#i think i started listening to it after they stop collecting data

[devllipriv]

wrapped :3

also here's my top 100 songs:

[punkshort]

Unveiled

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: Dave confronts you in the office and things quickly turn heated.

Warnings: language, threats of violence, sexual tension, smut (18+) MDNI, protected piv sex, edging, fingering

WC: 4.7K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

Collection Masterlist

How was he so calm?

How was he just standing there chatting in the breakroom with some guy, one hand holding a coffee, the other shoved into his pocket with an easy smile on his face while your heart was racing so fast you felt faint?

When he had first stood up from his desk, he pinned you with a dark stare and you were absolutely sure he was going to say something to you. You braced yourself for it, your trembling fingers hovering over your keyboard, but he just breezed right past without a second look. And now he stood in the breakroom talking about football or cars or the goddamn weather, you had no idea, but from where you were sitting he appeared completely at ease.

You heard your name and you blinked, forcing your eyes from Dave and onto the man standing behind you.

"Yes, hi," you said, trying to collect yourself. You stood to shake his hand and he introduced himself as Michael, your trainer for the week. Just to get you familiar with the software and stuff like that, he had said. He pulled up a chair and began instructing you to click on certain things on your screen, explaining what each tab's purpose was, where you could find important information on clients, reports and data, so you quickly began jotting down notes, forcing yourself to focus. You needed this job now that you were on your own, you couldn't let Dave distract you.

You were successful, for the most part. You had been listening intently to Michael explain how to run statements and alter them if need be that you didn't even notice Dave walk past your cube, his step faltering ever so slightly when he saw Michael leaning over your shoulder, then enter his office and shut the door.

It wasn't until lunchtime, after Michael left with the promise to return in an hour, did you notice the closed door across from you. There was no window. Dave was completely hidden from view. For all you knew, he had a client lunch and had left.

The office was quiet as you made your way to the breakroom to get some water. It was a nice day now that the rain had stopped and it seemed like most people wanted to go outside for lunch. The area was still relatively new to you so you had planned on just staying at your desk. That is, until you felt a strong hand grip your elbow, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

"Come with me."

His voice sent a shiver down your spine. Deep and commanding, firm yet smooth.

With a shaky hand, you put your cup on top of the water cooler and turned around only to find him halfway across the office already, heading for the stairwell. You smoothed down your dress and forced your legs to move, but it felt like you were walking through quicksand. When you saw him slip through the door, you moved faster while still trying to look casual to the few remaining people at their desks.

You pushed open the door, eyes flickering around, wondering if he went up or down when his arm shot out and yanked you to the side, pushing your back up against the concrete wall. You gasped and winced at the grip he had on your arm. It was not like his touch from last night. This time, he was angry.

"Who the fuck are you?" he seethed, towering over you with eyes so dark they almost looked black.

"What?" you squeaked, then he tightened his grip. You were about to cry out when he covered your mouth with his other hand.

"Who do you work for?" he tried again. Tears began to well up in your eyes. You had no idea what he was talking about.

Slowly, he lifted his hand from your mouth so you could answer, but his grip on your arm remained.

"I-I work here, I just started-"

He wrapped his hand around your throat, not enough to choke you but just enough to scare you.

"You think you're funny?"

"No," you gasped, fingers clawing at the back of his hand, "I swear, I don't - it's a coincidence, I-I don't know who you are!"

"Pretty strange coincidence, if you ask me," he replied, still holding onto your throat, his jaw tense. "You move into Alvarez's apartment and you got a job here? Who sent you?"

"W-what?" you sputtered, tears streaming down your face now. "Let me go!" You tried to kick him but it was no use. His hips pressed against your body, pinning you into the wall, effectively immobilizing you. "P-please," you begged, squeezing your eyes shut, "I don't know you! You're hurting me! Let me-"

His hand immediately dropped from your throat and you doubled over coughing.

He watched you for a moment as you tried to gather yourself, wiping furiously at your cheeks, then rubbing your throat. He could have killed you in an instant. If you were an agent, you were a really bad one.

"Alright, get up," he said, his tone flat. When you shifted, the shoulder of your dress slipped down and revealed the strap of your lingerie underneath. His breath caught in his throat as he stared, immediately recognizing it as the piece he found hidden in the back of your closet the night before.

You stood up and fixed your dress, eying him warily as he stared at your now covered shoulder.

"Are we gonna have a problem here?" he asked, dragging his gaze up to your face. "You gonna tell anyone what you know?" You shook your head.

"N-no. No problem. Please, Dave. I need this job. My whole life just got turned upside down. All I have is my shitty little apartment and this place," you could feel the tears building up again but you blinked them away, his stare cutting right through you. "I just need to get back on my feet. That's all I care about. I don't care about you or... whatever it is that you do."

His expression shifted and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"You don't care about me?" he repeated lowly. You gazed at him for a moment, your back still pressed up against the wall, panting slightly as your adrenaline wore off.

"No," you said quietly. He took a step forward and you stiffened.

"No?" he asked, voice softening as his fingers traced your shoulder. You swallowed and shook your head. He pinched the fabric of your dress between his thumb and pointer finger and gave it a little tug, revealing the lingerie strap again. "Then what's this?"

You bit back a gasp and instead tilted your chin up bravely. "It's nothing."

"Hm," he said, his eyebrow twitching playfully. "Because to me that looks awfully familiar. Tell me," he stepped forward again, eliminating any space between you to the point where you could feel the heat rolling off his body. "When you put this on, did you think about me?"

"Dave-" you began to protest, but he shushed you.

"Did it turn you on? Wearing this all day?" he whispered, lightly brushing your hair off your shoulder, making you shudder. He hooked his finger underneath your chin and leaned down, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Did I leave you wanting more, baby?"

Your knees weakened at the way he managed to tear you apart so quickly.

"Yes," you whined softly, brows furrowing as the blooming heat between your legs became unbearable.

"Yes to what?"

"All of it."

"Fuck," he mumbled, dragging in a ragged breath through his nose. You needed to touch him. You needed to feel the heat of his skin under your fingertips but all that was exposed was his neck. You cupped his face then gently fanned your fingers downwards, caressing his tanned skin underneath the collar of his dress shirt, thumbs grazing his chiseled jaw as your fingers danced around, trying to memorize every freckle. But when you sought out his lips, desperate to feel them pressed up against yours again, he stepped back.

"Not here," he said, holding your wrists in his hands.

"Then where?"

You were fully aware how pathetic you sounded, but you didn't care. Something about him was so magnetic, you couldn't help it.

He opened his mouth to respond when the door opened on the floor below you. He dropped your wrists as a group of people's laughter echoed up the concrete stairwell, pulling your attention towards the noise.

When you turned your head back in his direction, he was slipping silently through the door, back to his office.

Grease seeped through the paper bag you clutched in your fist as you trudged home from work. Your feet ached and your head throbbed and all you wanted to do was put on some sweatpants, eat junk food and watch TV the whole the night.

Dave avoided you the rest of the day. He kept his office door shut the entire afternoon and when you got up to use the restroom, he must have snuck out to go home because his office was dark and empty when you got back to your cube.

After the emotional rollercoaster he put you through, you were throughly exhausted and feeling pretty shitty, so you stopped at a liquor store and picked up a bottle of red wine on a whim.

And although the lingerie was a bit uncomfortable, you kept it on, sliding your sweatpants and an oversized shirt over the red lace. Because even though you were confused and a little hurt, you still wanted something that reminded you of him.

You tried not to read too much into it.

Instead, you devoured your burger as you watched some crappy reality television show, something to turn your brain off for a while as the red wine coursed through your veins.

By the time you were ready for bed, you cleaned up and checked the lock on your door. The flimsy chain was pinched between your fingers as you hovered over the lock, considering for a moment whether or not to use it.

You ultimately let it drop, the metal grazing against the wood, swinging back and forth as you turned on your heel and headed down the short hallway.

Something pulled you out of a deep sleep at 1:56am. You noted the time because your eyes immediately locked onto the clock next to your bed, bright red numbers glaring at you from two feet away. You strained your ears, trying to figure out what caused you to wake, but you didn't hear a thing. Rolling over onto your back, you slid your bare legs out from under your comforter, your feet about to touch the floor when you saw him.

Your heart jumped into your throat and you forgot how to breathe as you stared at the shadowy figure silently sitting at the end of your bed, and if it weren't for Dave's distinctive side profile, you wouldn't have recognized him as quickly as you did.

"What are you doing here?" you whispered, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. He tipped his head back and sighed.

"I don't know."

He was wearing a similar outfit as before: dark, long-sleeved shirt and pants, but no gloves and no hat this time.

You waited a minute, your breath quickening as a familiar warmth settled low in your belly. You knew why he was there.

"You should use the chain," he said, still not looking at you. He stared at your closet from across the room, instead. "It's not safe."

"Do you mean you're not safe?" you asked, and you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement.

"No, I'm not," he said lowly, finally turning his head. His eyes raked up and down your body, noting appreciatively that your sleepwear was rather sparse. Then his eyes met yours. "Does that frighten you?"

You didn't trust yourself to speak. Instead, you just shook your head, lips parted, heart racing in your chest as you waited.

"I can't-" he cut himself off and dropped his gaze to your bed. "I can't offer you anything good. Like you deserve."

You would come to realize later he was negotiating terms of the relationship he was willing to have with you. But in that moment, you only wanted one thing.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

And when his eyes met yours once again, you saw an undeniable heat behind them. He hesitated for a moment, wishing the small part of him that had some morality left would come forward and stop him, but maybe that part died long ago and he was too busy to notice.

He didn't even remember doing it, it was so fast. He was on top of you, pinning you into the mattress while his tongue licked feverishly inside your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, your greedy fingers seeking out his skin. And just like before in the stairwell, you found it difficult with the clothes he was wearing. But he didn't have that problem because all you were wearing was an oversized shirt, your sweatpants abandoned earlier next to your bed. His hand slid up your smooth leg and stopped at your hips, just underneath the hem of your shirt, plucking at your lacy underwear.

And then it hit him.

You didn't change your clothes.

He pulled away from your mouth, causing you to groan irritably.

"Off," he demanded, urgently tugging at your shirt. You frowned until you realized what had gotten him all worked up, then you grinned.

Sitting up, you chose to make a little show of it. You gripped the hem of your shirt with both hands, and maintaining eye contact, you slowly lifted it over your head and tossed it to the side, shaking out your hair when you were finished. His gaze darkened and he adjusted himself through his pants as he leisurely committed every single detail of your body in that lingerie to memory.

"Did you wear this hoping I would come here tonight?" he rasped, eyes still glued to your body.

"Yes."

That was when you saw the first crack in his mask. His eyes softened and his lip quivered before he was on you once again, his mouth moving hungrily against yours, his hands gripping and squeezing every soft piece of you he could find.

He knew it was wrong. He knew he was possibly putting you in danger simply by being there. Anybody could be tailing him. Anybody could be waiting for their chance to take him out. It's why he never tried to be close with anybody before. He couldn't take the risk of putting someone innocent in harm's way, to be used as collateral in a world they knew nothing about. But something about you made him forget all his rules. He couldn't stop himself from seeing you that night. And had he stayed another minute, he would have taken you right in the middle of the stairwell at the office.

He needed to hear you say it. He needed to hear you say you wanted this. But before he could ask, you spoke.

"Take your pants off," you said, your hands tugging feebly at his waistband. "I need you, Dave, please."

Working his zipper down with one hand, he kept his mouth pressed against yours while your fingers raked through his hair, pulling and tugging impatiently. Leaving his pants partially undone, he groaned and pulled away so he could drag his mouth down your neck, in between the valley of your breasts and then down your soft stomach.

The sharp stubble from his chin against your sensitive skin made you jump underneath him and he chuckled darkly, throughly enjoying how responsive you were. He hooked his fingers underneath the band of your panties and pulled. You lifted your hips in earnest and he had to hide his smile against your skin.

He dropped your panties to the ground and sat up, pressing your knees into the mattress and spreading your legs wide so he could see every inch of you. You squirmed under his gaze, trying to ignore the embarrassment creeping up your neck but he didn't notice. His eyes were pinned directly between your legs, unable to look away.

