Disclaimer: All are works of fiction and not meant to actually reflect the people/idols in them. Works are not to be translated or reposted.
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I never said I was a samurai. You did. I am on the path of revenge. There's no place on it for love or friendship or weakness. Now I have a man to kill.
genre: childhood best friends to lovers, gilded age!au, forbidden love, angst, fluff, smut
warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f recv), handjob (m recv), riding, dirty talk, implication that the pullout method works (it does not!), hurt/comfort, both are virgins, so sex is a lil clunky, afab reader, mention of periods, historical inaccuracies/general historical bootleggery, i basically watched one ep of âthe gilded ageâ and ran with the vibes, historical misogyny, alcohol mentioned, Felix gets slightly buzzed at one point, cheating (in an arranged marriage scenario), lots of poor choices, lots of angst
A/N: the real title of this is Lixicon but I stopped myself đ This is my entry into the global childhood bf2l felix headcanon, and WOOF was this a struggle to write
All characters are adults at all times in this fic.
warnings: penetrative sex (afab reader), some angst
genre: coworker!au, strangers-to-lovers!au, kind-of-vampire!au, smut, kind of angst, some fluff
All characters are adults, Minors DNI!!!!Â
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
âDude, you gotta drop your skincare routine.â
Changbinâs heart skips a beat. Shit.
âYouâve been working here, what, seven years?â continues Chan, âI swear you havenât aged a day. I feel like Iâm aging a week every day.â
Changbin turns from the office coffee machine, forcing the corners of his mouth up, and watches as Chan scans his face, then his body, shaking his head in mock frustration.
âAre you stealing time from me? Is that why Iâm aging so fast and youâre not? Some kind of magic?â
Chan chuckles, and Changbin feels that familiar rush through his veins. A glint of euphoria against the throbbing in his temples as he thinks through what would now need to happen, dizzied as heâs forced to grab onto time, his brain spinning as heâs yanked from where he previously stood untouched.
But still, Changbin plays the part â hand clapped on Chanâs shoulder, voice all congeniality as he laughs back, âNah man, I wish. Getting old just like you. Thanks though.â
Chan grins, and gives another disbelieving chuckle, before segueing into more banal office talk, punctuated by his characteristic belly laughs, sending Changbinâs blood bubbling again. Changbin only half listens, his heart contracting as he realizes: he would actually miss Chan. He has been a good office buddy, a good friend. Fun, besides what he provided. Changbin had chosen well this time.
But Chan had almost been right.
And so Changbin knew it was time to go.
~~~
The next morning, Changbin starts with his familiar Three Steps. Again, he sighs to himself.
One â get a new job.
He calls in sick â âSome kind of flu!â â and starts interviewing. The process, as expected, is fast â with Changbinâs experience he easily gets an offer within a few days. Sends in his resignation immediately. Wipes his hands of that chapter, with a twinge of nostalgia, laid gently like dust upon the others. It would be easy to forget, just a relic, soon enough.
From there, Changbin proceeds to Two â get a new wardrobe.
In the early days he didnât see the point of giving up his hard-earned dollars for clothes he didnât need, but when his coworkers at the button factory had started asking him, âWhy do you dress like my grandfather?â he realized that it was, in fact, something he needed.
So Changbin spends the day walking up and down the main avenue, collecting bags of designer blazers, perfectly tailored shirts. A little part of his brain, the part that had grown up long ago in a time when there was always too little, when home had too little space and too many bodies, yells at him that this is wasteful, a bad use of his time and a worse use of his money. But what does Changbin have at this point except money and time?
~~
And then, finally, Three.
The trickiest step.
On the first day of his new job, Changbin steps out of the elevator, his ears pricked for that one particular sound.
It would be easy to find here. That faithful social glue, tinkling against his eardrums, mostly fake in places like this. It wafts up from the seats, soaking into the walls, whole floor of men trying to schmooze, network, ingratiate themselves with their superiors. Laughing at jokes that were funny to no one, desperate to forge a connection they could use to climb upwards. His blood bubbles, the high of renewal singing in his cells.
But, still, he knows heâll need a main source. Someone to stick close to, on whom he could feed, for lack of a better word. He had experimented with spending most of his time in comedy clubs, but the guffaws of the crowds had been almost too much, his vision whiting out with the highs. It would leave him full and new, but disoriented for days after. It was better to find a single, consistent source. One person was enough, if he chose well.
