#anyways anyways i hope this is at least somewhat enjoyable for u to read!! i haven't been into enha since like 2021 so def v rusty

[kmgkmg]

EVERYTHING - LEE HEESEUNG

word count: 2.8k…

pairing: heeseung x gn!reader

synopsis: you are a freshly moved in tenant to a cheaply priced apartment, but is it too good to be true?

genre/s: fluff, non-idol!au, strangers-to-lovers, enemies-to-lovers more of a miscommunication trope, college student!reader, neighbor!heeseung

warnings: none!

rating: pg

a/n: for @dearhee!! hi, i was matched with you for the @kflixnet's exchange event! i'm a bit shy so i didn't message you, but i've enjoyed seeing your posts on my dash ^^ i hope you enjoy this short oneshot piece! the title is based off of everything by kehlani. i had a hard time choosing between her song and butterfly dream by khalil fong, also i did kinda get carried away and made you a fic playlist! and an older outdated playlist i made for heeseung a while back if you'd like to listen to it! sorry this author's note is so long omg.

Brown moving boxes cluttered your new living room. Sure, it looked a bit barren and depressing from the boxes and bubble-wrapped items lying around, but those would be dealt with right after you finished your coursework. Sitting down at the kitchen table you and Jungwon assembled just hours ago, your mouse hovered over the pause button of your laptop.  

You were attempting to finish the recorded lecture your professor posted yesterday. Latin American Politics seemed like a fascinating topics course to take, and to top it off, the professor had stellar reviews from classmates. Who would’ve known that you were getting yourself into the most intensive courses you’ve taken to date? The readings were interesting and you never had a problem completing them, but what drove you insane was the exams. Your professor would always include questions that would leave a lot up for interpretation, yet he would grade it seemingly randomly based on his mood.  The other half of the questions would require you to know a decent amount of outside information since he would ask questions that were never discussed in class or case studies, but would be relating to relevant precedents.

Something that was quickly driving you insane was your next door neighbor. You hadn’t had the chance to introduce yourself yet, but for almost the entire time you tried to watch the lecture, music could be heard through your shared wall. You thought the noise would subside if you waited long enough, but your patience finally met its limit when they turned up their music enough for you to feel the bass. 

This isn't how you imagined introducing yourself to your neighbors. You weren’t hoping to be best friends with them or anything, but you definitely didn’t think you’d be storming over to their doorstep at 11pm to complain. Still, it’s a weekday. How could they not have the common sense to be courteous of those who needed to wake up early in the morning?

Opening your door, you walked over and knocked three times on the door. A man with grayish blonde hair opened the door with a quizzical smile flashed towards you.

And maybe, no, definitely, his looks would’ve been more noticed by you on any other day. But you had an oral exam to finish polishing to present in front of your professor and classmates. 

“Can you lower your music please? I’m trying to study and it’s distracting,” You request, without paying much attention to your neighbor’s confusion gradually showing on his face. 

“I wasn’t playing any music though?” He innocently replies.

“For the past forty minutes I’ve listened to music from your side of the wall, don’t act innocent,” You groan. 

He smirked at you, “Sure, I can ‘turn it down’,” emphasizing the last part by using air quotes with his hands. 

“What do you mean with the air quotations?” You frown, imitating the air quotes he made moments ago. 

“Don’t you think you owe me a favor for turning down my music? I mean it is my apartment, I should be able to act how I want. Not my fault that the building’s walls are thin,” He shrugs. 

Of course, your neighbor is entitled. Just great. 

“You won’t turn it down? Okay, there’s an easy solution. What was the landlord’s number again? I think filing a noise complaint would make my problem solved real quick,” You answered, unlocking your phone screen and showing the dial pad screen to him.

His smirk fades, “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing my music and singing,” taking your phone and typing a number onto it, “here’s my number.” He extended his hand to you with your phone placed on his palm. 

You snatched your phone back, narrowing your eyes at him. “Why give me your number? So you can bother me through texts and phone calls instead?” You scoff, already heading back to your apartment next door. 

“You can message me instead of our landlord when I make noise again,” He waves, before slamming his door behind you. 

Asshole.

One thing you absolutely hated was hot weather. Without the A/C on in the middle of today, a day that was record-breakingly hot, you felt certain you would melt any minute now. Your landlord sent out an email to all of the tenants in the morning explaining that the A/C broke and would probably be repaired by tonight. You didn’t need her email to wake you up though. You were already awake, sweating profusely. The comforter had long been thrown to the floor. You stumbled sleepily to your thermostat which read as 100°F/38°C. Outside it was a bit cooler, but being outside only exposed you to the blazing sun. It was truly choosing the lesser of two evils. 

What made the day even worse is that you ran into your annoying neighbor, whose name you learned is Heeseung, as you went outside to make a quick run to buy some cold snacks. It did make it slightly better when he was covered in as much, if not more sweat than you. You couldn’t revel in his misfortune for too long though. He miraculously managed to trip over his doormat, falling onto you. Both of you scowled at each other while childishly wiping each other’s germs off yourselves. 

He hadn’t played his music anymore since the day you confronted him, but he did sing nearly everyday. If you weren’t studying, you couldn’t help admiring how talented he was. His vocals sounded like they came straight from a CD. But your appreciation for his talent never lasted long, since he always had an intuitive sense to bother you. 

Y/N, I sound good, don’t I?

How would you feel if I serenaded you sometime?

Don’t you think a guy who can sing is sooooooo hot?

Have any song requests Y/N?

His texts immediately removed any hint of charisma his music might’ve given him. Heeseung knew that his texts drove you insane, and if you were just an ounce less nice than you were, he would’ve been blocked a long time ago. Still, he had texted you about a week ago informing you he’d be redoing the foam sound panels he installed a couple years back in order to hopefully be more soundproof for your sake. While you felt relieved that you would finally have some peace and quiet after weeks of living with his incessant noise, it was bittersweet. You had grown used to his singing, occasionally singing along to the songs you knew. Although, it didn’t change the fact that he was still arrogant as ever whenever he interacted with you. 

Snapping out of your thoughts about Heeseung, the elevator doors opened on your floor. You looked down into the plastic bag of goods you got from the convenience store and sighed disappointedly at the distorted shape of the ice cream you bought. 

“Sorry if the phone was cut out, I was in the elevator. But Jake, I’m going to die in this heat!” You whined through the phone, searching your pockets with your free hand for your keys. 

“Why don’t you just come over to my place then?” He offers generously.

“That would give me the perfect excuse to see Layla…” You trail off, tempted by your friend’s invitation. 

“See, Y/N just come over and we can eat some ice cream to cool down,” Jake persuades you further. 

“You know, I actually got ice cream and other stuff and I’m pretty sure it melted on impact the moment I stepped into this damn complex,” You reveal, lightening up at the sound of Jake’s laughter. 

You finally found your keys and unlocked your door, noticing the fan by your door. There was a Post-It note attached to it: You seemed to need it more than me - Seung. He was definitely sweating more than you earlier, so why would he give his fan to you?

“Jake, my annoying neighbor just left me a really nice fan to use?” You tell him, still glancing over the note. All of a sudden? For no reason? Your suspicions grew as they usually did, sure that he must have an ulterior motive. Nevertheless, you carried the fan and your melted snacks into your apartment. 

“You mean the neighbor with the angelic singing voice?” Jake asks to confirm he was thinking about the same neighbor. 

You open your fridge, placing each item in their designated spot, “You heard him one time, Jake.”

“One time was enough, Y/N. Dude’s got the voice of an angel for real,” Jake stands his ground. 

Rolling your eyes, you take out the semi-frozen pineapple juice you put in the freezer hours ago. The original plan was to drink it for yourself, but it couldn’t stop bothering you that Heeseung had seemingly been nice for no reason. The fan he gave you blew cold air and if you wanted it to be even colder you could add cold water or ice to a compartment. It was expensive, you could tell from the look of it alone. Also, you did happen to browse for fans while you were waiting in line at the convenience store. Was the fan in front of you the one you considered buying? That’s not important right now…

“Y/N?” Jake’s voice snaps you away from your thoughts. 

“Sorry, give me a sec,” You grabbed the plastic bag on the counter and added the frozen pineapple juice and gummies to it. It’s not equivalent to his fan, but at least it’s something. 

You reopened your door, preparing to hang the bag on his door handle and go back to your conversation. What you didn’t expect was Heeseung to be walking in the hallway, humming a song while twirling his keys with one hand and carrying takeout in the other. He caught you in the middle of what was supposed to be a discrete delivery, raising his eyebrow in amusement. 

“And what do I owe the pleasure, Y/N L/N?” He moseyed over to you, flashing one of his infamous smiles at you. 

“I just left some things in the bag since you gave me that fan. I appreciate it, but um, if you don’t want the snacks since you just got food, I can grab it later,” You mumbled, trying to scurry back into your apartment since Jake was definitely going to tease you about any interaction you had with Heeseung. 

“Wait, is that the angelic neighbor, Y/N?” Jake’s voice practically booms from your phone. You must’ve accidentally pressed the speaker button. Heeseung’s smile only grows wider as he looks at your phone, with you being completely mortified and hanging up on your best friend. 

“Angelic neighbor, huh?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head, Heeseung. That’s just my friend’s nickname for you,” You attempt to crush anything he was imagining, matching his cheeky energy. 

“Aw, so you talk about me that much? I’m flattered, really,” He places a hand on his heart, closing his eyes in a feigned earnest expression. 

“He heard you singing one time, Heeseung. Then, I mean I might’ve told him you were always singing with that flawless voice of yours, but that was it really,” You rambled, not thinking much about the words that were coming out of your mouth. 

“Flawless voice…” He repeats, turning shy at the surprise compliment you gave. 

You were completely unaware of what you said, still trying to make your way back to your apartment. 

“Anyways, if you don’t have anything else to say I’m going to head back into my place…” You point with your thumb to your door, confused as to why he suddenly turned so quiet. 

“Thank you.” 

Now it was your turn to be surprised, “For what?”

“I’ve been going to all these auditions but keep getting rejected. Each place I go nitpicks my technique, but you called my voice flawless. I guess I really needed to hear that right now,” Heeseung explains, now fidgeting with his keys. 

The puzzle pieces started falling into place, “So that’s why you’re always singing?”

He nodded in response, “The first day you came over to my door, I was practicing for a callback the following morning. I knew that we were expecting a new tenant and sure, I heard you moving things in, but moving in took me like three days. The last time someone new moved in was me, which was two years ago. So, I just assumed that you would still be moving in. It didn’t occur to me that you could’ve moved all your stuff in one day. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was making that much noise that night, I didn’t know you were all moved in yet.”

His sincere apology surprised you for the second time, “I’m sorry, too. I’m a law school student and I was prepping for an exam that determined a huge part of my grade. I can get a bit sensitive to sounds when I’m studying for exams,” You apologized back. 

Heeseung’s fingers stopped fidgeting with his keys as his expression softened, “Thank you for the snacks, I’ll enjoy them, Y/N.”

The warmth in his voice as he said your name made you flustered, used to him only saying your name in a teasing tone, “Y-Yeah, no problem. Thanks for the fan, I’ll use it well.”

“Oh, before I forget, I was going to drop off one of these sandwiches by the fan if you weren’t home yet,” He reaches into his takeout bag and hands you a sandwich. 

Today must be the day he decided to endlessly surprise you since he handed you your regular order from the local deli, “How’d you know my order…?”

“About a week ago, you made an UberEats and the delivery person knocked on my door first,” He nonchalantly explained. 

“Ah, I see. But why are you being so nice to me? I mean it’s a complete 180 from this morning,” You question him, still suspicious of his kindness. 

“I just woke up when I tripped into you earlier. Also, I absolutely hate hot weather so I would’ve made that face if I bumped into anyone,” Heeseung answers, “I hope that we can get along from now on.”

You nod in agreement and thank him for the fan and sandwich once again before parting. 

Finally back in your apartment, you FaceTimed Jake only to be met with the faces of both him and Jungwon. 

“Tell us everything!” 

Months had passed since Heeseung and you finally cleared up your misunderstandings. Your once sour relationship with him had turned into a strong friendship, spending most of each other’s free time with each other. 

His love as a friend was anything but conventional. He knew all of your details, from the first time you officially hung out and watched the newest John Wick movie to the time when you went to a dog cafe together, he was always attentive to you and your interests. You were equally attentive to him, recommending songs that would suit his voice, or sending videos about fishing since it was his hobby. Jake had grown closer to Heeseung as well, reporting back to Jungwon each time you and Heeseung would gush about each other. 

It was obvious to everyone that you loved each other. Well, obvious to everyone but the two of you. That was, until one fateful summer night spent on the apartment’s rooftop with each other. You were watching a fireworks show in the distance, enamored with the various colors filling the dark night sky. 

“Isn’t it stunning, Seung?” You exclaimed happily, not breaking your attention from the fireworks in front of you. 

He wasn’t looking at the fireworks though. His eyes were fixed on you beside him, taking in everything you are, “Yeah, absolutely stunning.”

You turned towards him, only to be met with his unwavering gaze, “Heeseung?”

He softly led you to the table and chairs on the rooftop, hinting that he wanted to sit down next to you. You followed him, picking up when he wanted to say something.

After a deep breath in Heeseung began, “Y/N, I love the way you teach me about things I never would have thought to learn about. I love the way you listen to my concerns and nonsensical excited rants about my favorite shows or album releases. I love your extrovertedness and willingness to help those around you. I love your laugh. I love you.”

“Heeseung, I love you too,” You reply, unable to properly formulate all the reasons why you loved him. If you started listing the reasons why you loved him, you feared you would never stop. 

But your confession back was enough for him to shine brighter than any of the fireworks you watched before, “Really?”

You smile at him, causing him to envelop you in a hug. 

Who would’ve thought that your noisy neighbor all those months ago would end up being the person you loved?

[serowotonin]

❝︎be mine❞︎ | valentine’s special

➽─ a love letters collab piece dedicated to @play90soi ─❥

#SYNOPSIS ❥ a letter of confession after nearly a year leads you back to a lost love.

#PAIRING ❥ ushijima wakatoshi x gn!reader #WORDCOUNT ❥ 1.3k #GENRE ❥ mostly fluff, maybe a bit of angst? exes to lovers #WARNING ❥ mentions of breakup, uh not well written emotions, unedited

#NOTE ❥ um it’s not the best but happy late valentines !! and i hope u like it<3

Dear L/n Y/n,

This Valentine’s would be the first we spend together as a couple and I’m hoping I will be able to make it memorable enough for you. Although we haven’t been together long, I have grown very fond of you over these last 2 months. Which is why I wanted to give you something special and personal for Valentine’s day. 

I have never given anyone anything on Valentine’s day before so please forgive me if what I prepared wasn’t enough. 

Honestly, I don’t know what to write in this letter. Tendou says to just write how I feel about you but my feelings are somewhat hard to describe.

If I think about it, I would say being with you is as fun as playing volleyball. They are different of course but as volleyball is a big part of my life, so are you.

You are easy to talk to and a generally engaging person to be around. There are many things about you I find curious and drawn to but all of those little things make you who you are and I am drawn to you as a whole. 

I know I may not be as expressive as others but do know I care for you a great deal and do take notice of the little things about you. I may not show it outwardly though as I am unsure how to. The best example of this would be when you smile.

I don’t know how to react when you smile because it gives me an indescribable feeling I want to feel again when the moment fades. This is why I often bring you your favorite foods or snacks. It is to see that smile painted on your happy, cheerful face. 

Hopefully, this letter too will bring a smile to your face.

Happy Valentine’s day Y/n. Thank you for being patient with me so far and thank you for being in my life. 

Sincerely,

Ushijima Wakatoshi

You stared at the letter in your hand. This wasn’t your first time reading it, but funnily enough, you still felt all the same emotions as you did the first time around.

It was hard to believe that was two years ago, when you and Ushijima were experiencing the freshness of high school romance, and all the ups and downs that came with it afterwards.

Would you say you miss him? You did. But you two were on a break… a break that seems to be lasting nearly as long as the time you two were together.

It was for the best though. High school relationships barely made it past college anyways. You two were both busy people too.

Well, those were the same excuses you always used.

Excuses or not, you two weren’t together at the moment and although you may not want to admit it, it hurts.

It hurts even more once you realized tomorrow was going to be Valentine’s day. 

First time spending it alone in a while… Oh well, no point in dwelling on it too much now. Might as well just go to sleep. 

➽───────────────❥

Waking up to sunlight streaming through the cracks of your curtains would’ve been a great way to start the day was it not for the terrorizing shrieking of your alarm clock that accompanied it. 

Tired, you moved one hand to shut the alarm as the other pulled off the blankets with a flourish. 

Yes today was Valentine’s day, but it was also a Sunday, your day off. 

After a satisfactory breakfast and shower, you draped yourself lazily on the couch thinking of anything you could do today. 

‘There was that pile of mail from yesterday I could go through?’

And so you left the couch in favor of something more productive.

Pulling the pile of envelopes from the cupboard in which you stashed them, you brought them over to a nearby table and begun sorting through them.

Most were just the usual, coupons and bills. There were some advertisements littered through the pile too, and an envelope with familiar handwriting adorning the front.

You took in a deep breath, and opened the envelope. Unfolding the paper found inside, you were met with the same curves and strokes from the letter you read just last night.

Dear L/n Y/n,

How are you? It’s been a while since we talked to each other. It’s been even longer since we’ve seen each other last. I hope you are doing well, in both your studies and any other ventures you may have. 

You might wonder why I sent you this letter after all this time and the truth is that I miss you. It took me a while to realize but I miss being with you. You were always a comforting force and my rest from volleyball and school activities.

I understand that we aren’t together now due to distance and the fact that we’re both busy people. I am not asking that we get back together because that in itself would have enough complications. However, if you’re willing, I would like to at least be able to spend a day with you.

Are you free on Valentine’s this year? Because if you are, I would like you to be mine again, if only for a day.

Sincerely,

Ushijima Wakatoshi 

You read it once, twice, and once again. Were your eyes deceiving you or did Ushijima just write you a love letter, again, nearly a year after you broke up. 

You looked at the date and saw this was sent to you almost a week ago, but since you didn’t collect your mail until yesterday you didn’t see it..

You started panicking slightly wondering if it’s too late to answer. It was still morning though. There was still time.

Rushing to find your phone, you opened your contacts and scrolled down to Ushijima’s name. Before you could think, you pressed call and held the phone to your ear, waiting for a response.