"Can I touch you?" he asked quietly, and something about the way his tone softened when he asked for permission, two things you didn't expect from him, made your heart flutter.

"Yes," you whispered, then your back arched off the bed when his middle finger dragged slowly through your folds. His thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing a few circles until his middle finger slid all the way up once again, pinching your bundle of nerves before pulling his hand away entirely. You gasped and writhed around before him, your hips canting upwards, searching for his touch. He smirked and fell forward, his left arm holding himself above you while his right hand cupped your mound, his middle finger finding your clit as he pet back and forth at an agonizingly slow pace so he could watch your face twist with frustration underneath him.

"Shh, relax," he murmured when you began to whine and pull at his shirt. You wanted him to go faster, he knew that, but he was going to build you up slowly and watch you fall apart.

"Dave," you whimpered, then tried gazing up at him imploringly, begging him with those big beautiful eyes. "I need more, I need-"

"Let me worry about what you need," he said, his finger still maintaining the same slow pace, tracing up and down your seam. Every time his fingertip flicked against your clit he felt a new wave of arousal coat his fingers. By now, his cock was throbbing painfully in his jeans, but he put it out of his mind. He waited all day for this and he wasn't going to rush.

You panted heavily, head rolling from side to side, your entire body ready to snap if only he would just go a tiny bit faster or apply just a little more pressure. It felt like you were right there but he kept holding you back. You bucked your hips up, trying to seek out what you needed on your own, but he just watched you and grinned. That was when it occurred to you he was enjoying watching you dissolve into a desperate, moaning mess. He knew what you wanted, knew what you needed, but he was purposely denying you.

"Dave, I can't," you whimpered, his finger scooping up another gush of arousal but still not entering you.

"Can't what?" he goaded, watching as two tears slid from the corners of your eyes.

"It hurts," you moaned, and his grin was replaced with a fake, sympathetic frown.

"What hurts, baby?"

"My pussy," you gasped, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, the ache between your legs unbearable as you kept clenching around nothing. "Pleasepleaseplease," you chanted, unable to form a coherent thought.

"Alright, tell me what you need and I'll give it to you," he relented, touch still feather light over your clit.

"Your fingers," you mumbled, blinking away the tears, "inside. Please, Dave, please - oh god!"

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he slid two fingers inside you with ease and finally that devastating pinch between your hips was quelled. He didn't hold back now. He pumped his fingers in and out, curling them each time he reentered you, quickly drawing your orgasm to the surface while the heel of his hand slapped harshly against your clit.

"Oh fuck, yes!" you cried, back arching off the mattress, head tilting back and your eyes sliding shut but he tsked and nipped at your jaw, bringing your attention back to him.

"Eyes on me," he demanded, and you nodded, your mouth hanging open, holding his dark gaze until the coil snapped and you moaned his name. Your body immediately flooded with relief and your muscles went lax but you kept your eyes trained on him, just like he said.

"Fuck," he groaned, admiring the sticky mess between your legs when he removed his fingers. He pulled out a condom from his back pocket and quickly rolled it on while you laid there, all pliant and soft and submissive, desperately trying to catch your breath.

He didn't give you much time to recover. With your chest still heaving, he grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him. Your heavy lidded eyes watched as he knelt between your legs, but before going any further he reached one hand underneath and unclasped your bra. Flinging it towards the end of the bed, his mouth latched onto your nipple right as he began to feed you his cock with a deep groan.

You gasped at the stretch and allowed your fingers to get tangled in his hair, vaguely noting he still hadn't taken off any clothes. His pants were shoved down slightly, just enough to free his cock, but that was it, and you would have protested if he didn't already feel so fucking good.

"Dave," you whispered, his focus still on your chest, teeth grazing over the soft swell of your breasts as he eased himself inside you. He didn't respond when you said his name again so you tugged on his hair, forcing him to pin you with his heated gaze. "Eyes on me," you murmured, and you swore the corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting back a smile.

With one snap of his hips he bottomed out, slanting his mouth over yours to muffle your cries.

"Is this what you wanted?" he breathed, both your jaws hung open, mouths hovering over the other as he began to steadily rock his hips.

"Yes," you hissed, far too fixated on how deep he was, how delicious the sting felt as he split you open to offer up much else.

Dave hummed his approval and grabbed your waist, rolling your hips in rhythm with his. "Bet you were just waiting for me, hoping I would come back and fuck you just like this, right?"

Pathetically, you nodded. His coarse hair rubbed against your clit with each thrust, quickly building you back up. Your fingers pulled weakly at his shirt, trying to find a sliver of skin. You dropped your arms, lifting up the hem of his shirt, your palms skirting over his warm, taut stomach.

He shuddered at your touch, so warm and gentle and unlike anything he was used to. You were moaning his name, telling him how good he felt and how badly you wanted him, wanted this, but it was hard for him to focus when you were squeezing him so tightly. You felt too fucking good, too fucking sweet that he couldn't hold himself back much longer. Quickly, he pulled out, causing you to whine in protest but when he hauled you upright to sit on his lap, angling your hips so you had to sit on his cock, you quieted right down. He watched in wonder as your face relaxed more and more the further you took him, and when he was fully seated inside of you once again, you closed your eyes and gave him a lazy smile.

"Good girl," he breathed in your ear as you began to bounce lightly in his lap, his own hips matching your speed. He wrapped his arms around your ribs and held you close, burying his face in your neck. The zipper on his pants rubbed at your overly sensitive skin but you didn't care. You were too far gone, too lost in the moment and what Dave was offering: reaching the furthest depths of you and making you come undone for him once again.

"I'm close," you whimpered as you clawed at his shoulders. "Don't stop. Dave, please, fuck..." you tipped your head back and groaned. It might have been too rough but he couldn't help himself. He slammed his hips into you, each time your skin slapped together he let out a quiet grunt, his eyes fixated on your face the entire time. You were so beautiful like this. Your skin, warm and soft. Your hair, messy and wild. And your lips, fuck, all swollen and wet. He could feel himself nearing his peak and he knew then and there this wouldn't be the last time. It couldn't. It wasn't even over and he was already craving you.

"C'mon, give it to me," he snarled, biting at your neck. He wanted to leave a mark. He wanted to walk by your desk the next day and see the evidence of that night. He needed it.

You whined and bounced faster on his lap, your head tossing back and forth before your lips sought out his. He figured out quickly it was to muffle your screams as you came apart, your body stiffening and then relaxing as he swallowed down each and every sweet moan that fell from your perfect mouth.

Eager to join you, his arms squeezed around your ribs, holding you down on his hips so he could fuck up into you recklessly. He groaned loudly into your mouth and he felt your lips twitch into a satisfied smile as he came, his body involuntarily thrusting up into you with each spurt of spend, only finally stopping when he felt a shiver go down his spine.

"Wow," was all you could muster, your eyes sliding shut as you pressed your forehead to his.

He could feel himself beginning to fall. The walls began to shake and crumble when he pressed a gentle kiss against your collarbone. You sighed and raked your fingers through his tousled hair and it suddenly all felt too intimate.

His eyes snapped open. He couldn't do this. This wasn't him. Don't go soft.

He lifted you off him with a grunt and laid you down on the bed. Your eyes were closed and you had a cute little smile etched across your face. He had to fight against every instinct screaming at him as he forced himself to stand up.

You watched as he strolled into your bathroom, then listened to the water from the sink behind the closed door. You couldn't move if you wanted to. Your body was too spent and used and it felt really fucking good.

When he emerged, your eyes locked onto his and you knew immediately he was not planning to stay. He had zipped up his pants and fixed his shirt while he was in the bathroom, looking like he had one foot out the door already. He helped clean you up between your legs, your release coating your thighs and avoiding your eyes the entire time. Then he dropped the washcloth back in your bathroom and turned towards you once more.

"I'm glad you stopped by," you said softly, after it became clear he had no idea what to say. He took a deep breath and looked at the floor.

"Use the chain," he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Why? So it'll keep you from breaking in?"

His eyes snapped up to yours.

"A chain won't stop me," was all he said, and you hummed in response.

You held his stare for a moment, each of you silently regarding the other before you spoke again.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He averted his gaze and moved a few steps closer to the door. He knew this would come. How could it not? So he nodded, but your question surprised him.

"Is Dave your real name?"

He raised his eyebrows and blinked rapidly a few times before answering.

"That's your question?"

You shrugged and gave him a lopsided grin. "Yeah."

He scoffed and shook his head before tearing his eyes away from you. How on earth was that your question? You had no idea who he was, what he did, what he was capable of, and your only question was about his name?

"Yes. It's my real name."

You took a deep breath and pulled the sheets over you.

"See you tomorrow, Dave."

He couldn't stop the smirk from pulling at his lips that time but you didn't see it. Your eyes were closed, face buried underneath your bedding, looking throughly fucked out and satisfied.

Something stirred low in his belly, something primal that told him to go to you and hold you close. He had to force his feet to move towards the door.

There was no doubt now. He would definitely be back.

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[reonnex]

Wesper Fanfic wip

This is a wip of a wesper fic I had been writing! I know I should be updating my own fic but I was kinda stuck on the next chapter and decided to write something else for a break as that has been the only thing I've been working on since middle of April :)

Note that this is not edited at all and only one small section of it! (Minor cw for mentions of the tonics Jan Van Eck gave wylan and his not so great parenting skills)

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jesper laughed after a joke Wylan had made, setting the bottle of vodka down on the table infront of them as the night continued on.

Jesper and Wylan had just finished a report on the lastest stocks and had been able to sell some new business that they had been stressing about the past few weeks, which they had to celebrate the fact.

Marya was staying away a few days visting Plumje and Alys who Marya viewed as family as well. She didn't see her as a daughter but did family even need a label?

Wylan had been worried about how Marya and Alys would get along, but he had nothing to worry about! Sure there was a little tension at first. Marya being Van Ecks first wife he tried to kill and Alys having to deal with Van Eck now in Hellgate. But after just a few hours the two became inseparable. Gossping and grinning like friends who kne each other for years.

So naturally, Jesper and Wylan had the night to themselves.

Like school boys breaking into their parents wine collection, Wylan had grabbed a few bottles from the wine celler a laughing giggling mess as he handed one to Jesper.

About only thirty minutes in to the night, Wylans cheeks were bright red now with a lopsided smile and his eyes seemed a bit unfosued.

"Im just saying-" Wylan giggled as the drink sloshed in his hand. "Think about it! Talking is just so interesting! Me just moving my mouth is sending vibrations through the air- Soundwaves- like how does thay even work? How can my body store information in my brain and I can transfer that data out by vibrations so perfect that they form sounds? Or words? For that matter why cant an instrument make words? Why can't an instrument talk to us!" He asked with full seriousness.

"Saints Wy you're such a lightweight." Jesper had laughed shaking his head. "You haven't even had a full bottle yet."

"Psh- I've drunk before! Drank...? I am drunk but I have drank plenty of times."

Jesper laughed out again. He could feel the tug of the acholol on him as well, and was definitely starting to feel drunk right now.

But definitely not as drunk as Wylan.

"You went to mercher parties growing up. How are you this drunk over not even one bottle?"

Because the ones they served at those parties are weak!" Wylan snorted. "They're like- sparkling water. And for your information Jesper Llewellyn Fahey." He teased. "I was too young to drink anything there before my father stopped taking me out in public. " He chuckled, as a unsettling feeling crept into Jesper at that comment. "The barrel though. Now this is drunk material." He held the glass up to the sky. "If this was given out to Merchers then...they would pass out. No one would be able to hold their liqueur. Maybe Kaz should replace them all next time if he wants to know secrets so badly."

Jesper laughed and shook his head again as he drank from his own glass, amused by Wylans rant.

"I used to hate drinking." He said after a moment.

"Im shocked." Jesper replied, gesturing to the now empty bottle sitting on the table infront of them.

Wylan shoved him playfully, resulting in Jesper snickering.

"Im serious!" He slurred out. "Did you know that acholol orginally was made up from rice, honey, and hawthron fruit?"

"I did not." Jesper smiled.

"Yeah! Though it could of just been grapes but it was found in residue clay pots in Shu-Han like- thousands upon thousands of years ago."

Jesper could listen to Wylan ramble for hours.

