#i cannot compute the pantry

[mr-aftons-rotting-pussy]

i need someone to come to my house rn and make me food

[heartsfromia]

critical inquiry — l. jihoon

pairing: non-idol! jihoon x reader

word count: 6,018

genre: fluff, workplace romance, reader isnt tech-savvy, jihoon kinda gives loser (endearing) energy

warnings: valorant (jk), profanities, proofreader? i hardly know her

author's notes: get me an IT guy like jihoon y'all, also idk i struggle when writing in mainly the guy's pov bro i cannot think like a man, can they be pathetic, yearning beings? idk bro

Lee Jihoon loved one thing about his job—working from home. With enough people in his team to cover tasks both from the office and at home, they're given the option to work either and Jihoon always picks home, time after time.

Until today, when Jihoon had received a message that his Work-From-Office buddy would be taking time off work for the next week because his grandfather fell ill, and he was asked to go back home for the time being.

“Only a week, Jihoon, and I swear you can go back to your PC set and slippers,” Wonwoo had reassured him, but it still wasn’t enough, “I’ll even help you rank up to Ascendant 3.”

So, that was how Jihoon found himself waking up at seven and taking public transportation to the office because his car was at his parent’s, and honestly, he wasn’t close with anyone to the point where he’d ask for a lift.

During the entire trip on his first day back to the office, he cursed the corporate slave routine. To think that before social distancing, that we would wake up at the crack of dawn to beat traffic or the commuter rush, go to a job that we’re not even sure we enjoy (spoiler: we don’t), and then have to go through that same rush and traffic when going home, only to sleep and reset the routine for the next day. As an IT support member, being in the office was the most useless and time-consuming thing. The Wi-Fi at his office is crap, the computers are old and laggy because the company doesn’t want to invest in better quality technology, and the team leaders are always breathing down your neck—but, hey, at least they compensate those that choose to come to the office.

One thing that Jihoon was grateful from the pandemic was the normalization of working from home. Having the option to attend the 10AM meeting, waking up at exactly 9:50 AM—clocking in—then joining the Zoom meeting without having to shower, change out of your pajamas, or even get out of the bed was something that was too good to be true. Alas, it happened, and he had been thriving and taking advantage of his Work From Anywhere policy in his company. Granted, he is only able to continuously work from home as long as there were two team members working from office, and luckily enough, that condition was met for the past six months

“This is new,” Hansol quipped when he spotted Jihoon signing at the entrance of the office. “Ah, Wonwoo is taking time off, right?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon muttered, most of his face hidden under a mask and cap, with his eyes peeking through the lenses of his glasses. “Do you think there’s coffee in the kitchen?”

“Obviously,” Hansol chuckles, finding the question obsurd. Can you blame Jihoon? The ceiling in the entrance of the building is almost falling apart from mold forming because of rain, and their computer to clock in was an old ASUS model from 2014 that can only function on a LAN cable—which is why its only purpose in this marketing agency was for signing in.

Sometimes Jihoon even wonders how the company can last for the past decade with its cheap ways.

He made his way to the second floor where the pantry, and overall kitchen was placed, making himself a cup of coffee before climbing the next step of stairs to the IT room—the main base for programmers and the support team. Another thing he hated about working from the office was the fact that the AC in his office just never seems to function. It’s the middle of summer, the city is going through a massive heatwave, and here, in his company placed in the smack middle of the city, they have a policy to not let the AC go anywhere under 23°C.

At least, when he is in the comforts of his own home, he can have the AC go as low as it can get, all while still in his pajamas, and could even multitask with Valorant opened in another tab.

“Oh, Jihoon, you’re switching with Wonwoo, right?” Jeonghan asked, turning in his chair and pushing his glasses up above his head.

“Yeah, I am, where does he usually sit?” Jeonghan taps the desk on his left, and watched as Jihoon got settled, a glint in his eyes that the younger one spotted. “What?”

“Did Wonwoo tell you anything?”

“Other than keeping my Google chat opened, nothing really,” he responded.

“You’ll be handling his division, too, right?” Jihoon nodded. “The Marketing team.” Rather than a question, Jeonghan confirmed the division, and once again, Jihoon nodded. A crease formed between his eyebrows, unsure of what his senior was referring to, and the latter noticed, chuckling at his puzzled expression. “You’ll see.”

It’s too early to understand what he means. Usually, he’d still be asleep right now if he were at home, especially since there aren’t any meetings he needs to attend today, he could’ve slept until three minutes before he required to clock in. He wasn’t use to having to be on work-mode even with ten minutes before his shift officially starts.

God, I miss working from home.

The first few hours into the shift was tedious. Since the company is a small PR agency, as a member of the in-house IT team, he’s required to wear multiple hats and take on various tasks. Unfortunately, since he is replacing Wonwoo for the time being, he’ll be taking on the task of Website management and ensuring that the Marketing team didn’t have any issues, as well as any technical issues the team might face, which is inevitable as their equipment is, as mentioned, crap quality. Every day Jihoon wonders why he claims to resign from the place but never does.

“Let’s grab lunch across the street,” Jeonghan invited Jihoon once the clock had struck twelve, signaling lunch time for all employees. Jihoon was about to agree and turn his computer to sleep mode when a ding! notified a message had come in. He rose a hand, indicating for his senior to wait a moment as he checked the message. He hadn’t received any complaints during the first half of the day from the team he was in charge of so this was a bit unusually for him.

It was a message from you.

Y/N: Afternoon, Jihoon. This is Y/N, and I’m new from Saerom’s team. Y/N: I was told by Wonwoo that he’s currently on PTA, and to message you instead. I have an issue with my Google Analytics account, I’m currently logged out and usually Wonwoo helps me with that because I haven’t been given my password (it’s been two weeks I’ve started 😅). Y/N: Can you help me with this?

“Who’s that?” Jeonghan ducked down, looking over Jihoon’s shoulder as he read the message, then a chuckle left his lips. “Ah… it’s Y/N, she’s a new, and struggles with a lot of the tech things—you’ll be meeting with her a lot.”

“She’s bad with tech and chose to be a social media specialist?”

“Ironic, huh?” Jeonghan laughs. “But she means well, even though she sucks with tech, she has good ideas and already has a viral TikTok video for one of our clients.”

“And she says she hasn’t been given her passwords? Aren’t we supposed to give it to them when they start?”

“Yeah, but usually they don’t ever log out, only she has that case,” he explains, the corner of his mouth lifting before he pats his junior’s shoulder reassuringly. “Just head on over there and help her, it doesn’t take more than ten minutes.”

Jihoon heaved a sigh, reluctant to help because of how tedious and unnecessary and easily avoidable this problem would’ve been if she’d had her hands on her account passwords.

Jihoon: Lee Saerom’s team? Y/N: Yes Jihoon: Alright, wait a minute Jihoon: On my way

“Are you dining in or taking away?” Jihoon asked Jeonghan, while he wrote down the password for your account on a sticky note.

“Dining in.”

“I’ll meet you there then.” With that, Jihoon tossed his cap off and trudged down to the second floor where Saerom’s team should be located. Since it was lunch time, most of the office space was empty, with only the office boy who was busy sweeping the floors from the aftermath of earlier today. He found the main room for the Marketing team fairly quickly, and didn’t have to look far for you as you were the only one in the room, seated in front of your computer, shoulders stiff and hands placed on your lap as if you were starting your first day.

Immediately upon hearing the creaking of the door, your eyes met above the desks and monitors, and for a brief second, Jihoon paused—almost shell-shocked as to finding someone like you working in a rundown company such as this.

“Y/N?” Jihoon called out, just making sure despite the obvious newbie aura that wafted around you.

“Yes… Are you Jihoon? The one covering for Wonwoo?” He nodded, and you were almost sure he’d say something to follow up to prevent an air of awkward silence from appearing between the two of you. He did not. Instead, he barely uttered anything as he approached your desk. You didn’t hesitate to push away with your chair to let him take the reigns and input your account. How you were able to stay logged out of the account and not have said anything earlier was unbeknown to him. You had been finishing up last week’s reports, but had only moved on to Google Analytics just twenty minutes ago. You’d usually have your account still logged in, always clicking the Remember me, however, to your surprise, you were logged out.

“This is your password.” Jihoon handed you the sticky note. “If you need any more help, you can just message me—Wonwoo is on leave for the next week.”

“A-alright.” Maybe it was the way he carried himself that intimidated you. Or the fact that he never made any attempt at small talk, thus, a tense and awkward air floated in the space between you two. Maybe it was his tone, lacking the usually bounce you’d usually hear from Wonwoo as he explained the mechanics of Hootsuite.

It is definitely his aura, it’s ice cold, you couldn’t help but think and maybe when he wasn’t looking, you’d shiver. “Thank you,” you uttered, and with a stiff smile, he nodded and left the room without anything further, leaving you to finish the last half of your report alone.

If you need any more help, you can just message me.

And that’s how it started, a back and forth of at least twice a day since that first exchange between you and Jihoon. At first, you had to introduce yourself again, despite the fact you were using Google Chats and your name was clearly displayed. After a brief introduction, you explained the problem at hand, then after a minute or two came Jihoon’s go-to reply.

Alright, wait a minute.

On my way.

The first couple of times, you almost thought it was an automated response he had somehow coded every time someone messaged him. Maybe he had set it so that after a couple of messages from the sender, it would trigger the short response from his end, however, you learnt that it was just purely him when your own messages grew shorter and shorter.

So, short to the point that this was your most recent exchange:

Y/N: Jihoon :( Jihoon: On my way

Thus, it became almost a routine for the two of you. Jihoon didn’t have any complaints, despite Jeonghan’s claims that the junior would usually complain from having to go back and forth, ascending and descending the same set of stairs more times than he should be. “Aren’t you tired?” Jeonghan had asked on Thursday after Jihoon had returned from helping you with the extension cord for the presentation you had scheduled the afternoon.

Jihoon merely shrugged. “I barely get to exercise with coming in.” Of course, as Jeonghan has been working with Jihoon since he started, he could tell the guy was bluffing, hiding whatever his true intention was behind his nonchalant facade, but he never said anything. Sooner or later the truth will come to light.

Jeonghan wasn’t the only that could tell that was a different air hanging around the avid-WFH-over-WFO tech employee, and whatever gossip that surrounded him managed to reach the ears of the guy he was covering for as the two got into a game of Valorant Thursday evening. As the two waited for a match to be found, Wonwoo informed him that his grandfather was feeling better and could be released from the hospital by Saturday morning.

“Oh, that’s good to hear, glad he’s doing alright,” Jihoon offered, although a bit half-hearted as he was eating his dinner by his desk at the same time.

“Yeah, and by Monday you can return to your world of working from anywhere,” Wonwoo said, a deep chuckle echoing on his end. “And by anywhere, I mean, literally just your room.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I can come in to the office next week,” Jihoon replied without thinking twice, then realized what he said and added, “you can make sure your granddad’s fine.” He internally sighed, believing he made a good save. However, a dead silence hung in the Discord call, even after the loud ‘Match found’ reverberated, breaking the silence for a second.

“What did you say?”