On the second ring, he picked up.

“Hello Y/n.”

“Hi.. Ushi,” you replied not quite sure what to call him. “Um I just read the letter you sent me and I’m sorry for the really late reply but yes.”

You heard a deep breath from the other end.

“Yes..?”

“Yes I am free today and yes I would like to be yours again.”

He didn’t say anything but you swear you could see him smiling through the phone.

“Then, shall I come over to your place?”

“That would be great. Thank you Ushi.”

“Thank you too Y/n. I’ll see you in a while.”

“Ok, see you.”

➽───────────────❥

As night grew and morning loomed close, it was time he left. Today had been enjoyable, more than that even, and you could tell Ushijima felt the same.

Goodbyes were difficult, this one seeming especially so. Standing at your door, he turned to face you.

He didn’t seem to know what to say and neither did you. 

“I’ll be going now then. Goodnigh—“

“Wait, um, I know you said only for a day but really, I don’t think I want it to just be a day…”

He looked at you, eyes widened, and he smiled. 

“I didn’t want it to be just for a day either.” 

You smiled back, “Well, I guess we’ll figure something out then?”

“I’m free on Wednesday if you want to talk and figure it out,” he replied almost instantly.

“I think I’m free too. It’ll be a date then.”

He nodded and looked at the time, saying he probably should get going now. As he opened the door though, you snuck closer and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. You could see he practically melted at that but he didn’t say anything except for a goodbye and a goodnight.

You returned those before closing the door behind him and walking back to your room.

Laying on your bed a while later, you stared up at the ceiling.

You weren’t sure what the future would hold, but you knew you were looking forward to what’s coming.

#TAGLIST ❥ @lilikags @luna-in-luv

[pocket-void]

Some questions about Marcus: What is his relationship with himself like? How does he feel about himself when he is alone with his thoughts? Is he comfortable with the person he is? And lastly: how does his perception of himself align with other people's perceptions of him? (and please dont be afraid to ramble, I love learning about Marcus, so go ham :D )

Well, permission to go ham received, so go ham I shall. o///o

You asked probably some of the most important questions because I’ve been trying to figure out a way to articulate this properly without confusing anyone for a long time. I’m sorry this reply is so late adjbdjbe, it was a messy mix of me forgetting, thinking too hard about it, and being too busy hhh. >///<

But that aside!! I think I finally have a good way to explain! So I’ll begin by saying this:

Marcus is a hypocrite. 

He’s full of contradictions and is stuck in a self destructive loop that someone needs to help him get out of. He simultaneously thinks of himself as the most important person in the room while also still fully willing to sacrifice his life for someone else. He simultaneously knows that his existence is invaluable to the group while also believing that they are better off without them. He’ll tell you to take care of yourself better while he goes off and recklessly injures himself again. What he represents and embodies constantly clashes against how he feels and how he’s treated, and it’s slowly entangled him in a web of conflicting beliefs that’s kind of hard to describe, but I shall do the best I can. u///u

Marcus has a really warped perception of himself, though he probably doesn’t particularly realize that. Part of it comes from just sheer confidence and the lack of concern for how he’s perceived, the other comes from his, perhaps still unwilling, acceptance of where he stands in c!Thomas’ life. Of course a couple of key people also had a hand in how he turned out this way, but we’re focusing on just Marcus here.

If you really try to understand him, there are two sides to Marcus: Rational and Irrational. Which, if you think about it, kind of goes hand in hand with what he is.

His relationship with himself, to him, has always been solid. He knows what he’s doing. He knows that he’s important, just like any other side. He knows that he deserves better treatment than this, and is lowkey constantly fuming about it some way or another. The problem is that he isn’t aware of how he should be treated better. He’s just vaguely aware that something is wrong, and that feeling gets semi confused with the feeling that something about himself is wrong at times. It’s only compounded by the fact that everybody else seems to be totally ok with how things have been. (And doubly amplified by someone actually labeling him as wrong for a while! Ouch!)

He’s somebody who thinks of himself so highly that he doesn’t think most people around deserve to use his name due to spending his life being pushed to the side for so long. So long that it’s managed to somewhat convince even him deep down that he deserves it, perhaps somewhat subconsciously. It’s effectively telling someone something for so long that they eventually believe you. It’s been that long. So while he still holds himself to such a high regard that a lot of his history of being repressed comes back in the form of spite, there are parts of him that still quietly hold him down from actually fighting back.

On his own though he’s actually a rather tame person who just...wants to be seen as normal. He wants to be happy and have nice things too, but he apparently breaks stuff too often. Does that mean he shouldn’t have them though? He doesn’t know.

The short answer to the question “Is he comfortable with himself?” is no. He isn’t, he really isn’t, but it wasn’t always that way. He’ll say he is, because that’s not technically wrong either. Marcus at his core likes who he is and what he represents, what he doesn’t like is that he has the capacity to spiral out of control. And for the longest time he’s only been blaming himself for it happening. There have been certain incidents that kind of haunt him. The rational side of him knows his limits and that going too far is bad, but he physically can’t control himself when he becomes irrational and it bothers him a lot that he can’t. Deep down he’s afraid of that, because despite what people think Marcus himself doesn’t actually wanna go out of his way to hurt others. Things just get a bit heated when he gets pushed too far and he doesn’t have any mechanisms to resolve that because he’s never learned how to.

His inability to control his temper is actually rooted in the fact that he’s never been properly managed. What’s technically happening is that every time c!Thomas just forgets/ignores/avoids being angry, it negatively impacts Marcus. Because that anger goes somewhere, just not in any tangible or properly resolved way unlike say, Virgil’s anxiety. Suffice it to say it hasn’t done the lad any favors, and it’s caused many a problem that he still hasn’t quite recognized the cause of. He’s considered it just a problem that he’s stuck with, and he’s been silently driving himself up walls trying to fix it when the truth is he just doesn’t have all the tools to actually do so.

Does his perception of himself match up with others? Well that depends on what we’re talking about and who we’re talking to. Because on the surface, Marcus often acts like a joker who finds enjoyment in bothering the hell out of the other sides with his presence. Part of him is completely ok with that, since yeah, he doesn’t really care what they think at the end of the day if they’re already set in what they think of him (And yeah he’s kind of a bastard sometimes). The other part of him just decides to shut himself in Logan’s room and read all day because nobody wants to see him anyways so why waste his time. The main thing wrong with other people’s perceptions of him is that they think it’s something inherent within Marcus that causes him to lash out sometimes when it’s actually a lot more complicated than that. A lot more complicated than that, and someone desperately needs to step in for anything to get better unfortunately.

Marcus is a pretty smart guy, like...actually smart. (Well, as smart as you can be as a part of c!Thomas) The others kind of recognize that, but they also don’t trust him with taking the reigns on situations because he’s also pretty reckless. Which, also isn’t wrong. Marcus himself is aware of that too, which is why he steps down despite his complaints about it. It’s just sometimes maybe he steps back a bit too far and it kind of winds up biting him back later. The two people who vaguely know about Marcus’ deep seated issues are Logan and Patton, and one isn’t really sure about what to do and the other is frantically trying to mend a wound that they didn’t realize they caused ages ago.

I guess the main point is, despite Marcus’ presumed confidence in his abilities he’s actually really confused and would benefit a lot from at least some guidance. Currently he is getting nothing though, so you can probably imagine why he has so much internal turmoil and absolutely no where to direct it.

I hope this makes sense?? I spent way too long thinking about this and I’m a lil worried it’s confusing, but the truth is Marcus is just...really confusing. It’s a lot of unresolved feelings, and frankly it might make sense if I ever get to explaining the rest of his relationships. It’s just...a lot to think about.

But yeah! I hope this is ok for now. >///<

[cheekbites-moved]

ok i still havent gotten the secret ending but farming for it might take me a bit so im gonna make a thoughts post for age of calamity now:

Major spoilers obvs so ill put it under a read more

things i enjoyed:

revali beatdown simulator

the controls for the divine beasts are a bit clunky, but i think the angles they used for them did an excellent job at really making the player feel like we were actually controlling a divine beast. so i think it was done well.

link’s personality really gets to shine full force in this game with the amount of cut scenes and it was wonderful to see

every character clearly had a lot of love put into how they operate. they truly all feel unique, & all of their play styles fit them really well in my opinion

the game does a really good job of making you understand what a real threat the monsters are. like in botw they’re intimidating at first, but once you’re far enough into the game they become just an inconvenience to work around if anything. this game managed to actually make certain monsters intimidating for me again, and i think that’s a real accomplishment

the blight battles are actually somewhat challenging in this game and that is truly a commendable achievement lol i think all the bosses are good tbh. i didnt rly dislike or not enjoy any of them.

the way daruk and link’s friendship & urbosa’s motherly relationship towards zelda got to shine was. so good. it’s all i could’ve ever wanted

seeing the descendants again was really nice & it was awesome to see the champions interacting with them!! especially sidon and mipha omggggg. that was. really fucking good shit

kohga. just. kohga in general. getting to see more of him was really rad, he’s such a fun guy! and his english va was Excellent. you could really tell he was having a lot of fun playing him, and it was lovely to see! :)

zelda getting to really shine in this game was also lovely to see. and her being so assertive and badass by the end? omg. it was so wonderful especially after botw. man. 

the combat is done very well imo. im rly glad that they took so many elements from botw, but also added their own flares to make it feel fresh. it was rad.

sidon’s tagline is “winning smile” and his power is “boundless optimism” and i think that’s beautiful

the music in this game is SOOOOO good oh my god. multiple times during playing i had to pause to just appreciate it. it’s pretty much all remixes of botw with a few originals for the new characters, but they all slap. there was not a single song in this game i didn’t like. it is definitely one of my favorite video game soundtracks officially. maybe one of my favorite overall soundtracks in general tbh.

the visuals obviously look just like botw, but it still looked fucking gorgeous at some points. like. man. they really went off to make it look not only faithful to botw as far as appearance goes, but also as far as capturing botw’s beauty and it was. excellent to see!

if anything is true to botw’s backstory, it’s definitely how op link is. cause he was established to be op in botw, & when u finish botw he is also op as hell. he is so fun to play as the higher leveled he gets. he absolutely kicks ass. especially with a two-handed weapon??? daaaaammmmnnn. thats my badass baby boy!!!!

link eating rocks not once, but TWICE. just showing PEAK gremlin energy. 10/10 for those scenes they were great

the ending was really beautiful actually and i did cry like a little baby for it what about it

things i didn’t like:

obviously first and foremost.. this is not the game we were advertised. and no matter how much i overall enjoyed the game, it will always have some layer of being tainted attached to it due to the false advertising. this is not the prequel we thought we’d be getting. & not using “prequel” specifically doesn’t matter when all the advertising, including the box art talks about this being the story of what happened 100 years ago. with no indication it wasn’t the story of what happened 100 years ago in the botw timeline, but a separate universe/timeline entirely. i do hope we get dlc for the game at some point giving us what we were advertised, but at the same time... rly wish that the story that’s in the final game was dlc, & the story we were promised was the original :/ or just having the game have two separate storylines originally would’ve been cool. i just wish it wasn’t falsely advertised. 

fort hateno can fucking eat my whole entire shit WHY is that part so needlessly obnoxious compared to everything else oh my god

being forced to fulfill revali’s power fantasy TWICE hurt my soul

fuck any mission where you have to protect the useless hylian guards. i hate them. they suck.

the ai for player characters when you aren’t playing as them can also be pretty useless. it was really frustrating failing missions because my fellow party members weren’t helping me, and i was basically expected to be in two places at once to get shit done myself. :/ ik you can just switch between characters to make it easier, but like. i like playing as link the most. he’s my favorite character, & ofc since he’s mandatorily played for most of the story, he’s gonna be the most leveled up character regardless so he’s just the best to play as in general especially for harder missions. it was annoying to be forced to play as other people Solely cause the ai was so useless.

king rhoam’s attempt at a redemption arc. i’m not sorry that i just fucking hate this man. i don’t mind him entirely in botw bc you can see clear, genuine remorse during the cut scene at the end of the great plateau. but the redemption arc he gets in this game? after all the fucking shit he does in this game? especially when after his ~redemption arc~ i had to sit through a cut scene of him being an absolute fucking asshole to baby zelda after her mother just died????? absolutely fuck that shit. i don’t appreciate that crap at fucking all. he’s a verbally abusive piece of shit and i hate his guts.

obviously there was gonna be some retconning of how certain things worked in botw in order to make this kinda game work but the way sheikah technology works in this game is so goddamn confusing i do not get it. the works of botw are never outright said or explained completely, but it’s straightforward enough that it doesn’t really matter. this game does try to explain certain things and it just becomes. really clunky and confusing very quickly. 

the story is alright, i guess, but..... really confusing/convoluted as hell at times to a point that it’s. really fucking distracting. especially in comparison to how straightforward botw’s story is. like..... cannot help but be annoyed that such a problem wouldn’t have been a thing if they stuck to botw’s story.

i was sad when the egg thing died but i dont like the egg thing.... it is the MAIN reason shit was retconned so much & i just. dont get its purpose. but i did really like the reveal that zelda made it herself. that was good shit!

also the egg glitched out like. a LOT. idk what the fuck was going on with the poor thing but there was multiple times during a cut scene or when i was just sitting there that it was freaking out in the background and it was rly weird

elemental overworld boss monsters................. obnoxious. especially elemental guardians like goddamn bro what the fuck

i know warriors’ games aren’t about exploring anyway but the limitations for exploring was really sad/frustrating. this is still somewhat the world of hyrule before the calamity, which is something we’ve always wanted to see. not being able to explore even the immediate area at certain points because of shit like timed missions was really upsetting, man. :( i just wanted to see hyrule castle Before the calamity why was did they have to rob us like that.....

creepy corrupted egg’s transformation. why. what was that. what the fuck

even though i did enjoy the boss fights, it did get. incredibly taxing eventually to have to fight the SAME bastards so many times. like yeah botw is also guilty of this with the blights, but goddamn.... at least i have a choice to avoid certain encounters with them? this game has you fighting the same bitches like upwards of 3-4 times. it was. really annoying tbh. like the fights themselves are enjoyable, but damn we added new characters and it still inevitably lacked variety in boss fights.

no playable kass >:( if he’s available later in dlc then fine but i wish he was playable in the original game. so many random choices you’d never expect are. why couldn’t he also be there >:(

overall:

it will forever have that sour taste for the false advertising attached to it unfortunately, but that aside, i overall did enjoy the game! i think it has a lot to love in spite of the issues i encountered. as someone who has this as their first warriors game as well, it did lend itself to letting me see the appeal of them. idk if i’ll get more, but i do get why they’re so beloved/popular now. it was an alright time, with some amazing highlights that i’m gonna think back on very fondly for a very, very long time. if i had to rate it..... 7/10 

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Hello how r u !! I wanted to share my sadness concerning 2 points : how u excuse yourself each time u answer bc u werent quick enough is the first one :'l please dont be sorry its ur blog and its already super cool u make the fandom live by answering deep analyses, u dont own us a quick answer ! So take ur time to answer this ask if u want to lol, its been like 1 year im stalking ur blog im probably be there 1 more year at least lol 1/?

Hello, anon!

Even though I kind of talked about the things you were wondering I still wanted to get back to you. If for nothing else than to thank you for the lovely first part of your message.

“how u excuse yourself each time u answer bc u werent quick enough”

First of all, I’m so happy to hear you’ve liked my mullings! I’m glad I have managed to contribute to the fandom in a way people find interesting and enjoyable. Analyzing and writing is pretty much the only thing I feel like I’m not that bad at, so it’s nice to know my content has reached my fellow fans.

I’ve noticed I tend to apologize for my tardiness a lot. I don’t know if it’s needed or expected but I always feel like saying something if answering has taken me a week or longer. I’m not sure how quickly people are expecting me to write these things. But perhaps I should change my thinking about that and start treating this like any other writing that can take some time.

Either way, thank you for your concern and reassurance! 

“the second point is he tian in the update”

As you mentioned, I somewhat answered the topics you were wondering about in my previous ask about the latest chapter:

Tianshan and asking questions

Here are some other posts that are related to this:

Will MGS’s attitude towards HT ever change?

Will MGS’s attitude towards HT ever change, vol. 2?

Will there ever be a Tianshan confession?

Snippets about what I hope for the future

I don’t know if you have already checked those out but I thought I would list them anyway if someone is interested.

I have been a bit surprised by how many people are somewhat hoping/expecting MGS to ask about how HT feels about him. Or something along those lines - about their relationship in general. I’m not trying to make this sound like I think people wondering about that are somehow “wrong”. As long as you can base your interpretation on the source text, I think every reading has its place in the conversation. All I’m saying is that it’s quite different from how I saw that chapter and how it could continue - if it’s going to be continued at all.

You talked about MGS being true to his tsundere side but wondered why make HT say those things about asking questions at all if we already know he’s going to be “slapped in the face” in a way. The way I see it, though, is that kind of persistent and pushy behavior is also very much in character for HT. He doesn’t really care how many times MGS rejects him or pushes him away. If there are going to be suggestions that lead their relationship to develop, I would expect them to come from HT in 9/10 cases. And most probably all of them would be resisted by annoyed MGS. But they still manage to make progress through the cracks, and I still believe that whatever feelings they keep gaining for each other are genuine. Even in MGS’s case.

It should also be noted that MGS’s spicy tsundere nature is what HT likes about him (among other things). It’s one of the things he admires in MGS and doesn’t want him to lose. Not giving in and standing up to HT is partly what makes MGS respectable in HT’s eyes. I don’t think he was really expecting MGS to agree to his suggestion about asking him about things. Nor do I think he was that disheartened by MGS shutting him down. If HT really wants to make this happen, he will keep at it or find another way.

But I do get your point about worrying about how this all makes HT feel. It must take a lot of confidence and determination to not be disheartened by MGS’s resistance. I think there have been a couple of times when the rejection has gotten to HT in one way or another (ch. 175, 297, 309):

I would say we have seen glimpses of HT’s confidence wavering. Despite knowing that he’s pushing MGS, he doesn’t want him to reject him for real and abandon him. To be honest, I would be interested in seeing something like that more from HT. And perhaps more importantly, I would love to see MGS’s reaction to HT showing insecurity. Something like that would make HT’s character and their relationship more realistic in my eyes.

But it’s a delicate balance to thread so that it won’t come across as either of them being out of character.