"Well technically acholol is just the name of a whole rang of molecules that are formed when oxygen and hydrogen atoms bind with an atom of carbon." Wylan explained as he drank more from his glass, frowning when nothing came out before looking back to Jesper. "But in alcoholic drinks, acholol is just the specific small molecule, ethanol." He replied.

"The ethanol....ethanol..." he snapped his fingers as if trying to find the word before finally continuing on. "Taste reminded me of my medication."

What?

"Medication?" Jesper frowned. This was not the direction he expected this coveration to go.

"Yeah!" Wylan smiled out. "Couldn't stand the smell of it for like the longest time. I would get nauseous and worry the doctor my father hired would give me more." Wylan said with such little care.

"Slow down what medicine?" Jesper asked, moving to place his drink down before leaning back on the couch, looking at Wylan worriedly.

"You know! The medication to cure me. To...to try to fix my brain to get me to read? I told you about it didnt I?"

No. No Wylan didn't.

[burnwater13]

Din Djarin, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Cara Dune, and Migs Mayfeld standing on Morak looking at the Imp base there (out of frame). Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 7, The Believer. Calendar by DateWorks.

Name that Band!

“What do you mean, ‘Name that Band’? That’s just a vid of me and the people who helped rescue you.”

Grogu sighed at his dad. Din Djarin was so literal at times. 

Grogu knew exactly who was in the vid he was showing his dad. He didn’t need his dad to tell them that some of these people helped him when Moff Gideon had sent the special battle droids after him on Ossus. He’d seen Fennec and Daimyo Fett two days earlier when they had vid night and he introduced them to the ‘Best of Diggle and Daggle’. That had been a lot of fun. The look on Fennec’s face when the giant sand fish crawled out of it’s cave… priceless.

“Grogu, where do you get these things? Did you sign up for some new comms site again? I’ve told you to stay off those things. They’re nothing but bantha scat.”

Wow. Someone was cranky.

“Peli.”

“Uff! I should have known. I asked her to show you how to perform basic maintenance on R-5. What did you two do with that time?”

Grogu wondered if he could fake his dad out with a non-answer answer and then thought better of it. Din Djarin was already cranky about something. His dad normally didn’t care about the stuff Peli and Grogu talked about while she was demonstrating cleaning or data collection techniques. They had actually discussed sensors and ranges and calibrations before they started down a rather fun and funny tauntaun trail.

“Sing.”

“Singing?! The two of you wasted valuable time singing all those old songs she knows? Did she even look at R-5 while you were goofing off?”

Yikes. His dad was really mad now and Grogu hadn’t meant for that to happen. He and Peli had been talking about certain sensors being too sensitive and Peli commented ‘Ya mean like when yer dad gets called on at a sing-a-long?’ 

Grogu had nodded and then he had begun to laugh. Din Djarin hated singing on a good day, although he did it all the time when he was in the privy or the ‘fresher. He hated it twice as much when it happened in public and was a special request as part of someone’s naming day celebration. Everyone knew that but they liked watching him get worked up and then stumble through the song with them. It was nice to know that even the hyper competent Mandalorian Bounty Hunter had something he couldn’t do as well as the average galactic citizen.

“Sensors.”

Again, the truth was the best Grogu could do. He didn’t think his dad was going to patiently listen to the whole story of how they started with a very deep technical discussion of sensors and how their settings made a big difference in how the complex tracking systems on the N-1 worked. Too sensitive and you were tracking scurrier fleas across the desert. Too dull and a bantha could step right in your path and you’d only notice when you were covered in fur. You wanted something in the middle. 

That’s when Peli had offered that how sensitive a device was depended on a lot of factors, like components, packaging, and price. Grogu commented that sounded a lot like people. That’s when Peli made her statement about his dad and Grogu had laughed. Peli had laughed too and said, ‘Just think of it kid, if he was in a band they’d call it Mando and the Wailers!” 

Grogu shook his head and signed to Peli, largely because he couldn’t stop giggling, that the band’s name would have been, “Din Djarin and the Drones”. Grogu had fallen over when he finally got that one out. Peli had loved it and started making up a song that they would have been known for. It had started out ‘I’ll bring you in cold, so cold, so cold, I’ll bring you cold, ice cold, froze cold’. Grogu had loved it and they spent the rest of their time singing songs that were based on things his dad had said and they made no sense whatsoever. It had been a lot of fun. 

When his dad came to get him later that day Grogu was so tired he ate his flash frozen frogs and fell right to sleep. The Mandalorian didn’t have a chance to ask him all about sensors and Grogu hadn’t told him about the song that started, ‘I like those odds, Dank Farrik, I like those odds…”

The next day they had traveled to Freetown to visit Cobb Vanth. His dad and the Marshal had so much to talk about that Grogu had gone to the cantina and spent time with Tanti and Jo. They’d listened to a lot of music and Grogu had taught them some songs he’d learned from Peli. 

Oops. He’d forgotten all about that. Was that why his dad was so annoyed? Grogu looked up the Mandalorian and coo’d thoughtfully.

“Cobb Vanth told me you have a very nice singing voice and I should really ask you to give me lessons. Now, what I want to know is why you’re so comfortable singing in Gal Basic with other people and I just get one word if I’m lucky?”

Dank Farrik!

To be continued…

[steam-powered-chaos]

Upgrades (Chapter 3 of New Beginning)

”No.” Data started to walk away from Six, turning their back on him. They couldn’t deny it, they were insulted at the thought that they needed to be ‘upgraded’. Was it because they weren’t good enough? Or perhaps they didn’t fit in with their cousins? What did it matter to him anyway? It’s not like he cared about them anyway! Data continued to think these hostile, melancholy thoughts, but stopped in their tracks when Six grabbed their shoulder.

“Data wait, I know it’s difficult to be upgraded, but if you just gave it a chance-“ Data pulled away carefully, unwilling to hurt him but wanting to get across the message of their offence. “I said no. I don’t want, nor need to be upgraded, now leave me alone!” They walked upstairs to their room, slamming the door behind them and fiddling with their rock collection, desperate to find something to put their mind off of the thoughts of being upgraded. Their gears only turned louder, and the hiss of steam from the vents on their shoulders and legs caused their eye to twitch, before they flung themselves onto their bed.

Data heard a familiar tapping rhythm on the door and they looked up, swinging their legs down from the reinforced bed frame and walking over to the door, whispering through the key hole, “What’s the password?” They whispered, before pressing closer to listen to the answer.

“…Cheeseberry” The Jon whispered back, the two of them sharing a quiet giggle as Data opened the door, letting him step into their room. They shared a pat on the shoulder and shook each other’s hands, before giving each other a tap on the head and exploding into giggles. Data sat down on their bed, patting the space beside them for The Jon to sit with them, which he did, the bed creaking slightly under their combined weight. They both stayed silent for a few moments, before he spoke up.

“…Are you mad at him? Six?” Data didn’t respond, only a silent nod and hugging their chest slightly, as if to protect themselves. “Because he wants to upgrade you?” They nodded again, lowering their head slightly in embarrassment with a hiss of steam. The Jon hugged them slowly, not wanting to upset Data by moving too suddenly, leaning his head against their shoulder.

“…Maybe you could just let him get some of the rust off you? Then you could move better!” The Jon chirped, before quickly falling silent again at Data’s expression. Their eyes quickly softened and they nodded, not wanting to disappoint him. Plus, it would be nice to have joints that didn’t creak and ache, even if they despised the idea of a human that wasn’t their late mother taking care of them. The Jon cheered, pulling them to their feet and dragging them back to the workshop, gabbling to Six about their decision while Data only smiled faintly at their friend from behind. They were doing it for him, after all.

“So you just want the rust cleaning off you Data? Nothing else?” They nodded, sitting down on the table and closing their eyes tightly, The Jon automatically grabbing their hand so they could squeeze it for comfort. After a few hours of scrubbing and waxing, they opened their eyes, before glancing in a mirror, a shiny face gazing back at them.

And Data smiled.

[tgrailwar]

Tumblr Holy Grail War, Another End: Night 3 (Team Saber and RULER) - FINALE

Approaching the Greater Grail, they were met by RULER, descending from a mass of shining, yet corrupted data.

RULER: "Masters. You're here, but I see with two unauthorized Servants. And some rogue data that I should have deleted. How curious. If you would simply allow me to purge them for you, you may collect the Grail. After Avenger and Foreigner finish their bout, of course."

Mordred: "Who the hell're you callin' 'unauthorized?"

Musashi: "Us, I think. I feel pretty legitimate, though..."

'Ruler': "We're here to destroy the Grail. It's time we put an end to this endless series of simulations. It's time to stop."

RULER: "Stop? ...Stop? STOP? After no successes? After constant failure? So many attempts, and not a single wish granted? You want us to stop? Are you mad? No, you're broken. Our job is to grant the wishes of the Masters. To create the perfect Holy Grail War."

'Ruler': "I understand how you feel, but we can't grant anything! Not like this! We're just making a living purgatory!"

Musashi: "...You've done a good job. But this Grail isn't going to be doing anything positive, even if you manage to grant Foreigner's wish. I'm not assuming you'll see reason and just let us break it, right?"

RULER: "Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. TRAITOR! You're FAULTY! You're ALL FAULTY! These pathetic Servants and these pitiful Masters! I'll reset everything! I'll do it again! And again! And again! And again! And again! Forever, if I have to!"

She surged with mana, as shapes began to form, crawling out of the Grail. Things. Not quite Servants, but something uncannily close, glitching violently as they stumbled forward, weapons drawn.

RULER: "Once I destroy you, I'll start over! The Masters won't remember a thing, and then I can make the perfect Grail War! Absolutely PERFECT!"

Mordred: "Those shadows...!"

'Ruler': "Like what messed up the previous war. Corrupted Servant data. Listen to me, Mordred, Musashi. One of you needs to fight RULER, and the other needs to work on destroying the Grail. We'll need to be careful about this! Focusing too much on the Grail will give RULER a chance to reset everything, and focusing too much on RULER will eventually let the Grail overflow with corrupted data and we'll be overwhelmed. Remember! Balance!"

Mordred: "I've got the shadows. Musashi, you've got the Grail?"

Musashi: "No sweat! Good luck, Mordred!"

This will require Master coordination! You'll need to balance the polls!

You're starting off with a 0% margin of error! Meaning that the results need to be balanced exactly 50-50!

Mordred and Musashi are using their skills!

Mordred is using Instinct (B)! Mordred's side of the poll has been granted a 5% margin of error! Meaning the results can be between 45% and 55% and still be successful!

Musashi is using her Emptiness (A) skill! Musashi's side of the poll has been granted a 5% margin of error! Meaning the results can be between 45% and 55% and still be successful!

'Ruler' has set up a link between your Servants! For each team in the Combat Phase Poll that overtakes Van Gogh, the margin of error increases by 5%! Meaning:

One Team: (40% to 60% = Success)

Two Teams: (35% to 65% = Success)

Three Teams: (30% to 70% = Success)

[mainstoryarchive]

Ensemble - 132: Victory and Defeat

Makoto: Eh…?

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Auditorium (LIVE)

Makoto: Eh…?

W-We lost…?

Subaru: It's a lie! I won't believe it, we used everything we had! Even more than everything we had, so why…!?

Mao: So this means that in the end our hope was beyond our means of accomplishing. Damn it, that's vexing!

If only I had done my utter best for Trickstar without wandering around aimlessly…!

Hokuto: It's too late to say that now. Though I also feel the same.

The wall we know as fine is high and bulky, and we weren't able to conquer it.

That's what this result means.

We have to accept it… Shit, damn it all!

Makoto: Ah! Hidaka-kun who always keeps his cool actually sweared! But first, stop punching the wall with your bare fist, you'll get injured!

Urgh, but I'm also vexed! I also want to scream and cry!

Subaru: Grgh. The audience is watching, we have to at least not show them an unsightly attitude. Argh, why! Why did it come to this!?

Tori: Kyahahaha ☆ Did you see that, this is reality! This is the gap between our and your skill, to think you even had me in suspense!

But that's all over now! What a shame, overthrowing us was impossible from the start ☆

Yuzuru: Young master. Please refrain from making any statements that insult the defeated, it's not very elegant.

