#i think i started listening to it after they stop collecting data
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devllipriv · 1 year ago
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wrapped :3
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also here's my top 100 songs:
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punkshort · 9 months ago
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Unveiled
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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
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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.
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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.
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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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agaypanic · 14 days ago
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hi !!
i’m thinking about an egon spengler x reader where the reader has to take care of him because he’s worked too hard and burnt himself out
i lov him so much but i just know he doesn’t take care of himself the way he should
Overworked (Egon Spengler X Reader)
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Summary: Egon had a tendency to throw himself into his work, and only you can pull him out of it.
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You find him in his office like you always do. Hunched over his desk, scribbling in his notebook about whatever recent ghost encounters he and the other Ghostbusters have had today. You know he hears you enter the room, but he doesn’t say anything, too invested in his work. 
“Egon.” You say softly as you approach him. “Don’t you think it’s time to go to bed?” You hope he won’t put up too much of a fight with your suggestion, even though you know better.
“Just a moment.” Your boyfriend replies monotonously, eyes never leaving the page he’s writing on. “I need to record some more data from our last paranormal capture.”
You sigh. “It’s two in the morning, Egon.” You try to say it in a reprimanding tone, but you’re too tired to sound stern.
Finally, he looks up at you. It’s not for long, but it’s enough for you to notice his exhaustion.
“I’m well aware of the time.” He says matter of factly. “But there’s still data to collect.” He looks back down at his notes. “You can go to bed, Y/n. I’m not stopping you from doing so.”
“I want to go to bed with you, Egon.” You reply, frustration starting to mix in with your tiredness. “I can tell you’re just as tired as I am.”
The statement seems to grab Egon’s attention, and he frowns slightly. Not that you’re able to see, with his face buried in his work. “I’m not tired.” He responds, clearly lying. “I’m just not quite done yet. Go to bed, Y/n, I’ll join you soon.”
Despite his insistence, you can tell he’s tired as hell. You frown, simultaneously loving and hating Egon’s dedication to his work.
Instead of listening to him and leaving, you inch towards him and carefully put your hand over his. It effectively halts his scribbling, which looks close to illegible. “Your work will be here tomorrow.” You say softly, as if trying to convince a child to stop playing with their favorite toy and go to sleep. “Now come to bed.” 
Your voice is more pleading than demanding, and that seems to soften Egon and weaken his resolve. He looks down at his work, knowing you’re right but not wanting to admit it. The room is silent for a moment.
“Fine.” He says begrudgingly. Content with his surrender, although hesitant, you grip his hand and pull him out of his chair. You’re able to get him out of his office before he can try to tidy up his workspace, saying it can all wait until he’s well-rested.
As the two of you head to the bedroom, Egon seems to become more and more exhausted with every step. When his bed is in sight, he flops and slumps against the mattress, letting out a weary sigh and closing his eyes.
You laugh a bit in amusement. “Darling,” you say, reaching down to untie his shoes. “Don’t you think you should at least take off your coat?”
Egon grumbles, waiting until you’ve pulled his shoes off his feet to sit up. “I suppose you’re right.” He mutters, slowly shedding his lab coat and dropping it on the floor.
Somehow, you’re able to get him to change out of his stiff work clothes and into comfortable pajamas. After he’s appropriately dressed for bed, Egon drops onto the bed again, half-lidded eyes following you around the room as you get ready for bed before finally settling in next to him.
After hesitating for a moment, Egon reaches out and pulls you closer to him. He sighs in exhausted content as he leans his head against your shoulder. Carefully, you reach up and remove his glasses, which he had neglected to do. After setting them on your nightstand, your hand returns to comb your fingers through his hair.
“You have to stop overworking yourself, Eegs.” You whisper, slowly but surely losing consciousness. “It’s not good for you, no matter how valuable the work is.”
Egon leans into your touch. “I know.” He murmurs, voice slightly muffled by his face being pressed against you. “But the data… is important…”
“So is your sanity.” You reply. “Just… try to stop working at a decent time. People have nine to five’s for a reason, you know.”
Egon’s quiet, and if it wasn’t for his fingers gently toying with the hem of your shirt, you’d think he had finally dozed off. He knows you’re right. You always are, whether or not he likes to admit it. But the passion he has for his work always seems to outweigh his own wellbeing.