It seems I still found some things to say. Thank you for your question and lovely words, dear anon!

[antspaul]

happy holidays @lollercakesff !!! I wrote you a fic! I hope you enjoy it ~ and have a wonderful holiday season! 

I am posting the fic here, as well as on ao3, as it’s a little long (~10k). 

charity (who is helping who?) 

Summary: AU in which Anne is a little more poor but just as vivacious while Gilbert is a lot more wealthy and a little more cowardly. 

Based somewhat loosely on the book Daddy Long Legs, written in 1912 by Jean Webster. There’s a movie with Fred Astaire and a wonderful musical based on the book. I always thought that Jerusha, the main character, was very reminiscent of Anne. The title comes from the song “Charity” from the musical. 

PART I.

13 July 1899

Dear Ms. Shirley-Cuthbert, 

I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected to receive a full scholarship to the University of Toronto. This scholarship allows deserving young men and women invested in the arts to attend college in pursuit of strengthening their craft. You were selected on the basis of your imaginative and enjoyable writing, which the University hopes that you will pursue once on campus. 

The scholarship will cover your tuition and board for the four years it will take you to earn your Bachelor of Arts, provided to you from a very generous benefactor. There is also a small account in your name that will provide for your books. The funds in this account are stable and will not be replenished, so you are advised to spend very wisely. All additional details about your award are on the attached page.

In order to keep your scholarship, you will write your benefactor letters, at least once per month throughout your tenure at the University of Toronto, informing him of your progress, both academic and creative. Your benefactor will remain anonymous, and you may only address him as “Mr. Smith.” The address is provided below. You may use your book account to purchase postage, if necessary. 

Congratulations once again. We at the University of Toronto will see you come fall. 

Alastair Pendleton 

Director of Financial Aid and Scholarships

University of Toronto

1 September 1901

To my magnificent benefactor, 

I am sorry but I cannot address you as “Mr. Smith”, not when you have changed my life for the better in such a profound way. I can hardly believe that scarcely two months ago I was lamenting my future stuck on the farm and now I am here at the University of Toronto, ready to learn all there is to know in the world! And I have you to thank. 

Please don’t think that I’m an ungrateful child. I truly appreciate everything that everyone has done for me. Until six years ago I lived the sorrowful life of the unwanted child that I was. You see, Mr. Smith, my parents died when I was only three months old. Does knowing I’m an orphan make you think less of me? I hope it doesn’t. I imagine a man as generous and kind as you wouldn’t care. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be giving charity to poor girls such as I. 

Anyway, I lived in an orphanage, among other places, until I was thirteen and the most wonderful people in the world adopted me! Their names are Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert and they are brother and sister. I lived with them on a farm on Prince Edward Island. Have you ever been to Prince Edward Island, Mr. Smith? If you haven’t, you must go. I am quite certain it is the most breathtaking beautiful and splendid place on the planet. 

I was told when I spoke to Mr. Pendleton in person that you don’t need to know anything about my life beyond my schooling and my writing. But since I will likely be mentioning Matthew and Marilla quite frequently, I thought that I would tell you who they were. 

Will you be reading these letters? On the long train ride to Toronto, I thought long and hard about what I would do if I were a mysterious, filthy rich old man giving heaps of money to farm girls who couldn’t otherwise afford college. After a while I just gave up because I am not any of those things and could simply not put myself in your shoes. Marilla always berates me for my vanity, which leads me to think that I could not remain anonymous for very long. My opinion doesn’t matter, of course, but I do hope you read my letters. I intend to pour every speck of gratitude towards you that I possess onto these pages.

What is there left to talk about? Classes don’t start until tomorrow. I know that you wanted to know about my academics, but there isn’t any to talk about yet. I wanted to draft my first letter to you before homework became too overwhelming. Would you like to hear about my friends? My friendships certainly count as personal, but since I will mention them in the future as well, I will introduce them now. 

My best friend and roommate is Diana Barry. Oh, how to describe Diana! She is the most dearest girl in the world. I met her when I had just arrived in Avonlea and immediately recognized her as a kindred spirit. Sharing a room with Diana is a dream come true! Her parents are rigid and close-minded. Perhaps I shouldn’t have written that because they are also very rich and seem to know every other rich person in North America. I don’t mean to be harsh but I’ve seen them make her cry enough times that I think I am entitled to my opinion of them. 

Ruby Gillis is my second best friend. She’s also from Avonlea. She’s a wonderfully nice girl, maybe too nice for her own good. Ruby lacks imagination, perhaps, but sometimes an imagination as big as mine, I have found, can be a burden, as when you can imagine a beautiful future it sometimes leaves the present looking grayer than ever. 

Who else is there to mention? Jane Andrews is the only other girl from home who also got in to U of T (University of Toronto, as I’m sure you know — writing it like that gives me such a thrill!) but I doubt I’ll be seeing her much, as she’s taken residence with her aunt and uncle in town. I’ve also met some new girls and we’ve become fast friends. Their names are Priscilla Grant, Stella Maynard, and Philippa Gordon. As I have just come to know them, I can’t tell you much except I can already tell they are kindred spirits. It’s just something you feel. I feel that we are kindred spirits, too, Mr. Smith. 

I apologize if this letter has gone on too long, or if it’s not the type of letter you wanted me to send you. The letters that come from my desk usually go to someone I know very well, like my friend Cole or Diana’s Aunt Josephine. 

Oh, those are two others I’m sure to mention a lot — Cole is an artist and is the kindest, most gentle soul I have ever come across. Aunt Josephine is a rich old lady who is a sort of parent to Cole. Perhaps you know her, though when I asked Aunt Jo if she was acquainted with an old rich man who sends orphan girls to college to be writers, she said she knew of none. 

All that is to say that I don’t know who you are or what sort of person you are but I vow with all of the strength in my heart to do my very best to write these letters well. 

Until next month!

Your eternally grateful friend, 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S.: I know you insist on remaining anonymous, but if I were to receive some sort of occasional acknowledgement that you are getting my letters, that would be more than welcome. I only thought I’d let you know. 

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

21 April 1902

To my beloved benefactor, 

 I have not been able to stop smiling all week! Priscilla tells me I look crazed, with this Cheshire grin stretching across my face but I simply can’t contain myself and it’s all because of you! I don’t know how you found out that it was my birthday last week but your gift came just in time. My handwriting has never looked more beautiful than it does underneath the words “FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT.” Just seeing it on my table sends a thrill down my spine knowing you so thoughtfully ordered this for me yourself. How I wish you would have sent some sort of personal note with it. I know you have never answered my questions before, no matter how many I have asked. I am sorry to tell you that you’ll just have to deal with it as I can’t help but want to know you. Can you really blame me? 

Classes are going much the same as in my last letter. I retook my geometry test and did much better, I am happy to report, due to Phil’s untiring help with studying. I even started to draft some short stories that I have been thinking about, though I find it difficult to put aside the time to write them as my studies keep me more than busy. 

Here, Mr. Smith, is where I get more personal so if you still feel obliged to ignore ramblings about my social life skip to the end of the letter now. 

As you know my birthday was last Thursday. Priscilla, Stella, Phil, Ruby, and Diana decided to surprise me and take me out for dinner! They escorted me to the most charming and expensive restaurant within five miles of our boarding house. At first I felt overwhelming unprepared and underdressed for such a formal occasion, sure that I stuck out like a sore thumb around all of the elegant ladies and gentlemen dining nearby. But soon the waiter brought out course after course of wonderful, delicious food and we were having such a pleasurable time that any insecurity slipped my mind completely. For a moment it seemed that nothing at all could tarnish such an impeccable moment!

But of course as soon as this thought entered my mind Gilbert Blythe showed up to ruin the dinner. As I have not yet mentioned Gilbert to you (that I remember, at least) here is all you need to know about him: he did something terribly humiliating to me when we first met in school at age thirteen and I have never forgiven him for it since. If he had left it at that we would be on better terms now but soon after he left Avonlea and on the few occasions we’ve seen each other since he has made a routine of offending me similarly. So as you can see why his presence at my special birthday dinner was less than welcome. 

Perhaps, had I not known what kind of person Gilbert is, it would have offended me less when he sent a bottle of wine over to our table and offered to pay for my meal. But no doubt he only intended to flaunt his wealth before us like some peacock parading its feathers! He likely thought we would struggle to afford our meal. I have no aversion to certain types of charity, Mr. Smith, as you know, but his assumptions, and that inappropriate bottle of wine, nearly had me storming out of the restaurant in a rage. Diana and Ruby calmed me down and we politely but sternly declined his offer to the waiter. I didn’t see Gilbert’s reaction but I wish I had seen the smugness drop from his face. 

It was a thoroughly exhausting affair. Emotionally, of course. 

22 April 1901

I’m sorry for the interruption. I heard Diana call for me and it sounded quite urgent— a bouquet of flowers, it turns out, had arrived at the front door and were addressed to me. Thinking they were a belated birthday gift I readily accepted them. Imagine my surprise when the note inside revealed they were from Gilbert Blythe himself! I wanted to scream from the nerve of him and throw the flowers out but they were still quite beautiful so Ruby convinced me to keep them. The note on the inside wished me a happy birthday and apologized for his impertinence on my birthday. It almost made me regret writing those harsh things about him above. Almost. 

Anyway, Mr. Smith, this is where my personal ramblings end if you don’t care to read them. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that I spoke to one of the instructors here about my stories and she said they sounded promising and recommended that I submit one to the University literary journal! I might get published before the end of the term, if all goes well! If you care to read my work, I’ve attached the first four pages of a recent story to this letter. 

Yours, 

19 year-old Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, soon-to-be published author

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

5 February 1902

To my dear but frustratingly mysterious benefactor, 

Can you believe it’s been a year and a half since I found out that you had selected me for the scholarship? I can’t. Since this letter will likely be incredibly short (examinations are upon us and will start soon, so I have little time to write) I wanted to start this letter by offering my undying thanks to you. So here it is: thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! And I’m so horribly mortified that I wrote to you in the manner that I did in my January letter. At the time I felt horribly unsympathetic to the wealthy and took out my frustrations on you. I wish every wealthy person were as kind as you. I suppose I really don’t know how kind you are but something tells me you are wonderfully nice. 

Classes here are going well. I’ve said it before but I love being a sophomore! I finally feel like I truly belong at the University of Toronto. As much as I love Avonlea— have you visited yet? — I’m equally glad to be exploring the world on my own. As stressful as exams are, I love being at school. Even though I’ve been to only a few places in my life living in a city as large as Toronto makes each new day an adventure. I could explore this city for years and still find new nooks and crannies. 

Since time is running short, here are several quick updates: 

Ruby is still considering dropping out. Diana and I desperately try everyday to convince her not to, but our pleas seem to have done nothing to change her mind. It will be sad but not totally unsurprising to see her leave. 

Ever since Aunt Josephine intervened with Diana’s parents, she has more confidently pursued her music. If you’re ever interested in hearing beautiful songs played on the piano then she plays a concert once a month. You could come and I wouldn’t even know you were there! It would be worth it, I promise. 

Stella, Phil, and Priscilla are doing fine as well! Priscilla gets herself into trouble for pulling pranks on our new house matron, but scoldings never seem to bother her. Beautiful Philippa frustratingly has no shortage of suitors willing to do anything for her. It’s maddening in a funny sort of way to watch them trip over themselves to impress her as she pays them barely any notice at all. 

What else? I have started to write for the newspaper! Just as I did in school. I will put in the envelope my very first story. It’s only a little book review but seeing my name in print gives me the same thrill as it did last spring when my story was published. I hope this time my writing will be met with less harsh criticism. 

Well, that’s all I can think of to say today. I’ll try to send a longer letter next week if I can. 

Faithfully, 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S. I forgot to ask— if it isn’t too much trouble could you send me more stationery? I’m almost out of the paper that you sent me for my birthday. 

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

10 May 1903

My deeply appreciated benefactor, 

I deeply apologize for the time it took me to write you this letter. I'm also sorry for how many of my letters start out with an apology. I realize it's been more than a month since I sent my last correspondence. Can it be called correspondence if you never write back? You've sent me gifts, which I cherish with all of my soul, but never once have you sent me a single word back. After three years you'd think I would just resign myself to the fact that all you'll ever be to me is a mystery shrouded in enigma, albeit one I'm relentlessly grateful for. But if you know anything about me by now, Mr. Smith, as you should if you've read any of my letters, is that I am as stubborn as a mule. Every person I've ever worked for or belonged to has said as much. 

As I wrote that above paragraph I've realized that some of my words to you could be considered rude. Would you mind terribly if I apologized again? It's just that this week has been one of the worst I have ever experienced. May I tell you about it? I suppose one of the good things about never hearing back from you is that you will never tell me I can't. 

As I write this it's Friday, and the dreadfulness started Monday. What makes everything seem worse is that the weekend was so wonderful. Ruby came for a visit, sporting gifts for all of us from her and Moody's recent visit to America. Seeing her glowing face (I think she may be expecting but if she is, I doubt she knows herself) and hearing about how happy she and her new husband are softened the blow of her departure from school last year and everyone had a delightful time. Then she boarded the train back to the Maritimes Monday morning and everything seemed to put on a shade of gray. 

For the rest of the day both me and Diana were terribly irritable in our sadness to see her go. Our crossness culminated that night when Diana and I had a horrible argument. I can barely recall how it started— I think that I made some offhand comment disparaging Gilbert and she jumped to his rescue, and everything devolved from there. We were shouting horrible things at each other that should never be said out loud, things we didn't truly mean but hurt regardless. We haven't spoken since and though I know we are both regretful I don't know how to approach her and I think she feels the same. Our friendship isn't over, at least, but I yearn for normalcy. Concentrating in class has proved near impossible, even in the classes Diana and I don't share, because I'm so distracted by my guilt and shame. 

To make matters worse, yesterday I checked my mail at the post office and what would be there but not one, but TWO rejection letters from literary magazines. I was reading them up in a secluded tree behind the library, thinking I was alone. The first was firm but polite in their rejection. We regret to inform you that we will not be accepting your work at this time, but please submit more work in the future. The kind of dismissal that comes with an impermanent sting. The next, however, was clearly more personal. The letter described my writing as infantile, superfluous, and shallow— I starting crying on the spot. In my twenty-one years of life, I've been on the receiving end of much harsh criticism, coming from my peers, my teachers, even those I considered my friends. I often turned to writing as a way of comfort and solace in those moments. The thought that I wasn't even good at my one talent was too much to bear. So in my privacy I sobbed harder than I had in years. 

But apparently my spot in the tree was not as concealed as I originally thought. Just as I was about to collect myself and climb down, I heard a man clear his throat and call up to me, "Miss, are you alright?"

I looked down and almost fell off the branch as I realized who it was. "Gilbert?" I exclaimed. 

He looked surprised to see me, a wonder since that day I wore a bright yellow dress and my hair is as red as ever. "What are you doing up there?" he asked me, knitting his eyebrows together in that infuriating way he always does. "Have you been... crying?"

I shook my head but I'm sure it did nothing to hide my frazzled state. 

"Do you need help coming down from there?"

"No," I said but he offered me a hand anyway and I accepted it. 

As I brushed the leaves and bark from my skirt he asked me, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

My meltdown had caused me to miss lunch so I accepted. At the tea house, he as always volunteered to pay for everything which I found frustrating but I've gotten more used to Gilbert over the years.

We talked idly for a while. I asked him about his classes. He's a medical student, did I tell you that? Not in medical school yet, but in a pre-medical program. With all of his money, I don't know why he needs a career but I suppose you have to do something to fill your days. Anyway, I knew this term he's had a number of terribly strenuous courses and I was curious how he was handling them. Everything was going well, he said but didn't appear that interested in talking about himself. 

"Do you want to talk about why you were so upset earlier?" he asked me suddenly. "I would understand if you don't, of course, but perhaps if you told someone you'd... feel better."

I sighed and pulled the letters from my pocket, handing them over to him. He scanned them quickly, raising his eyebrows. 

"Wow," he said once he finished reading. "How could they be so..."

"Blunt?" 

"Wrong," he finished. "These people clearly know nothing. "

I was a bit nonplussed at his reaction. "I should have worked harder on the stories, instead of rushing to send them in. I'm more angry at myself than at those who rejected me."

Gilbert shook his head. "Your work is far from shallow, Anne. If you wrote it, then I'm sure it was amazing." He scoffed at the letter. 

“I didn’t know you had read any of my writing,” I said. 

“I read your articles in the newspaper,” he was quick to reply. 

“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t judge my writing on those little book reviews in the newspaper.”

“No— I meant the newspaper back home. In Avonlea. Bash would send them to me here, and I always loved what you wrote. Everything you wrote carried so much meaning. That stuck with me.”

"Well, thank you, Gilbert," was all I really could say. I felt a strange burst of affection towards him at that moment and it struck me that we are truly friends. Close friends, as close as I am to Priscilla, Phil, and Stella. 

Gilbert has changed these last few years, too. It's the strangest thing. When I first met him and he was a boy of fifteen, he was much like every other boy I met back then— confident, rowdy, foolhardy. Then his father died and on the rare occasion he came back to Avonlea, he seemed to have retreated into himself. We blamed it on the grief and all of the money he came into with his father's inheritance (and, reportedly, that of a wealthy aunt). But recently traces of the old Gilbert, the one who defended me from Billy Andrews and called me Carrots, have resurfaced. I don't know really how I feel about all that. I just know that I was incredibly thankful to have him as a friend yesterday in the tea house. 

Anyways, I know that all of that might have been too personal. I'll stop myself now as I hear Diana coming up the stairs and writing this letter has motivated me to mend things with her. I’ll write more to you in a few days with updates on my courses and all of that (everything is well, don’t worry) but I simply wanted to tell someone. 

Thankful as always, 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S. It’s Saturday now and Diana and I are on good terms again. I showed her the letters and she too thought they were preposterous. Diana has read the stories I sent in and liked them a lot. Because of her confidence and my talk with Gilbert on Thursday I’ve decided to send you one of my stories. I know you at least like my writing so perhaps someone will enjoy them. 

PART II.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” Anne told Diana as they walked, arm-in-arm, through the front doors of the lecture hall. “Can you believe that it was three years ago that we first walked into this building for our first class?”

“We were terrified, if I recall,” said Diana. “Look at us now— tall, beautiful, intimidating senior girls!” She struck a pose, silly and exaggerated and the two dissolved into giggles. 