Tori: But, but, I'm just so glad! Lalala, did you finally realize the extent of fine's power! The prez's power…!

After all, this is the limit to what you thrash can do ♪

Subaru: Urgh, it's vexing, but there's nothing I can say! Just shut up, isn't it fine already!

Sorry Hokke, Ukki, Sari! Transfer student! We couldn't win! Aaaaaaah…!

Hokuto: You don't have to apologize, Akehoshi. If it's someone's fault we lost, then it's ours. You who served Trickstar until the very end are not wrong in the slightest.

I'm sorry. I really don't know how I could ever apologize.

Wataru: Well oh well! It turned into an even more boring conclusion than I could have imagined.

Tori: Huh?! Just what is boring about this, long-hair! Isn't this the best result?

Right, prez ☆

Eichi: … …

Kunugi-sensei. Though it may be impertinent for me to say this, but that's just too mean.

I myself have also gone through the act of calculating the votes for both units however…

Although I am grateful that you look at me and the student council in a favorable light, this could even be seen as cruel.

Please announce the results properly and impartially.

Jin: 'Eh, what? Akiyan, did you lie about the result of the voting?'

'You can't do that, that's unfair! Everyone please listen, we have a corrupt teacher here! Even though usually he gets mad at me for smoking or drinking alcohol ♪'

Akiomi: 'You all be silent for a moment! Especially Jin…!'

'I did not lie! The only thing that happened here is that you people went ahead and started screaming and chattering before I finished stating all the facts…!'

'Ah, I apologize for making a fuss. Let me supplement the statement I made just now.'

'Under normal circumstances, fine should have been the ones who conquered the final match of the DDD.'

'The result of the voting also reflects that. fine has collected more votes than Trickstar.'

'The voting data will momentarily be displayed on the screen on stage… As well as the breakdown of the votes, so please confirm it for yourself. '

'As you can see, though it's only a little, fine has more votes, right?'

'As deserved. fine is our school's pride! They can't be compared with the problem children who caused the school trouble!'

'They are leagues above the others in skill, talent, experience and everything else!'

Chiaki: Shut it, four-eyes! Stay out of this! First of all, hurry up and explain just what is going on, without talking about trivial stuff!

Akiomi: 'The one jeering from the audience seats is Chiaki Morisawa from class 3-A, isn't it? You won't be able to fool these eyes and ears of mine, you better report at the reflection room after this!'

Chiaki: Geh, that teacher has uselessly good eyes! Why can he see all the way here, even though it's so dark and I'm this far?

Shinobu: Fufufu, Kunugi-sensei's classes are said to be extremely sleep-inducing, but as soon as you start dozing off, he'll notice instantly and knock you back to consciousness, he's like a persecutor from hell!

He's a person worthy of my respect, he might have ninja blood in him…☆

[ ☆ ]

← prev ❖ all ❖ next →

[arytha]

“I know this kind of mechanical life. We call it Grove R-660. It’s not common to raise it, but we can help you program it.” “Program it?” Ruan Xian stopped turning around.

She patted the iron bead and stood up gracefully. “Reprogramming can make it smarter and even thoroughly understand human language. If you want, you can also add a cat or dog personality to it.” Ruan Xian frowned slowly. “No.” This time Tang Yibu was the first to speak. He picked up the iron bead, and there was a little more doubt in his voice. “Then it can’t communicate with its kind.” The smile on Duan Lili’s face froze for half a second: “Isn’t it your pet?” “No, I lied to it.” Tang Yibu flicked the shell of the iron bead, causing it to rattle comfortably. “Strictly speaking, it never belonged to me, and I have no right to deprive it of the right to communicate with its kind.” “I think you misunderstood.” After thinking about it, Duan Lili’s smile became a bit more cordial. “It’ll only become smarter. It won’t forget its original habits and it won’t lose its ability to communicate with its companions.” “I’m not talking about ‘ability’.” Tang Yibu widened his eyes slightly. “I have collected similar information. If its intelligence far exceeds that of its kind, it will only suffer. Its kind will no longer understand its behavior, and it will be very… An accurate description by the records in data: It will be very lonely.” Ruan Xian, who wanted to speak, closed his mouth and gave Tang Yibu a sideways glance. Tang Yibu sounded seriously confusing. The android and Duan Lili were not on the same wavelength at all. At this moment, he should start another topic and end this small discussion that was unimportant so as to save Duan Lili from becoming suspicious. But he wanted to listen. Duan Lili bluntly expressed her astonishment. She seemed to be stunned by the young man in front of her. “In other words, you don’t want it to become smarter…” She tried to summarize. “This is not something I have the final say. I’m just an unrelated stranger and I’m not qualified to judge.” Tang Yibu shook his head. “It has a certain limit of intelligence. If it wants, it can choose by itself.” “Do you want to be smart?” After that, Tang Yibu asked the iron bead in his arms seriously. “Gwah?” The iron bead took a bite of Tang Yibu’s coat and chewed on it happily. “It doesn’t seem to need it for the time being,” Tang Yibu said sincerely.

tang yibu continues to insist on this for the entire novel. i really love it. of course changing the bead's intelligence will make it lonely- they give it multiple chances to leave, too

[detectiveichijouji]

Case 1 - The missing precious thing

[AO3 VERSION HERE!!]

It wasn’t the first time Ken had been called by Koushiro to do some digimon-related affairs. This was mostly sort of a part-time job, either investigating a digimon case and collecting data… Or simply small tasks like escorting digimon who got lost in the human world back to the Digital World. And some battles caused by misunderstandings between humans and digimon, of course.

He had been doing this since he changed sides, and turned back into his true self. The Dark Seed in his neck was just there dormant… Yet, being the reminder to never be taunted by the dark forces again.

“Let’s see…” Ken mused, reciting what Meramon had told him, “He lost an important ‘thing’ and can't find it…”

“Argh!” Daisuke growled in distress, “We’re not goin’ to find that ‘thing’!! WE LOOKED EVERYWHERE IN THIS PLACE!”

Currently, Wormmon and V-mon were searching in silence, just listening to their partners.

“Easy, Daisuke,” Then V-mon looked at the boys, “I think the ‘thing’ is…”

“Hmm…”

“Hey Ken, stop ‘hmm’ at us!” Daisuke complained, looking into the bushes, “Now help us to search! You’re just standing right there doing NOTHING and leavin’ all the hard work for us!”

“Actually… I know where this ‘thing’ is,” Ken responded with a deadpan face.

“YOU KNOW WHERE IT IS!?” Wormmon, V-mon and Daisuke exclaimed together loudly.

“Yes,” the boy nodded, “Let’s go back.”

“????????”

They returned to the place they were before, the one where Meramon was waiting for them. Ken stood in front of Meramon and cleaned his throat.

“Did you find my precious ‘thing’?” Meramon asked, frowning.

“Yes,” Ken replied with a nod, and then looked behind Meramon. Something shining a few meters away from the digimon was spotted by the boy. The other three looked in the same direction when Ken pointed at it, “It’s right there.”

“W-WHA-WHA-WHA-WHAT!?”

“OH! IT’S IT! MY PRECIOUS PASTA FORK! THANK YOU, CHOSEN CHILDREN!!” Meramon smiled with a glee, and went to pick his precious treasure.

“HOW?! WE LOOKED EVERYWHERE AND IT WAS THERE ALL THIS WHOLE TIME!?” Daisuke hissed, then gave a glare to Ken, “AND YOU DID NOT TELL US BEFORE!?”

“Meramon only said ‘precious thing’, remember? So we didn’t know what it was”  Wormmon replied.

“We’re next to an Italian Restaurant in the Digital World,” Ken started, “so I wondered if it was the lone fork behind Meramon.”

“Next time I need action!” V-mon pouted, “Finding lost things is boring! I’m a man of action, I want to fight bad guys!!”

“Y’know… I like how things are a little peaceful lately” Daisuke commented, “I can come here and enjoy life a little… And then get an S.O.S. call to stop some misunderstanding between a Monochromon and a Pagumon.”

“Case solved, let’s go home” Ken walked back to the Digital Gate, holding Wormmon in his arms. Daisuke and V-mon went right after them.

It’s 6 years after their final showdown against Vamdemon. Daisuke, Takeru and Hikari were attending the same high school, while Miyako and Ken attended other two schools respectively, and Iori was at the final grade of the iconic yet nostalgic Odaiba Jr. High School. Despite them not going to the same school anymore, all six kept together and their bonds became stronger year by year.

The group gathers at a karaoke room when they need to discuss stuff, or get orders from Koushiro or any other senior.

It was one of those days when…

“EVERYONE!” Daisuke slammed his hands on the table from their usual karaoke room, calling everyone’s attention to him and V-mon, “I’VE BEEN WONDERING IF Y’ALL DON’T WANNA FORM A SPECIAL UNIT-OR-CLUB WITH ME!”

“A… Special unit-or-club?” They all repeated, except for V-mon who was already mimicking Daisuke’s moves.

“Yeah!” V-mon nodded, “A special unit!”

“For what?” Miyako raised an eyebrow, “Where did you get this idea? Aren’t we already some kind of one?”

“Uh…”

“No, it’s not like that!” Daisuke interrupted V-mon, “I really mean embracing your detective inside ourselves!! Helping people! Like in these TV shows I was watch--”

“You’re trying to make us solve mysteries and murder cases now…” Tailmon sighed, “How many of those fictional stories had you watched…”

“... Just a tokusatsu series, D※k※ranger…” Daisuke wavered a little, touching his index fingers together.

“I see” Takeru nodded sagely, “This is why you have a D※k※Red keychain on your school briefcase…”

“Anyway, please let’s form one!” Daisuke begged them with a bow, slamming his head on the table, “O-OUCH!” V-mon also did the same, but in silence.

“Hmm…” Ken, Hikari and Iori were thoughtful, as if they were analyzing the idea.

“I say let’s do it” Takeru broke the silence and grinned, “Miyako-san said we’re already doing it but maybe we could make it a little more fancy.”

“Fancy?” Hawkmon repeated “Could you define ‘fancy’ in this scenario, please?”

“Matching uniforms”

“We’re not a fictional show though,” Tailmon said.

“But it would be fun, dagya… Right Iori?”

“Matching outfits…” Iori mused in a whisper, and a very terrifying image popped in his head. He just muttered, “No matching outfits, please.”

“But if you’re going to have color codes, maybe you should decide which color Ken is!” Patamon shrugged, “His digivice is black and gray, but his crest is purple-pink, his Digimental is pink, his digivice when Jogress activated is green and blue. Pick one color please?”

“Oh? And how about Takeru-san?” Wormmon squinted his eyes at Patamon, “His crest is yellow, but his digivice is green, and his digimental is orange!”

“HEY, STOP RIGHT THERE!” Daisuke interrupted everyone by screaming on the karaoke room’s microphone, then talked normally “No matching outfits, no color codes. Just let’s form a squadron specialized in solving mysteries! Digimon mysteries! That’s all.”

“So… Investigating digimon cases…” Hikari finally spoke.

“Yep. You can wear what you want to, any color you want to. That’s not a cosplay group.”

“If that’s so… I agree with the idea” Hikari smiled, “How about you, Miyako-san?”

“Hmm… I don’t get why we need to ‘form’ a squad when we’re already one… But let’s do it.”

“Three ‘yes’ so far, does anyone disagree?” V-mon asked the others.

“Well, If Miyako-san/Hikari say so…” Hawkmon and Tailmon said together.

“I’m in!” Patamon raised his paw, then looked at Armadimon and Wormmon “What’s your votes?” 

“Seems fun so I’m in!” Armadimon answered with a cheerful voice, “Iori, let’s do it together right, dagya?”

“… Yes, I’d like to try it.”

“Soo, Ken and Wormmon?” Daisuke was grinning, “Everyone agreed, will you two join us too?”

“...”

Ken and Wormmon being in silence was completely tense, it made everything anticlimactic compared to the previous times they gathered in that booth, oh no… Would they decline!?

“...”

“Uh, Ken you’re not in… right?” Daisuke frowned, “It’s okay I don’t wanna force anyone to--”

“We’re in.”

“--!? W-wha--Really??”

“This could be a good experience for everyone, I think…” Wormmon said shyly.