“What?” Jihoon tried to play dumb, then added, “I’m playing Gekko,” to change the subject.

“Did you just say you’re willing to leave the comforts of your own home to work from office?” Wonwoo asked again, clearly twisting Jihoon’s words causing him to roll his eyes. His colleague then added, in a faux tone of panic, “The end of the world is nearing, isn’t it?”

“Shut up and pick your damn agent.”

“Are you even Jihoon right now?”

Jihoon defended himself, “I can want to work from office from time-to-time, you know?” Wonwoo was exaggerating, wanting to work from office is tiring, but nothing is more boring than working alone with only a dumb FPS game there to entertain you every time you’re free. Admittedly, he found working while being surrounded with other people was enjoyable—he wasn’t a social butterfly, didn’t make an effort to start a conversation by the coffee machine either, but it was… nice being around others every now and then. Humans are meant to be social creatures, after all.

“You have been working from home ever since probation had ended, which was literally two years ago, Jihoon,” Wonwoo reiterated, “you have been working from home since.”

“That’s not true.” He frowned, the comment caught him off guard and he almost started the round with buying any abilities. “I worked three days last October.”

“Which was, what? Nine month ago?” He couldn’t rebuttal that. It’s common knowledge among his peers that he despises working from office—Jihoon knows that, too. It’s just that this week has changed his mind. People can change their mind. “I have to bribe you with Valorant just so you come to company dinners, and now you want to willingly cover me for another week? For free?”

An irritated groan shook his chest as his character died on screen. “Damn it—” He pushed to talk, “90 on Reyna.” He fell back into his chair with a sigh, annoyed that Wonwoo was ruining his focus on the game—it was supposed to be his rank up to Ascendant 3. “Okay, and what’s your point?”

Jihoon swears he could hear the guy smirk. “I know.”

“You’re being annoying, you’re distracting me.”

Wonwoo paid no mind to his complaints, hitting clean headshots on the enemy but the spike detonated causing them to lose the round. Despite that, Wonwoo kept his cool as he continued to taunt his colleague. “Vernon told me about your round trips to and from the Marketing team.” He was definitely grinning now. "The problem is, I know Saerom’s team don’t usually need any help from IT support—at least, not to the point to where you need to go there twice a day.”

Jihoon cursed under his breath as he, once again, misses his utility and gets killed barely ten seconds into the round. This time he doesn’t even bother to communicate with his team, in fear of his voice shaking in anticipation of Wonwoo’s suspicions. “Except for one person,” his peer begins, letting the silence drag between the two as he focused on the game, getting three kills in a row, winning the round for them. Then Wonwoo asks, Jihoon picturing a shit-eating grin on his damned face. “Y/N’s cute, isn’t she?”

“I’m forfeiting.” Jihoon presses slash then F, to which it was denied, their teammates sending in question marks in response. Wonwoo’s burst out laughing at Jihoon’s ‘missclicked sorry’ reply. “Focus on the game—if I derank, it’s on you.”

Wonwoo’s laughter only grew louder, letting himself have the last word. “Jihoon enjoying working from office wasn’t on my 2024 bingo.”

Neither was it on Jihoon’s because he never enjoys working from office. Whatever friendly and social air that was present the previous week wasn’t present now as he finds himself at the wrath of the Operation’s team manager.

“I was on a call with Miyoung and she told me she couldn’t access their website, Jihoon,” Eunkwang scolded, his greying brows forming deep crevices disguised as wrinkles between his eyebrows and across the length of his forehead. “You’re supposed to be on top of this—she couldn’t access it the whole weekend, Jihoon, what happened? We’ve never faced this problem before.” Yes they have, Jihoon recalled, it happens when you run an agency that barely gathers clients and doesn’t really care enough to provide quality platform options, either, but of course Eunkwang says the same argument. Talk about selective amnesia.

“I don’t care how long it takes for you to fix it—” Might take half an hour, could’ve dealt with it within the time you’re yelling at me but I’ll shut up, Jihoon bitterly thought but kept his lips pressed in a tight line. “I want it done until Miyoung calls to confirm.”

Once he was sure the old man was done projecting his anger, Jihoon bowed his head, uttering, “Understood.” He turned his body to climb up the stairs to the third floor, grumbling to himself how this wouldn’t have happened if he worked at home because he wouldn’t be tired from commuting and socializing during the weekends and could monitor the websites every now and then. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case because he was tired, and he is still tired, he hates working in the office, he doesn’t even know why he agree to go for another week, he could’ve been at home and in a Valorant Swiftplay by now—

“Jihoon?” He turned to find you, standing by the door of your team’s room, a timid look on your face. Something had happened, he could see it written all over your soft features as you eyed him wordlessly. Without saying anything, he followed you towards your desk, where you idly by your computer with pursed lips and furrowed brows.

The dreaded blue screen. It had only reached 15% and didn’t seem to budge even after three minutes of watching it.

“For God’s sake,” Jihoon cursed under his breath, however, it was loud enough for you to hear it and the unusual sharpness in his tone caused you to jump slightly, your heart beginning to race in your chest as his face contorted into frustration. “How did you manage to get stuck like this?”

“I-I don’t know.” God, you hated it when you started stuttering. It always made you look stupid and helpless. You inhaled a quick breath, hoping it would help calm the nerves that seemed to climb the more you avoided his intense gaze. “I was coming back from my break and turned it on, and it did this… I didn’t do anything, I swear…” If your lack of technological capabilities looked pitiful to Jihoon, your inability of forming a coherent and sensible answer was the cherry on top. “I’m really sorry.”

Upon seeing her stricken face, Jihoon inhaled a deep breath, letting his tensed shoulders fall. “No, Y/N, I should be sorry. I’m taking my anger out on you, you just needed help.” He glances back at your monitor, heaving another sigh. “Just leave it, it should be able to restart on its own, but if it doesn’t, just tell me.”

“Alright…” Would it be even more pathetic to say you were fighting away tears? You had to turn your head a bit, angling away from Jihoon so your hair fell to cover your face enough for him to not notice your obvious internal battle with letting your emotions take over. “I’m really sorry I keep bothering you with not being tech-savvy.”

An ache thumped in his chest hearing your apology, sounding defeated. “It’s fine, Y/N,” he tried to reassure you, but he knew damn well the damaged was done and whatever unspoken agreement to two of you had, had gone. Jihoon knew he was terrible with people, but he really messed up with ruining it with you—the one person that made coming into work, commuting back and forth, and facing nagging higher-ups, the least bit bearable.

It didn’t seem to register in him how bad the damage was until he got through the day without any messages from you. Even Jeonghan was surprised as the day was coming to a close. “Y/N didn’t come in?”

“She did,” Jihoon mumbled.

“And she didn’t need any help?” He only shrugged, trying to hide his own bewilderment. Did his words strike you that much? He decided to message you, just in case you were reluctant to ask him for help.

Jihoon: Y/N Jihoon: Everything alright?

He waited on the edge of his seat, his heart skipping a beat when you began typing back.

Y/N: Yes, everything’s fine ^__^

Everything was, in fact, not fine.

Not only did your computer take almost an hour to restart after the dreaded blue screen, whatever the computer had gone through during said hour had your accounts logged out, and you, being clumsy, misplaced the sticky note that Jihoon gave you, forcing you to borrow someone else’s computer to pull up the Instagram analytics. Fortunately, most of your inputted data was still available from before your break, it was still a hassle to transfer the data from your colleague’s computer to your own, and because, once again, you are tech-savvy, you didn’t know any shortcut. You had to turn to Google, open up YouTube tutorials on Excel shortcuts, consuming almost an hour of your day trying to learn everything from scratch.

But you promised yourself you wouldn’t bother him with any measly problems if Google already had a solution.

Even it meant running into the risk of never seeing him again.

Two days had passed. It was Wednesday and Jihoon was ready to pack up and head back to his old life of working from the comforts of his bedroom. Two days without his favourite snacks. Two days without his functioning PC that he paid hundreds, probably thousands of dollars to build. Two days without his fast Wi-Fi that was optimal for a quick ranked game.

And two days without the usual ping of his Google Chat, the room with you now collecting dust as the last message exchanged was his check-in on Monday.

Now Wednesday’s work day comes to an end without your plea for technological aid. You’re genuinely the only thing in this bleak, rundown, cheap company that makes the work worthwhile, Jihoon couldn’t help but think to himself on the train back home.

Was it pathetic of him to think of you as a reason to wake up in the morning, fight the morning rush and sit through eight hours of blank staring at a computer screen if it means he can get a glimpse of you every now and then when he goes down to get another fix of shitty coffee? The two of you only officially met last week after all, and yet, he has grown drawn to you, attached even, finding the brief sight of you as you sat by your desk, an ever-so-present clueless look to your face as you try to remember how to VLOOKUP the third time. He finds endearing, so endearing that his heart aches and his days grow grey when he hasn’t seen you yet.

Has he always been one to fall so quick for someone?

Would it be even more pathetic for him to fear that feeling? Mind you, he has never left the house unless bribed to, social interactions were scarce aside from the call outs to teammates in his ranked games, and even then, he never bothered to make small talk with the people he’d temporarily need to rank up. Was he a bit too deprived of social interactions that meeting you overwhelmed him to the point of creating a false sense of falling in l—

“Wonwoo, when are you coming back?” This time the two weren’t in a game of Valorant. Thank God, Wonwoo had thought when Jihoon asked to get on a Discord call. The latter had dinner prepared and was watching Big Bang Theory while on the call, but his head wasn’t focused on neither the ramen nor the TV show. “Can we switch back soon?”

“What happened to your willingness to go to the office?” Again, that damned smirk was noticeable in the way he spoke, but Jihoon needed to keep his cool.

“Changed my mind.”

“How come?”

“Sick and tired of being in the direct line of shot for Eunkwang’s spit when he yells at me,” he half-lied. He had to wash his face after that meeting, to the point he used the strawberry-scented hand soap to make sure he couldn’t feel the droplets on his skin.

“Oh yeah, Jeonghan told me.” A pause. “Sorry that happened to you, but it’s just Eunkwang, his ammunition is making you work overtime every now and then.”

“I just don’t want to deal with him every now and then, much rather read him yell in the group chats than in real life.”

There was a longer pause now, Jihoon’s eyes glanced at his second monitor just to make sure his friend didn’t disconnect. Then, Wonwoo spoke up, tone matter-of-factly and the shit-eating grin heard clearly. “Vernon tells me you haven’t been to the Marketing room in a bit.”

“Vernon you piece of shit snitch,” Jihoon cursed under his breath, but obviously his microphone caught it, Wonwoo throwing his head back in laughter.

“I’m guessing the Tech-Illiterate hasn’t been asking for your help?”

“Y/N,” Jihoon corrected, not liking the term used—even if it did fit you.

“Hey, there are a lot of tech-illiterate people in our company,” Wonwoo pointed out, then added, “so I guess you admit it then, you’re thinking of her.”

His eyes roll far back, he gets a mild ache in his temples. “Fine yeah,” he admits with a defeated sigh, “she doesn’t need any more help from me so why should I even bother to go to the office?”