He had gotten lucky with Chan â he had always been laughing, always making people laugh, but he could hear in the tone that it was genuine. Joy spilled out of him, infecting those around him. It was why Changbin had found himself befriending him, despite the rules he had set for himself.
But usually Changbinâs prey was of a less savory type - class clown turned social climber, the kind who would crack jokes because his ego depended on it. A little bitter, a little nauseating, but always consistent. Heâs sure itâll be that way this time but then â
He hears it. You. A giggle. Again and again. Thereâs something sickly about it. But itâs consistent, and plentiful, and the glow in his veins tells him heâs found what he wants. He doesnât thinking much more about it.
In this new present, he just knows he needs you.
So he takes the desk across from yours, letting himself sink into his chair and close his eyes as your laughter warms him.
~~
The next few weeks pass almost pleasantly.
He comes into the office at nine on the dot each day, and gets to work immediately, the sound of your laughter his own personal playlist, a soundtrack to his infinity. He doesnât know what you are laughing at, or if anything is even funny, but it doesnât matter to him â each night he returns home full, glowing, healthy. Still alive. And has everything he needs to stay tethered to sanity and morality â routine, structure, something to occupy his mind. Â
Itâs easier to not know, anyway. To not get invested in his prey. He congratulates himself on choosing well.
But then one day he hears a giggle, and itâs off.
There had always been something a little sickly, a little small in your laughter. But this wasâŠmore of a cry than a giggle, like the whimper of a cornered animal. Changbin doesnât want to know, doesnât want to care, but still, he finds his ears pricking up, trying to truly hear.
âI mean, you had to know you sounded stupid in there right?â says the man towers over you, arms crossed, eyes gleeful as he sneers down at you.
âYou donât talk the whole meeting and then thatâs all you say? I mean, Iâm just being honest with you, it was a dumb idea.â
âYeah, I guess youâre right,â you replay, head hanging, âNot my best.â
You pause for a moment.
âThanks for letting me know,â you finish weakly.
And then that giggle Changbin was always hearing. Light and wavering. He grits his teeth, and thereâs a tiny bubble of something acidic in his blood, bumping against the euphoria. But he ignores it, lets it pass. He canât let this bother him, not when heâs getting exactly what he needs.
That day, he leaves a little early. Itâs unlike him, but heâs restless. He just wants to get outside to the fresh air, the quiet breeze.
~~
He pays closer attention in the following weeks, despite his best efforts. He doesnât want to, but his ear is now tuned to your frequency, to hear both your giggling and its source.
He hears the way your boss interrupts you. The way he snips off your sentences just to finish with exactly what you were going to say, chastising you for not thinking of it sooner.
He hears the way your coworker laughs at your hair, your clothes. Just a little quip here and there.
âOh wow, thatâs an interesting style. Did you mean for it to look like that?â
âOh I guess youâre going for the, uh, vintage look? I think my grandma has that same sweater, when it was in style.â
You giggle along, laughing at yourself. A good sport.
And so Changbin realizes â this isnât the laughter heâs seen before. It isnât of joy. Or posturing. Or attention-seeking. Or the fake neutrality of small talk.
This is the laughter of pain. Of self-protection. Of nerves constantly on edge. Of prey waiting to be attacked.
And so he suddenly finds himself, much to his own surprise, standing in front of your desk. He has no plan, doesnât know why heâs there. You look up, eyebrows knit, your confusion spurring Changbin to speak. To explain his presence there to you, and to himself.Â
âHi,â says Changbin, holding out his hand, a mix of learned charisma and sudden onset nerves, âIâm Changbin, your seatmate.âÂ
âIndeed,â you reply, reaching out your own hand, introducing your own name. You smile, but thereâs a reticence â you are trying to gauge if heâs a threat, Changbin realizes. And so he takes a deep breath, gives you his warmest smile. It pulls at muscles long since fallen into disuse.Â
And then the words are out, before he can stop them, before he himself even realizes itâs what he was aching to say.Â
âI just came by toâŠâ, he says, âThe way they treat you, itâsâŠnot right. I hear what they say and itâs justâŠYouâre good at your job, youâre smart. Iâve seen your presentations.âÂ
Your eyes widen, taken aback by Changbinâs directness. He is too.