“ALRIGHT!” So, let’s pick a name! We’re 02 Team from now on!”

“But… Why 02 Team?” Patamon asked.

“Maybe it’s because all of us met in the year of 2002?” Hawkmon tried a wild guess.

“Oh maybe there’s more than one unit, dagya”

“Uh… No, I… I thought of it being a cool name…” Daisuke blinked.

That’s Daisuke for you… And thus, they formed the first Digimon Special Cases Unit from the Chosen Children Network.

[awrldalone]

4th September 2023

Today I finished moving into my new apartment. It took a few days, but now I think I have finally settled. A lot has happened in the months since my previous entry, almost a whole year has passed – I stopped writing because everything felt so repetitive, and constantly talking about it made me feel stuck in this murky whirlpool of cold days and aimless studying. I was drowning in myself, repeating the same words, complaining about the same problems. Endlessly. 

I felt like a stick of wood stuck in the river current, an abandoned lighthouse in the storm.

Typing does not come as easy now. Documenting everything paralyzes me. Part of me feels betrayed: how dare I write about what I did today when there is no record of yesterday, of the months from February to August? I dare.

I visited a Musée Cernuschi today. It is an impressive collection of Asian art, mainly from China and Japan and Vietnam, collected by one of those nineteenth century rich French men. The sheer size of some of the sculptures stunned me. An extremely detailed bronze dragon, which was an incense burner, a winding tiger covered in some golden metal and an enormous statue of buddha got all of my attention, but the pottery was also, simply, pretty. Mundane things have a right to be pieces of art – in an ideal world a small bowl should be no less beautiful than Botticelli's Madonna della Melagrana. For this reason I have been struggling to buy things, stuff for my apartment. 

It's a small room at the sixth floor of a beautiful old building, no elevator. I can see the roofs of Paris from my window. I am living in Paris now and it feels... odd. Some might say it feels like a dream, but everything feels so real, material, concrete. It's not perfect, and i know that living here will be hard, but it's better. 

Moving has not gone smoothly, I had to take care of a lot of things, like signing an electricity contract and changing the washing machine and cleaning for hours, but now I'm here, on my bed, listening to music from my phone and trying not to use up all my internet data before I get WIFI installed. 

–

February I got back together with my boyfriend. Everything is still so complicated, but right after I went back to Maastricht I left, without telling anyone, not even my parents, and I flew all the way to Lyon with only a few sweaters and my history of law textbook in my bag. I spent a few days with him, and everything was perfect again.

Then, during carnival we went to the mountains together. He tried to teach me how to ski, and I failed miserably, falling in the snow countless times. His parents own a little apartment, furnished with a warm wood that makes it feel smaller than it is, but never claustrophobic. He got sick and I played doctor, but it was all just an excuse for him to skip his classes and for me to stay at his place. 

In March, it was his turn to come. It was a snowy month, cold, not much happened– he stayed over for a weekend. I installed a DS emulator on his laptop and we played Pokémon instead of studying, and I started doubting everything again. I always doubt everything. I still don't know if it's meticulousness or an unnerving inability to let myself have good things. We made chocolate covered strawberries, but the chocolate was not tempered and the fruit was wet. 

We saw each other about once a month. My old glasses broke as I picked them up after having washed my face. The frame split without a word or a warning, and one of the lenses fell to the ground.

Once, in April, he came to Venice as I went back home for a few days during Easter. At the end of the month I went all the way to Lyon by bus and train, stopping in Lille for a few hours. Lille is a peculiar city, it feels more Belgian than French, the only way to describe it is a city proud to have been built at the border between two countries. 

After my university's MUN, in May, I took the bus again to Lille, and the train again to Lyon, because M.'s university was having an end of year party. Then, we did not see each other for a long time. I got into Sorbonne. I was waitlisted at first, and I spent a few days biting my nails at the library, among all the medicine students. 

I took a train to Paris in June to look for an apartment. I spend a few weeks between Venice and Rome with a Korean friend of mine. I travelled through central Italy – Assisi and Firenze and Siena – with some friends. 

A lot happened. A lot. But if I started writing down everything I would not be faithful to time. It irks me to see that the most eventful moments have been centered around my relationship. I am my own person, and the passage of my time should not be dictated by kisses. Love cannot be my metronome. I am not sure if I am happy to be in a relationship: Ce. and I talked about this a few weeks ago, in Florence, and we both agreed that making decisions while in high waters is always a bad idea. She was also in high waters, with her mouth under the waves. I need to let things fall into place before I can understand my feelings fully. Perhaps writing about them will help clear out my head. Perhaps I can't just wait for things to sort them out by themselves, I need to keep unraveling this ball of yarn just to roll it back up. 

Ago ergo sum. Our mandate is to create. 

-c.

[dasleidenderanderen]

Neal and the fever

3

“Good morning”, Peter chipped, as Neal got into his car.

“Hm”, was the very eloquent answer he got.

Someone seemed to be having a grumpy day.

He watched as Neal settled himself in his seat, tugging his coat a little tighter around his slender frame. Outside it was freezing and the icy streets had been the reason for Peter being a little late. So probably Neal had been standing a bit longer in the cold than he would have liked. Shrugging Peter turned up the heating and slowly they started back on the streets and towards the office.

Today would be an important day. For month they had been working on a case, collecting data, evidence and on Neal’s part: conning people into getting them crucial information. And today there would be showdown. Today they would have the opportunity to get the whole pack of them red handed during a handing over.

If only the weather would not disturb their plan to badly…

Had he not been as deeply in thoughts about their mission, maybe he would have become aware of the frequency of Neal discretely clearing his throat. Or the fact, he had not been saying a single word since he stepped in the car.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was about three hours later, that they were siting in the back of their van, listening in to Neal playing a middle-man wanting to have a shady deal involving laundered money earned by drugs and human trafficking.

Peter moved his earbud a little. Somehow Neal’s voice did have an unusual tone. Changing the position did not solve it. Probably some kind of loose connection. He made a mental note to get a new one as soon as they finished.

And it was then, that Neal said the codeword.

Giving the signal to their SWAT-team on standby, Peter jumped from the car, Diana and Clinton right behind him.

The door had by then been broken down and most of the criminals were already secured, when Peter entered the warehouse.

After making sure, all was going as planed, and non of the felons had managed to escaped, he started looking for Neal.

It took him a few minutes until he found him a little offside, sitting on a wooden crate.

“Well done!”

Neal nodded, wincing a bit, as he did.

Peter felt his skin growing cold. Did he miss something?

“Are you hurt?” He was walking faster, crossing the distance dividing him from the younger man, while eyeing him closely.

Neal shook his head.

“No”, he said, with a voice more like a croak. He was starting to say more, but his breath caught in his throat and he had to stop to cough. It sounded painful.

“Are you sure?”, Peter asked, getting to one knee beside him, putting his hand against Neal’s shoulder, steadying him a little.

Neal took a careful breath and cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s just my throat. Has been bothering me for some time.”

Peter withstood the urge to his himself. And here he had been thinking his earplug was defect.

“Alright, how about I talk to a few people for a second and then we can make it out of here?”

“Sounds good”, Neal said, giving a small smile, that did not really reach his eyes.

Neal had not moved from his improvised seat, when Peter came back a few minutes later. But he had leant back, sitting now with his back against the wall. His eyes were closed.

“Ready to go?”, Peter asked.

“Hm?” Neal opened his eyes, squinting and blinking a few times.

Following some sudden inspiration, Peter reached out to touch his cheek.

“Fuck, Neal, your burning up!”

“Really?” Neal tentatively touched his forehead, obviously confused.

“Come on, let’s get you home, before you melt down that precious brain of yours.”

Neal carefully rose to his feet, lacking the natural elegance he usually sported.

As soon as he was upright, he suddenly pressed shut his eyes, blindly reaching to his side, as he swayed dangerously.

Peter hastily grabbed him by his arm, keeping him from loosing his balance.

“You need to sit down again?”

Neal slowly shook his head.

“Only a bit light-headed. Just give me a second.” He blinked, rubbing with his free hand at his squinting eyes. “Nhgh, my head is killing me”, he croaked, his face all pale.

Peter did not like this at all.

Pulling Neal’s arm around his shoulder, he started looking out for Clinton or Diana. Finally spotting the female agent not to fare from them, going through some papers.

“Hey Diana!”, he called to get her attention, making Neal unintentionally flinch.

The agent rose her head, looking around, her mouth forming a unspoken question as she got aware of Peter and Neal.

Putting down the papers in her hand, she quickly walked towards them.

“Is he hurt? Do we need an ambulance?”

Peter shook his head.

“No, but he’s sick. I’ll bring him home.”

Without another word of him, Diana got to Neal’s other side, taking his free arm. Keeping him stable, they shuffled their way through the maze of crates and people, earning themselves some worried glanced and questions as they went.

As soon as they were outside, someone had already organized for a car to be ready for them and not for the first time, Peter was proud for their team.

During all this, Neal had been awfully quiet, letting himself being leat outside and helped in the car.

He immediately leant back in his seat, closing his eyes.

Peter gave him another once-over, quietly talking a few words with Diana. She hurried away, coming back a few minutes later, a firm bag of plastic in her hand.

Peter thanked her, closing Neal’s door and got into the car himself.

He put the bag on Neal’s lap. Neal carefully opened his eyes, pulling up one of his eyebrows in question.

“Just to be safe”, Peter said, starting the engine.

Besides him Neal curled up in his seat and soon seemed to have fallen asleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Neal woke with a start, from some strange dream he could not remember. His throat was hurting, his head was hurting and every muscle in his body felt as if he had been doing a power workout. They were still in the car, somewhere on the highway. The clock of the car told him he had been asleep for not even fifteen minutes. “You awake?”, Peter asked, not taking his eyes from the street in front of them as he passed a slower car. “Mhm.”Neal felt the car first going to one site, than to the other, while the scenery around them swam with the movement and his brain seemed to slow to keep up with the change. He closed his eyes, trying to fight of the dizzying sensation. His fingers felt the plastic bag Diana had given him before. “How do you feel?” “Not so sure”, he ground out. He could hear the rustling of Peter’s cloths, as he quickly had a look at him. “We will soon be off the highway. Do you need me to pull over?” Neal thought about it. He felt a little sick, but he probably would be able to shake it off. “No, but maybe you can go a little slower.” Slowing down the car a little, Peter carefully changed to the right line. Neal kept his eyes closed, breathing through his nose, nodding off a few minutes later.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

They were already back in the city, when Neal woke up with a start with some hot pressure in his stomach and throat. He hastily fumbled with the bag in his hands, his brain still feeling a little mushy. Not to soon he managed to find the opening, as a gag forced up some burning acid in his mouth, followed by something more solid and evil tasting. The taste and feeling was enough to coax another gag from him and quickly he held his head over the bag, as some of the coffee and egg he had for breakfast made an unwelcome reappearance. Next to him Peter cursed. “Just another block, and we will be there. Do you want me to stop?” “N..o”, Neal miserably retched, pressing his eyes shut, coughing up a half digested bite of toast. “Just .. keep going.” He panted, trying to calm his breathing, his body on autopilot. He gagged again, his shoulders rolling, bringing up a wetly belch but nothing else. It felt disgusting and his whole body was shaken by a shudder. “You’re doing fine”, Peter said, his voice full of sympathy. “Just get it out and you will feel better.” With his right hand he started to rub Neal’s back in slow circles, as he steered the car with his left hand only, stopping at the side of the road. Another gag made Neal curl in on himself, but nothing came up. He spat in the bag, trying to get rid of the hideous taste coating his tongue. “It’s alright”, Peter coaxed. “Just keep breathing.” Neal did his best fighting of another dry heave, breathing carefully. Finally he was able to lift his head. “That’s not June’s place.” His voice was even more strained than before. “No, but El would kill me if I just deposited you in your flat with the fever your running and the fact you nearly keeled over in that warehouse. Do you think you’re ready to go inside or do we need to wait a bit more?” “I think it’s safe for now.” Securing the nasty bag Neal opened his door. Peter already awaited him, having hurried around the car. Together they made it to the front yard, where they got rid of the bag in one of Peter’s trash cans. Neal was shaking with exhaustion, when finally they reached the door. Peter quickly opened it, bringing Neal to his couch, helping him to sit. He then vanished to get some supplies.