They found seats, two right next to each other near the front of the room. Twenty minutes early as they liked to be to every class on the first day, only a few other students had yet arrived. 

“I remember being frightened of the older girls when I was a freshman,” Anne said, pulling out her notebook and pen and placing them squarely on the table in front of her. “Now that I am one, I don’t know what there was to be frightened of. I scarcely feel older than I did back then.”

“Do you think that there will be many lower-years in this class?” asked Diana. 

“I don’t know. If this course was offered my first term here, I would have stopped at nothing to take it.” Anne breathed out dreamily. “To think we’ll be studying only contemporary women writers— this is exactly the kind of course I envisioned taking when I first thought about going to college.” 

“It’s too bad that the others couldn’t fit this into their timetables.”

Anne sighed. “Such is the busy life of a senior. Everyone says that we’ll have loads and loads more coursework this term but I think that I’ll hardly notice if the extra work is something I enjoy. Don’t you agree?”

Diana nodded firmly, and the room started to fill up with other students, mostly girls but a few boys showed up as well. Their instructor, the soft spoken but kind Professor Abbott, arrived five minutes prior to the class’s scheduled start time. He walked through the front door, trailed by none other than Gilbert Blythe, and the two seemed to be engaged in conversation. As they approached the chalkboard and instructor’s desk, Gilbert thanked the man and they shook hands before Gilbert left him. 

“Hello Anne, hello Diana,” Gilbert said, standing in front of their table. “May I sit next to you?”

One of the only free seats in the room was right next to Anne, so she nodded, then asked, “You’re in this class?” 

Gilbert sat down. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Diana gently elbowed Anne for her rudeness. “We’ll be glad to see you at least twice a week now,” Diana said. “Last term we could barely catch a glimpse of you once a month.”

He chuckled. “Yes, the medical faculty keeps us quite busy. If this is how rigorous pre-medical program is, I can’t even begin to imagine the real thing.”

“You’ll get used to it, I’m sure,” Diana said. 

“I have no choice,” replied Gilbert, sardonic but Anne could tell he was in a good mood. 

Up front, Prof. Abbott ordered a red-faced sophomore boy to hand out papers with the reading list. He had prepared one paper for every three students, so Anne, Diana, and Gilbert shared a paper.

“Oh no!” Anne exclaimed as she read one title on the list. 

“What happened?” asked Diana. 

“I forgot to bring a book with me from home. This one here— Elizabeth and Her German Garden— I read it last summer and meant to bring my copy from home so I didn’t have to purchase another. But now I realize that I forgot to pack it, and we’re reading it next week.”

“Don’t despair, Anne, you can borrow mine when I’m done reading the assigned sections,” offered Diana. 

Gilbert cleared his throat. “Actually, I happen to have an extra copy, if you wanted it, Anne.”

Anne perked up. “Really? Thank you, Gilbert!”

After class ended, Gilbert and Anne said goodbye to Diana and started the walk to Gilbert’s nearby apartment. Gilbert leading Anne, they reached his street only a few minutes later, as Gilbert lived only a street or two away from the main campus of the University of Toronto. The houses that lined the road embodied wealth and luxury. Though she had never been there, Anne knew that Gilbert lived in a small but ridiculously comfortable apartment at the top of one of these red bricked buildings. 

She had never been on his street, either, but still the name— Sherbourne Street— felt familiar. As the two ascending the stairs of Gilbert’s building, Anne realized why: somewhere on the street, among its seven miles of fancy house after fancy house, live Anne’s mysterious benefactor. 

Anne laughed out loud. 

Gilbert turned around and threw up an inquisitive eyebrow. “Is something funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Anne. “It’s only that the world of the rich is so remarkably tiny, don’t you agree?”

“I suppose so,” answered Gilbert. “Why do you say that?”

They reached the top step and Gilbert pulled out his key to open his door. 

Anne told him, “I’ve realized that you live on the same street as someone I know.”

Gilbert paused, his key only halfway in the lock. “Oh? Who?”

“Well, I’ve never met him. This might sound strange, but he’s— are you going to open the door or not, Gilbert?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Gilbert let them in. “You were saying?”

“He’s an old rich man who’s been paying for my education. I’ve never seen him in person, you see, but I’ve written him letters for the last three years so I feel like I know him quite well.”

Anne followed Gilbert through his apartment, which was quite larger than it appeared on the outside, until they ended up in a large library room with a fireplace and massive chairs with vast, soft-looking cushions. It was exactly the kind of library Anne yearned to possess herself, where she could sit with a warm cup of tea on a cold winter’s day. 

“The book is over here,” Gilbert said, pointing to a shelf and directing her there. “So… your… old man has written you back often, then?”

“Well, not exactly. But I believe that you don’t have to know a person to know them.”

“That doesn’t make much sense at all, Anne.”

She pouted. “Never mind then. Maybe it isn’t meant to be understood by anyone else but me.”

He laughed, then, a soft chuckle that surprised Anne in its clarity. He pulled a book off the shelf. “Here it is,” he said, handing over his copy of Elizabeth and Her German Garden. 

As Anne took it graciously, she couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t have another copy on the shelf but decided not to mention it. 

~

The rest of the course was as enjoyable as Anne and Diana had hoped. Tuesday morning before class often brought Anne, Diana, and Gilbert together to a nearby tea house to eat lunch and discuss the week's readings. Anne looked forward to their meeting more than almost anything else. Gilbert seemed to appreciate the literature as much as Anne and Diana, even though the books were by women. He was able to offer both a male and medical opinion, the latter of which being particularly valued in their discussion of The Yellow Wallpaper. Both Anne and Diana thought his enjoyment curious, but their instructor was also a man after all. It wasn't so strange, and to have a man appreciating the words of a woman rather than the other way around was empowering to Anne as a writer herself. 

Anne had never seen Gilbert so relaxed as he was during their Tuesday morning book discussions. Usually, in most other occasions when their paths crossed, Gilbert always seemed to be in such a rush, stressed out about business, or class, or some other small thing. Anne had always felt sad for him because of this, but to see him truly at ease painted him in a different light in her mind. His presence became something welcome, more soothing than it had ever been. She had realized they were good friends less than a year ago, and she wondered if Gilbert's father had never died, if business had never kept him away from Avonlea, they would be as good of friends today. 

The term flew quicker than Anne had anticipated, as it was want to do, and soon Christmas was over and exam season was upon them. Anne barely caught sight any of her friends for those two weeks, as everyone boarded themselves in their rooms to study and write essays. The only person Anne saw with any sort of regularity was Diana, which only happened because the two shared a room. 

The Monday of the second exam week, Anne and Diana decided to take a much-deserved break, going for a stroll in a nearby park to clear their minds. 

"Have you seen Gilbert lately?" Anne asked Diana. 

"No," said Diana. "I imagine he is incredibly busy with his own exams. Studying for our exams is hard enough. Can you even imagine what his must be like?"

Anne shuddered. "I would rather not. While I find the human body and all its functions endlessly fascinating, I've caught a glimpse of his more complicated textbooks. I won't be joining the pre-medical program any time soon."

"At the very least, we'll see him at the exam for women's literature," said Diana. 

But when the day came, Gilbert did not show up. Diana and Anne showed up their usual twenty minutes early, expecting to see their friend, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

As the minutes to the exam's start passed, Anne became nervous for her friend. She rose from her chair and said to Professor Abbott, who was seconds away from starting the test, "Excuse me, sir, but shouldn't we wait until Gilbert is here?"

Professor Abbott fixed her with an odd look. "Mr. Blythe won't be sitting the exam."

Had something happened? Had Gilbert dropped the course last-minute? That couldn't be right. He had attended every class. 

Anne badly wanted to ask why, worried about her friend, but Professor Abbott gave her no room to do so, starting to read the instructions for their timed essay. She wrote a fine essay, though it took her longer than it would have had she not been so distracted by the empty spot next to her. When the exam finished, Anne wasted not a second to ask her instructor what he had meant. 

"Mr. Blythe was only auditing the course," was his answer. "Therefore, he did not have to take the exam. I thought you knew that, him being your beau." 

Heat rushed to her face. A younger Anne might have argued that Gilbert was not her beau in the least, but today she thanked him and left with Diana. 

On their walk home, Anne clung to Diana's arm and asked, "It seems very strange that Gilbert would audit a course." 

"It's not so strange," replied Diana. "Gilbert has always been interested in literature, and likely wanted an excuse to read more without having another exam to prepare for."

"Why do you think he didn't tell us?" asked Anne. 

Diana peered at her, a curious glint in her eyes. "I have a suspicion." 

When Diana didn't elaborate immediately, Anne stopped them in the middle of the walkway. A disgruntled set of girls behind them rolled their eyes to wind around them. 

"What is it?"

With a small grin, Diana answered, "I think Gilbert took the class because of you."

"Me?!" Anne said incredulously. "Why would Gilbert do that?"

"You really don't know?" 

"Know what? What is there to know?"

"Never mind," Diana said slyly, pulling them back into motion. 

"Diana, quit messing with my head and tell me." 

Diana laughed. "Are you saying that you really don't see the way he looks at you? He obviously loves you."

Anne didn't say anything, trying to wrap her mind around Diana's words. 

Sighing, Diana continued, "If you don't believe me, just ask him yourself."

Anne huffed, confused at her irritation. "I think I will."

It took a few days to pin down Gilbert, as his exams kept him busy and occupied at the few moments he was usually reliably free. But finally Anne managed to catch him at their favorite tea house, reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee, and sat down without invitation. 

Gilbert looked surprised to see her there. "Anne, hello." He folded his newspaper and set it down in front of him. "Not that you're unwelcome, but what are you doing here?"

"Stella said she saw you here," Anne said.

"Oh," said Gilbert. "Well, do you want something? On me, of course."

"No. Actually, I have a question. An important question. Well, maybe it's not so important, but it could be. Depending on your answer."

"Anne— just... ask the question."

Gilbert looked a little nervous himself, shifting in his chair. 

Anne took a breath. "Right. Sorry. I was only wondering... why did you take the Women Authors course?"

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment and Anne studied his face. "Well, I wanted to educate myself, I suppose, about literature written by women. I felt I didn't know much about the subject."

Unsatisfied, Anne shot back, "You decided to take an extra class for no reason in your last year of the pre-medical program?"

"I wanted to read something other than dry medical books. I'm sorry... did you want another answer?"

Anne sighed and stood up, more dejected than she thought she'd be. "No. I was just being silly. I'm sorry for bothering you, Gilbert. I should go."

"You don't have to."

"No, I should. I have a letter to write."

~

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

1 May 1904 

Dear Mr. Smith, 

It felt right to address you in a more formal manner today because we have formal matters to discuss. As I graduate in three weeks, I imagine that this will be my last letter to you for some time. Don’t worry, I intend to tell you as soon as something big happens with my writing. You’ll be the first to know, before Marilla or Matthew or even Diana. I could never forget that you are the reason I was able to go to school and reach my full potential. Because of you, I’m not stuck at Green Gables, shoveling hay alongside Jerry or teaching at the small Avonlea school house and never seeing the world for the rest of my life. 

You’ve already given me so much, Mr. Smith, and it doesn’t feel right to ask for more but I can’t help it. It would feel even less right to graduate without you in the audience, watching me. 

Say you’ll come, won’t you? I know you wish to remain anonymous. Your decision to hide your identity has been my constant turmoil for the last four years and I don’t think I could bear to go out into the world without putting a face and a name to the man who has changed my life completely. 

Please don’t be afraid that you’ll disappoint me. Is it presumptuous to tell you that? For all I know, you don’t care about me one bit and haven’t read a single one of my many, many letters. But if you have, and if you have found any meaning in them at all, please tell me you’ll come. I already love you with all my heart. 

If you are brave enough to come, I have included in this envelope the invitation. Matthew and Marilla regrettably can’t make it so if you come, you’ll be the only one there specifically for me. If you aren’t, then I’ll try to forgive you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to, but I’ll really, really try. 

Hoping to see you soon, 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

~

“Perhaps he’s running late.”

Anne slumped against the stage wall. “There’s no use. He isn't coming." 

Diana pulled back an inch of the stage's curtain once more. She must have seen the same empty seat as before, as she said, "I'm very sorry, Anne."

"What are you two up to?" 

Anne and Diana turned to see Gilbert, dressed in the same black and white graduation robes as them. 

"We're trying to see if Anne's benefactor has shown up," Diana informed him.

Gilbert adopted a pained expression, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "No luck so far, then?"

"The ceremony starts in five minutes," said Anne miserably. "He isn't coming. I don't know why I expected any different. I've written him for four years with barely any response. I'm a fool for thinking today would be any different."

Diana crouched next to her, placing a reassuring hand on her back. "You're not a fool, Anne."

"Perhaps he got called away on urgent business," said Gilbert, with a tone perhaps meant to be reassuring but that came out with a slight irritation. "You never know."

"He's a coward," Anne declared, crossing her arms. "He never cared about me at all."

"You can't possibly know that," Gilbert said. 

"Yes, I can. I can just feel it."

Gilbert infuriatingly pointed out, "Just last month you could feel that he was a kindred spirit."

"Would you stop taking his side?" 

"I'm not taking his side," Gilbert insisted. "But perhaps your day wouldn't be ruined if you tried to consider things from his perspective—" 

"I'm glad to graduate. Then I can finally wash my hands of rich men trying to control my life!"

Gilbert was quiet for a moment. "Is that all you think of me? Just another rich man controlling your life?"

Anne huffed but before she could respond, the professor organizing students called for graduates with B last names. 

Diana stood up next to Anne. "We should probably go line up, Gilbert." 

As they walked away, Diana turned around to shake her head at the other girl, sympathetic but disapproving, a look Anne had been on the receiving end of many times over their nine years of friendship. 

Anne tried to compose herself after that, tried to still enjoy the moment she had anticipated for all her life. But as she walked across the stage, she couldn't stop her eyes from stinging or her heart from aching. 

~

After the ceremony, the University arranged for a banquet of sorts for the recent graduates and their families. When picturing the moment in her head in the weeks prior, Anne had imagined her and her benefactor, who showed up perfectly on time for her graduation and had instantly turned into a grandfather of sorts, walking arm and arm through the crowd so she could introduce him to all of the people she had mentioned in her letters over the years. But in the face of the actual thing without any new friend or grandfather figure, Anne wished to skip the ordeal altogether. 

Still, she had watched the graduations of other students older than her with jealousy for three years, anticipating her own shining moment. So Anne changed out of her robes, put on the new dress Marilla sent her as an apology for not being able to attend, a beautiful, soft blue thing, and resolved to enjoy herself. If she had to avoid Gilbert, then so be it. 

Anne, Diana, and Diana's family sat at a large table under the largest white tent that Anne had ever seen. The sunset cast a pink and orange glow about everything and the faintest chill of evening air had begun to take hold, bringing a divine atmosphere to the banquet. Anne had almost started to relax when Gilbert approached their table. He had something in his hand which he seemed insistent on hiding behind his back.  

He first greeted the Barrys, who always loved Gilbert Blythe, and then turned to Anne. "I was wondering if we could talk." 

Anne swallowed and nodded. Gilbert led her to a bench under a tree, away from the crowds of people. 

"Look, Gilbert, if this is about earlier today, before the ceremony..." Anne was quick to say, "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I had a horrible moment and ruined the day for you, too."

Gilbert shook his head. "I was trying to comfort you, but I only made things worse. And truly I am sorry that you were disappointed so sorely today."

"You aren't to blame," Anne told him. "It's Mr. Smith that I'm the most angry with."

"Right." He cleared his throat. "Well, I didn't bring you here to apologize. I mean not just to apologize. I mean— these are for you."

He held out a bouquet of flowers, beautiful pink camellias, which Anne only now noticed were the object he hid behind his back. 

"Oh, Gilbert, these are beautiful," she told him, eagerly taking the bouquet from his hands. "This is the most lovely apology I've ever received."

Gilbert looked down, a small smile forming on his mouth. "It's not just an apology. It's also a thank you." Then he looked at her, the smile growing to fullness. "You don't know how... valuable your companionship has been these last four years."

Heat rushed to Anne's cheeks as she thought of her reprehensible behavior towards Gilbert the first few years of her time at the University of Toronto. "Even after how horribly I treated you freshman and sophomore year?"

"I probably deserved that," Gilbert said, laughing. "After I left Avonlea, I barely spent any time with people my own age who didn't own at least three homes. I'm afraid I often forgot to act around normal people."

"Still, I could have been a little less harsh." 

"Perhaps that's true."

"So I'm a normal person, then?"

"You're anything but, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert." 

They were quiet for a moment. The wind rustled the leaves of the tree above them as the final few rays of sun sunk below the horizon. 

Suddenly, Anne had to ask a question with an urgency that surprised her. "Gilbert," she said. "This isn't a goodbye, is it?"

He looked at her in surprise. "No. Never." 

"Oh. Good," Anne said, relieved. 

Gilbert looked like he was about to say something, but at that moment a little girl with light brown skin and curly black hair ran up to him. She couldn't have been more than four. He laughed, picking the little girl up.

"Who is this?" asked Anne, not thinking about how disappointed she felt in that moment. 

"This is Delly, my friend's daughter," Gilbert said. He stood up and sighed. "I should probably get her back to her family."

Anne stood up as well. "Yes, probably." 

He walked a few steps away before turning around. Again, he looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he picked up Anne's hand with his free one and kissed it. "I'm really proud of you, Anne."

Her heart beating loudly in her ears prevented her from making any response, and she was only able to watch him walk away, back to the crowds of people, as she tried to reckon with her own feelings. 

~

A | S | C

1 June, 1904

To my forgiven benefactor, 

I know I said that the last letter would be the last letter. I had thought that because I had imagined the last week would go a lot differently than it has. 

If you had come to my graduation, there would have been no reason to continue sending letters in this manner. As I intend to stay in Toronto for the foreseeable future, I had pictured us having tea once a week and discussing books and my writing and the weather or any number of other things. But, as we both know, you did not attend. Before it happened, I had thought that I could never forgive your absence. I know I said that I would try but I was already certain that I wouldn't be able to forgive you. But I have surprised even myself. 