âItâs bullshit, what theyâre saying. You donât have to entertain that crap.â
Your jaw drops a little, but you catch yourself, returning your face to neutral. Gathering yourself back into a professional package.
âI uh,â you reply, âI donât know ifâŠâ You throw a glance at your coworkers, seated a couple rows away.
âThatâs nice of you to say, I guess.â
And then thereâs a moment of silence, that invisible line of acceptable in-office authenticity too far crossed, and Changbin takes a step back. Retreating to his desk, his former self, the solitude heâs guarded for decades. But then he stops, turns, eyes connecting with yours.
âAlso ââ he says, âFor what itâs worth, thatâs a nice sweater. Theyâre just assholes.â
You smile, and Changbin knows itâs real.
When Changbin sits back down he feels a little dizzy, off-kilter. Heâs not used to it. Heâs optimized every part of his life, to minimize friction, reduce hunger. But he feels his heart beating, his palm sweaty. Messy. Very human.
He chastises himself for getting involved. Heâd now created an obligation â to greet you, to chat in the elevator. He was too old for that shit. Empty niceties, words that go nowhere.
But as the day progresses he finds himself glancing up more often. Ears pricked, always. But heâs not quite sure anymore for what.
~~
He gets in a little early the next day. Unusual for him. 8:53.
You arrive at 9:07, and by 9:10 your coworker has swooped over to your desk, hovering.
âWhy didnât you send me the Brooks report yesterday? I asked for it by five. You said you would give it to me by then.â
Changbinâs eyes dart up to you. He watches as you shrink back, eyes widening a little. But then you pause. Think for a beat.
âYes,â you reply, âbut there was other higher priority work that got assigned after. We agreed that that should be completed yesterday, that the other work could wait.â
âWhy couldnât you do both?â he says, leaning in, âI can give you some efficiency tips, if you want.â
You take another deep breath, and your eyes flick, for the briefest of moments, to Changbin.
âAnd perhaps I could teach you how time works,â you reply.
Changbin feels a new bubbling in his veins, different than before, as he watches your coworker roll his eyes, walk away grumbling. And then he watches as panic slowly sinks into your expression and heâs surprises to see that you turn and lean towards him.
âGod, I shouldnât have said that. That was too rude, right? He just pisses me off so much and I just kind of snapped ââ
You are looking to him for comfort, Changbin realizes. Suddenly it feels like there is too much blood in his veins, like he canât contain himself.
âYou can be both rude and right,â Changbin shrugs, collecting himself quickly, Â âNo crime in that. I thought it was fucking great.â
You smile, warm again, lean just a few inches closer.
âStop me next time, though, okay?â
Changbin doesnât respond immediately, caught up in the pressure beneath his skin. And in the pause, you ask, gently:
âPromise?â
Changbin chuckles, new for him.
âI donât know if I can, honestly. That was too fun to watch.â
You roll your eyes, but itâs playful. Youâre relaxed.
âYour seatmate is selfish,â he replies, âSorry to break it to you.â
You chuckle, but this time itâs full, rounded. Every part of him sings.
He wonders, with a sudden ache in his belly, if this is what drove him to talk to you. If it had always been about that sound, the one that had shaped his whole life. Just self-preservation, the evolutionary urge to feed himself better. Improved nutrition.Â
He sighs, rubbing his temples, and forces his focus back to work.
~~
A few days later, Changbin wakes up with his head pounding, his arms heavy, exhausted. Like the flu, if he were able to get sick anymore. He thinks for a moment about taking a sick day, and then chuckles to himself, at the impossibility. Sick how?
And so he pulls on his work pants, drags himself to the office, collapses into his chair with a thud. You look up from your desk, your eyebrows drawing together with concern.
âYou good?â you ask.
âYeah,â Changbin responds, smiling weakly, âJust feel a little off. But no biggie.âÂ
You give a small nod, look back at your screen. But Changbin catches you throwing glances at him throughout the day. At 3 pm you pass by his desk, place a steaming cup of tea in front of him.Â
âFor immunity,â you say with a small smile, before returning to your seat. Changbin thanks you, reaches out to let the cup warm his palm.
During the next hour, your coworker comes by, grumbling about some imagined grievance. You wave him off, more polite than before, but still defiant.
The rest of the day of the day passes quietly.