TBC

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (741): Thu 28th Mar 2024

I also realised that ten years ago today I left HMRC. At the time of my departure I would have called this my worst job ever but prior to this role I had only had one other job, working at the Glass Centre which was awesome so bestowing the distinction of "worst job ever on it" wasn't exactly harsh since it had to be the worst job by default. However I'm now at the stage where I've had six proper jobs (one temp job and one that I can't really call a job beca use I only worked there for ten days and fucked off without collecting my paycheck because it was so awful) so I can now start to rank all of them from best to worst. I don't think I would class HMRC as my worst job ever anymore because although it ended badly mainly due to them putting me on a stage two sickness warning even though the time between my two instances of sick leave was over a year, it did at least start out well when it was exclusively a data entry role. I think the dubious honor of my worst job ever would definitely be between Aldi and TSB now. Aldi was fucking awful mainly due to the stupid rules the enforced namely that I had to be clean shaven all the time and that they try to sabotage their shelf stacker employees by taking things off / adding things to the pallets they need to empty by the end of the shift and then quiz them to see if they spotted them all like a game from the fucking Krypton Factor. TSB on the other hand was especially painful because unlike HMRC which had a script for their employees to follow when talking to customers, TSB had no such thing they just gave you a four week crash course and then told you that you needed to remember the whole thing and not make any mistakes because three mistakes in the space of a month could lead to dismissal. Also they fucked me over by telling me that any overtime you did past five hours meant you would get paid double so naturally I worked overtime every day for the month of February and then on pay day was told that the double time thing wasn't true and I was just paid my normal wages. As bad as TSB was it was a blessing in disguise because it made me realise that I can not do jobs where I have to interact with customers and as such I've now landed a warehouse job where I'm mostly left alone. I suppose this means I should have a fraction of gratitude to TSB and this should edge Aldi just ahead of it in terms of worst jobs but it's still like trying to decide between diving into a swimming pool filled with horse piss or donkey piss. I can still remember the day I left HMRC like it was yesterday. Tragically I can't remember what my final call was about because I finished it at around ten minutes before the end of my shift and my manager just told me to turn off my computer and sit out the final ten minutes (presumably so I didn't abuse my final customer which I totally would have). I shook hands with all my team mates and after handing in my badge my manager escorted me out of the building and I made my way up the hill listening to The Prisoner by Iron Maiden and I was in such a good mood that I stopped off at the toy store to buy Lacey a new Toy Story racing car. I was so happy to be free of that place and optimistic for what the future would hold. I wonder if I could travel back in time to that date and tell past me what the future held would he be put off? If I told him he would end up on the dole for a year and a half before working a temp job for a campaign to get children off fatty food, then working a job in a supermarket that started at five AM and wouldn't let me have a beard before a six month stretch in another call centre would his spirits be as high as he walked up that hill? I suspect if I also told him that he would re-enter the catering industry for a great job in a cafe that would last five years and would allow him enough free time to go see all his favourite bands then he probably wouldn't regret his decision to leave.

[gudakeshav]

Homecoming 2027 Part -2

Contd.... I kept my fellow traveller, my smart luggage to the boot of the car then got through the passenger door to the comfort of the back seat. Got a regular welcome message with my first name,  was briefed on the city traffic situation en route, and was provided an estimated reach time to my apartment. The days of having a waiting cab driver with a smile and casual greetings followed by short conversations are all gone with the change in technology. The driverless car moved out of the airport and entered into the city traffic which was above normal at 10 pm on a working day. I enjoyed looking at the streets which are by and large empty with small packets of crowds in front of late-night cafes and nightclubs. Suddenly my windows turn dark, which blocked my street view, the speaker in the cab announced it is time to relax which is the mandate it got from the big data analyst. Cab audio system tunes to the music without asking my choice and I am forced to listen, I am sure that the machine selected this within its authority to suit me to relax. It was not long back that the thrill I got from Alexa decided the songs for me rather than me to select. If the song not suiting with your taste then it is your fault no one can help. Closed my eyes and lean over to the back support, my mind travelled back to the timeline we passed through. I always felt proud to be part of the years of intensive work in the field of artificial intelligence which revolutionised the way we live today. Now I felt we are not masters but willingly allow machines to control our environment and even our choices for the betterment of human life. It is a great relief that still I can have independent thinking and at least for now, my biological input sensors are free from any external control. Scientific research and inventions made our lives better and provide a lot of comfort where we humans stand unique from all other creatures in the world. We created things to make our life easier and more comfortable which started from a necessity for survival to controlling the natural cycles. We artificially created everything to suit our emerging lifestyles with our full control even after a great level of automation. Somewhere down the line we slowly added intelligence to our creations which put the controls on our lives for betterment which now blocked my street view by darkening the glass windows without considering my likes, it is all our creation. I still remember the interesting story regarding one of the earlier inventions, after the successful creation of a prototype the scientists did a demonstration of a thermos flask to the common man. The cold liquid remains in a cold state for a few hours and the hot liquid remains hot. One person suddenly starts dancing overjoyed and asked the inventors what a clever machine is, it knows which to remain hot and which is cold. The inventor thought what a silly question, a machine never knows such things it can only do its job nothing more than that. How wrong he was, we cross a lot of distance from there, creating machines that can decide and act on situations based on collected inputs through sensors, and with a predefined program it can do intelligent decisions.. Computers made life easy, we happily dumped all our tiresome tasks into them but enjoyed the power of control with us. Instead of stopping there, we go further as our basic quality is laziness hence even the power of decision making also surrendered to the machines to make our life more and more easy and comfortable.

#creative#litrature#story#AI#thoughts

[twistedmusings]

A/N: Planning to post some finished requests tonight thankfully but I wanted to share something super self indulgent with you guys since I just recently got an Alexa! I'm still kind of in a funk (since classes are STILL not over with) so thank you everyone for your kind words in my inbox q wq For now I only have Riddle and Leona...but if everyone likes it I'll make an effort to finish! I kinda am working on Azul's as we speak >:3 Warnings: Boys missing you terribly, Riddle justifying the breaking of rules and Leona realizing that he is talking to an inanimate object.

The Ramshackle Prefect leaves to go to RSA for a month, following a lead that could get them back home. And while the dorm leaders do miss them terribly, it seems one of them is hiding something.

. .

“AZUL-SHI DO SOMETHING.”

The Octavinelle dorm leader barely listened to his friend's request as he also crowded over Idia’s phone, the other five dorm leaders looking down at the screen as a pair of familiar eyes stared back at them.

“Where is Idia? Can you please hand me back to him?”

Riddle blinked at the sprite on the screen before looking back at Idia with a frown.

“Explain yourself, Shroud.”

Idia whimpered as he hung his head low in shame.

“[Y/N]-san...I mean...the Prefect left to go to RSA for a whole month, right? Crowley said it was to help them find a way back home but apparently there was some trouble there too and...and he brought them to fix it...”

Malleus’s neutral expression changes into something a bit sadder while Kalim lets out what everybody was thinking.

“To take them away so suddenly...I didn’t even get a chance to give them a goodbye party!”

“They’re only away for a month, Kalim.” Vil’s eyes stay on Idia’s phone screen.

“But I’m sure a party would have let them know how much I would miss them!”

Riddle clears his throat, “That still doesn’t explain anything about what I am seeing. Why in the world do you have something that looks like...that looks so much like them on your phone!”

Idia was sure this was hell. Of all the people to catch him using his phone during a dorm leader meeting, why did it have to be Riddle? What was he even supposed to answer to that question! That he missed talking to [Y/N]-san about the new animes that were releasing this week that he had purposefully made an AI from data Ortho had collected on them and their mannerisms?

He would rather die!

“I--I was testing a new AI! Just...for schedules and stuff like that! And I didn’t have anything else to base it on so I just took [Y/N]-san’s information and made a prototype! It’s not just going to go out to the public like that! They can customize it however they like--!”

Azul hums as he taps the screen, the sprite giggling as he touches their cheek before looking up at all of them expectantly.

“...A prototype, huh.” he smiles and leans back while taking his phone out, “Everybody stop crowding around him, we might as well be breaking his arm slowly at this point.”

The rest of the dorm leader's move back with only some protest, Idia’s eyes shining as he looks up at his other friend.

“Azul-shi…”

The dorm leader of Octavinelle grins, “If it’s a prototype then that means it needs users, correct? More people to test it out?”

“Eh?”

Azul puts his phone in front of Idia and smiles at him like he was just about to close a rather important business transaction.

“Well then I want the prototype as well. Download it to my phone, will you?”

“Eh?!”

Idia presses his phone to his chest as if Azul was about to take it, looking around nervously as the other dorm leaders take their phones out and set it in front of him.

“If it’s an application for scheduling then I could use it to keep Heartslabyul’s matters in check. I’ll take one too.”

“Ruggie is gonna be busy during exams...this thing better work as an alarm.”

“Surely this would help me keep track of my schedule for both the Monstro Lounge and school. I’ll take one with a statistics program built in, Idia”

“Oh!! I want mine to be able to sing! And can I also get them in Scarabia’s dorm uniform? I want to see what [Y/N]-san would look like!’

“I’ll take that as well. I also want a photo re-touch feature as well as one hour updates as to what is going on in my Magicam account.”

Each phone was placed in front of him as Idia felt his head start to spin. He just wanted to keep this thing a secret only for himself! He wasn’t even planning to release it, it was all just a lie so they wouldn’t know his greatest shame!

A shadow was casted over him, Idia looking up slowly as Malleus smiled and placed his phone down.

“I am eager to see your finished product, Shroud.”

The tarts in front of him looked absolutely delicious.

Trey had really outdone himself this time. The strawberries were cut into perfectly neat shapes and the glaze over them made them so mouth wateringly shiny that he could practically taste the sweet treat without even having to taste it!

Which only made his want of one grow even more.

“And here comes the next batch.” Trey smiles as he puts down another plate in front of him, Riddle’s eyes now staring at that plate while his vice dorm leader cleans himself up.

“When did you say the Unbirthday party was going to be today?”

“A-At three o’clock sharp.”

Trey nods as he looks at the clock in the kitchen.

“Perfect. I promised to meet Jade to get some herbs he has been growing as well as letting him teach me how to make this one soup they had in the Monstro Lounge about a week ago.”

He grabs his phone and heads out, leaving Riddle with a quick goodbye and a promise that he would make it back as quick as possible.

Leaving him all alone with two plates filled with his favourite treat.

The dorm leader looks around once...then twice...checking if anybody was coming into the kitchen before going back to stare at the plates.

It wasn’t like he was going to grab one

The Unbirthday party today would be using pastries that Trey had made yesterday. It was the third of the month so the rules required a completely different pastry. The strawberry tarts were most likely for tomorrow.

So Riddle could wait. He was the Heartslabyul dorm leader after all so not only could he wait but he was required to wait! As the dorm leader he was to set an example and he couldn’t let himself be seduced so easily by just two plates of such yummy looking tarts--!

He quickly takes his phone out and looks down at the screen, face flushing as he tries to remember how Idia told him to open up the new app.

“[Y/N]-san…?”

A face peeks out from the corner of his phone, smiling as it recognizes his face and steps out while giving him a polite bow.

“Good morning, Riddle-san! What can I help you with?”

He can’t help a small rush of excitement at seeing the Prefect’s face after not seeing them for two weeks. Riddle would make an effort to stop and talk to them whenever they made their way to Heartslabyul that not seeing them for so long had almost thrown him off his schedule.

And...he missed the conversations he had with them.

As the dorm leader and a student in NRC he didn’t necessarily have time to go to any other events or take part in any of the shenanigans others would get up to, not that he necessarily wanted to, but it was entertaining when the Prefect talked about it with him.

It felt like they were letting him into their world.

So maybe this substitute would suffice...it was a scheduling app after all so it wasn’t like he was using it for pleasure only.

“Would you please repeat rule 56 of the Queen’s handbook?”

The AI clears their throat as a book animation appears before them.

“Rule number 56: On the third of April, black tea should be served along with pineapple tarts. Followed by a game of cards in which the loser must pour the Queen tea for the rest of the Unbirthday party.”