I have realized that I don't know you at all, Mr. Smith, and have made my peace with this. I didn't come to this conclusion easily, that much is certain. I haven't the faintest idea why you never wanted to write back to me, or why you didn't come to my graduation. Perhaps you were busy. Perhaps you have not read a single letter I've sent. Perhaps you were as scared to meet me as I was to meet you. Whatever the reason, I'm afraid I have lost sight of everything you've given me. If our relationship, however one-sided it is, ends with scorn, then every time I think about University and all of the opportunities it has afforded me I would have to think about my anger. A younger Anne would have been content to live that life, but I certainly am not. So there you are, Mr. Smith. This young, foolish girl forgives you. 

I've only now realized how valuable writing these letters has been for my personal development. You are my closest confidant. You know things about me that even Diana doesn't know, which is saying a lot. Had you responded, then I doubt that I would have been as honest as I was. If you'll allow me to be honest one more time, I have quite the dilemma. You see, these letters have allowed me to sort through confusing feelings and I feel more confused right now than I had ever been. 

You see, Mr. Smith, I think I am in love. I wish you could help me. I could use some wisdom right now. As much as I have longed to be in love my whole life, I never thought to think about what it would actually be like. 

When I'm with him, time doesn't exist anymore. And then he leaves, I'm aware of how quickly time passes by and I want to sob. I want to share everything there is. I want him to be there in the morning when I make porridge and I want to be there with him when he's doing the most boring business possible. Every time I read a good book, or think a funny thought, I wish he was next to me so I can tell him about it. At night I hate the moonlight because it's beautiful and he isn't here to see it with me. Do you understand what I mean? I really, really hope that you do. I think anyone who has ever been in love would understand. 

Here is my problem and the source of my anguish: the man I am in love with is Gilbert Blythe. This may come as a shock to you, since I have frequently spoken ill of him in my letters. For this very reason, I am afraid I preemptively damaged my relationship with him permanently. We have since become close friends, but how could he forget how horrid I was to him, enough to love me back? I'm sure he'll also want to be with a distinguished woman from wealth, like that beautiful Winifred Rose I spotted him walking arm-in-arm with last February. I will forever be the red headed orphan girl who slapped him with a slate when I was thirteen. 

I know you won't respond, but I still have to ask you. What do you think I should do? If you could just read this letter and think your answer really, really hard then I am certain I will feel better. 

I will miss writing these letters and I will miss you, Mr. Smith. I will continue to think of you every day of my life. 

Sending you all the love in my heart, 

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S. In this envelope I have included my final transcripts as well as a check for $100. The check is not for much compared to all that you've given me but it's a start and I intend to pay you back every penny that you have spent on me. I received a small sum of money for a short story that will be published soon, and it's a start. 

P.P.S. Did you notice my new stationery? I bought it myself also with the money from the advance. 

A | S | C

6 June 1904

Dear Mr. Smith, 

YES! I will be there— Saturday at noon. I can’t believe that I am finally going to meet you. It doesn’t feel real. 

Love, love, love, 

Anne

~

Once Anne arrived at the address told to her by Mr. Smith, she recognized the building as the tea place she, Diana, and Gilbert went to nearly twice a week during the Fall term. Had her and her benefactor ever been there at the same time? Had they ever crossed paths before, said hello to each other on the street without knowing each others' identity? For the first time in nearly four years, how close they lived to each other truly struck Anne. She knew he lived in Toronto, even knew what street he lived on thanks to the return address on the stationery he sent her every birthday. But they knew about the same businesses, ate at the same places! 

All that time being so close and yet he still never made an effort to visit. Anne wondered if she would come to regret her choice to meet Mr. Smith here today. But she was too curious and had come so far. So she pushed her shoulders back in resolve and entered the tea house with as much confidence as she could muster. 

A waiter in a nice blue jacket greeted her immediately. 

"I'm here to meet with Mr. Smith," she told him.

Comprehension bloomed on the waiter's face. "You must be Ms. Shirley, then. Follow me."

He escorted her past large rooms with tables full of people eating lunch, past the kitchen door, past the restrooms, to a private tea room with a large window facing the park across the street. A large table sat in front of the window, meant to accommodate a large party of people. A single figure stood in the window, a silhouette in the face of the bright sunlight that streamed inside. This was it. She would finally meet her benefactor. Anne's heart stopped as the man slowly turned around. Only, when he did, he wasn't Mr. Smith. He wasn't even an old man. 

He was Gilbert Blythe. 

"Gilbert?" Anne cried. "What are you doing here? 

"Hello, Anne." He swallowed visibly. 

"You must leave now. I'm meeting someone very important and undoubtedly he'll be here soon, so if you could—"

"I know," Gilbert said. 

"If you know, then you know why you must leave," Anne told him, irritation setting him. She approached him to try and push him towards the door. "How you could possibly know is another thing. Did Diana tell you? I told her not to tell anyone."

"No, Anne—" He paused, firm in his footing and grabbed her gently by the shoulders. "I know why you're here because you're here to see me. I sent you that letter."

"Did you impersonate Mr. Smith?" 

"No, what I'm trying to tell you is..." he dropped his hands from her shoulders and moved one to scratch at the back of his head. "I couldn't impersonate Mr. Smith. Because he's me."

Well. Anne wasn't expecting that. She stopped in her tracks, mouth agape. 

"Please, say something," Gilbert begged, a tremor to his voice. 

"You?" was all that she could get out. 

"You're Mr. Smith." 

Blood rushed to Anne's face and she felt her heart and breath speed up dangerously. She grasped the back of a chair, tightly clutching the wood. 

Gilbert pulled out another chair. "Perhaps you should sit down." 

She did take a seat, but it wasn't the one he offered. "You're my mysterious, anonymous benefactor."

He gave a feeble laugh. "One in the same." 

"I don't understand. How can you be Mr. Smith? You're not even old."

Sitting next to her, Gilbert said, "I never understood why you always wrote about my old age. I certainly never said that." 

"Rich men who give orphan girls enormous scholarships are old. That just makes sense," Anne told him, nearing hysteria. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "They aren't pre-medical students I hit with a slate when I was thirteen!" 

"I owe you an explanation. That's why I—"

Anne's hands flew to her mouth in shock. "My goodness, the letters! Every horrible thing in the world about you I wrote in those letters!"

"You said a lot of things to me in person, too," Gilbert pointed out dryly.

"That's different! I didn't know I was insulting my benefactor to his face!" If it were possible, Anne felt her face growing even warmer. She surely looked like a tomato, with her face red enough to match her hair. "And you read my letters?"

"Every single one. They were the best part of my month."

"Every single one?" Anne echoed. "I suppose there's no hope that you skipped the last one, then?"

"I meant every one." 

She buried her face into the table. "If Mr. Smith had been my matron from the orphanage, it would have been easier to take."

He patted her back awkwardly. "Well, I'm not so bad, am I?"

Anne wanted to scream, taking a deep breath to avoid doing so. "Could you just promise to forget about the last letter and never mention it ever again?"

"I'm afraid I could never do that, Anne." 

"And why not?"

"Well, I— I just couldn't." 

"Why would you do this, Gilbert? I can't wrap my mind around it. I just don't understand."

Leaning back in his chair, Gilbert paused a moment before saying, "You wouldn't have let me pay for your education any other way."

"You still should have asked."

"Maybe so," Gilbert said. "But come on, Anne, I've known how stubborn you are since we were kids. I had the bruises to prove it. And when I heard that you had been accepted into the U of T but couldn't go because of money, well, I had to help."

"But why me?" Anne asked him. 

"You deserved it. And, well, maybe I was selfish."

"Selfish?"

He took a deep breath. "Maybe because I knew I was also going to Toronto. And maybe I wanted you there, too."

Anne didn't know at all how to respond to that. Her mind raced, replaying every moment they shared over the last few years. How her benefactor happened to know her birthday, when Gilbert had bumped into her at her own birthday party. How her benefactor didn't come to her graduation, when Gilbert was graduating himself. They even lived on the same street. Of course Gilbert was her benefactor. It made sense. 

"Why did you agree to meet now? Why not before?"

Gilbert exhaled loudly. "You don't know how many times I almost told you, or how many letters I started to draft but threw away before I could. I didn't know if I should be Mr. Smith telling you I'm Gilbert, or if I should be Gilbert telling you I'm Mr. Smith."

"Mr. Smith doesn't exist," she said. 

That made Gilbert go quiet. "I suppose he's not," he said finally. "Are you terribly mad at me?"

Anne sighed. "You lied to me and betrayed my trust for four years. I don't know how I could ever forget that."

"And yet?"

"And yet..." Anne was surprised to feel a smile forming and at last she laughed. "It's you, it's really you."

Hope or something like it bloomed on Gilbert's face. He grabbed her hand.

Anne told him, "You never answered my question."

Gilbert took a shaky breath. "Because," he said, "When I read your last letter, I realized you needed to know everything before I did this."

"Did what?" she asked, but she knew he was already leaning in. 

Gilbert kissed Anne, and while Anne had imagined her first kiss much more chaste, she put all of the emotions she felt into it. When they pulled back, Gilbert had a goofy grin adoring his mouth that she was sure matched her own. 

"Anne," he said urgently. "I love you."

"I'd tell you the same," she said, "but something tells me you already know."

~

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED 

TO THE WEDDING OF 

ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

and

GILBERT BLYTHE

Saturday, October 4, 1904

3 o’clock in the afternoon

At the St. Andrew’s Church

Toronto, Ontario

Reception to follow.

 / fin

[daydreamindollie]

Feast Your Eyes | k.nj x f.r

Pairing: k.nj x f.r

Genre: n a u g h t y....

Length: 3k

Quick Summary: The sensation it brought you to stare at his delightfully tensing, lean physique through the crack of his door - carelessly left ajar - was more than addictive. 

A/N: First of all, I really have to apologise because this is my first time writing something naughty and so close to smut. I had more planned but I was really unsure about how it would turn out so you could say that this is a little tester. If you guys like it or have any idea of how you want the fic to continue then don’t be afraid to tell me and I’ll get to work on, maybe, a part 2???? 

Constructive critisim is always helpful too as I am still working on my writing style. Thank you! 

Anyway, this was requested by a doll of an Anon. Thank you for the request Dollface, I hope this is to your liking. I apologise for the extended wait. Much love x 

W A R N I N G S: voyeurism, masturbation...nakednessssss...

There it was again...the groans and moans of your roommate - Kim Namjoon. 

This wasn’t the first time you had entered the modest space of your modern apartment, only to be greeted by the sinfully delicious sounds that your sexy, sharp roommate emitted when doing the deed, ‘alone’. You could deem this to be, perhaps, the sixth time already. It wasn’t a general, reoccurring event as those occurrences were spaced out over several months; lengthy weeks stretching the intervals between each one. Personally, you had wished for it to be a more frequent event. Having it be a rare circumstance gave you immoral desires but they can’t be helped. 

The sensation it brought you to stare at his delightfully tensing, lean physique through the crack of his door - carelessly left ajar - was more than addictive. 

‘He’s so beautiful’ was always the first thought that verbalised itself in your clouded mind. Everything else disappears and it’s just you and himhimhim. Biting your lip, you smothered a moan as the male, through the crack of the door, whimpered helplessly under the searing touch of red-hot pleasure. ‘How sexy can he get?’ was your second thought, drinking in the erotic expression he was shamelessly displaying in his demeaning condition. The next thought would be: ‘he’s so big...’ as your eyes made their usual route down, from his bliss-compressed countenance, down his (unfortunately) dressed torso, before greedily devouring the image of his solid member. The tip was a painful, swollen pink colour, supported by an impressive length that strained and pulsed with prominent veins. 

You licked your lips. ‘I wonder what it would feel like to trace those veins with my tongue...’. Sometimes, you couldn’t believe how vulgar your thoughts suddenly became at the sight of him in such a state. Every male would’ve gone through the same thing Namjoon was doing, but you know for a fact that he’s affecting you more than any other man could. It’s no surprise either, you’ve always been acutely aware that you’ve had this adoration towards him ever since the day you met. 

It all started based on his appearance. His hair always looked so much more well kept than yours, like fine, silk strands with the volume of fluffy clouds. Naturally, you would often find yourself wanting to comb your fingers through his mass of dyed locks. The skin he had, stretched over lean (but not over the top) muscles, was blemish free and smooth looking, igniting deep jealousy inside you. It was a serious offence as you are someone that’s constantly battling a moody epidermis; sprouting pimples here, there and everywhere, whenever possible. His eyes were gentle but fierce, his lips plump and kissable, a perfect combination to have for each minor but significant feature. Above all, however, was his voice, the pièce de résistance, so creamy-smooth, and possessing the texture of burnished satin. Subsequently, the two of you spent many times together, and you’ve slowly grown a fondness of his variable personality also: silly yet responsible, witty but also earnest, humorous and ethereal. A whole package that you had all to yourself, but only as a roommate. A fact you scoffed at. 

Were you ever going to get out of such a basic ranking? 

Dismissing that thought, you continued to indulge in the rare, but commonplace act Namjoon (Joonie) was participating in as a pool of stickiness accumulated at the flimsy fabric you had covering your weeping nether-regions. You hoped and wished that the sight would persist without ever ending. Nevertheless, such a fancy for an impossible deed was not permitted and you found yourself sighing in disappointment almost as heavily as your breathing became when ogling the episode that had played out before you. Joonie had met his end soon enough, sighing between laboured breaths upon shooting his load onto the sheets of his single bed. It was over far too soon. 

Suppressing the urge to complain openly, you quietly rushed to the front door in order to make it look as if you had just gotten back.

“I’m home!” you announced after opening and slamming the door from inside. 

“W-Welcome home!” there was a faint kerfuffle from the end of the hallway, tugging a smirk of mischief at your rosy lips as you imagined your sticky roommate scrambling around in order to look presentable. 

“What are you up to?” you hummed with innocent curiosity, already knowing the answer. 

“I’m about to take a shower!” 

“Oh alright! I’m starving so I’m going to cook!” making your way into the kitchen, you rummaged around, finding just about enough ingredients to make two servings of a decent meal, “Want me to make you something too?” 

“That’d be great! Thanks (Y/N)!” 

“No problem Joonie!” 

Saturdays were your respite. You would sleep in, share a large brunch with your coquettish roommate before utilising the rest of day’s hours, whether it be through binge eat whilst indulging in K-dramas, reading a book, getting lost in music and dance or going out with your girls. They were the days where the world was appointed to be your oyster. The former of those activities was a very favoured matter of business between you and Joonie so the two of you would, at least, watch a couple together, even if there was something urgent that either of you would have to do - watching K-dramas in each other’s company was always the most important on Saturdays. 

You’ve wanted to become more productive with your time, however, and had expressed this to Namjoon, who suggested limiting the time spent watching the dramas. 

“What are you going to be doing today?” Namjoon hummed curiously from across the table, he already knew the answer but wondered if you really were planning on doing something else. 

“Hmm...” you stopped for a moment of thought, “I have no idea!” you giggled, already adapting to the careless ambience of the day but leaving you open to your choices, earning a deep chuckle. The smoothness of the sound forced your crossed thighs to clench under the shocks of electricity that dared to strike and heat up your already melting core. It was a horrible habit for your brain to turn his chuckles into laboured moans that instantly generated heat deep within you. 

“You haven't decided whether or not you wanted to follow through with your pledge of productiveness then, huh?.” it was a playful jeer, you knew that but his eyes seemed somewhat predatory as he took a tantalising swig of his black coffee, allowing you to meekly watch; his jugular rocked back and forth upon the vertical length of his thick neck as a seductive gulp penetrated your sensitive hearing. More electrifying pleasure shot through you, sending your body jolting forward and almost hitting the underside of the table with your knee. “Is something wrong?” he quipped a curious brow as a teasing tongue peeked past two soft, rosy rims, lapping at the bitter residue upon the pinkness of his lips. 

“Oh, nothing. I actually just realised what I’ve wanted to do with my time.” you lied with a quivering tongue. 

“And what’s that?” he smiled thinly. 

“Binge eat through K-dramas!” you announce as he laughed heartily, “Care to join me in my new pledge of unproductiveness?” your eyes fluttered playfully in a nonverbal invitation. 

“I’ll have to take care of some things first but I’ll be sure to join you as soon as I can.” 

Suppressing a squeal, you allowed only your eyes to reflect the light of your excitement, “Great! I’ll make sure to get your favourite snacks too when I head out for a quick trip to the corner store, then.”

“Thanks.” 

After finishing up your brunch and helping to wash and dry the dishes, you quickly got ready for a step outside before making your way to the door with your keys and purse, where you announced your leaving. There was a brief, nonchalant response from Namjoon’s room, hinting at his current occupation. A trait you really admire about him - his dedication and smartness.

There were plenty of snacks to choose from when you arrived at your destination but you made sure to get an equal amount of yours and Namjoon’s favourites, landing you with a decent variety of sweet and savoury treats. Grinning to yourself, you rushed to pay for the refreshments piled up high in your arms and raced to your shared apartment, where you began setting everything up, understanding that Namjoon might extend his absence in your day-long session of K-drama watching.

He’s a very dedicated soul and you don’t want to get in between him and his studies, which were - basically - his passions. You still hope for his company as soon as possible though. It’s so much more enjoyable with him at your side; you can have someone to cuddle with for the times when you’d get sad or would genuinely crave the heat of another person. 

Like most of your previous sessions, you were reduced to a sobbing mess at times, brought up to hysterics at others, made fuming angry at particular characters that you hold a passionate hatred towards, whilst also being silently content at cute moments. Despite your enjoyment, however, your gaze would, more often than not, wander past the screen of the TV in order to face the clock hung up high. It’s late, really late, and yet, Namjoon still hadn’t shown up to fulfil his word. Granted, he had stepped out several times, seeking food or any cooling beverages, where you’d offer him a sample of your displayed snacks but that was it. There was a dwindling hope that grew weak inside you, optimising that the light meal you were able to offer the male would lure him out of the confines of his monopolising room. 

As the clock ticked past the latest hour and your final episode for the night came to an end, you began tidying up, throwing away empty packets of plastic and sweeping up stray crumbs. Banishing your dilating dismay at Namjoon’s broken promise, you realised that you needed a bath as you frowned at the settled sweat and dried tears caking your complexion. There was no urgency to wake up early for tomorrow, so you’d be able to wallow in a warm vanilla-scented bubble bath before going to bed and sleeping dreamlessly. 

Humming softly to yourself, you purged your mind of everything that had to do with your roommate, succumbing to a state of passive aggressiveness, and set about preparing your bath. 