“For work, Jihoon,” he says casually. “I mean, you get compensation to come to work. Extra money.”

“I’m already rich enough,” he responds, clearly dodging.

“Then why work?”

“I’m bored.”

“You piss me off.” Wonwoo’s comment successfully makes Jihoon chuckle. “I hope Y/N becomes so tech-savvy that she doesn’t need your help anymore, and you will never see her again.”

“Asshole,” he hisses and disconnects from the call immediately, Wonwoo’s words pushed to the back of his head as he finished his ramen and closed the TV show, opening Valorant for a quick game to relieve the stress built up for the day.

Unfortunately, once he laid on his bed, eyes stuck on the ceiling, his peers’ words returned tenfold, echoing a sickening mantra in his head. What if you do end up learning how to do your job with little to no help, technology-wise? It’s hard for the guy to admit (and a tad bit dramatic), but he truly did feel like his entire being has lighten since meeting you.

Maybe he is deprived of social interaction, and you were the fix he needed, but didn’t want it to be temporary. He wanted to know everything about you, the reason why you struggle with technology and remembering passwords and working different Google suites. He wanted to know why you chose this line of work, why this shitty company, and why hadn’t he met you before.

He wanted to know more about you, and he doesn’t want to ruin the chances of being able to do so.

Although it might be pathetic of him to feel so strongly over someone he only met the previous week, he knew this would be a missed opportunity to not get to know you better, that it would become his biggest regret and he didn’t want his leaving the comforts of his WFA routine be for nothing.

So, he had a plan. A bit of a cheesy, cliché of a plan, but a plan and he lost sleep wondering if it’ll work or not.

As he entered the office, his mind kept replaying what he needed to do. It was simple, he just needed to wait for you to reach out to him, ask for help with an issue and it should be smooth-sailing from there, all depends on your answer, of course, but that was something he could worry about later.

Phase one starts with you and your uncooperative computer.

Jihoon waited, eyes glancing between tabs where his Google Chat was opened, looking at the bottom right corner of his computer at the time, watching the time tick by and still no ping from you. But that was okay, it was only two hours into this gloomy Thursday, there was still a whole seven hours before he could truly panic.

So he waited more.

And more.

And more.

He waited until he couldn’t wait, and time was running out. Eyes shifted towards the clock: 16.39.

Less than thirty minutes until the work day, and tomorrow is Friday, and he needed to get this done today because if he didn’t then, it’ll mess up his plan for tomorrow (which depends on your answer, too, if you say ‘yes’ then there’s another plan for that, but if you say ‘no’ then Wonwoo was already back in the city so he could cover for Jihoon while the latter wallows).

“Fuck it,” Jihoon mutters as he pushes himself up out of his chair, causing everyone else in the room jumps and turns to his desk, only to see him already out the door and rushing down the stairs.

“Go get her, man,” Jeonghan utters, loud enough for everyone to chime along with him.

With long strides and quick steps down to your floor, everyone Jihoon seemed to past knew he was a man on a mission—a man on a mission for you. He tries to ignore the mild chills that rose up his spine at that thought. He might be pathetic sometimes, but he likes to believe he can be quite the cheesy romantic, despite what his friends might say.

As expected, since it had been a slow day, a lot of staff had clocked out early, their jobs for the day done and all ready to end the work week. However, you were still by your desk, focused on the task at hand, only two of your coworkers in the room with you, but even they were mindlessly playing with their Excel sheets, waiting for the clock to strike five.

When he stood close enough to you, he saw that you weren’t focused on a task, instead on a game of Minesweepers. He watched you win a game, pursing his lips and nodding, visibly impressed. Sensing a present, you turned around and jumped slightly. “Jihoon… Hi.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he greets back with a stiff smile. “Is everything alright?”

A brief look of confusion passed your face, glancing between him and your computer, before nodding, “Yeah, everything’s fine.” And it was. You got through your day just fine, nothing needed to be troubleshooted, or restarted. You didn’t panic, other than when you forget to send a file to Saerom, but everything—technology-wise—was fine.

“Really? I got a notification on my computer that there was something wrong with yours,” Jihoon lied through his teeth. He didn’t, but he needed you away from your computer so he has ample time to put his plan in motion. His statement caused your brows to furrow together, genuinely confused because you didn’t receive any notification from your own computer, shouldn’t that be the case? Unless you did, and you didn’t noticed because you were too focused on your Minesweeper game.

“Oh…”

“Yeah…” Jihoon rubbed a nonexistent itch at the back of his neck. “Are you done with your work? It might take a bit for me to check it.”

“Oh yeah, I’m done for the day,” you said, then to the clock above the door. “I didn’t realize it was almost five.”

If you could hear anything right now, it would be the pounding beat of his heart against his chest as he tries to formulate an excuse to get you off the computer. “It won’t take more than ten minutes, though, Y/N.”

“Alright, I’m just going to fill my water bottle and clean up while you deal with it.” With a stern nod, Jihoon watched as you stood and walked out the room. Once outside, he took his spot and started his plan.

Recalling the steps he saw on Google, opening Notepad as he pulled out the sticky note where he wrote the code beforehand, typing it in and inserting the necessary message. Once he had saved it, he tested it once, and almost yelled out in triumph when it worked, displaying a fake error message.

“What’s the problem, Jihoon?” You approached him, bottle filled to the top with water. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, you just…” He stood from his chair, gesturing for you to sit. He leaned down, keeping one hand on the back of your chair as the other guided you. “You just need to click that, it’s to install a… an update… Yeah, an update.”

“This one? The ‘Critical Inquiry’ one?” Jihoon hummed in response and watched with sweaty hands and a racing heart as you clicked it, an error message popping up on your screen.

Is this how IT guys flirt? The blood in your face travelled the distance to your cheeks, a bright pink beneath the glow of your skin as you tried suppressing your smile, Jihoon’s way of asking you out so unconventional, so out of the blue, so unique, that you couldn’t help but mentally applaud him, this was a new way you’d been asked out.

“What’s your option?” Jihoon asked, his voice so clearly on edge as he anticipated your answer, for a second even worried you’d decline then he’d be forced to return to his hermit habits and hide his embarrassment.

All that tension, no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind a nonchalant façade, was visible to you and gosh, he is so cute.

You sent him a smile, turning back to your computer wordlessly, letting your choice speak. Your cursor hovered towards the options, for a second too long it hovered over ‘No’, Jihoon’s breath hitching in his throat before his heart skipped a beat as the cursor moved and you clicked your mouse right on ‘Yes’.

The two of you stared at each other, a warmth in your eyes, and brightness in his, sharing a knowing smile before he uttered with the confidence he mustered between the panic.

“I’ll pick up at eight then, Y/N.”

[kedreeva]

You're sort of one of the kindest people i know on tumblr, so. um. i had a question.

how do i deal with it all?

right of the bat i will tell you i am a minor and my parents are zionists, so i have no income of my own or anything i could donate. everytime i post a single fundraiser that reaches my inbox and is vetted, i get 4-5 new fundraising asks for palestine.

most of them are unvetted, but i keep thinking that if i can't donate i should at least have faith in people and reblog the fundraisers even if they're unvetted, possibly that they're actually new and need as much help we can give, however, there's a possibility they are scams, and i don't want to draw away the attention vetted fundraisers might get.

how do you decide where to help out and how to live with your decision?

I have a policy that when it comes to asks (or messages) that solicit money or other actions (like boosting posts) I don't respond to or even publish asks that come from anyone that has never spoken to me before that moment, and that's a policy that has been in place for many years now, and is unlikely to change largely because the majority of asks/messages that are requesting money or to visit a blog post/their blog/their website are scams (or more often several years ago, led to virus infections on your computer!). My blog is, as it has stated at the top for over ten years now, a personal blog, not a fundraising/signal boosting/vetting blog for spreading donations- there ARE blogs like that, and people can choose to interact with those blogs or not, but my blog isn't the place for it and that's a hard boundary I enforce for my own well being. Tumblr is my place to rest and recover, however I see fit to do that.

A random ask to my inbox asking for money, regardless of what it is for, is (in my view) equivalent to a cold call from a stranger soliciting money. It's not about faith in people, it's not about right or wrong, it's not about can or can't. This is my home, and I don't answer the phone to unknown numbers. I will help friends/family/people I know personally (or parasocially, if I like them or recognize them), obviously, but that's a bit of a different horse.

As for how I decide where to help out, if I have the ability (funds, spoons, time etc), I will seek out information on the best place to donate that can do the most with the money to help the person/people/cause that I want to help. It's the Food Pantry Equation: I could spend $5 on groceries at retail price to donate, and maybe get enough for 1 meal for 1 person (though in this fuckoff capitalist hellscape, I'm not sure $5 would even buy a whole meal), or I could give $5 directly to a Food Pantry organization, who buys in bulk and knows where to get stuff cheap, so that my $5 can help five people or ten people or whatever. I also do my best to participate in fandom events that raise money for good causes; stuff like the fanworks charity auction I helped run to donate to a wolf sanctuary, or stuff like Fandom Trumps Hate (another charity fanworks auction event). Those kind of events are generally open about where the donations go to, and have done research into organizations to ensure the gathered money goes to good charities.

Like with the above, however, it's different if I know the person. If my neighbor comes and asks for a cup of sugar or my friend needs help moving or whatever, I'm gonna give them what they need without the middleman because we have that relationship already established. Donating $5 to a food pantry would probably help more people by numbers, but helping my neighbors and friends and family etc builds community in a way giving $5 to a random stranger on the phone soliciting money cannot, and even in a way donating $5 (or $5 worth of food) to a Food Pantry cannot. It's also usually a matter of one and done, as well as semi-transactional the way any relationship is a give and take; I can give my neighbor some sugar, and down the road they can return the favor the next time I'm in need of help. I help my friends move and I know whether or not I ever move, myself, that they would do the same for me if they're able. You can't say this about a random ask on the Internet and you likely won't ever be able to say it for most charities unless you somehow end up in their exact area of expertise. So it's different.

I feel like you should also learn about Tim Wong, the guy who basically single-handedly repopulated the Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly out in California. The lesson his story can and should teach is that... sometimes it can do more good for the world to care Very Much about one specific thing, and put your heart and soul into it, than it does to spread a little bit of care over a lot of things.

So, I guess what I mean to say here is... don't feel guilty about what you cannot do. There's no guilt in that. When you are ready and able to help, you can always go and look for a good way to do so (and what you end up helping may not always be the thing you think it will be), but you don't need to feel pressured by telemarketers or charity donation calls from strangers while you're trying to eat dinner. Especially if they don't even know who you are, either.

[alderlock]

Verdant Market Full CC

I want to create market similar to Farmer's market in Big Apple, the protein inside and the greens bathing in the sun with their colourful healthy goodness. This market focused on selling product, produce and protein for your sim to gain health and youth ^^.

Floor plan:

This lot is pack with Aysarth basic gardening mods, what I like about her mod is not entirely global mod so it's pretty much safe to use.

