mark!” You coo upon revealing the cover of Antagonick. “That’s so sweet.”

“I got it as a thank you and just because I felt bad for holding onto the copy for so long.” He says, now slightly bashful, and you squeal, wrapping him up in another hug. When you part, he taps his cheek expectantly with a smile, but you cup his face and bring him in for a sweet kiss. (Johnny whoops, but you ignore it.)

“I love it. Thank you,” You gush, and he nods, smiling from ear to ear.

“I also, uh, have a question for you.” He says, nervous all of a sudden as he shifts his weight between his feet.

“Shoot.” You reply, and he swallows hard before opening his mouth.

“Would you maybe want to be my girlfriend?” He asks, and you pretend to think about it, stopping immediately when his face falls in disappointment.

“I was teasing! I would love to be your girlfriend, Mark.” You say sincerely, and he beams at you, fiddling with his hands.

“Cool. Awesome. Amazing,” He stammers mostly to himself, unable to contain his smile. “Okay, so—I have to go to class, but I’ll see you in Advanced Poetry?”

“Of course you will,” You assure him, and he punches the air in celebration before seeming to collect himself and nodding calmly, turning on his heel to walk away.

“So, you have a boyfriend now,” Johnny teases, and you narrow your eyes, punching him in the arm. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Don’t be a dick.” You warn him, and he winces, rubbing his arm.

“I was going to congratulate you, but now I have to go ice my arm.” He complains in faux bitterness, narrowing his eyes at you before leaving.

(When Mark gets to Advanced Poetry, you move your bag from the seat next to you and wait for him to notice you. When he does, his face lights up and he moves through the aisles of desks quickly to get to you, plopping down in his seat.

He doesn’t squeal when you lean over and kiss his cheek in greeting, but he does squeal when you reach under the table and hold his hand. He doesn’t let go for the entirety of the class, both of you politely ignoring the sweat coming from his palms.)

(“I-wha-huh?! Since when were they a real thing?” Doyoung asks incredulously as you two emerge from class hand in hand and walking up to your friend group.

“Since earlier this afternoon,” Johnny replies, and Doyoung whines.

“No one tells me anything.” He complains just in time for you two to approach them and for you to hear what was said.

“You’ll live, Doyoung.” You assure him sarcastically, and he glares at you.

“Will I?” He asks dramatically, and you scoff.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t.” You retort.

“She doesn’t have time to be nice to us anymore,” Johnny explains, side-eying you playfully. “She’s all tied up with lover boy Mark, here.”

“One second, Mark,” You say sweetly, slipping your hand from his.

“Ow!” Johnny complains as you punch him in the other arm.

“Lunch?” You ask nonchalantly, taking Mark’s hand in yours—it’s dry now, and you suspect he’s wiped it on his jeans. Everyone agrees amidst a complaining Johnny and you all walk off toward the food court.

“She gets a boyfriend and thinks she can just bully me—ouch!” Johnny complains to Taeyong, who promptly flicks him in the forehead. “I don’t deserve this!”

“Yes, you do.” Everyone calls, and Johnny rolls his eyes.

“Whatever.”)

i hope you enjoyed this not-so-little fic! sorry to johnny for bullying him, he knows i love him. please leave feedback! i had so much fun writing this omg

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