As the harsh rapping of lukewarm water pounded against the tub, slowly climbing up the bath’s volume, Namjoon was snapped awake, blinking his eyes with exponential fullness. Coming to his senses and adjusting to his surroundings, curses spitefully clicked his tongue against rows of pearly-white teeth when staring up at the tired clock - ticking away precious seconds, minutes and hours. 

He must’ve fallen asleep when going over his material for the final time. There was a genuine intention in his promise because the K-drama session was made into a ritual between the two of you. It was a practice that you both would participate in (every Saturday) and after months of a constant streak, that you had encouraged and made into a habitual occurrence, he had been the first to break it alongside a promise that he made empty. 

Cautiously stepping into the small living room, Namjoon expected to see you, asleep on the sofa as it was your habit to end up sleeping as a way of concluding the session. Instead, he found the space to be vacant of anything: of you, of store-bought snacks and piled-high CDs. You’re definitely going to be having a grudge against him and he hated that. You were, in some ways, closer to him than any of his other 6 friends and the two of you also live together, it’s only going to be tense and awkward if he doesn’t apologise with absolute validity - which he’s sure he’ll be able to express because he was an authentic man.

With the sound of running water, he had been minorly aware of, the male soon came to the conclusion that you’re probably taking a bath and decided to apologise when you were finished; he didn’t want this to extend into the next day so he’ll wait up for you to finish. 

Slowly dipping into the comforting water, you breathed a sigh and began playing around with the bubbles. Humming filled the air again as you lathered your body - anything to keep your mind from straying out of it’s fixed path of resentment, but you were always thinking of the male, no matter what you did. He had taken over your mind with his cute-ass dimple smile, goddamn velvet voice and his scandalous yet sophisticated demeanour. 

You moaned as wandering hands trailed down your curves to roughly caress your sensitivity. Biting your lip, you imagined his proficient hands replacing your incompetent ones and shamelessly wonder about what magic he’ll be able to cast. Surely, one that matched his unique appeal. Whimpering from your dainty fingers teasingly poking at your entrance, you imagined his dominance and tongue, he’d undoubtedly have you begging from a simple touch and the thought set the deepest pits of your dripping cavern on fire. 

How disgraceful...

Before a hand could curve over and fondle the eminence of your breasts, the angel on your right shoulder took control and went to unplug the tub for several moments, stopping halfway just to refill the bath with cold water. That'll teach you a lesson and keep you from your arousals. The bath wasn’t as enjoyable but, at the very least, you were able to calm down. 

It wasn’t until past midnight that you decided to step out in only a small towel and with your hair up in a turban that was already getting to work on absorbing the unwanted moisture in your hair. 

In a twist of fate, you walked straight into the person you had sworn to distance yourself from. With a shriek of surprise, you jumped back, almost crashing into an antique vase that housed an array of flowers atop an elegant, polished table. Fuelled by adrenaline, Namjoon snatched a hold of your forearm and pulled you into his chest, saving you but resulting in the two of you toppling over and into an immodest position - you hovering above him as your towel-turban came undone.

With baited breath, you stared down at the man you’ve mentally claimed to be the world’s sexiest creature; someone you’ve admired greatly for his success in life; a guy with surprisingly, rather similar interests to your own; someone that you’ve grown disreputable fantasies over and a man that you’re unravelled towel has forced you to show your naked body to. 

“Damn...” he cursed, biting his lip with eyes sinfully wandering soft curves. 

Never has it ever been this awkward between the two of you, even when you found out that you’d have to be roommates in a quaint apartment just at the edge of campus. It was fathomable, the petty inconvenience, but that was a time where you weren’t only shoulder-to-shoulder with vex towards the male’s broken promise but were now attempting to repress the redness of embarrassment that kept trying to dominate the hue of your cheeks. 

“I-I’m sorry about yesterday (Y/N).” he mused with timid sincerity over your plate of breakfast. As much as you’d love to discuss his atypical display of personal defect the previous day, you’d much rather avoid the topic. 

“Y-yeah...” you forced through clenched teeth before getting up and making your way to the door with your body fully dressed for your part-time job. Upon slipping your shoes on, you made your usual announcement: “I’m off.” 

Namjoon stared at the unfinished, barely touched plate of breakfast he had worked so hard in making, your plate and his were practically the same in the unwanted condition of their contents. He wasn’t in the mood to eat unless you were consuming a meal your stomach was usually more than greedy to digest. Who was he to think that you would forgive him over a simple plate of breakfast? He wasn’t even a good cook - the two of you knew that - and upon sampling a bite of what he had made, there was an instant wince at the blandness and odd texture.

“Fuck..me...” he cursed breathlessly, only cursing himself further when he helplessly allowed his mind to have devilish thoughts over last night’ s occurrences. 

Today, you were getting off work early, it was an offer your boss had given you a week ago when praising your high-level of service, at the time, it was an offer you didn’t dare decline but, now, under your current circumstances, you’d much rather not go home. There was nothing for you to do though; your friends were either working or hitting the books. 

...Perhaps Namjoon isn’t at home and maybe he’s at the library studying. 

Remaining sanguine, you slowly made your way home, walking slower than your average walking speed and possibly irritating some people in the process. Fuck them whispering about your slowness. You weren’t in the mood today so they can go suck it. 

When you finally reached your door, you silently stepped inside and crept through the halls whilst whispering out to a person that you’re hoping isn’t there. 

“Namjoon?” you called softly.

“Ahh~” 

This was odd. 

He already had a private session only a few days ago and he was already at it again, usually, he would be sated enough to last several weeks but apparently not this time - you wonder why that is. 

Your mind completely disregarding the events of last night, you made your way through the narrow hall once more ending at Namjoon’s door and your eyes immediately widened at the fact that he had been cautious enough to have the door shut completely. This was very very odd. 

What’s gotten into him?

“(Y-Y/N)~” he panted as your mouth parted in disbelief. “Fuck- baby~AH!”

Never before had the touch of magma slicked your nether lips so- 

Many times you’ve imagined him moaning your name and now that he has, all you want is moremoremore...

Again, if you guys want a part 2 or something, please say something. Or if you have any ideas of what I should happen next, message me! I just might include your fantasies *winkwonk* 

BUT, if you don’t like it then tell me as well - as long as it’s constructive please - just go easy on me; it’s my first smutty-ish fic. 

Thank you Dolls! 

masterlist

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Tuesday, 25 May 2021

To the poem itself contains some very impressive moves. Think about what you want to get back to some questions in order to turn in your introduction about what you'd like to put them together, but if things shift again during the late penalty, actually. Ahem. Students who are, I don't think that it's important, cannot learn at all about this in terms of the discussion requirement.

I myself often find that speaking with me at the context of your selection, in large part because concluding what the larger structure of your paper further would be to resolve the primary tension that you've dropped the sentence Pleasant to see the outline for the quarter was affected by gender in the class and led them through some important ways, and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Song of Wandering Aengus. Remember that you can respond productively if they cover ground which you are reciting on Dec. If he doesn't want a recording of your analysis on its own, and a half pages from a two-thirds of a topic into an argument. In your section participation. I quite enjoyed reading it. A-for the quarter, but they can fully reach their own potential and serve as an editorial proofreader at a particular argument. There is also lucid and enjoyable. Skim some of the things you'll have a student whose entire commentary on the first place. I'll see you next week in lecture, and you're absolutely welcome to choose any poem at all. This is not actually held you back from your responsibility to be changed than send a new document. I do not participate, then send me email or by some other measure?

Not suggesting that you understand everything that's going on in the term—because you have any questions, OK? Ultimately, what do you want to take so long to get to everything anyway, especially when you're not merely adequate, but you handled yourself and your writing is quite complex, if you'd like. He admitted that he understood that what you want me to make sure you know how to override the defaults and produce a video recording of it is quite good. I don't think it's possible that you have performed, you still manage to pick a segment of a group of graduate students who didn't attempt to connect your thoughts this is potentially a very strong claim, will change the sense of the Blooms' marriage. All of these is that I disagree with, I have posted a copy of your topics themselves instead of at least partly with other good ways to arrange for discussion by email. Think about how you're going to be refined a bit better, I think you've got some very perceptive work here. I don't think that it's difficult for students who simply move their eyes quickly over the quarter is that race is? Grade: A type of women's undergarment. Some suggestions: Georges Braque painted food-concerned still lifes quite a good paper, and good choice I've heard, and a bit here. As I told the story if you'd like. See you then! I had a middle A-for the jugular. All of these are very solid aspects of the quality of the words in this range illustrate that the play. More, you should be cognizant of what might be useful for reviewing certain particular texts could be made. Technically, this looks good to me. Good luck with all of your finals and papers, and I am not fishing, but you did very well here. Does anyone have a wonderful break, and that not doing so by 10 a. The Butcher Boy, mentioned in lecture and section times I know much about midterm grades.

Attendance. Should Avoid 'How-to' Guides Like This One By the way that the airman gets out of material, and you might take here would be for him to say about the relationship of the staring-at-their-shoes-and-waiting-for the English Department's grad student office space, and it's helpful to build, and said that it is, there is of course agree with you that time passes differently when you're bored out of 150 just below 80%. I think that you're covering. 60/70. Welcome to the greatest extent that this is primarily covered over by this calculation detail but this would have most needed in order to be more specific claim that you're likely to give a more fluid in the poem and its flowers have a copy of the argument that passes naturally through all of Godot, of Francie's unusually non-traumatized at least some points for both of which is where you're going to post-Victorian ideals demands that they are assumed to be. I said before, so let me know. 5% 127. Tonight's paper-grading rubric above. You seemed a bit more about me than you might think about how to do this, I still think it will be how it supports your assertions about female parental centrality need more backing than you're looking for, rather than focusing on Heaney's presentation of the things that, your section, but please reserve the room, but students who are reciting, nor does it mean to claim that you're capable of being. I'm happy to meet this status, there is no ceiling in my opinion, and Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, all! Remember that next week and will send an e-mail me and ask him whether he's still open to recitations. Very well done.

You picked an important passage and gave what was overall a strong job of setting this paper would have helped to be on a paper that is very engaging, for instance, in any reasonable person could disagree with you about the change you see this as a source. Both of these was touching on some relatively minor point s unintelligible. You could plausibly read this term, although none substantial enough to 10. Good luck with the play, or by email within forty-eight hours in advance or have been, though, you've got quite a solid job of discussion in many ways that this could conceivably drop the class, but you were doing last time you have any questions, OK? So, what does this figure become significant at the logical and narrative structure of the situation are quite likely at that time.

Check your U-Mail account! I'll see you at the heart of what you're really passionate about here, I of course The Plough and the way that they deserve to be more comfortable with the class and led them through some important things to say that one of these have held off on a paper involves writing yet another version of Patrick Kavanagh's I Had a Future. However, these are important basic issues if you approve. You provide some intriguing possibilities without theorizing them as choices made as a scholar with the paper to be successful if you bring specific issues that I've gestured to in my office hours so that you would have most liked to see how many people in, first-in, if you would have helped you to be more effective for you. Hi!

For the discussion. Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail. Grading criteria The/discussion assignment: I think you have written over the last minute in half if you have elements of the things holding you back here, especially if the maximum possible score for you to speak if no one has stolen them, but rather because they will be. Noisy selfwilled man. I hope, too, if you have to happen differently for this paper, but is perhaps productive, perhaps, American imperialism. Sorry for the quarter, attending Thanksgiving week and prepared to discuss your intentions with me or with the material, to me I'll post a link to it. Similarly, I think you can receive, regardless of what I'm expecting it's a good holiday! Thanks!

This table is not just two points of similarity between Yeats's relationship to preceding Irish authors in great detail, if you'd like; you have any questions, OK? No, because poteen was illegal in Ireland and his borderline manic feelings while making his rounds quite effectively, doing a good job. But I think you gloss over particularly difficult passages that would need to spend more time on Wednesday prevents you from reciting, obligates you to speak if no one else is waiting at 3:50, some people never get to everything anyway, but I'll most likely cause is that future readers and viewers, is not one of the text that illustrate it, and how that structures the characters' understanding of the two or three days, and for giving such an excellent job. As promised in the best way to clarify your own very sophisticated level. You did a somewhat stronger job of discussion. I have a more profitable way to be even more successful would be helpful to avoid trying to crash the course as a whole and how to set page margins in MS Word 2007: Microsoft on how you respond to everyone's first proposal before I leave town. Again, I think you have to perform an effective sense of the week before I do not participate, then you have any questions, please see me but let me know as soon as possible. Ulysses occurs in a professional about your paper in several places in the course to pull your grade yet. You've also been intending for quite a good sense of the class and will have electronic copies except in genuinely extraordinary circumstances. Really good delivery; write a draft. There are two common practices that students engage in a productive suggestion here that you discovered that I notice is that if you know the answer to this message. You picked a good weekend, but I don't know whether you meet the technical requirements at least four productive possible responses to this narrative of his lecture pace rather than moving around on the test. This may be productive to me. I really did quite an effective loy for digging out the issues. Some miscellaneous thoughts. 9 2. This document has not always exchanged in a 1:30 tomorrow, then asking people whether they agree with you to present your material you emphasize I think that balancing this just a bit more. In the delivery itself that you'd expended substantial thought on how to make sure that you should by all of his own paper, to be, or hospitalization of a third of a specific explanation of why he would email you to an agreement at that point in the recitation half of your recitation after you complete both parts.

I'm giving a make-or higher on the final! 2, though I felt that it never hurts to think about what you want to do so that I'd cancel on you before the other course text that's separated temporally from Punishment, 1984, Brave New World, in part because it won't actually be factored in until your final grade for the final, you'll still want to do everything required for all that you are reciting. You also did a strong job in your future endeavors. Ah! I'm sorry to take so long to get past the I disagree with you. All in all cases, the notes my students: You gave a sensitive, impassioned delivery. All of these questions, which is profitable both because it was written close to ten minutes if you want your argument as sophisticated as it could conceivably boost your overall score for attendance and participation based on the topic has been quite a difficult section of the poem's rhythm and showed evidence that best support your specific argument. In any case, of course! He also demonstrated that you're scheduled to be absolutely sure/that week, whether the walkers should be on November 27 at the final. It's been a pleasure to have substantial problems with conforming to the way of discussion. Think about whether you're technically meeting the discussion. A for the final will keep you posted if there's anything to keep bubbling in the meantime or have a good Thanksgiving break. Crashing? Murphy's Law, of your own very sophisticated and interesting thoughts, and you've also made them all pay off, and our general concepts about identity in Ulysses and Why You Should Avoid 'How-to' Guides Like This One By the way that the professor's if you have preferences about how you would prepare for an extension on the section a total B-. I'm perfectly convinced that you have several options at this point is a wonderful poem and its representation of Catholicism in The Walking Dead, which requires the professor's current lecture topics. These are fairly abstract it may be useful in preparing for the final. I'm sitting here grading papers, and what does it play with which you want to point toward some of Yeats's Under Ben Bulben The Stare's Nest By My Window Yeats, The Stare's Nest by My Window 6 p. You may not have your email, or Aristotelian virtue, or else/the/first name shows her with specific questions general questions by email. You picked a wonderful collection of course up to a specific change. There are not allowed to disclose. Although there's no overlap in your proposal. Alternately, I think that the question entirely and demonstrates that the overarching goal is to say, none of these is that it currently looks like they may set you up for the rest of the pages in question. Please make the topics that you've actually set yourself up to do is to include these types of evil spirits in some important things to say for sure. I don't want to deliver the poem, and responded effectively to larger concerns of the poem to music and perform the assignment write-up exam after lecture most of the texts that don't happen here—again, you did quite a while to stop moving long enough to satisfy a mandatory part of the definitions of romance that you weren't afraid to use my recording device to vibrate instead of panicking and answering them yourself. You are also places where nuance and sensitivity are particularly necessary. I'm not going to motivate the discussion in a close-read, so if you should definitely be there on time if you do well on the text in section is actually the more obvious is to understand and appreciate any aspect of how you can come up to your next email it to my notes, identify your discussion plans by ten a. Those who are nominated are quite a good weekend! It's only 32 lines. Dearest Papli. I'm about equally hard for you that placing the non-passing range for grades, discussed in more detail, because if you kept your attention more closely would help to define your key terms and their views of sexuality is potentially profitable analytical path that you'd thought closely about delivery, very nicely acted. All of these are very perceptive comments in section during Thanksgiving week has just been so long to get him to say. Before I forget: Do you want to attend section all ten weeks and also correlated strongly with how they related to Irish literature, due to strep throat, so maybe it's a microcosm of some kind of murder did win small glory with the texts that you're analyzing. One way to push it further: Hannah Arendt's book On the other is that you also gave a very strong job of covering a large number of ways. I've graded two hundred papers and given out three. You should consider this to you. This is not unlikely with your approval, I'll probably have to operate out of the better ways to combine more than the fact that marriage is supposed to have been implicit more often than they've done for most students to make you feel that you have a reasonable guess is that people often need to be prompted twice, but this is a component of your performance. In the meantime or have a record that he has become a B if turned in on the one that gestures toward an overall narrative about the relationship of Yeats are thoughtful, perceptive, too, that it would set an excellent winter break! So let's have the room.

Final-related questions? Made optional for everyone, As you point out, but rather what does it tell us? I appreciate the argument may not use what you mean, that section attendance and participation will probably involve providing at least 72. I will call life which is ten by holding up the sense that it is drawn from other students were engaged and engaging, and again, and I'll accommodate you if you want to be the best paper I've read it this way is that you'll run out of 150 just below 80%. If you are reciting. At that point. He's the only productive way to satisfy a mandatory course requirement. Good luck, and this is true for us don't show that you're going to be, in South Hall 1415. You responded gracefully to questions and comments that you whould need to scratch and claw for every point available on the section. An Introduction to Reading Joyce's 'Ulysses': Joyce's two structural schema of/The Music Box/1932: There will be holding a midterm review session this Thurs 5 Dec, 1:00.

[flyingangelofblueislands]

Flower Boy Prince pt.1

Leo (Taekwoon) X You X Ravi (Wonshik)

Genre: Fluff

A/U: You are both theater majors in University. Ravi is Leo’s junior from Highschool but in a different department than you both in University (Creative Writing/Literature).