Aside from gardening mod this market also offering groceries and protein from the sea, and a little bit of fruit cuisines such as salad and smoothies. However if you guys want to convert it to something else this lot it's pretty much wide for your creativity.

and if you sims tired and bored while doing groceries, you can have them rest drinking smoothies and BBQ near the pond. Even your sims's children can have some fun in small park.

Before downloading this lot I need to give you several notes before you decide to install it on your game:

This lot is very dense and packed with plants, so pink soup will inevitably appear during a long farming game. My suggestion is to run your Empty Standby List and lower your shadow and lightning use in the lot. Fortunately, so far, I have only encountered one pink soup. But somehow it's different in every computer.

Make sure you have bat box and stuck object remover in your file, in case plant plot (mostly by maxis) stuck and cannot be removed (even with moveobjects). I haven't encountered these problems so far on this lot so yeay, for now.

Make sure to have fire skills and fire-related mods, due to lightning becoming the biggest enemy of this lot. And it's going to be hella glitchy if you fail to extinguish it.

It's better to use only 1 Aysart fishing pebbles since this mod tends to attract Sims (especially households) to fish the autonomy of the mesh is pretty much high, especially for sims that only has 3-5 needs (Plant sims, Servo).

These are a few mods that I recommend you use to create a farming and grocery store business; they're all optional. I only included some of them on the lot since my lot is already crowded, so I made it as less intimidating as possible and remakeable.

All plant plots and Orchid tree created by Aysart

Aysart Fishing Spot with custom fish

Lamare Plant Overhaul

Crips and Kerosene Grocery Shelves

Nonsensical Pixel Pierisims Pantry Party

Cedrigo Charge Harvest on Community Lot

Jacky93sims Soloriya Marketplace Groceries Deco

Download

Credits to:

@tvickiesims, @lordcrumps, @lamare-sims, @cripsandkerosene, @jacky93sims, @littlelittlesimmies

Aysarth, Trilliane

[alarajrogers]

Alara's List Of Games She Cannot Design Because She Is Not A Game Designer

None of these exist as anything other than high concept, and if you wanna rip one off, feel free, but give me credit for the original concept.

"Rat Man" game except with Portal IP stripped out of it. I wanted, years ago, to see a game about the Rat Man, which turns his schizophrenia into a game mechanic. In Portal lore, Rat Man, a paranoid schizophrenic who worked at Aperture Science, was the only survivor of GLaDOS' deadly neurotoxin, because his paranoia led him to flee. I wanted to have a character who successfully escaped an evil computer due to being paranoid. He has meds with him. If he takes the meds, he doesn't hallucinate, he sees the world as it is, he is better able to control his emotions (extreme terror can lead to a heart attack). But, he is less likely to notice threats. Without his meds, his inanimate comfort object talks to him so he is less lonely (extreme loneliness can cause depression, which slows all reaction time), and gives him warnings about threats before he can see them. Also, he sees the threats faster. He also sees a lot of threats that don't actually exist, which causes him to burn through his health faster. So the player has to trade off between taking meds for greater health and calm, vs not taking meds for greater reaction time and higher mood (without meds he is terrified all the time but he has his talking friend, who fills him with determination and strength of will, because his friend wants him to survive. With meds, his friend is an inanimate object and he's all alone.)

Something where you get to weaponize gravity against threats, like, you're on a space station where the artificial gravity is shut down, and your first and best big upgrade is getting the remote that turns on the gravity plating in the bulkheads. Gravity plating is in all bulkheads so you can make gravity happen on your left, then after your enemies are all drawn to your left, switch it off there and turn it on to the right, making them all fall the width of the room.

Bad Bitches, where you (or you and 2 friends in co-op mode) play female dogs getting into trouble in the trash cans and pantries in your house, while your owner patrols and tries to catch you being bad.

Mini Fridgy, where your mom is a jerk who has hidden all the snacks in the house in various mini-fridges, pantries and lockers in your house, and you have to run around eating the snacks and dodging your mom. Done in retro 80's mode because that's when I came up with this game. There is absolutely no pro-social or "health conscious" model here, you are a kid who wants snacks.

An RPG where you are a human who died and was sent to a world mostly populated by cute talking animals who are very sheltered and have basically the emotional regulation of 8 year olds. Also magic works here and responds to emotion, positive or negative, so friendship really is magic, a bunny rabbit throwing a Karen tantrum at the market because they didn't have the lettuce they wanted could turn into a poltergeist throwing everything around if you don't talk her down, and killing a sapient being turns anyone who does it into a monster. You can be a monster hunter, a monster reformer (this is dangerous as shit), a peacemaker, a farmer, a shopkeeper, whatever. Kind of like Animal Crossing in some ways, but with some MLP kind of shit mixed in.

Prison Break (not the actual title): Another story about cute animals. They are in prison for murder, arson, grand theft, etc, and so are you. Build alliances with your fellow prisoners, don't get shivved by that bunny with a knife, and, eventually, organize a prison break. You can kill people in this game but if it's not self defense you better make sure the wardens can't figure out it was you. And by people I mean adorable small animals who are disrespecting you.

[gothtopus222]

Okay, perhaps one of the worstest things i've ever written, BUT i needed to get my thoughts out in a semi-creative way. This isnt meant to be a piece of art, just venting with some half-baked poetry weaved in and I honestly dont even care if anyone reads it

MASSIVE trigger warning for ED and SH, as well as like child neglect and god-awful writing

staying home alone in my empty childhood home. I am now an adult, but I remember being only 13, 5 years or maybe an eternity ago, staying home alone. My father in the hospital, my mother by his bedside. I was just a child then. A child, intent on destroying herself in the name of her ruined adolecence. I never ate from the fully stocked pantry, when I did, I was sure to vomit before i could digest it. I didn't have to worry about anyone seeing the fresh gashes lining my hips, the sting of each cut my only tether to reality. I remember spending hours escaping into my computer, browsing the forbidden forums, scrolling through picture after picture after pictures of skeletal frames laced with milk-white skin. I do not blame my parents for leaving me, what other choice did they have? I do not blame myself for my actions, harmful as they have been. But as I sit here, thinking about my empty childhood home, I cant help but feel as though I grew up empty as it did.

today, I bought groceries. A 6 pack of diet coke. 3 chocolate chip cookies. Special K cereal. Skim milk. 2 bowls of microwave pasta. I know realistically that this food cannot sustain me for the next week I will be here, but the little 13 year old's voice yells at me. I cant miss another opprotunity like this one! I almost bought a pack of razors too. But the perks of being an adult now mean I have a reason to stay clean. My boyfriend tearing off my pants to find bloody battlefields covering my hips, thighs, stomach, is not the most sexy thing. And what is staying home alone good for if not secret sex?

[a-reality-past-gone]

A Really Playful Gadget pt. 2

A world without money, June 5th 2025, Ontario Canada.

Elo and B.P. enter the elevator, the little robot following them in.

Elo: "So how smart is it?" B.P.: "We already trained it on a bunch of data, so it does understand some things, but it's kinda like a young child. It's designed to gather data and learn from people and it's surroundings." Elo: "Wait so does it like, records everything everything it sees?" B.P.: "Yes, it saves information about every thing, place, or person it sees. I actually spent a lot time on the people part of it's learning process. It records and learns to recognize people's faces, names, and personality. It's super cool, I actually have a flowchart that explai-" Elo: "What if someone doesn't want that information stored about them?" B.P.: "…" Elo: "…" B.P.: "We… Didn't think of that. I guess I'll just have it disabled for people unless I manually approve it."

The elevator arrives at the ground floor,

B.P. pulls out her laptop and types something out.

B.P.: "Can I uhh, get you're permission? Elo: "Yeah sure."

B.P. and Elo leave the apartment building and head over to the bike rack. Elo grabs their bike, and B.P. grabs a cargo bike. She and loads Jee in and start biking to the food pantry. Jee looks around, enamoured at the dense urban environment around it. People walking and biking, with the occasional tram passing by. They arrive at the food pantry and park their bikes. B.P. lifts Jee onto the ground, and grabs a remote.

Elo: "What's that?" B.P.: "Manual override in case something goes wrong."

Jee orients itself to look at the building in front of it.

Jee: "What is this place?" Elo: "This is a food pantry, it's where people go to get food." Elo: "Okay now stay close to us, don't go wandering off." Jee: "Okay!" B.P.: "It's navigation system is programmed to not go further than 10 meters away from a member of the computer science club." Elo: "Sorry, It's the daycare attendant in me. Old habits die hard."

They walk inside, B.P. leading them to the canned goods isle. Other members of the computer club are also at the food pantry observing Jee. They walk over to the canned goods section.

B.P.: "Alright, first test. Jee, can you grab the canned peas off the shelf?"

Jee picks up a can of corn.

Elo: "Oh close, but that's actually canned corn." Jee: "Wow!"

Jee looks at the label, reading everything on it, infatuated by the nutrition, harvesting, and processing information of the corn, despite the fact it cannot eat. B.P. smiles, amused by the excitement of the robot. He looks over and shrugs at the other members.

[donationpickup]

What Can You Not Give to a Donation Center?

Donating gently used items is a great way to give back to your community, but not every item is suitable for donation. Whether you plan to donate clothes, furniture, or household items, knowing what is not accepted at a donation center is essential before scheduling a donation pickup.

What Is Not Accepted at a Donation Center?

1.               Hazardous Materials

Many centers cannot accept hazardous items, including flammable substances, chemicals, paint, and paint thinners.

2.               Electronics with Special Disposal Needs

While many centers accept functional electronics, non-working or outdated electronics are often turned away. Devices like old TVs, computers, and microwaves that no longer work or contain hazardous materials (like CRT TVs with lead or mercury) are typically rejected.

3.               Mattresses and Box Springs

Many centers reject used mattresses and box springs due to hygiene concerns. In fact, laws in many states prohibit the resale or donation of these items. Be sure to review the statutes in your state. Even lightly used mattresses can be difficult to donate, and most facilities do not have the resources to clean or sanitize them.

4.               Damaged or Broken Furniture

Furniture is a popular donation item, but centers typically will not accept heavily damaged or broken furniture. Couches with rips or chairs with missing parts take up extra space and may need repairs that centers cannot make. Before donating, ensure your furniture is in good, usable condition.

5.               Large Appliances

Large appliances like refrigerators, washers, dryers, and ovens are often too bulky for centers to handle. Additionally, broken or non-functional appliances may require repairs that centers cannot take on.

6.               Personal Care Items

Hygiene and personal care products that have been used are not accepted by most

centers due to health and safety concerns. This includes opened toiletries, razors and toothbrushes, and expired medications.

7.               Baby Equipment

Many centers reject certain baby items, such as cribs, car seats, and strollers. These items are subject to strict safety regulations, and even if they appear to be in good condition, they may not meet current safety standards. Car seats, for example, have expiration dates, and cribs are often held to specific guidelines to keep young children safe.

8.               Large Home Renovation Items

Large items from home renovations, such as sinks, toilets, bathtubs, or construction materials, are usually too large for these centers. Most centers lack the space or capability to accept these items, and there are often regulations on how to dispose of them properly.