Oh.
Quietly. Shit.
He hadnât heard your laugh all day. No nervous chuckle, no defensive giggle. When youâre relaxed, more confident, you simply donât laugh as much. Thatâs why he was so tired.
But then, at the end of the day, finally he hears it. Your manager as swooped in, voice stern as he berates you. A little giggle, clipped, but still there. Changbin feels his muscles untense, his blood glow with relief as his tissues are nourished again.
But he hates it, canât stand it. Loathes the feeling of your pain in his blood.
He knows he should just let things unfold, stay away. In those lost middle years, when he had let the hunger consume him, he would have, maybe even have egged on your manager. Pulled you under.
But he canât. He wants ants to drain the glow from his skin, siphon it back to you.
And so he finds himself at your desk again, blood pounding in his veins, electrified by you.
âIgnore him,â Changbin whispers, âDonât let that asshole get the best of you.â
You take a deep breath, nodding.
~~
The next day he returns to the office with a plan.
He decides to redo step three. Find new prey. He needs a fresh start, to clear his head, feed his body.
And so he rounds the floor, once, twice, three times. Each time he passes you, you look up, confused.
There are some good options â a young man angling for a promotion, a slightly older one with a chronic need for attention.
But he find himself again in his old seat, across from you. Compelled by some force greater than his own need for survival.
He sighs, lets his hands drop to his hands. What was he doing?
~~
That night, Changbin goes to the comedy club. He knows itâs a bad idea, but heâs starving. Heâs waited too long to feed properly, waffled too much in his approach, forcing him into this corner. As he sits in the audience, the laughter fills him up, but it pounds into his skin, his temples, leaving his ears ringing. He doesnât listen to the jokes themselves â his brain is filled only with his own frustrations, every curse directed at himself. Why couldnât he just get away, find new prey?
He stumbles home, vision blurry, drunk on joy. He falls into bed, not knowing what direction is up or down, just knowing that heâs alive. That has to be enough for now, until he comes down from this overdose, until he can think clearly enough to get himself back to his old self. All the careful rules that he had constructed over decades of learning, to keep him from exactly this kind of situation. He falls into a restless sleep, his bed too hot, his skin too cold, everything wrong.
The next thing he hears is a ring of a phone. His vision is mostly back to normal, but heâs still groggy, so he fumbles through the covers for the source of the ringing, pulling the phone to his ear.
âHello?â he says, voice still raspy.
âChangbin!â he hears you say, âAre you okay?â
âYeah,â he replies, rolling over onto his stomach, sinking himself further into the soothing darkness of his sheets, âIâm fine, why?â
âItâs 5 pm,â you say, âYou never came into the office. I was worried.â
Fuck.
Changbin bolts up in bed and rubs his eyes, clearing the sleep from his eyes just enough to verify the time on the clock on his wall.
âIâm fine,â he scrambles, âJust sick, nothing big, Iâll be fine. Sleeping it off.â
âBut youâve been looking sick all week,â you counter, âWhere do you live? I want to come check on you, make sure everything is okay.â
Changbin knows he shouldnât say. Itâs not professional. Itâs a bad idea but fuck, he wants you here.
And so he gives you his address.
~~
You arrive a half hour later, your arms laden with soup, random medicines, Gatorade.
âI didnât know what you needed,â you explain, spreading them across the table in front of you, âSo I went by the pharmacy, and a few other places.â
Changbin scans the table, heart in his throat. Heâs been so self-sufficient for so long, since he lost the last of his family. Heâd forgotten how it felt to be taken care of.
âThanks,â Changbin chokes out, âButâŠâ
A question bubbles up, his brain shouting out against the pulse of his bloodstream.
ââŠWhy are you here? I know youâre busy, you have work to do. We donât know each other that well even, I-â
âBecause you helped me,â you say, âEverything in that office, I thought it was my fault. That I just wasnât good enough, smart enough, assertive in the right way. I wanted to pay you back. Weâre friends, I think right?â
âWe areâŠâ he admits, for the first time, to himself as much as to you. And then he sighs, aching at how unaware you are, how much he had taken from you for months. The elation he got from your misery,  every single one of those giggles.
 âAnd thereâs nothing to repay. Youâve already given me more than enough, you have no idea.â
âHow?â you say, âI havenâtâŠâ
âBut you haveâŠyouâŠâ,Changbin canât say, but his body and mind, finally unison, scream at his to show you.