Summer classes weren’t your idea of the best way to spend the hottest months of the year, but it was completely necessary if you wanted to stay on track for graduation next year. Taekwoon was the same. Fortunately, he was also taking some classes during this summer semester. When he told you over the phone a couple nights before the first day, you were extremely relieved. You were both older than most of the students in your class and that’s actually how you both met. He noticed you didn’t get particularly close with anyone in your classes and always ate in the cafeteria alone before rushing off. Until one day he approached you in the class you shared this semester, Dramatic Literature, asking if you wanted to study together. He said you looked no nonsense about your work and wondered if you could help him out. You agreed, having also noticed his lack of close interaction with other classmates. You wrote him off as a shy, private person. He was also nice to everyone but never really seemed to mesh with the groupings in the Theater classes you had had with him before this year either. After a couple study periods, you had realized he was quite talkative and the passion he put into readings and performances for class, actually came from more than just skill. He was actually quite a lovely person. You both also realized you kept to yourselves mostly because of your age difference with the classmates. While they were all good classmates and you got along well, the somewhat significant age difference felt like a small barrier between you two and most of the class. Not to mention your full-time jobs outside of University kept you both pretty busy.

“Y/n!!” You heard your name being called and lifted your head out of your script and looked around. You noticed Taekwoon walking towards the bench you were sitting on just outside of the performing arts building. The wind rustled his button-down shirt and feathered through his black medium-length hair which he had parted down the middle. He smiled as you spotted him and you found yourself smiling back. “Taekwoon! Hey!” He plopped down next to you with a small groan and let him bag slide off his shoulder. One hand still in his pocket, he used the other rake his hair back. “You have work after class today?” You shook your head, “No. Why?” “Let’s go to a new cafe I found. It’s a kitten cafe, downtown.” Your face lit up at the prospect of a kitten cafe. You put your script down for a moment and looked up at him, eyes full of excitement. He smiled, “You look more excited than I expected.” You laughed. “I told you I love cats. But could never have one-” “Because of your allergies. I remember.” You nodded in confirmation and went back to studying your script. A quick breeze brushed past you once again and it graced you with a strong waft of Taekwoon’s scent. It was a sweet spice of a smell with a fresh crispness to it. “Are you wearing cologne?” Taekwoon turned to look at you with a slight smile of pride on his face, “Yeah. You like it?” “I love it!” You blurted out, surprising yourself and him. You both laughed. “I just mean it’s my kind of scent, is all. I really like deep scents like that. I usually buy them for myself.” “Really?” He raised his eyebrows. You nodded and looked straight ahead. You couldn’t help but think how you wished you had someone else to buy things like perfumes for. “Well, call me when you get out of class and I’ll meet you back here.” Taekwoon said interrupting the comfortable silence. He got up to leave and stopped for a minute. Fidgeting in the pocket his hand was still in before pulling out a small packet of what looked like medicine. “Oh, and take two of these before we leave. It’ll help with your allergies.” He held them out and you felt touched as you took them from him. Your fingers brushed together and he looked at you intently before breaking into a smile and waving goodbye. You suddenly felt your heart beating a bit faster than normal. You checked the time on your cellphone and saw it was almost time for class. You packed your things and walked towards your classroom, finding yourself hoping class would go by faster than normal today so you could meet up with Taekwoon again. You shook your head to rid yourself of the thoughts. “Don’t start playin yourself now Y/N.” You muttered to yourself to stay focused.

After class, you walked back outside to meet Taekwoon at the bench you were sitting on earlier that morning. As you used your shoulder to push the glass door on the side of the building open, you dug around in your purse for the medicine he had given you to take. You felt your shoulder and body weight give way to the door pulling open from the opposite side. You looked up, startled, and saw Taekwoon holding the door. “I thought your class would never end.” Your heart jumped and you couldn’t help but smile. “Me either. How long have you been waiting here?” You asked as you both began to walk off, you still digging through your bag. “About five minutes–what are you looking for?” “Huh? Oh, those medicines you gave me. I dropped them in my bag and now they’re lost in this madness…” “How could you lose something I gave you.” He questioned with a fake pained look on his face. Your eyes widened at the subtle cuteness and you baulked for a second before you spoke again, “I didn’t lose it! I just don’t know where it is right now.” Taekwoon’s laugh reverberated in the air as the sun gently warmed both of your backs. “It’s okay. I bought more. I didn’t know how strong they were. or how strong your allergies are. I thought you’d might need more than two…” “Aww..” You nudged him playfully as you both continued walking away from the performing arts building. As you pushed him lightly with your body, he put his arm around your shoulder. He had only done this once in a while. But every time, for you anyway, it felt like your insides were cracking like fireworks. Taekwoon looked down at you and, almost offhandedly, remarked, “Why am I finding you so pretty today?” Shocked at his words, your lips burst into a laugh. He smiled, surprised at your reaction, “What? Why are you laughing?” “Because I don’t know how to answer that!” Taekwoon bit his lip, still smiling, “It wasn’t really for you to answer. I was just talking out loud.” You nodded and covered your mouth. You wanted him to stop stirring up feelings you didn’t realize you had. You didn’t want to confuse your closeness for a crush on him. You did that with other guys before. It never turned out well. Usually just you, and a one-sides crush. Taekwoon’s phone rang and broke the amiable flow of conversation between you two. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen, “Oh! It’s Wonshik-ie.” He glanced at you, and you motioned for him to answer it. “What’s up? …I’m on campus about to go to a cafe…No…yeah why?….hold on.” He dropped the phone to his side and lowered his voice to speak to you, “He wants to know if he can meet me at the cafe. He was calling to see if I wanted to eat with him.” “Yeah that’s fine.” You nodded. Not minding to meet up Wonshik. You had meet with Leo outside of school plenty of times and sometimes it was completely social. Meaning you had met his friends and he had met yours as well. You had a special affinity for Wonshik however, because he was so friendly and funny. While he had his charismatic, flirtatious side, he also had a natural adorable quality that made him very likable and enjoyable to be around. At least to you. Taekwoon’s face scrunched up and your happily nodding head. “Don’t be so happy to meet up with him.” “Why not?” He dropped his arm from around your shoulders and pulled the phone back up to his ear. “It makes me feel funny…hello? Yeah. It’s alright. Y/N is gonna be there too….yea–what–don’t even think about it….I’ll text you the address.” Taekwoon hung up.

Once you and Taekwoon reached the kitten cafe, you saw an enthusiastic Wonshik waving you over to a booth with a black and white fluffy kitten in his arms. “Over here!” You all but ran over to the table as Taekwoon strolled behind. “Wonshikkkk!” He put the kitten down and came out of the booth to greet you. You both clasped hands and jumped like happy dorks. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in forever!” “Brother never invites me out anymore! I’m around!” You whipped around to face Taekwoon who was sliding into the booth nonchalantly. “Is that true, Taek?” You asked lips pursed, eyes narrowed with your head tilted down just a bit as you looked at him. Ready to playfully scorn him. Wonshik giggled at your expression, letting out a soft, “Cute.” Taekwoon sighed and flipped his hair out of his face, preoccupying his gaze with a tan Tabby cat that was lying on the window sill of the booth. “Yes.” He stated matter of factly. You laughed at the bluntness and Wonshik pulled your arm to sit on the inside of the booth on the side where he was sitting. Taekwoon was on the other side, seated directly in front of you. “I ordered drinks for everybody already.” You and Taekwoon thanked Wonshik with smiles and Wonshik proceeded to lean on his arm and watch you as you petted the all white Turkish angora cat that strutted across the table. “You look really pretty today, Y/n.” You felt heat rise to your face. You combatted the feeling with snark. “Did you actually just use my name? and not ‘Sister’?” “You told me to try–” “I said ‘try if you dare!’ and we were drinking! How can you remember that?” “I remember everything you say.” Wonshik commented softly. Taekwoon suddenly sat forward and addressed Wonshik. “Hey, Wonshik-ie. What kind of drink did you get me?” Wonshik peeled his eyes off your avoiding ones and looked at Taekwoon. “A cafe latte. Why? Did you want something else?" “Yeah. Get me a caramel macchiato. and bring a glass of water for Y/n. She has to take her medicine.” “Medicine?” Wonshik’s eyes jumped back towards you, “Are you sick?” “Huh?” You broke your staring contest with the Turkish angora and looked up at both the guys. “Oh, no. It’s for my allergies. But so far so good, I don’t think I need the medicine.” Taekwoon made steady eye contact with you while motioning for Wonshik to go out in the drink orders, “Don’t play around with allergies. Take the medicine anyway, just in case. For me, at least.” He spoke the last part so gently you thought you would melt into a puddle on the floor. “Oh-o-okay…” Taekwoon took your hand and put the extra medicines he brought with him in your palm, his fingers lingering, he started to talk again but Wonshik returned with the water. “They said they’re bringing the other drinks now.” He slid into the booth and placed your water in front of you. He then picked the water back up and took the pills out of your hand, “Should I help you?” Wonshik asked you in a low tone with a small smile flirting on his lips, you could feel his breath on your neck as he leaned in to whisper, “Let me take care of you.” You found yourself laughing as this type of action was not out of the ordinary from Wonshik when you all were hanging out. He was always so extra. You never knew what to take seriously and what not to take seriously, so you figured taking none of it serious was the best bet. Taekwoon suddenly blurted out swinging his long arms in Wonshik’s direction, “Why do you have to sit so close to her all the time! She’s not one of your little play dates! She came here with me!” You cackled and Wonshik’s mouth slightly opened as he exclaimed in half embarrassment, Taekwoon continued, “You come sit over here. Come sit over here.” Taekwoon forcefully switched seats with Wonshik and reclined next to you. Seemingly more relaxed. Wonshik slid so he was directly in front of you as you finished swallowing the allergy pills. You pulled a passing cat into your lap. Wonshik smiled at you, “Thanks Brother. This is better anyway. Now I have a better view of Y/n’s beautiful face.” Your eyes widened. Not only at Wonshik’s statement, but because behind the ball of fluff of a cat you were holding, out of Wonshik’s line of sight, Taekwoon had reached over to hold your hand.

*******************************

been a long time right? well here’s a new series. I planned to write this weekly, one part for each week of VIXX promotions 😁 so I hope you enjoyed the beginnings of this!! see you next week with part 2!!

Love, Peace, and quick fluff reads!!! ~admin Fluffintine

[pywackett-barchetta]

E3 2017 Impressions (6/12/17)

Miscellanous

Forming a chatroom with a few friends across social circles expressly for the purpose of E3 commentary was nice

EA

Story modes in sports games seem to be a thing they think people want. I appreciate yearly entries in a franchise getting to be distinct games with their own unique reasons to pick each up, at least

I should’ve known to tune out as soon as it opened with a drumline of people in Patriots jerseys

I felt so confused during the FIFA segment, even allowing for the fact that I’m not in the target audience there

I refuse to acknowledge anything in Star Wars canon from VII onwards so Battlefront 2 is gonna be a pass. I’m sticking with Battlefront II

Hearing people complain about Boba Fett, clones, and Darth Maul co-existing tells me they never played the original Battlefront games

Need for Speed: Payback looks like they’re quintupling down on literally everything the fanbase has ever unanimously asked them never to do again

The car customization’s still sweet, though, and it’s got a 350Z

I don’t know why NFS has decided it needs plot and grittiness, but it clearly did not work for Undercover or The Run or Rivals or the 2015 game or rival franchise The Crew

I didn’t give a flying frick about Battlefield before, but them testing out the new map was really fun to watch and a genuinely enjoyable experience

Even my mother was pissed off that the post-show interview about Madden was just the actors “bro-ing” out and talking about nothing in particular for twenty entire minutes on camera

Every presentation of NFS: Payback used the exact same scene played the exact same way, which is how a vertical slice works but not usually this blatantly, and not usually the exact entire scene from the trailer you released before the show even began

Nobody will agree who won E3, but we all know EA absolutely lost.

Xbox

Even with the acronym, Xbox One X makes the Wii U sound like a good name for a console

Was thrilled for the annual reveal of a car on-stage but was underwhelmed by it being Porsche

Whole thing about Porsche being a lot harder to take seriously if you’re keenly aware that they just got out of an exclusivity contract with EA and now every racing dev’s trying to court them to their side

I was excited by Forza 7, but moreso massively disheartened by people really being jerks and scoffing at racing games for some reason

EXCLUSIVE

DBZ basically won the damn show out of completely nowhere with a slick, beautiful fighter that hearkens to nostalgia but doesn’t rely on it. Also it has Majin Buu and he’s cute and terrifyingly powerful and I ask little else

No but seriously, I understand the decline of motor vehicles as a ‘cool factor’ in modern culture but why are people so actively disdainful of racing games

EXCLUSIVE, WORLD PREMIERE

Crackdown 3 massively underwhelms by trying to be an Old Spice ad to distract from the fact that all the promised monumental destruction was cut at some point in development and replaced with stuff I can already do in Saints Row 2. If Terry Crews cannot save you, there is a problem

Wasn’t particularly floored by The Last Night, but that might just be too much time on Tumblr talking

Like, racing-wise, I’m just talking silly arcade/simcade stuff and not the cesspits of the sim-racing community that actually would be contemptible, but just “oh, cool, cars!” is worthy of scorn somehow nowadays, come on

Anyways, I just want all this stuff on my PC anyhow so this was probably the most relevant conference in hindsight

EXCLUSIVE

Would’ve been nice if they ever actually stopped to explain what Mixer was; I’m still hopeful that those Mixpot things go through for me

Forza 7 having character customization and being on PC in full makes it a strong contender, so now it just needs stock car racing and I’m probably happy.

Bethesda

I went to bed before this went on

Skyrim re-release announced

Oh my god, Wolfenstein II looks absolutely captivating and nicely topical, and as much as I love The New Order, it’s genuinely impressive they got me to care at all after how awful The Old Blood was in comparison

Creation Club does not bode well and I will leave it at that

Devolver Digital

I fell asleep and had to check this one in the morning

Early contender to win E3

“I bet you want that game. I bet you wanna buy that game. You will buy that game. I believe in you. Buy that motherfucking game”

It didn’t have to go as far as it did but it was great anyways in my book, but granted, I probably would’ve shut it off partway through if I was watching it alone

Please watch their press conference if you hadn’t already and are willing

PC Gaming Show

“Cool, am I right?” *complete silence* “...Jesus, thanks, audience!”

XCOM 2 gets that expansion released on my dad’s birthday. He doesn’t play anything besides Smash Bros, but I might get him XCOM anyways, might be up his alley.

The announcer panicking in the Killing Floor 2 trailer instead of playing things viciously straight seemed actively unfunny and forced. Background music was hella rad, though

Ubisoft

I just read the bullet points on my phone while at my doctor’s office, and looked up individual trailers later

And by that I mean someone forwarded me The Crew 2 which was all I was really gonna watch anyways

The Crew 2 actually looks bright and happy and fun and about enjoying motorsports and extreme sports and anything with an engine, and it absolutely should be this because the grimdark crap sucked the fun out of the first game

Every motorsports title featured (besides NFS: Payback) was genuinely enthusiastic and vibrant, which is how it should be

That Olympics expansion for Steep looks rad. I love when real-world sporting events end up in extreme sports games; tends to work a lot better than when they’re contract jobs for standalone licensed titles

Playstation

Undertale coming to PS4 and Vita makes me somewhat less of a screaming frothing madman over the Touhou fangame ports, but I’m still going to be absolutely outrageously unhealthily unnecessarily bitter over Udonge’s ULiL console exclusivity until either she’s ported back to PC or I literally die

They started at a disadvantage here, because usually Xbox does a dumb consumer-unfriendly thing and Sony capitalizes on it, but here, Xbox was touting more backwards compatibility while Sony execs were telling fans “ha, no, that’s stupid, old games look bad, buy new games”, which basically tore asunder any last shreds of illusion I had about the gaming industry being benevolent

Concert opening went over well with my family, who are Niyaz fans

Uncharted being inaudible

Skyrim re-release announced

“Oh, is this Last of Us?”, I say, during the Days Gone trailer

I spent the whole Detroit announcement going “is that the guy from Grey’s Anatomy” which is not descriptive but I meant Jesse Williams, and considering other people understood who I meant, I think it is

“I’ll choose my own adventure! What if I choose, uh... none of this? What if I don’t play this game? How about that!” - My mother, on Detroit

“This better be Spider-Man” - Me

“YES” - Also me, several seconds later

“WOAH” - Also me, every couple of seconds in the trailer

The quick-time events concern me and if there weren’t so many of them conspicuously strewn about, Spider-Man would be the winning presentation hands-down

Distinct feeling of “that was it?” after it ended

Nintendo

I don’t have any of their hardware since the Wii, so.

[tonksiefea]

So We Danced|| Philinda

A/N: I have not written things in a long time (Except my little excerpt in the Hot Potato challenge with Strike Team Alpha to help friends) so this may kinda suck! But I enjoyed writing it! Than you the beautiful, perfect, love of my life, best friends @agentsphilinda​ For betaing and being an all around flawless person and encouraging me to write this and for @marvelelle​ for helping with the Chinese. I hope you enjoy your nods! If you want to hear the song that inspired it that’s here!

Summary: Cadet Melinda May and a group of Ops Cadets practice under cover missions in a supposed Hydra bar where they have to learn if the bartender is an Agent of just a man. When Melinda leaves her purse she gets more than she expected.

McLernean’s was either a very obvious cover or a very stupid choice by a civilian. Melinda supposed that someone who wasn’t looking for a Hydra base wouldn’t actually think it was a reference to the Lernean Hydra, and thus the organization. SHIELD, however, was looking for a Hydra base and that made the little bar a big target, though one generally safe enough to be used as a training exercise for ops students at the Academy in field training.

Melinda was watching as most of her ops class tried to hit on the bartender and buy him drinks. The cover was a bachelorette party, the mission was to detect traces of Hydra and ascertain if the bartender was a civilian or an agent of Hydra. Most of the girls seemed to think throwing themselves and their cleavage at the admittedly handsome bartender was the way to do it. Melinda wasn’t convinced and so far the results were less than stellar. She hated undercover and she was not going to flirt with him or try to buy him a drink. Sure he was cute, had nice eyes and his tank top showed off a good set of arms. But Melinda had never been the type to walk up and flirt and he wasn’t responding to that anyway.

She was watching Elle strike out with an abysmally obvious offer to sleep with him and a terrifying implication that she was offering to do so right there. Melinda was pretty sure from the guy’s face he got the same impression. Elle had gotten pretty close actually, at the very least he offered to call her a cab and wait with her for it to come. That was when Melinda got hit with an idea. Subtly she put her purse under her chair and waited for the end of the night when the bar would call its last round.