9.               Expired Food or Perishables

While specific organizations, such as food banks and pantries, welcome non-perishable food donations, expired or perishable food is usually rejected. Opened food packages, dairy products, fresh meats, and produce may be unsuitable for donation because they pose significant health risks. Some donation centers also lack the facilities to store these items safely.

Why Should I Give Local Donations?

Donating to your community helps those in need, reduces unnecessary waste, and promotes sustainability! Giving gently used local donations is a meaningful way to pass on usable items, ensuring they find a new home rather than ending up in the trash. It is also an opportunity to give back to your community, support local charities, and positively impact the environment.

Ready to Schedule Your Clothes Donation Free Pick Up?

Donating is not about discarding unwanted things; it is about providing valuable resources that can improve the lives of others in your community! However, reviewing what items can and cannot be accepted before scheduling a pickup is crucial. Each center has specific guidelines, and checking their website will help avoid complications so that your donations make the maximum impact.

At DonationPickup.org, we offer a wide range of services to make the donation process more accessible. Our team will pick up various items, including clothing, furniture, and household items like decor or small appliances. We partner with local charities to ensure your local

donations reach people in need.

Contact us for more information, or create an account to schedule your clothes donation free pick up today!

[magic-bad]

Beware of Kitchen Sinks

The word "utility" sounds sophisticated. But what actually happens in practice is that people cannot come up with something more meaningful, so they just slap "util" onto their name, and declare victory. Resist this urge.

For example, suppose you come up with a nice string splitting function. You might think, "this can live in a library named string_utils". You might think that since the word "utility" fits, it is a good name. To illustrate the problem with this, allow me to slightly exaggerate: suppose instead of "utility", I decide to instead use "code" in the name. "code" fits, right? It is certainly true that what you did is code. And yet, nobody would use "string_code" as the name, because that would be vacuous. The same is true of "utils", albeit to a lesser degree. Think about which word is doing the real semantic heavy lifting. Is it "string" or "utils"? This is really another case of marklar.

Don't be creating a place that encourages everyone to dump all their random tangentially related things. What you have created is an abomination, similar to this:

Here's what to do in this example: name the library string_split (or similar). You might be thinking, "A separate library JUST FOR SPLITTING?". Yes. Because bundling bad. The implementation of splitting does not involve joining (and vice versa). They can be separate, and therefore, they probably should be.

Another common "kitchen sink" word: "context". People use "context" when they do not want to name all the ingredients that are actually needed bake a cake. Implicit bad!

Explicit is better than implicit. --Zen of Python

Don't tell me that I need to supply a "fully stocked" kitchen in order for you to bake a cake. What if your last name happens to be Lindt, and as a result, you always had a giant pile of cocoa beans in your pantry when you were growing up. As a result, you do not consider a kitchen to be "fully stocked", unless there is a large supply of cocoa beans. Well, guess what, the rest of us are not named Mr. Lindt, ok?

The solution to your bad "fully stocked kitchen" recipe is simple: if you need cocoa beans to make a cake, just list cocoa beans as an ingredient. This is in fact how ALL recipes work. And algorithms are just data recipes. Nothing more; nothing less. Therefore, always list your ingredients (or the FDA will come after you!). Do not skip that job by saying, "oh you know. Just make sure to supply anything that any 'decent' kitchen would have.".

Now, if Jeeves the butler always does your grocery shopping for you (again, because your name is Lindt), and as a result, you don't know how grocery stores work, you can say, "Here, take Jeeves along with you. He knows what to buy.". Do not ask me to read Jeeves' mind. That's not a thing. It does not matter if I have 57 PhDs in computer science, I will never be able to read Jeeve's mind. Repeat after me: explicit good. Always be meaningful.

[jdgo51]

What Is My One Word?

Today's inspiration comes from:

My One Word

by Mike Ashcraft & Rachel Olsen

Editor’s Note: 2023 is in our rear view mirror, so the time has come for us to set our New Year’s resolutions and think about our goals, hopes, and wishes for the year ahead. But as authors Mike Ashcroft and Rachel Olsen remind us in this devotional, becoming the person Christ created us to be requires focus — and for you that might mean zeroing in on one word to guide you through the new year. We hope this devotion inspires you to pick your one word for 2024!

"So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom." — Psalm 90:12

"'I don’t have enough time to live my own life!

I reached this conclusion after trying to follow all the advice given on a morning news show one week in January. It seemed like a smart way to start my day. I figured I’d tune in, get the forecast, learn the headlines, and maybe hear a celebrity interview. I wasn’t expecting all the show segments telling me how to live my life better.

Most of these segments offered the promise of deliverance: “Financial Freedom Is Closer than You Think” or “Four Secrets to Better Communication.” Others, I decided, were designed to scare the socks off of me: “Six Health Risks Every Person Faces” or “Thieves You Cannot See — Avoiding Identity Theft.” Motivated by this combination of hope and fear, I compiled a to-do list of ways to improve my life and its management according to the experts. The more I listened, learned, and listed, the more behind schedule I felt.

The topics on my list ranged from health maintenance to home maintenance to car maintenance. I was informed I need to eat certain foods every day: four veggies, three fruits, two proteins (preferably chicken or fish), and I think a partridge in a pear tree. I also need to get enough fiber, calcium, Vitamin D, B, C, and Beta-something-or-other.

I need thirty minutes of cardio a day (but apparently with the right exercise product this can be done in ten), fifteen minutes of strength training, and ten minutes of stretching. Plus, some extended time for meditation so that my body and mind could align. I’m told a germ-resistant mat is needed for that. I need to bust my stress, nurture my creativity, and improve my posture.

I need to pay attention to my finances. Save and invest. Spend frugally — yet somehow also buy the cool gadgets they review on the show. Apparently extreme couponing is the way to afford it all, but it takes a lot of time to save 80 percent on your grocery bill. I need to check my credit report regularly. Shred important documents. Back up my computer. Meet with my financial planner. And read the information that comes with our kid’s (underfunded) college fund. That, by the way, is forty pages of legal and financial mumbo jumbo in eight-point font, single-spaced. I suppose I need to meet with my attorney to understand it. And that creates two prerequisite tasks to add to the list: find an attorney and find a financial planner. They assume every regular Joe has a CFP, a CPA, and a JD on speed dial. I have Domino’s on mine.

The list continues…

Change my oil every 3,000 miles and my transmission fluid every 30,000. Test my smoke detector batteries biannually. Change my air filters every other month. Replace my toothbrush every three months. Flip my mattress every six. Buy new pillows every three years — I think this is for my posture, but it could be to get rid of dust mites. Check my skin for irregular moles. Check my yard for moles too. Weed and feed the lawn each spring. Grow houseplants to cleanse the air. Save last night’s roasted chicken bones to make my own chicken stock. Buy undervalued international stocks. Sell my stock before it drops. And stock my pantry for possible natural disasters.

Fertilize, amortize, winterize, maximize, scrutinize. Suddenly I realized: I don’t have time to live my life!

PAUSE. My word for the year is PAUSE. In my busy life there are so many times I need to pause. Pause to remember these days, for they will fly by so quickly. Pause to say yes … and no. Pause to give thanks. Pause before I speak in anger, judgment, or criticism. Pause to say I’m sorry. Pause to dwell on God’s goodness and mercy. — Dawn

Looking at the list of things I was supposed to do to live my life right, or well, or whatever all this was going to do for me, I felt defeated. The list that was going to improve my life left me overwhelmed. In my moment of defeat all I wanted to do was go surf. ’Course the list said I should put on a high-SPF sunscreen and take along a BPA-free water bottle to keep me well hydrated. Filled with filtered spring water, of course.

Change is possible.

Dropping the Ball

I’m sure you can relate; you’ve made lists too. Lists of things you want to start doing or stop doing — things you want to change about yourself. Lists of ways to improve your life and your character. Maybe you’ve only listed them in your head. But I bet they come to mind each January. Nearly two-thirds of America’s population has made New Year’s resolutions. I am one of them.

And you’ve probably found, like I’ve found, that each day keeps blurring into the next while we try to make some progress with our many good intentions. Yet very little actually changes. That ball keeps dropping in Times Square each New Year’s. And we keep dropping the ball on our resolutions to improve.

Only 20 percent of resolution makers report achieving any significant long-term change.

When I open my Bible, I find more lists. Things a follower of Christ should do. Things a follower of Christ should resist doing. Traits a follower of Christ should display — all the truly important stuff that never makes it onto morning show segments. When was I going to get to any of this?

I decided to drop my list of ways to get the most out of my life. I realized I needed to find a new way to approach personal change.

Losing the List, Picking a Word

My first journal entry in 2004 was a single word: FLOW. Not merely written on the page, but etched in bubble letters about three-quarters of an inch tall. The letters are heavily outlined, surrounded by a thin border, and colored in gray. It took me about ten minutes to draw and color the word FLOW. But it took three weeks to narrow all that was bubbling up in me down to that single word.

I’d been writing in a journal for years, but here was something I had never done before. Instead of blasting paragraphs on a page to capture my thoughts and insights, recording my steps and setbacks, I decided to meditate on just one word.

I wrote this word FLOW in response to something Jesus said. He said,

Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’.— John 7:38 ESV

That struck a nerve.

There were times when I felt the living water flowing with ease from my heart. But there were other times, more times, when it felt forced.

The idea of FLOW drew me forward. It didn’t have the trappings of regret or the pressure of sweeping promises to change like my resolutions did. It awakened something in me. Not a compulsive desire to change born out of being sick of the way I was, but a desire to live an authentic life that flowed from my relationship with Christ.

Could my life really flow from my heart? The question sent me on a search anchored by the four letters of this one word.

If what Jesus said was true — pause for the obvious answer to arise — then I’d need a way to pay attention to my heart on a daily basis.

I decided looking at and concentrating on this word FLOW would remind me to do that. In the months to come, I paid attention to FLOW and used it to gauge my heart and my life. I discovered I could tell the condition of my heart based on what was coming out of it into my life.

And slowly, over time with this word FLOW, I learned to reverse that process. Instead of looking at my life and actions to realize the state of my heart, I proactively addressed the condition of my heart. That changed my life.

In looking through the lens of a single chosen word, I found a new approach to personal change and spiritual formation — one that is doable, memorable, effective, and sticky. The results have been greater than I expected.

FAITHFUL. For twenty-seven years I’ve believed that my plan for my life is superior to God’s plan. My time has been spent pursuing goals, accomplishments, and things I felt I needed to be happy and complete. After twenty-seven years of much external success, I realized I was still personally and emotionally unsatisfied. While driving to work one morning I was listening to K-LOVE, and I heard Mike talk of the One Word concept. That day I decided, for the first time in my life, to focus on God’s plan for my life instead of my own. Handing over the reins has not been easy; in fact, sometimes I’m not sure I have the endurance. So I chose FAITHFUL as my one word, because I’m committed to being faithful to God’s Word and plan. The thought of where things are going is exciting! I’m now being led by the earth’s Creator. — Brian"

Excerpted with permission from My One Word by Mike Ashcraft & Rachel Olsen, copyright Mike Ashcraft & Rachel Olsen

[wendellcapili]

I was in my late 30s—”old” by Gen Z standards when I began working on my Ph.D. at the ANU Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies (RSPAS). During its heyday, it was the top research and postgraduate training center in Australia for studying the Asia Pacific region. It focused on Northeast Asia, Southeast Asia, South Asia, and the Southwest Pacific as its main research areas.