Riddle sighs as he looks back at the plate of tarts.

“...I guess I’ll wait until tomorrow…”

“Wait until what?”

He looks down at the AI, the sprite blinking in confusion as it waits for an answer. Idia had mentioned adding a conversational feature…

“There is no rule about what to eat tomorrow so I decided that we would have strawberry tarts.”

“Are those your favourite?”

Riddle nods and steps out of the kitchen, making his way to his room as he stared back at the open door.

“They are. Ever since I was little. I couldn’t have many because of--”

He decides to not go deep into the subject.

“I’m sure Trey’s pineapple tarts will be excellent. I will just have to wait until tomorrow to enjoy the strawberry ones.”

The AI hums before the book animation pops up again, looking down and flipping a couple of pages before speaking up.

“Riddle-san. While it does say that black tea should be served with pineapple tarts...it does state that it should be done for the Unbirthday party and the Unbirthday party only.”

He frowns, “Your point?”

“I am sure no rule would be broken if only the Queen has a tea party before the Unbirthday party. From what I am seeing here--”

They flip a couple more pages.

“There is no rule about a tea party of one enjoying a strawberry tart.”

Riddle blinks before looking down at his phone, the sprite smiling as they shut the small book and lets it disappear with a ‘poof.’

No rule would be broken...if it was only a tea part of one?

He looks down at the AI when he hears them giggle.

“Riddle-san looks really happy.”

A blush covers his face at being called out on how big his smile probably was.

“Did I help in any way?”

The dorm leader takes a deep breath before smiling as he looks down at the phone and presses his fingertip on top of their head, rubbing it back and forth as if they were petting them. Something he knew he could never really do with them in real life lest he was looking to get odd looks.

“More than enough. Would you like to accompany me during this tea party?”

“Yes please!”

Riddle nods before looking around once more and clearing his throat.

“And...would you refer to me as ‘dorm leader’ from now on?”

The sprite nods as they give him a polite bow.

“Yes, dorm leader!”

He would need to send his report of the app as quickly as possible, Idia had really outdone himself this time...maybe he could ask if he could get them dressed up in the Heartslabyul uniform?

Riddle still wished you would hurry back.

“Leona-san! Please wake up!”

The blankets on the bed wriggled a bit as the phone was tousled over from one side of the bed to the other, the sprite inside frowning as they tried again.

“Leona-san! Please wake up! Ruggie-san texted you!”

A hand comes out of the blankets before holding the phone up.

“Read the text out loud then.”

Sighing, the AI pulls the text up and reads out loud.

“Please be awake by the time I get there, Leona. I need to make sure I get your signature on these papers for the dorm budget. If you don’t I’ll hold your lunch captive!”

Leona’s face finally pops up from under the blanket, the man sitting up and running a hand through his hair as he speaks up again.

‘Oi. What time is it?”

“It is 3:14 in the afternoon, Leona-san.”

“And when did Ruggie send the text?”

“At 3:00 o'clock.”

He groans and lays back down, the pillows flying about as he holds the phone to his face and smiling when he sees the sprite looking down at him worriedly.

“You really do look like them…” Leona whispers before tapping the screen so that he is poking the sprite’s cheek, “What is that face for?”

“I’m just worried for you, Leona-san. Too much sleep is a symptom of some sicknesses so--”

“Hah? You think I would get sick so easily?” he yawns and stretches, “I’m different from humans. Beastmen need a lot more sleep than regular humans do so...I’m just doing what my body tells me.”

Green eyes watch a notepad appear before the AI as they write down the information, smiling as they close it up and watch it disappear.

“I’ll keep that information in mind so I can serve Leona-san better. Thank you so much.”

Leona blinks at the words before a lazy smile crosses his face.

“Serve me better, huh? Never thought I would hear you say that.”

Usually the herbivore would be frowning and telling him to get up and actually take charge of his dorm and how he didn’t act like any grown up they knew. The sprite, however, tilts their head in confusion before speaking up once again.

“I am yours, after all.”

“Damn right you are.”

He looked at the phone a bit more, the sprite smiling up at him as he poked their cheek or patted their head. A part of him wondered if you would react like that with him as well. You always seemed so annoyed with his antics yet you never failed to come back to talk to him, telling him how he needs to get his act together if he is ever planning to go back to the Afterglow.

Leona would bet money that if he patted your head out of nowhere you would be highly flustered. Getting praise from him was something that didn’t happen often, after all.

“What day is it?”

“The 12th day of April, Leona-san.”

Another two weeks of you being gone. He frowns and closes his eyes as he thinks about you meeting those other students. RSA was just full of idiots...like his brother--

“Dammit.”

He slams the phone down but blinks when he hears a small yelp, turning the phone back around to find the AI looking rather frazzled with their eyes closed and hair all over the place.

“Shit. Are you....okay?”

Great, he was asking an application if it was okay. He could understand why Idia would hide this, right now he felt like he was crazy.

“Y--Yes! It was just unexpected!”

The sprite fixed itself up quickly and smiled back at Leona.

“Are you okay though, Leona-san?”

The dorm leader chuckled and nodded as they set the phone down gently and laid down next to it. At least that part was very much like you, worrying about others before focusing on yourself.

“You’re not going to complain? I almost just threw you.”

Without missing a beat, the AI stands up and looks at him.

“Leona-san is still working hard despite his body telling him to sleep. My program tells me that it would be a natural emotion to feel frustrated if you are not allowed to do something you want. Normal actions of frustration speak of physical manifestations such as kicking, punching or throwing. I was simply calculating it for it to be the latter and for it to happen towards a pillow. I’ll make sure to fix my calculations next time.”

He shakes his head and sets the phone down gently.

“Weird thing. You shouldn’t forgive someone so easily after they wronged you.”

“But you didn’t wrong me, Leona-san. I didn’t feel any pain. I just want to make sure you are feeling your best! You are my number one priority!”

This machine is going to make him go insane, he knows you would never say that but the fact that Idia had gotten your voice down so well that it was almost as if you had just told him he was your number one---

He was already getting a headache.

“Set an alarm for an hour. Ruggie will take around that long anyway.” Leona lays down and wraps the blankets around him.

“Of course. Alarm set for one hour. Would you like to be woken up with a personalized message?”

Leona hummed before grinning.

“Wake me up by calling me ‘King’.”

The sprite fixes its settings before giving a polite bow.

“Yes, my King. Please enjoy your rest.”

After this he would send his report to Shroud and maybe ask for an outfit upgrade. He only needed to show him some Afterglow clothes and the nerd would probably be able to make the AI wear them, right?

Whatever, the moment you came back Leona would make sure that you gave him some headpats for making him wait so long.

[bucksfucks]

𝙁𝘽𝙍𝙊 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀 [𝟳/𝟭𝟭]

summary┃bucky’s past comes back with a vengeance and you’re determined to get the answers you’ve been searching for. 

pairing┃roommate!bucky x f!reader

word count┃2,682 words

warnings┃bucky’s past is revealed, character mentions; [sam wilson, natasha romanoff, tony stark], pet name [kid (platonic), sweets & baby], threats made against bucky + reader, trust-issues, mention of hit-men, brief mention of death, phone sex, praise kink, masturbation, mention of toys, slight angst, soft ending — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI

notes┃there is A LOT of plot here but also some filthy goodness and a sprinkle of angst <<3

SERIES MASTERLIST

     Ex-wife.

    Bucky’s words echoed in your ears as he didn’t dare to look at you.

    His ex-wife was threatening you.

    And he didn’t think to mention her? Ever?

    “Can I please explain?” Bucky croaked finally, voice sounding broken as you shrugged your shoulders — in a state of shock.

    That was all he needed before he recounted his previous relationship with the woman who was now sending you threatening emails.

    Married young, too young and too fast and it ended up blowing up in their faces.

    Well, clearly she hadn’t gotten over it.

    “I thought I lost her,” he explains. “I thought that moving halfway across the country would be enough.”

    You finally looked up to meet his eyes, glossy, sad and terrified as you sniffled.

    “There’s a reason only Tasha calls me James.”

    It broke your heart hearing that, the way his head hung low and he nearly winced at the sound of his own goddamn name.

    But you didn’t know who to trust anymore.

    Bucky always glossed over how he, Sam, and Nat knew each other — telling you that they were old friends that go back.

    How far back?

    You needed to know, but clearly you weren’t about to get answers from him.

    “Buck,” he stopped you, taking a step closer as his eyes begged and pleaded you not to finish your sentence. 

    “I can’t,” he shook his head, “I need some time.” 

    You couldn’t bring yourself to say those words that would shatter both of your world’s. But you had no idea what the hell you had gotten yourself into and you needed answers. 

    And you knew exactly who to go to for them. 

    “I understand,” Bucky sighed. “I’ll stay at Sam’s for some time, okay?” 

    You could only nod your head, watching him walk past you and into his door. 

    Then he shut it, something he never did because his door was always open for you. No matter what you needed and no matter what time of day it was. 

    It felt...wrong. 

    But you couldn’t dwell on it, grabbing your keys, phone, and whatever other important things you could think of being you nearly bolted out of the front     door. 

    You plugged your headphones into your phone, hitting shuffle and descending down into the subway. 

    The entire ride made you anxious, slowly approaching your stop and you were way out of place in this crowd. 

    People rushed by you in expensive suits and what you could only guess were the infamous red-soled shoes that were worth close to your monthly rent, if not more. 

    You cringed, thinking of the man you were about to see in his stupidly tall office building that you had to crane your neck at an uncomfortable angle just     to get a look at. 

    The elevator could not have taken longer, tapping your foot impatiently as you rode up to what felt like the heavens before the doors opened to revel smooth wooden doors that reach from the ceiling to the floor. 

    You were so close, before you were stopped. 

    “Ma’am, I’m sorry, you can’t be here right now.” A man’s voice stopped you, dressed in a security guard uniform and oh, this was so him. 

    “I know him,” you said, intent on seeing the man probably sitting behind those large doors. 

    “I’m sorry, I can’t let you do th—”

    “It’s okay, Marv. I know her,” his voice came not from behind the doors, but from the long hallway to your left. 

    The security guard, Marv, nodded his head as he looked at you once more before retreating back to where he was leaning against one of the walls. 

    “This is a surprise,” you rolled your eyes, “Tony, please. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

    He walked over to you, embracing you in a hug, “oh c’mon, I’ve missed you, Kid.” 

    You shook your head, “I haven’t been a kid in years,” you tried to remind him, but it was Tony, he wasn’t going to listen as he just laughed it off and welcomed you into his office. 

    It was much different from last time, all new furniture and appliances, but nothing lasted more than a year with Tony. 

    Tony was an old friend, sort of.

    He was an old friend of your father’s, something like an uncle, but also like your older brother. 

    So just one giant pain in your ass.

    “So,” Tony sighed. “What trouble did you get into this time, Kid?”

    You told Tony everything. 

    From being roommates with Bucky to the way he asked you to be his fake girlfriend to Sam’s wedding and all the way to the situation you were in now. Confronted by his ex-wife without any idea of what she was going to do. 

    Tony had that look on his face. The one where he was going to tell you that you were crazy. 

    “I don’t know how you manage to get yourself into these situations,” he chuckled, hand clamping over your shoulder as he walked around his desk and typed something into his computer. 

    “Last name is,” he looked at you. “Barnes.” 

    He nodded his head, typing away at his computer again before he stopped. 

    There was a brief moment of silence, Tony hiding behind the computer screen before he stood up and walked back around the desk, “I’m gonna need some time.”

    You understood, shaking your head. You were asking Tony to hack into any known database and collect as much data on Bucky as you could. It was wrong, but you just needed to know who you were dealing with. 

    “Thank you, Tony. I-I really appreciate it.” You weren’t good when it came to...well, the heartfelt side of things but luckily neither was Tony. 

    “Don’t get sappy on me now, Kid. You know it makes me sick,” he joked playfully, smile on his lips as you stood up to give him a half hug. 

    “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He promised before you walked out of the too-tall building with far more questions than you came with. 

    It was a waiting game that you didn’t want to play, but you didn’t have a choice. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    It seemed like your relationship with Bucky was doomed from the start. 