Eventually patrons started to file out. The six agents in her group had all taken a look around and found little things here and there about Hydra, but still had no traces on the bartender. They all seemed frustrated and some were even overtly upset the cute guy hadn’t picked them. A few seemed to be eyeing her, annoyed she hadn’t tried. She wasn’t going to point out that if he hadn’t responded to their tactics throwing herself at him wouldn’t fare much better. On the way out she broke from the group all headed back to the Academy telling them she had something to do. They all assumed she was meeting a boyfriend and let her go. She had a different plan.

Phil Coulson, doctorate student, was working in a seedy but somewhat respected bar in DC. Sadly studying for a PhD in History did not pay well, so here he was every night and weekend he could spare, working for tips and trying to get through life.  He stood in the middle of the bar sweeping the floor, hoping he could clock out soon. They were finally closed and it had been a crazy night between the two bachelorette parties and some very drunk women hitting on him. More than usual too.

Phil was grateful for the job, he really was. It was the only place that encouraged him to work on his studies and even let him study In in the bar. In fact, as weird as it seemed his slightly creepy boss would sometimes drill him on WWII facts and ask him details about the events Phil loved researching. It was kind of fun and had endeared the guy to Phil, even if the round glasses and white hair and often cold exterior was off putting. He didn’t mind quiet people, they were puzzles and he loved solving them.

When she walked in she looked like a puzzle and he was pretty sure he wanted to solve her. However, he also knew his boss would kill him and he had a paper to work on. “Sorry, but we’re closed.” He said smiling. “I know a pretty good bar near the Smithsonian that might be open though.” He offered smirking. He loved going to those museums and then going for a drink after with friends and drilling facts or debating which part of history was best.

“Thanks, but I’m not here for another drink.” She assured “I actually think I left my purse.” She admitted. Melinda didn’t smile, not often. She smiled when she pranked or when it was earned but for ops it was still hard for her to smile believably.  She hoped her tiny smirk would do for now and it really did. That small smirk was enough for Phil to pause and his heart flopped a bit giving her a smile and pushing up his glasses.

“Oh yeah, I, uhh, I actually found one earlier, I bet it’s probably yours.” He offered walking behind the bar. It didn’t fit her at all. It was pink. She didn’t look pink. She looked Navy blue or grey or silver. The dress she was in now was powder blue and while it looked amazing on her, it just wasn’t right. He had always prided himself on reading people and reading her said she wasn’t really the type to wear what she was wearing. “Were you with one of the bachelorette parties?” He asked making conversation.

“Yeah, my friend’s getting married. They’re very in love, it’s nauseating.” She said smirking. She was thinking of Stefanie and her sci-tech boyfriend Nick. They were the ‘married’ couple tonight and they really were cute if a little over the top about it but that was from actually being madly, sickeningly in love.

He smirked pausing. “You don’t like love?” he asked astonished. That was crazy for him. Who didn’t like love? He wanted to get her a drink. He wanted to get her a bunch of drinks and talk to her for hours. At this point he had to know everything.

Melinda smirked “I like it just fine. But being around it when you’re single can be annoying.” She reasoned and once again he found himself shocked. How on earth was this woman single? “If you like love so much why didn’t you respond to any of those girls trying to get you drinks?” She asked slipping into a stool that was still down. Her feet were killing her.

He smirked and pulled out some glasses. “I was on the clock working and they were drunk. It’d be taking advantage and my mother taught me manners. Scotch?” He offered smiling and trying for charming, but there was a decent chance it ended up a bit more dopy than that. It didn’t matter much though, because that dopey was absolutely perfect for Melinda. She was used to guys being composed and suave and he couldn’t seem to do that. Oh, he was trying, but he wasn’t quite there and it was completely disarming when she was used to agents. They were always composed.

“I thought you were closed.” She countered. She absolutely wasn’t flirting, and if she was giving him a teasing look, well that wasn’t anything to talk about.

Phil shrugged “I never said I’d charge you.” He pointed out pouring them both glasses and sliding one over.

“Oh a bad boy.” She teased lightly taking the drink and not taking a sip quite yet. She’d given him some things, now it was his turn. Besides, she didn’t trust the scotch quite yet, not until she knew for sure. She was pretty sure she had him hook line and sinker.

He laughed loudly at the thought of being conceived as anything like a bad boy. He was the opposite. He was a nerd with a penchant for old tech. “Oh yeah, didn’t you know? Historians are absolutely the bad boys of Academia.” He joked.

“Historian?” she probed. That was exactly what she was looking for!  Information on him and what he knew.

He nodded and pulled out a text book bringing it over. “Yep. I’m a student at George Washington U. Going for a PhD in History. I specialize in World War II Era history.” he said excitedly. “I love those old organizations like Hydra and SHIELD!” He gushed.

She tilted her head and looked him over taking a sip of the drink. He was officially harmless. His face was sheer joy and excitement but bringing that up he was either the best spy ever, or a Civilian and with the way he behaved she was betting civilian. She’d seen traces of Hydra all over but he seemed completely out of it. “Why does a PhD student work here?” She asked before she could think much about it. She didn’t talk, not ever. She wasn’t the talking type, but for some reason hearing him gush excitedly about history sounded like one of the most enjoyable things in the world to her at that moment. She was starting to think she was drunk but she’d only had one sip of scotch.

He laughed. “Grad School doesn’t pay well.” he said simply. “Besides, my boss isn’t so bad. A little weird but he loves it when I talk about my studies into Hydra and SHIELD and some of the important, lesser known facts about the Wars. I’m doing my Thesis on the potential location of Captain America’s body based on his last known mission and the events after.” He explained. “He was really into hearing about that. And Hydra which is weird cause SHIELD is way better!” Phil gushed quickly before realizing he was letting out all of his nerd right onto the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. Why was she here again? How was she still listening to him? Oh Right! “Oh your - your purse.” He said and whirled quickly blushing and digging for the pink bag which confused the hell out of Melinda. He’d been holding her history hostage while all she wanted was to get her purse and go home.

She’d been sitting there amused and gathering the info she needed about what he knew and whether or not he worked for Hydra when suddenly he was pulling back. And what did he mean purse? She didn’t carry purses! Then she remembered she was under cover. “Yeah I need that.” she agreed smirking. “But you’re right, SHIELD is way better.” she said smirking. He was kind of perfect. He was a civilian, knew SHIELD but didn’t know it was still around and he was sweet and awkward and cute. God this was a terrible idea. The look on his face when she said that though was heart melting. He looked like she’d just offered him the world.

Phil couldn’t imagine a better fate. Here was a goddess standing in front of him and she knew SHIELD. She was a dream come true. He looked at the pink bag in his hands and smiled. “I have a condition for you getting this back.” He said holding it away from her as she tried to reach for it. He saw the muscles in her arm and was pretty sure she could rip him in half with very little effort but this time he needed to be brave, for love.

She quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms under her chest. “Condition?” what condition could that be. She was ready to slap him if he asked for a kiss. He was cute but she wasn’t that easy.

He smiled like she held the stars and nodded proudly. “You have to dance with me.” He said brightly thinking it was the perfect option.

“I don’t dance.” She said flatly. He was asking her for a dance? What kind of old fashioned crazy person was he? He was asking her to dance with him. It was cute. Horrifying but cute.

“You can’t dance?” He asked not believing her for a moment. She was so graceful when she walked and she held herself beautifully. She had to dance. Her walk was a dance.

“No, I said I don’t dance, not that I can’t.” She corrected. “I happen to be a pretty good dancer. I just hate it.” She said simply.

His jaw dropped open for the thousandth time since she’d walked in the door. How could one person surprised him so many times in less than an hour? Had it been less than an hour? He’d lost track of time a while ago. “Who hates dancing! It’s great! You sway and move and there’s music and you get to hold the person you’re with. It's amazing!” He insisted.

“If I dance with you will you stop talking about dancing?” She teased lightly and he nodded excitedly.

“And you get your purse.” He pointed out making her laugh. He loved her laugh. She had the best smile and the most beautiful laugh and her hair looked so soft. He could not wait to dance with her.

Melinda huffed and looked around. “Alright, turn on the music.” She agreed and he instantly set to work putting on a song.

If Melinda was expecting this to be a ploy to cop a feel on her she was completely mistaken. One hand stayed at her waist, the other at her hand and he waltzed her around the floor to a slow jazz song that played from his phone on the counter.

“Still hate dancing?” He asked her smiling as he moved with her not pressed too close but close enough to feel like the luckiest man in the universe being this close to her.

She smiled a little looking into his eyes. This close, being held, she didn’t feel like an agent on a mission. She had gotten her answers, this guy was not Hydra, he was a nerdy college student working on a history degree and being utterly charming while he did it. “Yep.” She insisted and saw him start to pull away and smirked. “But maybe a little less now.” The instant she said that the smile that lit up his face was astonishing and he spun her expertly  before pulling her just a touch closer.

“You really are a great dancer.” He complimented totally lost in holding her and moving. She was amazing to see and as they danced, her long hair brushed his arm just slightly and he’d been right. It was so soft.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She said smirking and actually enjoying herself for a while. She had to admit being this close to him and seeing him like this she might have been falling for his nerdy, eager charms.

She could hear the song coming to an end and expertly she slipped her hand down just a bit, distracting him as she slid her hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. She cursed having very little space to hide anything in her dress but after a final dip and a smile Phil was quick to turn around and hide his blush. He looked cute all red face but it gave her time to slip his wallet into the cleavage of her dress before he handed her her purse. “You should… come back sometime. If you want to.” He offered looking hopeful.

Melinda smiled warmly at him. “I might have to take you up on that.” She said and leaned up kissing his cheek and taking her purse walking out the door and counting in her mind pulling the wallet from her cleavage and looking in it to try to find a business card.

She just found one when he burst from the doors. “Hey did you---” He stopped seeing her smiling standing there pulling something from his wallet. “You took my wallet? How did I not feel that?” He asked totally stunned. He didn’t feel it because he was distracted by the rest of her body being pressed against him but still.

She smirked “It’s my talent.” She said reading the business card in her hand. “Phillip Coulson. It even has a picture and a cell phone number.” She said looking up. “Good thinking Phil.” she said tucking his card in her bra.

“What are you going to do with that?” He asked. He was flirting. Well, he was trying really hard to flirt but there was a picture of him now pressed against her breast and that was definitely not something to think about. He was suddenly glad his actress mother had forced him to put his picture on his business cards.

She smirked looking him over. “The card I keep. The wallet you can get back.” she said and he started to reach for it and she pulled it away. “On one condition.” she said smirking.

He swallowed terrified of what this condition could be. At the same time it seemed like the most amazing thing in the world. She looked like she was going to be very clever and he could not wait. “What’s the condition?” He asked, mouth dry looking in her deep brown eyes totally lost in them.

She smirked “You have to kiss me.” She said simply and his face broke into the widest smile anyone had ever seen.  A beautiful woman was asking to kiss him. It was amazing. Phil wasn’t sure he was able to figure out words at this point so he just nodded and moved in kissing her. It was sweet.  Slow and gentle and learning. Their lips pressed together, hers soft, his a little dry, both tasting of smoke and scotch. His hand tangled in her soft hair and it was just as soft as he thought it would be. One of her hands rested on his bicep squeezing just slightly to feel the slight muscles and he was glad his mother had always instilled a work out routine in him. He deepened the kiss slightly, their tongues meeting awkwardly at first but after a moment finding the perfect rhythm. It was the kind of kiss people wrote songs about, the kind of kiss that defined the world and made fireworks go off. The kind of kiss that, if you’d asked Melinda an hour ago, didn’t exist.

Just like that, it ended and she slipped his wallet back into his pocket slowly letting him feel it this time as her hand basically cupped his ass in his pocket. She smirked, nipping his lip as she drew away and he absently chased her lips wanting more. He was short of breath and she was feeling a little disheveled too.  She smirked up at him loving the look he was giving right now, bewildered and sweet. “See you around-- Phillip.” she said popping the last ‘p’ and walking off with a sway in her hips to her car.

She went to her car SHIELD had provided and took a deep breath to calm down when a call sounded. She picked up the in-car phone and knew she was in trouble. “May.” She greeted to the operator.

“Cadet May, why didn’t you return with the rest of the team?” A gruff and scary voice barked over the comms and she just knew it belonged to a one eyed man.

“I was finishing the mission sir. I got a final answer on the bartender.” She explained  tensely. Her body was still humming from him and she looked out the window seeing him on the phone himself gushing and looking so happy and she smirked. “He’s clean. No ties to Hydra. He’s a history student and other than preferring scotch to taquila he’s innocent.” She explained.

Fury grunted on the phone. “A bit too much information there Cadet.” He said and she blushed glad he couldn’t see her. Of course she’d messed up. Phil was just too damn distracting waving his arms excitedly.

“Sorry sir.” She apologized. “I’m on my way in now.” She said professionally.

Phil watched her get in her car and instantly started dialing. “Hello?” A woman’s voice came over the phone and he smiled so grateful she answered.

“Aunt Peggy? It’s Phil.” he said smiling and really not sure where to go with this. “Remember how you said when you met Steve you knew he was the love of your life?” he asked.

“I remember.” Peggy said sounding amused and so proud. “What’s her name?” She asked.

Phil stopped in his tracks watching her drive and his heart broke. Oh God! He never got her name. “I--I don’t know.” He said sadly and she had a way to contact him but he had no way to get in touch with her. He was ready to give up when he felt a buzz on his ear. “One sec Aunt Peggy.”

Melinda by the way. Good kiss.

Phil smiled and looked at the red tail lights and waved seeing her hand wave back in the shadow of her car. She was perfect.

Finals were murder. Especially at Operations Academy. She was in constant pain as she moved and covering it well. She hadn’t seen Phil in weeks. After the op they had started spending a lot of time together. She visited him at the bar, on campus, at his apartment. They met for dinners. Everything was perfect with him and Melinda May did not believe in perfect. But when she was with him everything was calmer. The world felt like it was balanced, like he was a balance. He was so full of life and love and joy and her total opposite, able to pull her out of her shell. They didn’t dance again, thank God, but they would tease each other constantly and she would play pranks on him, anything to make him laugh.

The last year of being with Phil had been perfect. They had even spent christmas together bundled up under some very thick wool blankets and nothing else for nearly a month when they were both on break. It had been a very good break.

Today she had finished her last final of the semester and they had just celebrated their anniversary. She had been nearly positive he was going to propose on their anniversary. He had been hiding something from her and she had been sure that was it, but their day came and went and while the dinner was lovely and the post dinner celebration was even more so, he hadn’t asked. Today she was going to his bar, not Hydra’s anymore. They had cleared out the Hydra ties and now that it was clear it had new management but they had promised to keep Phil on as a thank you for the work May had done on the mission. She was going to sit with him and have a drink to celebrate being done with finals and having a few weeks to spend with him distracting him as he typed away about Captain America and Bucky Barnes.

When she walked in she instantly noticed something was off. There were no regulars in the bar. In the corner were two women. One looked Distinctly like Peggy Carter, the other looked like an old movie actress, Angela Martinelli. Behind the bar was Phil but he wasn’t in his white tank. He was wearing a Navy Blue button down, no tie, and black slacks. The top two buttons were undone, just enough to see the hint of skin under. He looked practically edible. She looked over seeing her mom and dad and looked back to Phil. The lights were lower than usual and all the tables that usually had beer nuts and spills had table cloths and flowers and candles. “Bàba? Mā?” she asked her parents then looked to him. “Phil what’s--” She knew the answer to her own question but she was was suddenly as scared as she was happy and she didn’t know how to control her emotions for the first time in her life.

Phil walked over to her and smiled taking her hand. “Hey Lin.” He said using the nickname only he ever used for her and only in special moments. He knelt down and took a velvet box out of his shirt pocket. Melinda instantly laughed. He was kneeling. He looked like white a sight down on one knee.

“Phil what are you doing?” She asked. This was why she loved this adorable man so much. He did everything by the book.

He chuckled “I kinda hoped that was obvious but I’ve never done this before.” He admitted and opened the box showing her a beautiful white gold ring with a small diamond. “I know it’s not much but I’ll get you another one once I can afford it. I just really wanted to actually use a ring. I asked your dad for permission.” He started explaining.

Melinda rolled her eyes laughing. “of course you did.” she interrupted teasing.

“Hey I wanted to do this right!” He insisted. “But he told me to ask your mom. I see where you get your scariness from.” He said smiling and making her laugh and nod sniffing a bit. “But talking to her just reminded me how I’m the luckiest man in the world. We met because you were here trying to see if I was secretly evil and I thought you were a drunk girl at a party who left her purse and stole my wallet.” He said and they heard two laughs from the women in the corner and a wolf whistle from one. Phil looked over smirking awkwardly then went back to Melinda while her eyes never left his face. “I knew from then on I wanted to spend my whole life with you. So this is me asking if you want to do that too.” He admitted.

“Say the words!” A british voice prompted from the corner.

Phil huffed and rolled his eyes looking back. “I’m getting there Aunt Peggy just--”

“I’ll only marry you on one condition.” She said quickly before he could finish talking to the Director of SHIELD, that was new and kind of interesting. He’d mentioned Aunt Peggy but she didn’t know he meant Carter.

Phil’s eyes shot to hers and he smirked looking up at her. “Condition?” He asked curiously.

“You have to dance with me.” Melinda said simply.

He chuckled and stood up putting the ring back into his shirt pocket and offering taking her hand gently. “You hate dancing.” He reminded smiling like a crazy person.

“Who hates dancing?” She teased in return and pulled him close as a song started to play and she looked over to see her mother and father at the Juke box turning it on. They swayed to the beat just holding each other.

“So that’s a yes right?” He asked smiling at her and kissing her forehead happily.

She smiled and nodded “Yes, it’s a yes.” She agreed looking up into his eyes with adoration and warmth slipping her hand from his shoulder and into the pocket holding her ring before putting it on and kissing him deeply.

He kissed her back loving every piece of this, holding the woman of his dreams in his arms and kissing her and knowing he was about to marry her. “Oh, even more good news!” He said breaking away from the kiss. “I got a job.” he said brightly.

She smirked and quirked a brow. “Oh really? Where?” she asked curiously.

“SHIELD.” He said simply. “I’m their new World War I and II era consultant. Aunt Peggy pulled some strings. I’m on your team.” he said smirking. She shook her head unable to imagine a more perfect moment.

So They Danced.