Being an RSPAS student was a unique and memorable experience. The school was renowned for its exceptional faculty, cutting-edge research, and vibrant academic community. Its roster of distinguished faculty members included James J. Fox, Katherine Gibson, Paul Hutchcroft, Robin Jeffrey, Ben Kerkvliet, Brij K. Lal, Sir Anthony Low, Andrew Pawley, Kathryn Robinson, Tessa Morris Suzuki, and Wang Gungwu, to name a few.

One cannot discuss RSPAS without mentioning the iconic Coombs Building, its headquarters. It was named after ANU Chancellor (1968-1976) Herbert Cole Coombs, which consisted of three hexagonal structures connected. Though frequently described as notoriously difficult to navigate, it was expertly crafted by the highly-regarded Mockridge, Stahle, and Mitchell firm from 1960 to 1969.

For RSPAS students, Coombs provided an unparalleled platform for studying. For instance, Ph.D. scholars had their own office, fully equipped with a computer and free Wi-Fi, access to resources of top universities worldwide (I borrowed books and periodicals from US, Japanese, and UK universities through the ANU Chifley and Menzies libraries), book and storage cabinets, study desks, and chairs. During my last year at the university, I was in Coombs, writing and rewriting my dissertation from 11:00 a.m. to 5:30 a.m. Whenever I got hungry, I had access to the pantry with bottomless cookies, coffee, and tea. There are vending machines inside the building. And many coffee shops, canteens, and restaurants nearby. When my brain cells got weary, I walked around Lake Burley Griffin, parts of which are located within the university. Throughout my Ph.D. journey, there were dozens of conferences, seminars, and workshops at Coombs daily, always encouraging professors, younger academic staff, visiting luminaries, and students to engage with each other. Whether one is merely passing through the main lounge for a quick coffee break or bumping into colleagues, every nook and corner of the building provided its denizens with numerous occasions for understanding the diverse literatures, cultures, societies, politics, and economies of the Asia-Pacific region. Over the years, many had graced its corridors, soaking up wisdom and shaping their futures within its iconic walls. Many of my schoolmates fondly remember the countless hours spent studying, engaging in lively debates, and forming lasting friendships in its communal spaces. For me, it was not only a symbol of academic excellence but also a hub of intellectual discourse and collaboration.

However, in 2010, the year after I officially graduated, the ANU made some organizational changes, which affected the status of RSPAS along with other research schools. As a result, a newly formed College of Asia and the Pacific assumed many responsibilities previously held by RSPAS. I was saddened by such restructuring, making me one of the school’s last few graduates. With the new college in place, my old school has ceased to exist. Two years later, UST Elementary School, where I received my primary education, was shut down, too. It hurt deeply when Emeritus Professor Lal, one of my Ph.D. advisers, wrote to me before he passed on—"Our school is no more."

[artmann100]



Fundraiser Update (Tuesday, 11 am)

Fundraiser Update (Tuesday, 11 am)

Hi, Brad here yet again; I thought I would give you all a quick update.

We want to reiterate yet again our gratitude to all of you! While the donations have slowed, they are still trickling in, and we appreciate every donation (all jokes about Happy Meals aside).

We are still not quite out of debt, but the money has us very close to being there! Jess has her computer at the nursing home and has been using the money to pay down our bills right, left, center, and sideways.

With any luck at all, within the next week, our debt to the IRS will be nothing but a bad memory, and our credit rating will be salvaged. While it was not in the original “plan,” we have used some of the money to buy medical supplies and equipment for Jess, to pay some bills and a month’s rent in advance. We also are stocking up on some groceries… the pantry/refrigerator/freezer were all starting to have a distinct “Mother Hubbard’s cupboard” feel to them. In theory at least, we should not have to worry about groceries other than perishables like milk until sometime in November, which will make it that much easier for Jess to relax and concentrate on getting her strength back.

I cannot repeat this enough: all this has only been possible due to the amazing generosity of the people who donated to our fundraiser!

If I could ask one favor to all of you who have not done so yet. Please share our link on your various social media sites, be it Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr or even Myspace! I am still holding out hope for that Gettysburg trip and those Happy Meals! Mmmmm… McDonald’s fries…

[rileyslibrary]

Living With Ghosts: 4. Pretty Broken

His body stands straight, but his mind betrays him. He still wears his gun around his left shoulder. It looks too heavy for him now, just like his conscience.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,150

Notes:

Warnings: Mentions of blood and war

As much as I like Ghost’s demeanor throughout the game, I cannot help but wonder what he would be like suffering the aftereffects of war.

Entire work on AO3

Table of Contents

———————————————————————

It’s been days since you last talked to him.

His inattentiveness, however, was not the outcome of your petty little brawl—not the direct consequence, at least. If you had to venture a guess, it’s because he was busy with other matters at the moment—far more important ones.

The Russian Mafia appears to have increased its presence in the region over the past week, raising suspicions of a potential terrorist attack. As a result, the CIA has requested high readiness from the Special Forces operators deployed in the area.

That’s where he is, you fool. It doesn’t matter how abandoned, lonely, or insecure you feel, for he had a job to do. He was right there, at the front line, risking his life for the nation’s—and probably the world’s—safety. You were the last thing on his mind right now; if you ever were anything to him but a mild inconvenience.

Let’s not forget that you also had a part to play in this operation; to actively scan land, air, and sea for irregular traffic and report to the CIA.

Well, not actively, per se—the safe house has a well-equipped wine cellar for that specific purpose.

“Surveillance Control Center,” they call it—SCC for short.

What was once used to store ruby-red Chianti Classico Riserva bottles can now be confused with the cockpit of a spaceship. The CIA engineers have outdone themselves with this one—you give them that.

The SCC is part of a computer network connecting every CIA safe house in the Mediterranean. It incorporates CCTV monitors, cameras, radars, and motion sensors designed to detect unusual movements in the region. Live-streaming feeds are processed using highly sophisticated software, which, upon catching unusual traffic, alerts the SCC’s terminal. The wine cellar also houses an arsenal of weapons and ammunition, just in case the shit hits the fan.

Your job, for now, is to oversee the SCC’s flawless operation and inform Laswell of any findings.

Boring; that’s what your job was. Boring.

“Christmas is coming,” Laswell’s voice sounded over the telephone, “You guys should do something to celebrate.”

“Do what, exactly, Kate? Go from house to house and sing carols on behalf of the CIA?” You reply, leaning forward as if you were trying to physically get your point across.

“If you’d stop being a sarcastic shit, then perhaps you could think a little better.” Her irritation rasped in her voice. “Do something together; think of it as a team-building event.”

He said he’d fix that attitude of yours; when was that team-building event going to take place?

She was right, though—as much as you’d hate to admit it. Christmas does bring people together.

You begin to reminisce about the good times back home when your family used to celebrate every year. You used to cook together, sing along to festive songs, watch Mr. Bean on television, and exchange gifts.

You remember your mother, who refrained from buying ornaments from the shops. She used to bake them instead—yes, bake them. She used to roll out the dough, give shape to it with cookie cutters and bake the ornaments so you would all decorate the Christmas tree with them. The entire house smelled divine with these four little ingredients she used in her recipe—cinnamon, salt, flour, and water.

Ingredients you already had in your pantry.

“Laswell, when’s my shift ending?” you asked in anticipation.

“It ended thirty-seven minutes ago. Tired of me?”

“I thought of something.” You announce, sitting on the edge of your seat.

“Wha-”

“I have to go. Over and out.” You report as you close the comms and head upstairs to the infamous pantry.

Cinnamon, salt, flour, and water.

You were determined to make it work, right here, in this safe house—with or without Ghost.

You hurried outside, scanning the area for the tree branches he trimmed a few weeks ago. If you tie them together, you could create something resembling a Christmas tree.

When was the last time he felt the Christmas spirit? Does he have a Christmas tree at his house? A family to sing together next to the fireplace? A warm, festive meal?

You moved frantically—part Christmas elf rolling out dough and baking ornaments, part Frankenstein trying to assemble a Christmas tree monstrosity.

Time flew by; hours passed like minutes as you worked hard, your creativity unleashed, putting forth your best effort to create something out of nothing.

To create festive decor out of raw ingredients.

To construct a tree out of stray branches.

To form a connection out of two peoples’ broken pieces.

“What’s that smell?”

You were so focused that you didn’t notice him standing behind you.

You turn around to see a wreck, the fragments of a man who has probably seen terrible things and done far worse.

“I—is everything all right?” You hesitate.

“Out of trouble, for now.” He replies.

His body stands straight, but his mind betrays him. He still wears his gun around his left shoulder. It looks too heavy for him now, just like his conscience.

“Yes, I know. I spoke with Laswell. I mean, are you all right?”

“Been better.”

His uniform is dusty, and his boots are covered in mud. There is a slight rip on his balaclava, teasing you with a subtle view of his jawline, like a Geisha exposing her nape.

“It’s over, for now.” you try to comfort him.

There’s blood on his left sleeve—a lot of blood. He just became aware of it as well.

“Not mine.” He announces and hides it behind his back. “What’s that smell?” He repeats, trying to avoid the conversation.

“Cinnamon.”

“Ya bakin’?” He seems shocked.

“Sort of; They’re ornaments for the Christmas tree,” you say, pointing in the direction of your most recent creation.

“A Christmas tree.” He stutters, glazed eyes darting left and right, assessing the new environment.

You want to tell him that there are no booby traps here, nothing dangerous to be careful of. You want to console him that there is no need to be alerted for an ambush here, for this is a safe space. No more killing, no more death, for now. Just you two, a hideous Christmas tree, and badly shaped cinnamon-baked ornaments.

“Do you like them?” You ask reluctantly, trying to divert his attention from this week’s horrors. “I couldn’t find any cookie cutters, so I shaped them with a knife instead. I tried to make them look pretty, but some came out broken.”

“Aren’t we all?” he mumbles as he walks towards the Christmas tree.

“Aren’t we all exactly what, lieutenant—pretty or broken?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Pretty broken, kid,” he whispers as he picks up a shattered ornament. “Pretty damn broken.”

———————————————————————

Next ->

[nvertheless]

nights with you — jake’s house

1.3k words.

warning — not proofread and mentions of food!

you quietly prayed to yourself as you stood by jakes doorstep. “you got this queen you’ll just hang out work on your project nothing too serious be a girlboss yn!!!” you thought in your head.

you took a breath before knocking on his door. you suddenly heard a bark come through the door as jake opened the door. he smiled as you saw his big fluffy dog bark at you in excitement.

“hey y/n! layla come on leave her alone.” jake softly said to his dog as he called her to let her let you inside. jake was wearing a white shirt with black sweatpants, he looked really cute.

you walked into his house as he closed the door behind you. his house was pretty big (bigger than yours to say the least) but it was pretty comfy. you took your shoes off as layla started sniffing you and moving around you.