Heâs gentle, slow at first. He leans in towards you, just slightly, to see if youâll retract. But you donât. You lean towards him too, nose just inches away from his.
So he reaches out one hand, places it gently on your cheek. You shudder at his touch, but you smile, your eyes shining with something warm.
âIs this okay?â he whispers, âTo touch you like this? I canât â I donât know how to explain. But I want...â
You nod, whispering back, âTouch me however you want.â
His lips are on yours immediately, gentle at first, as he grabs onto your waist, pulls you towards him, onto the bed, into his lap. He feels himself hardening in his pants, the pressure of it straining against his slacks. He supports your back as his lips travel to your cheek, to your neck. He has no plan, just lets himself feel you against his skin, knowing only that he just wants to make you happy, to make you feel good, to make up for all the times he fed on your misery.
And then he hears it, a little giggle. Weak, like before. He pulls away immediately, eyes glued to yours. You cock your head, confused.
âYouâre nervous,â says Changbin.Â
âHm?â you ask, eyebrows drawing together, âWhy do you say that?â
âThat giggleâŠâ Changbin says, âyouâre nervous about this.â
You breathe in once, twice.
âI just-â Changbin starts, âI never want to be the source of that sound. Ever.â
He sits further serious. His hands drop from your waist, resting against the comforter below you.
âI need to be sure that you want to do this,â he whispers, âThat youâre comfortable. Youâre safe with me, I promise. But if youâre not sure you want this, I donât either.â
 You smile, and you lean forward, hand cupping his cheek.
âI am sure,â you say, definitely, and Changbin relaxes a little, letting his head rest softly against your palm. He reaches out again, hands tracing your waist, pulling you towards him.Â
You smile wider, cupping his other cheek with your remaining hand, pulling his lips back to yours.Â
âJust butterflies,â you whisper, âGood nerves. Happy nerves. I wouldnât want to be anywhere else.âÂ
And then you chuckle again, but this time the sound is warm, like the tinkling of bells. Changbinâs skin prickles, from your touch, from the way his blood now bubbles against his skin at your laughter.
âNow please,â you say, âTouch me. Iâm dying here.â
He returns your laughter, relaxes back into your touch, lets his hands trace the hem of your shirt, and then underneath. You shiver at his touch, drawing a sharp inhale.
âGladly.â
~~
He moves quickly to give you what you want, laying you back, gently stripping you of your clothes. His lips are on your neck, your collarbone, and you giggle again as they reach the valley between your breasts. He stops for a moment, looks up to check in with you.
âJust sensitive,â you say, âKeep going.âÂ
And so he does, his tongue on your nipples, drawing sweet moans from you as they swirl against your skin. Down your belly, then down to the skin of your pelvis. He quickly finds where youâre most sensitive â the inside of your thighs, the plane between your hip bones â by the way you giggle as he touches them, the pure trill of joy. He laughs too, against your skin, at himself, at the ridiculous spread of his blooming happiness. Heâs so fucking hard it hurts, but he doesnât care, doesnât even notice, when he looks up to see you smiling down at him like that every time you catch him giggling.
It had always been him feeding, a one way street, for as long as he could remember. But this was an exchange. It didnât fill you up like it did him, but he could feel the way his laughter made your eyes a little brighter, how you held him a little closer. He wanted to do everything he could to make the exchange equal. He knows that the energy your laughter brings doesnât hurt you â itâs a renewable resource, leaving you ultimately untouched â but it still thrills him to feel like he is giving as much as he receives.
And so he continue, wholeheartedly, taking every ounce of energy you gave him and pouring it back to you, sculpting it into your pleasure. Gently caressing the curves of your waist, his lips now pressed against your inner things, inching towards your center.
âBaby,â you breath, somewhere between a giggle and a moan, âNeed more of you.â
He stops, give you one more kiss on your thigh, and asks âMore?â
âInside me,â you ask, âPlease, Changbin.â
And so he moves quickly, to get a condom, and then positions himself between your thighs. He leans in, kissing you once more, whispering, âWant you so much, so fucking pretty.â You giggle at his compliment, and then whimper as he pushes in, as gently as he can, his length caressing your walls. His first few thrusts are slow, careful, but you need more.