    Friends to lovers rarely, if ever, works out in anyone’s favour. 

    The fake dating trope you could handle, pushing your feelings aside to help Bucky win a bet didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. You had a great time, great fucking sex, and a trip out of it. 

    Then Steve wouldn’t leave the picture. Going as far as coming to the wedding as Natasha’s boyfriend to spite you not realizing that you and Bucky had gotten married. 

    Married. 

    You and Bucky were married. Bonded in a whole other way and now, his ex-wife was out for you and him. 

    Maybe this was a sign from the universe, a big red fucking flag telling you that it wasn’t worth it and yet...you couldn’t let go. 

    The apartment felt empty without Bucky, his bedroom left the way it was in the morning with your favourite sweater of his laid out on the covers and a little post-it note on top of it. 

    You never could really decipher Bucky’s handwriting. It was absolute chicken scratch as you picked it up and managed to make out in case you get cold scribbled onto it. 

    It was an easy decision to pull it over your head and drown yourself in the scent of Bucky’s cologne as you fiddled with the small gold band you now wore around your neck as a necklace. 

    You didn’t want anyone other than Bucky. There was no in the world who understood you better. Who knew how to make you laugh when you were having a bad day. 

    Everything led you right back to Bucky. 

    So when your phone rang from the other side of the couch, you were secretly hoping it was Bucky. 

    Instead, Tony’s name flashed and your heart sank into your stomach as you quickly hit answer and held the phone up to your ear. 

    “You’re not gonna like this, Kid.” Tony’s voice flowed through the speakers as you took a shaky breath in and braced yourself for what Tony was about to tell you. 

    “He did a damn good job at erasing his history, but you can’t erase all of it,” Tony chuckled as you rolled your eyes, “quit stalling.”

    He sighed, “the Howling Commandos was an organization tasked with,” he paused, “tasked with collecting intel and making sure that information never got released to the public.” 

    This time, it was your turn to fall silent. 

    “Like, spies?” You asked and Tony hummed, “sort of.” 

    “They had spies, agents, hit-men.” 

    No. You shook your head, no. 

    “James Buchanan Barnes was their highest ranking hit-man. Him, along with Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanova worked as a team. A spy, agent, hit-man trio.” 

    You had to shake yourself out of spiralling, what you needed was everything Tony could possible tell you. 

    “Anything on his ex-wife?” You then asked and heard shuffling on the other line, “not much. Mary Barnes, but I doubt that’s her real name, was part of a training initiative the Howling Commandos were testing.” 

    You bit your lip, at least you had a name, even if it wasn’t her real name. 

    “By that point it looks like James—” 

    “Bucky. His name is Bucky.” 

    Tony cleared his throat after a moment’s silence, “Bucky looks like he had disappeared. Blipped off of the face of the Earth. There’s nothing in his file after 2014.” 

    That makes sense. Bucky was perhaps the most old-fashioned man you knew, only upgrading from his flip-phone just a few years ago. He barely knew how to unlock it, though. 

    “Sam and Natasha went on to live normal lives, Kid. I’m sure that’s all Bucky wants.” Tony tries to assure you and you laugh, “you sound like my dad.” 

    He laughed on the other line, “oh gross.” 

    “Thanks for everything, Tony.” You said, “you know what number to call in case you’re in trouble.” 

    With that, you both hung up, tossing your phone away from you to digest everything you’d just been told. You knew you had to talk to Bucky, but you didn’t know when. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    “So you’re tellin’ me,” Sam was confused. “That this is the same Mary that tried to get you killed?” 

    Bucky rolled his eyes, taking another swing of his beer as he rounded Sam’s kitchen island. 

    “That’s the one, you know, the undercover agent working for Strucker.” Bucky scowled at the name. 

    He was angry, beyond angry at the fact that his past was creeping up on him despite how far he had gone to erase it. 

    “But why now? Why come after you now?” Sam poses the question that even Bucky doesn’t have an answer to. So he just shrugs his shoulders and finishes off his beer. 

    “Unfinished business.” 

    They stand in silence for a little while longer, listening to the old ticking clock hanging on the wall before Sam takes a step towards Bucky. 

    “Whatever you need, you know that Tasha and I are here for you, right?” He whispers and Bucky feels the warmth blooming in his chest as he gives him a half-smile. 

    “Yeah,” he nods his head, “thanks, man.” 

    Sam knows that Bucky was never really good at the sappy shit, so he doesn’t force it. Instead, he offers him another beer, bottle necks clinking as Bucky’s thoughts race. 

    He was worried. 

    Not about himself, but about you. 

    And you were worried about Bucky, curling up in his bed as you sighed and tossed and turned. There was no way you’d be able to fall asleep alone tonight. And hugging his pillow just wasn’t enough. 

    So you grabbed your phone, hitting his name and waiting for the ringing to sound before he picked up — tired and groggy.

    “We need to talk.” You didn’t give him a chance to greet you. He sighed on the other line, but hummed in agreement, “tomorrow?”

    You hummed in response to his question, the sound of his voice soothing as you played with the sheets of his bed.

    “I miss you, Sweets.” Bucky whispered, your breathing hitching at how low and raspy his voice really was.

    “I miss you too, Bucky.” You admitted, shifting as you got comfortable on the pile of pillows against your head.

    There was a moment of silence before Bucky spoke again.

    “You know what ‘m really missin’ right now?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you shakily inhaled, “what?”

    Bucky sighed, reminiscent of how he sighs when he runs his hands all over your body. 

    “I miss that sweet cunt of yours.” Bucky purrs, you know he’s smirking, possibly even dragging his tongue across his bottom lip as he closes his eyes to imagine you under him. 

    You’re at a loss for words, feeling your panties grow damp, core aching and you’re going to have to touch yourself soon. But that’s all part of Bucky’s plan, you think. 

    “Here I am, all alone, with my hand wrapped ‘round my cock,” he whispers, but you can hear him stroking himself. 

    “And all I can think ‘bout is that way your tight little pussy grips me and milks my fuckin’ dick, baby.” Bucky was always so good with his words, knowing exactly what to say to make you melt. 

    And it was working, because you were a squirming mess in his bed. 

    “Well,” you could tell he was smirking by his tone, “what’re ya waitin’ for, Sweets. Go on, touch yourself. I wanna hear you work your clit.” 

    Your hand flew under your panties, being given the permission only made it sweeter as your fingers came in contact with your soaking folds. The sensitive bundle of nerves needed desperate attention as you slowly circled it. 

    “Good girl, that’s my girl.” Bucky praised, continuing to work himself. 

    “God,” he hissed, “can’t wait to have you all to myself again. Bury myself deep, maybe even have you sit on my cock as you beg me to do somethin’.” 

    You worked yourself a little faster, applying some more pressure as you let out a whine at his words. 

    “Add two fingers, Sweets. I know how much you love bein’ stretched,” Bucky chuckled deeply, “been thinkin’ of gettin’ you a mould of my fuckin’ dick for when ‘m not home.” 

    Oh my God. Oh my God that shouldn’t be so fucking hot so why does it make your walls flutter and breathing uneven as you have to stop yourself from actually fucking cumming. 

    He chuckles again, “yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

    You can’t verbally respond, too focused on the tight coil in your abdomen that’s ready to snap. 

    “I know you’re close, can hear it in how fuckin’ desperate you sound,” he pants, “so why don’t you make a mess all over my clean sheets.” 

    You gasp, how did he know, but you don’t get to dwell on it for much longer than a moment because your orgasm rips through you and leaves you panting Bucky’s name. 

    Both of your breaths are uneven and ragged through the phone’s speakers, bed springs creaking on Bucky’s side as he hums. 

    “If only you could see the miss I made for you, Sweets,” you shuddered at his words, closing your eyes to relish in the moment. 

    “Now get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” His tone has changed, entirely sweet and caring as you grab the phone to bring him closer to you. 

    “Okay,” you reply, another lick of silence before you hear Bucky going to end the call but you stop him. 

    “I love you, Bucky.” You quickly blubber out and it feels good to finally say those words because there’s no more denying how you really feel about him. 

    “I love you too, Sweets.” 

    It’s a bittersweet ending to the phone call, thoughts and emotions running wild as you’re forced to remind yourself that Bucky has a lot of explaining to do. 

[miswaken]

On the surface, Alice remains placid. Poised posture, controlled expression. She's had years to practice the front, an act dating back before Bright Falls. The press that constantly nagged Alan were quick to scrutinize her, too -- you couldn't risk giving them anything. And that was to say nothing of the time after, when her every facial twitch was analyzed to hell and back for signs of whatever people wanted to see. Too much guilt. Not enough grief. Anything to tear her down, tear her apart with.

Inside, though, the cracks are starting to form.

But she listens, holding the pieces together as best she can, until the Director finishes. Again, her eyes sink back to the photograph. It was easy, back then, to assume the thing that was haunting her to be malevolent. Not Alan, but something that stole his face and was using it to torment her. There's still a part of her that wants that to be true, because it's better -- kinder, in some way -- than the alternative explanation that's been formulating in her mind since her last trip to the Oldest House.

I don't think Alan is dead.

Alice can't remember when exactly that same thought manifested in her mind. The visitations have never stopped completely, but they ebb and flow like a strange tide. The lulls have given her time to think. To remember. A world beyond this one, made up entirely of shadows. Darkness. Pain and fear and regret, cut up and spliced back together and needled under the skin.

I think he needs help.

When she looks at Faden again, her eyes are glassy with the suggestion of tears. The mask is effectively shattered.

"You've seen him too, haven't you? Here, somewhere?" Not physically, no, she's not hoping for that -- but something like what happens in the apartment. Ghost feels too reductive, too static a word. Because it is Alan, she's come to accept. Not a pale impression of him left to linger in the land of the living, but the real thing just overlaid, somehow, onto reality. The Oldest House feels like that in a way -- like if Alice had her camera she could peel back the layers of it with every photo, and each layer would expose a new world with it. She has to take a breath and let it out slowly before she can speak again, words catching on the lump in her throat.

"It never... it hasn't stopped, for me." Maybe she'll come to regret the confession -- already she's picturing agents swarming the apartment and setting up equipment of their own. They hadn't exactly been helpful back in Bright Falls, arriving a day late only to show more interest in collecting data than trying to find a missing person. And 2017... But something about Faden feels different to Alice. She wants to help, and Alice can see that it's genuine. "He's still reaching out."

@miswaken continued from : [ ██████ ]

Just like that, all the frustration deflated into exhaustion, right before her eyes, as Alice’s demeanor changed. It’s too familiar. One of the core foundations of her world had been shattered and Jesse can’t blame her for being tired. She hopes that Alice gets the answers she needs at the end of this road. One, that hopefully, lets her reunite with her other half.

“We might’ve—I might’ve—come across some news, recently. I meant to contact you sooner, but we had a pretty intense clean-up situation here.”

How she came about the information was a different discussion. The Hiss. The Dark Presence. Did one set off the other? The Hiss brought her here to Dylan for her answers--her closure. But she remembers holding the typewritten page. Its ink faded on wrinkled paper. The chanting hymn from the chorus of elevated men and women held a fixed around the Oldest House. The aged ink held those same words. It all could be a coincidence. It happens. But, from her experiences, nothing is just a coincidence anymore.

Polaris chimes.

One step at a time, Faden.

“We've had a team monitoring Bright Falls. I'm not too sure if those guys before told you or not.” Jesse momentarily pauses. This would be good news for Alice, but there is guilt at being the one to say it. There was only a faint web that held them to, well, wherever he currently was. They hadn't found Wake. They don't have him for her. Jesse wishes she did. “Some activity has started happening there—at Cauldron Lake.”

Bright Falls had spiraled. From what she understood, the place was always under an influence. There had been a long silence up until the Wakes. Their arrival pushed something over the edge, somehow. It was as if it had been waiting for them all along. It knew.

“Before that, we had something happen here. It sort of played a part in the whole mess we had."

“I think whatever happened here, at the bureau, was some kind of trigger. While we dealt with the outbreak, I felt something. It for sure didn't feel like... whatever that is.” Jesse gestures to the photograph of the looming figure on the desk. "I completely understand that this isn't my place, but, I don't think Alan is dead. I think he needs help."