“layla!” you let out a small chuckle before getting down to her level and softly rubbing her fur. jake just looked at the two of you like a proud boyfr- father.

“y/n are you thirsty or anything? we have water, soda and.. juice?” he said before you shook your head. “im okay!” he understood. “we can go to my room then!” he said as you almost froze on your own two feet.

‘i cannot believe this is happening.’

‘thank you ms wang!’

you got up from the floor and followed jake up the stairs into his room. he opened the door to reveal a very.. nice and tidy room? “i was cleaning before you got here so you wouldn’t think i’m a slob or anything.” he shyly said, scratching the back of his neck while chuckling at the last sentence.

“no no don’t worry! i’m a messy person sometimes.” you reassured him as he let out a soft sigh. in his room there was his desk, a bed with a white blanket on top, some pictures of what you assumed was his family and friends, and.. trophies?

you put your backpack down on the floor as you quietly looked around his room. “hey jake, if you don’t mind me asking; what are the trophies for?” you curiously asked. “i used to play soccer! so those are from tournaments.” oh wow.

“you played soccer? that’s really cool!” you happily responded. “i don’t play anymore but thank you!” he shyly said, taking your compliment. you sat on a chair that was near his desk as he sat on the other chair, with layla jumping on his bed to lay down.

you two quietly worked on your project together, listened to music on his computer (which was hooked with speakers) at a low volume, you two didn’t talk much but it was still a comfortable silence that was in his room.

you looked over at jake, who was writing something down on his computer, “wow his side profile is really pretty..” you didn’t realize you were staring at him until he looked at you, you quickly turned your head back at your computer.

jake quietly laughed to himself, seeing the way you turned so fast. you hopefully prayed and thought that he didn’t catch on to what you were doing. it had been over an hour of just comfortable silence before you felt your stomach growl.

you quickly covered your stomach, trying to make the grumbling go away. jake noticed you trying to not make the growling get loud. he laughed, “are you hungry?” he asked. “uh.. yeah i am.” you laughed as he got out of his chair. “i can make you something since i’m also hungry.”

you followed him out of his room with layla trailing behind you two. you were in his kitchen, you sat on a chair as he pulled out a bowl and something from the pantry. “is ramen okay with you?” he asked as you nodded, letting out a small yeah.

as he was making the food you started to think about everything that was happening, jake came into your life as you wished you had been able to talk to him sooner, and you were finally able to have a conversation with him without freaking.

“i don’t know who prayed for this to happen, but thank you.”

jake finished making the ramen as he grabbed two bowls with ramen in them, putting them down at the table. “thanks jake!” you happily said to him as he smiled at you.

you took a bite into your ramen and it tasted so good. your eyes widened as you looked at him. “woah jake this is really good! where did you learn how to make this?” you asked him.

“i learned how to make it from my friend who’s in college, heeseung!” jake explained to you as you ate more of the delicious food. you two ended up talking about anything that came up in your minds.

you felt like you were becoming more closer to him, and it felt really good.

you suddenly looked at your phone, “oh shit! it’s getting late. i should probably head home.” you got up from the table and jake stopped you. “y/n do you want me to drop you off at home? i know you mentioned you took the bus here but i don’t want you to get lost on your way home..” he admitted.

oh my god.

“if you want to!” you said as he nodded. you quickly walked to his room to get your computer and backpack. you walked back to the kitchen to see jake with his shoes and a blue windbreaker on. “you ready?” you nodded.

you put your shoes on and said bye to layla, who was sitting by the door. “bye layla, i’ll see you later!” you kissed her forehead, in which she gave you a kiss on your cheek. you giggled as you got up and walked out of his house.

you got into his car, jake’s car was nicely cleaned and it looked like he just bought it. you put your seatbelt on as jake pulled out of his driveway. “oh wait! can you put your address in my phone?” he handed you his phone as you quickly put your address in it.

throughout the car ride to your house it was once again, silence but it felt nice. he had music play in the background from his phone. you looked out of the window as he drove. your house wasn’t far from his, so it would be easier to get to his house or the other way around.

you two finally pulled up to your driveway. “thanks for driving me home, i really appreciate it!” you thanked him. “no problem! i had fun, even if it was studying, your still a fun person to be around.” he said with a smile on his face, making your face feel hot.

you smiled at him, “well im gonna get going now. i’ll see you on monday?” you asked, flustered. “yeah of course, i’ll see you monday y/n.” jake said. you got out of his car, saying bye to him as you walked to your house.

jake smiled to himself, grabbing his phone and texting jay and sunghoon before pulling out of your driveway and back home.

m.list ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

notes — sorry for the long written chapter </3 but LETS FUCKING GOOOO JAKE!!!!!! you guys are gonna be so shocked on how he finds out yn is the owner of nights w lofi 🤭

♡'ೃ ↳ taglist (open!) @un-flirt @lov3niki @deeznutsriki @enhacolor @nikipedia07 @artstaeh @coffeewon @msxflower @kazuhugs @viagumi @beans-and-jeanes @bubblytaetae @remiee @jayeonnature @kaeslily @blessed-sky @iloveoceaneyes @calumsfringe @kyanmeai @lockburn-castle @leenthepanda @strwberrydinosaur @enhasengene @mqndnolia @wtfhyuck @cwsana @jaxavance

[johannstutt413]

(requested by mathmaticalknight) Ceobe/Saga being hungry doggos together

“Good tidings, Doctor!” Saga entered his office with her usual exuberance. “Thou hast summoned me, so hesitate not in your request.”

He looked up from his computer, amused as usual to hear her speak. “Someone has been stealing food from the cafeteria; I’d like you to apprehend them.”

“Gasp! Our victuals, targeted at their very font? Most troubling, indeed. I shall see to it that the ne’er-do-well understands the severity of their actions, yes.” The Perro nodded to herself and turned to leave-

“One thing, before you go.” She looked back to him. “The thief is Ceobe. Have you met her before?”

The monk blinked. “Kay, a thief? Surely you jest, Doctor.”

“Gummy found her in the pantry yesterday. You seem troubled by that revelation.” The Doctor cocked his head, watching her reactions carefully.

“It is a rather distressing tiding, but worry not, I shall instruct her.” Frowning, Saga left the office to attend to the task at hand. ‘First, to find her…’

Of course, that was the challenging thing - Kay was two things, always hungry and very energetic, so knowing where to find her was usually a game of bloodhound-and-badger…except for today, where the monk found her friend being thrown out the pantry by a combined effort from Gummy and Matterhorn. “Kay!”

“Saga?” Ceobe bounced to her feet and ran to her. “Saga!”

“A moment.”

She held out her hand palm forward, which the other Perro knew was a signal to stop, which was weird. Saga loved giving her hugs. “Hugs?”

“As I said, in a moment.” She did very much want to give her a hug, but discipline came first. “The Doctor informed me that thou hast stolen food from the cafeteria. Hast thou done so?”

“...Yes.” The doggo’s ears sank as she realized her friend agreed she had done a bad thing.

Saga sighed. “Now Kay, as much deliciousness is kept behind those doors is also obtainable through the exchange of currency. Thou must not resort to larceny to satisfy thine baser cravings.”

“But there’s so much food in there!” The Caster pouted. “It’s easier for Kay to get what Kay wants this way.”

“Art thou so certain of that? What if, in thine acts of gluttony, thou lost something else precious to thine self?” A somewhat empty threat, but one the monk knew would send the message.

It took a moment for Ceobe to process, but it scared her immediately after she had. “But Saga-”

“I know thou lovest the many delights procurable from the pantry,” which they had in common, “but thou cannot hold me and the bountiful stores both in thine grasp.”

“Kay…”

Wait, was it possible that- no, patience, she’d make the right decision. “Kay?”

“Kay…” Her stomach rumbled. “Willst thee procur Kay and thou both a lunch?”

“Did- Kay, hast thou not eaten yet today?” That didn’t seem like something she’d do.

The doggo shook her head. “Kay was waiting for thee to eat breakfast together, but Saga left early today, so Kay waited and waited until Kay couldn’t wait any more, and Kay doesn’t have her money with her because it’s in Saga’s room, and Kay doesn’t have a key, and...”

“Oh, I have been a fool!” Saga ran to Ceobe, wrapping her in a hug and spinning them both around as she did. “I didn’t realize I’d caused you such distress! Hast thine hand been forced so frequently?”

“Y-yes, but Kay didn’t know how to tell thee of Kay’s troubles.” All this time with the monk was definitely starting to affect her manner of speech.

At least they could understand each other. “Then after we’ve eaten, I’ll acquire a second key from Dorm Management, and then thou shan’t need to pilfer from the pantry anymore.”

“Yay~” The Caster licked her cheek. “Let’s eat.”

“Yes, let us eat. Lead the way, Kay; I’ll place my order second.”

Both ordered and ate to their hearts’ content - which, granted, took a fair bit, since the doggo burned through calories as fast as she could consume them, and Saga…No one was quite sure how Saga ate the way she did without consequence, but considering her composure and discipline, it was possible she exuded so much positivity it actually used up the carbs. Regardless, they enjoyed a hearty meal together (to the amusement and awe, in various degrees, of the cafeteria staff) and shortly after finishing went hand-in-hand to Dorm Management, and then to the Doctor’s office. “Doctor, Kay hast a matter to discuss with thee.”

“Oh?” He was all ears. Well, not literally, but very interested in how this would go. “What is it, Kay?”

“Kay is sorry for stealing food. Kay forgot Kay’s money in Saga’s room every day, and Kay didn’t have a key to get it. But now! See? Kay has a key!” She flashed the blue card to him proudly.

It was then the Doctor nearly keeled over and off his chair. “Wait, I thought the two of you were close, but are you two…dating?”

“Hmm?” The monk blinked. “Dating? What dost thou refer to, Doctor?”

“Is Doctor talking about snuggle time?” The doggo suggested.

Saga nodded sagely. “Ah, perhaps that’s it.”

“Uh…you know what, don’t worry about it.” He shook his head as his inner self died laughing. “I’m glad you worked things out and will stop stealing. Is there anything I can help you with while you’re here?”

“Umm…Nope! That’s it.”

He looked back at his desktop, noticing five new messages from Amiya. “Alright, then you’re free to go.”

“Okay! Bye Doctor!” Ceobe ran back through the door. “Race thee to thine room, Saga!”

“A race thou shalt have!” Both left, laughing as they did.

The Doctor stared at the still-swinging door. (Swinging? Was it supposed to do that?) ‘I don’t think I ever could have seen this coming…but somehow I can understand Ceobe even better when she talks like that than the way she did before…’

[antebunny]

Wei Wuxian, worst supervillain: part 2

Full series here.

-

“Wen Ning,” Wei Wuxian, with the urgency of a doomed man. “You gotta help me.”

“What’s the problem?” Wen Ning says immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Wen Qing says, without looking up from her book.

She’s sitting comfortably on the single couch in Wei Wuxian’s so-called villain lair. In reality, he couldn’t afford anywhere else, and the Burial Mounds are rent-free and neighborless. She still made Wei Wuxian buy the red couch, and it remains the only splash of color in the whole complex.