âHarder, baby, please,â you whimper, âNeed you to give it to me, need you deep in me, please.â
And so he pushes into you at a relentless pace, and you cry out each time he pushes against that sensitive place deep inside you, until you clutch onto his back, screaming his name. He kisses you as you come down from your high, gentle lips on your forehead, your cheeks, your chin, as he finally empties into you, collapsing onto your chest. You are both quiet for a moment, and you pull Changbin closer, nestling his head beneath yours.
And then Changbin feels your chest vibrate, as you let out a guffaw, full bodied, from deep in your core. And the rush â Changbin swears has never felt better in any moment of his long life.
âShitâŠâ you said, âGuess that wasnât very professional of us, was it?â
Thinking about getting back into writing after a very long hiatus (Iâve missed my one creative hobby đ) but also feeling SO rusty writing-wise so I was thinking it might be fun to do a little drabble game?
If anyone is interested, please send me a skz member + a magic power/fantasy ability/really any fantasy element and I will try to write something based on it!
Thinking about getting back into writing after a very long hiatus (Iâve missed my one creative hobby đ) but also feeling SO rusty writing-wise so I was thinking it might be fun to do a little drabble game?
If anyone is interested, please send me a skz member + a magic power/fantasy ability/really any fantasy element and I will try to write something based on it!
green or blue, but letâs be real, itâs freaking awesome that we get to see colors.Â
Currently reading:
The Lost Apothecary by Sarah Penner (when iâm not loading up on skz or svt fanfic)
Last Song:
âSide by Side (Korean Version)â by The8
đ I mean, heâs gorgeous and preciousâŠdonât judge me.Â
Last Series:
Oh jeez. Iâm so not watching things to completion these days. If we count something I finished, Extraordinary Attorney Woo (whenever that finished). I tend to spend too much time on youtube with kpop related things to finish a series.Â
Last Movie:
Took me like three separate watchings to finish Thor: Love and Thunder.Â
Currently working on:
Catalyst 3
Bang Chan neighbor one-shot
Jisung one shot (yes another. again, donât judge me, I HAVE FEELINGS)
tagging (forgive me if youâve already been tagged. iâm still becoming friends with people on here): @candlewaxandp0lar0ids @jl-micasea-fics @seokjinger-ale @hannahbee12719 @leviackermanscleaningbuddy @fizzydrink698 @cb97percent @milfgyuu @under-and-over-the-moon
âHoly Waterâ by Taemin, I recently discovered his solo music and boy was i missing out! the theatrics! the talent! the tasteful horniness! truly an idol among idols
Last Series:
Nothing for a minute, but last full one I saw was Mr.Bad
Last Movie:
Turning Red!
Currently working on:
A very deranged historical wlw fic based on a documentary I watched at like 2am on the sex lives of medieval europeans. There was one fact so nuts that my feral brain was immediately like đ make it a fic. Truly out there though
I just saw your response to my ask. Take all the time you need, I'm dealing with the exact same thing with a short story I've been meaning to finish. It's the third and final part and I've finally figured out somewhat of an idea of the ending and am trying to get myself to actually finish it đ„Č so I feel u on that writer's block, it can be frustrating. Don't forget to write at your own pace and try not to let yourself feel pressured to finish something if you're not in your creative mind space to do so yet. Take time for yourself and remember to write when you feel you're at your best. Sending love and support your way!! đ
Also, there are some writers whose first drafts are gold, but I always end up having to edit the living daylights out of my drafts to get them to feel right, so even on the best of days it's kind of a fun slog. Which is great when i have tons of time, not so great when i don't đ
Hii, I usually donât comment or anything on these things buut I was wondering if you had any plans of continuing the Hunger series. The story is so beautiful btw đđđ
Hello! I'm so glad you are enjoying Hunger!! đ
I have vague plans, but I haven't had time/energy to write for the last couple of months. I do miss writing though! I also would have to reread it to keep writing and it is currently 164 pages long đ
But ideally yes at some point I would like to finish it, even if just for the sake of completeness
hello! i was so excited to see this, thanks for saying hello đ
I am...trucking along. It's been a rough couple of months on a number of levels but I am doing my best.
but! i was missing writing so I started a new oneshot. it won't be primarily a skz fic and i think the number of potentially interested readers will be like four but i've been having fun with it regardless đ