Wei Wuxian pauses, his palms still slammed down on the creaking table in the center of the room. Wen Ning continues mixing his tea. “Okay, first off,” he says, mortally offended, “you didn’t even know what I was going to say. And second, I wasn’t even asking you!”

“I’m answering for A-Ning,” Wen Qing says calmly.

“Wen Ning is a free man!” Wei Wuxian argues. “He can make his own decisions!”

“What do you need help with?” Wen Ning intervenes, dragging Wei Wuxian’s attention away from the argument.

“I’m not being taken seriously!” Wei Wuxian wails.

Wen Qing snorts. “Why would I?”

“I didn’t mean you,” Wei Wuxian says, once more mortally offended. “I mean the superheroes! They’re not taking me seriously as a villain! Last time I robbed the national bank, they just sent Lan Zhan, and we didn’t even fight!”

“Right,” Wen Qing says drily. “You just debated philosophy for two hours.”

“He had some interesting points,” Wei Wuxian mutters sulkily. “What was I supposed to do, just not debate him?”

“Yes,” says Wen Qing.

“I can’t just ignore Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says belligerently. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be concerned? If the superheroes don’t take me seriously, how am I supposed to secure the safety of your family? If I just rescue them the government will never stop hunting them!”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault you chose the stupidest way to go about it. Now both of your siblings are mad at you.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to retort and then pauses. “Okay, but,” he tries, “it’s too late now! After last Friday–”

“There were easier ways to explain to Meng Yao where he got his psychic powers from,” Wen Qing notes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Both Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning flush bright red.

-

“–the truth, Meng Yao,” the Yiling Patriarch said melodramatically, and his black coat billowed out behind him as he stalked towards Meng Yao.

The young man scrambled backwards over the rubble of the destroyed convenience store, his honey eyes wide with fear at the sight of the masked supervillain loomed over him. He was the communications director for the superheroes before all this happened, but during this fight Wei Wuxian had noticed his fledgling psychic powers and looked at the young man, who happened to look eerily similar to Jin Zixuan, and realized what was going on.

“They never told you what happened to your father,” Wei Wuxian continued, easily cornering Meng Yao.

Back in the Burial Mounds, Wen Ning leaned towards his computer like he could merge into the scene. His fingers flew across the keys, as he suddenly remembered some quote about a father that would be perfect for this situation. If only he could get to his list of villain phrases fast enough–

Wei Wuxian paused as the line flashed in front of his eyes, projected by his mask. Without registering the words, he read it out loud. “I am your father!”

Meng Yao stopped cowering.

The Yiling Patriarch stopped stalking dramatically. “Ah, fuck,” he said, his pointed finger drooping. “Wait–I meant–”

Two superheroes landed on the pile of rubble beside Meng Yao.

“Darth Vader, The Empire Strikes Back,” Hanguang-jun said confidently.

“How are you so fucking stupid,” Sandu Shengshou said, almost wonderingly. Bright purple lightning crackled around his fingertips.

“Shut up, I don’t know you!” The Yiling Patriarch cried. “I meant Jin Guangshan! I meant Jin Guangshan!”

-

“I think Zewu-jun’s handling it,” Wei Wuxian says evasively.

Wen Qing snorts. “Sure.”

“The point is they’re not taking me seriously!” Wei Wuxian insists. “Wen Ning, what can I do to make them take me seriously as a villain?”

“Do something only a villain would do,” Wen Ning suggests.

“Well obviously,” Wei Wuxian says. “But what?” He pulls out the chair across from Wen Ning and plonks himself down in it. They both ponder this question.

“Maybe you could kidnap a hero?” Wen Ning suggests.

Wei Wuxian brightens. “That’s a great idea! But who?”

“Oh my God,” Wen Qing mutters from her comfy seat on the couch.

“Not Jiang Cheng, he’d kill me,” Wei Wuxian muses. He props his chin up with one hand. “And I don’t want to kidnap someone who’d get actually scared…Lan Zhan! Perfect. I’ll kidnap their precious Hanguang-jun. Then they’ll have to take me seriously!”

"Kill me now," Wen Qing groans.

-

When Lan Wangji wakes up to see the Yiling Patriarch looming over him, he thinks he’s still dreaming for one embarrassing moment. He’s glad he recognizes his mistake, or he would’ve said or done something mortifying that he prefers not to think about.

“Good morning, Lan Zhan!” The Yiling Patriarch says, grinning evilly. “You are in the lair of the Yiling Patriarch.”

Lan Wangji sits up. He’s on a soft red couch, wrapped in at least three blankets. Other than that, the large room is rather sparse; the walls are plain stone, as is the floor, save for a threadbare rug on top of which a rickety old table sits, with four chairs of varying styles situated around it.

“How does it feel to know you’ve been kidnapped by your worst enemy?” The Yiling Patriarch says gleefully.

He leans closer, and Lan Wangji swallows, his throat dry. It seems that the Yiling Patriarch forgeos his high-collar black coat when he’s at home. He’s currently wearing a baggy black shirt and black ripped jeans, which means that when Lan Wangji looks up, he’s looking directly at his collarbone, then up at his jawline, and then at the bottom half of his face. As he leans in, his lips curve in a wicked smile, and no, Lan Wangji not thinking about his forearms, or those beautiful, slender hands–

“How does it feel knowing you’ve been rendered powerless?” The Yiling Patriarch continues. His silver eyes track the movement of Lan Wangji’s throat. “Are you uncomfortable?” He asks worriedly. “This place has no heating–you know, free rent, that’s how it is–and I didn’t have anywhere else to put you, but I thought I brought enough blankets. Do you want tea? I can make tea!”

And the Yiling Patriarch bustles off, throwing a “Be right back! Don’t go anywhere!” over his shoulder.

Lan Wangji pushes the blankets off. “I am quite comfortable,” he says to himself. Perhaps he could’ve said it earlier, but he wasn’t going to dissuade the Yiling Patriarch from making him tea.

The Yiling Patriarch returns with two cups of jasmine tea, and invites Lan Wangji to take a seat at his table.

“Sorry about the chairs, they’re kinda falling apart,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “I got them at a yard sale. Well, four different yard sales, so none of them match.”

“It is fine,” Lan Wangji says.

“Right, right.” The Yiling Patriarch clears his throat, and pushes one teacup towards Lan Wangji. “Anyway. I thought it was time I proved my worth as a villain, don’t you think?” He leans back in his chair. One of the chair legs squeaks.

“You could always retire,” Lan Wangji suggests.

The Yiling Patriarch’s casual smile drops. “Not until I’ve done what I set out to do,” he says seriously. He pulls up his villain smile again. “Though I’m sure you heroes must be eager for me to retire, hm?”

“I am worried one day you might be seriously injured,” Lan Wangji replies.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” the Yiling Patriarch says, shaking his head. “The tragedy is not to die, but to be wasted. I have so much–”

“Hannibal Lecter,” says Lan Wangji.

The Yiling Patriarch scowls at him. “Stop doing that. As I was saying, I have so much to do, and so little time on this earth. If I must turn to villany to accomplish my goals, then I will. You cannot debate me into giving up my pursuits.”

“Why must you turn to villainy?” Lan Wangji asks. He drinks his tea. It’s over boiled, but still the best tea he’s ever had.

“Because otherwise, nobody listens,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “You think I didn’t try the proper way first?”

“No doubt you tried,” says Lan Wangji. “Nevertheless: what are your goals? Why do you hide your face? Who are you protecting?”

The Yiling Patriarch slams his teacup down. “You want the truth?” He pauses. “You can’t handle the truth!”

Lan Wangji sips his tea. “Colonel Nathan Jessup, A Few Good Men.”

“Stop doing that!” The Yiling Patriarch cries. He stands up and shakes his finger very threateningly at Lan Wangji. “You seem to have forgotten that you have been kidnapped, Lan Zhan.”

“I have not,” Lan Wangji says. The location leaves something to be desired, but other than that he thinks it’s a very fine first date.

“Then–! Don’t forget who holds the power in this situation!”

“Mhm,” Lan Wangji agrees. He sips his tea again. “Thank you for the tea.”

“O-oh, of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says, thrown. He sits down again. “You seemed like a no sugar type of person.” He pauses. “I mean, if you want sugar, I have some in the pantry. I think. Unless we ran out.”

“No need,” Lan Wangji says. He is, in fact, a no-sugar type of person.

“That’s good,” the Yiling Patriarch says. He smiles at Lan Wangji, who almost smiles back, heart set aflutter by the gentle smile on the Yiling Patriarch’s face.

“What is your plan?” Lan Wangji asks.

“My plan?” The Yiling Patriarch echoes, thrown once more. “I mean, my villainous plan! Uh. The one that I have.”

“Is this all for your image?” Lan Wangji presses.

“Of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says immediately. “You know me. Vanity, definitely my favorite sin.”

“John Milton, The Devil’s Advocate.”

“Shut up! I can’t believe you memorized all these quotes,” the Yiling Patriarch bemoans. “Lan Zhan, you’re ruining all my fun.”

Lan Wangji sips his tea again. “I am quite capable of research.”

“I’ll say,” he mutters.

“It is not too late to turn back,” Lan Wangji says, trying for once to put the turmoil of emotion he feels into his tone. “We can still put old wounds behind us. I can help you.”

The Yiling Patriarch slumps against his table. “Can we?” He asks, subdued. “After all, our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.”

“Hannibal Lecter again,” says Lan Wangji.

“Fuck you! Hannibal Lecter is a good villain!” The Yiling Patriarch swells belligerently.

“And you,” Lan Wangji says calmly, “are not a very convincing villain.”

“What do you mean?” The Yiling Patriarch demands. “I kidnapped a hero! Only villains do that!” He sweeps one arm across the situation, gesturing at the hot jasmine tea and the pile of blankets on the couch behind them, and at Lan Wangji, seated primly on the old wooden chair provided for him. “This is a kidnapping!”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji says.

“I am a supervillain!” The Yiling Patriarch insists. “There’s no coming back from that. I destroyed a skyscraper last week. I’ve cost the government too much money for them to ever forgive me. There’s no way for you to redeem me!”

“There is nothing to redeem,” Lan Wangji says sharply.

The Yiling Patriarch flinches. When he stops, his expression is scraped raw. “R-right,” he says shakily. “O-of course–”

“I meant there is nothing to redeem, because you are already good,” Lan Wangji says hurriedly, realizing the misinterpretation of his statement.

The Yiling Patriarch pauses, mouth half open. “Lan Zhan, there’s no way for you to know that,” he croaks. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I do,” Lan Wangji says quietly. “And I don’t need to.” He hesitates, then reaches for the Yiling Patriarch's hand. He grips it tight, and the Yiling Patriarch lets him. “You are good.”

The Yiling Patriarch draws in a shaky breath. “Wei Ying,” he blurts. “Courtesy Wuxian. That’s. My name.”

Lan Wangji can feel the corners of his lips curve into a smile. “Wei Ying,” he repeats. “Wei Ying, you are good.”