“I’ll try.” He finally says. “But no promises.”
You smile. You know you’ll probably be having this conversation every night until the end of time. But right now, his words are enough.
“Goodnight, Egon.” You say, reaching back to turn off the light on your nightstand before wrapping your limbs around him.
Egon welcomes your affections as he starts to drift off. The tension in his body seems to melt away with your touch. “Goodnight, darling.”
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reonnex · 7 months ago
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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.
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burnwater13 · 2 months ago
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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…
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steam-powered-chaos · 1 year ago
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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.
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huthurheartsdramione · 1 month ago
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Hiii! It’s been a long time since I’ve posted on here and I thought I would maybe try to be more active again so here’s some information about me to introduce myself.
Name: Heather
Age: 33
Screen name: huthurheartsdramione
Reasoning for screen name: my brother used to call me huthur and I love Dramione fanfic.
Reading Fanfic Since 2000: After The Goblet of Fire was published. Like many people, I read a little too much into Draco warning Hermione and friends about the Death Eaters at the Qudditch Workd Cup, and it spiraled from there and I started looking for stories/people who also thought Hermione and Draco would be a great couple. In the early days, I was on many now defunct sites including Coloured Grey and Granger Enchanted. I even printed out fanfic to take with me places where I didn’t have internet so I could read it. There are likely many half-stories lying around my childhood home. So I’ve been reading Dramione in particular for over 24 years, and within the Harry Potter fandom.
I also just want to make note that I don’t endorse, condone, or believe in JKR’s views. I know we can never fully separate the fandom from her and her work, but I do not condone transphobia in any way shape or form.
Fandom Realted Fun Facts:
1. I have a spreadsheet of fanfics I read this year. I felt bad about not reading traditionally published books as much this year and tracking my word count makes me feel better about that. My goal is to reach 10 million words by the end of the year. I’ve only been tracking since April of this year. I’m a big data nerd and it makes my heart happy to track random things.
2. While I rate fanfic in my tracker, I only rate things 3-5. If I read it, it was at least a 3. I also rate traditionally published books this way. It has to be at least average if I finished it. I do not rate fanfic on any other websites or through my collections or any of those things. Fandom is free and the rating system is more for me to keep track of things I might want to reread in the future or that I was really moved by than anything else.
3. I still think about a song fic that I haven’t been able to find again. It was based off a song by Rilo Kiley and every time I hear that song I think about the fanfic.
Real Life Job: Event Planning
Published Fics: 0, but I have many half written drafts of things.
Some Favorite Tropes/Tags: War AU, BAMF Hermione/Draco, Burn the World for Hermione, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage Law, Marriage of Convenience, Theo Nott is A Menace
10 Favorite Fics this Year in no Particular Order:
1. Bloody, Slutty, and Pathetic
2. Green Light
3. Measure of a Man (I followed this as a WIP and then fell off reading and finally went back and read all of it. I wish I had saved the original version before it was edited though).
4. Amina Gemella (my first ever Harry/Blaise and a companion to The Fear of Letting Go which is a Dramione. It’s just so dang good).
5. EXIT and REBEL (I want to go back and tandem read these so badly)
6. These Ties that Bind
7. Of Sun Swords and Worms (listen this is a WIP but I can already tell it’ll be a favorite. It is so heart aching and well written).
8. Crimson and Clover
9. Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I'm Leaving Without You)
10. an ever-fixed mark
I would love to learn more about all of you! What do you like to read? What’s your favorite fic? What are your favorite tropes? Do you have a fic tracker? If so, do you want to compare?
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tgrailwar · 2 years ago
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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.
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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."
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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."
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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."
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'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?"
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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.
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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!"
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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)
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mainstoryarchive · 5 months ago
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Ensemble - 132: Victory and Defeat
Makoto: Eh…?
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[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 ♪
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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 ☆
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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!'
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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 →
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arytha · 11 months ago
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“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
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detectiveichijouji · 2 years ago
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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.
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awrldalone · 1 year ago
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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.
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dasleidenderanderen · 2 years ago
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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
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flowery-mess · 1 month ago
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4, 7, and 12 for the Spotify Wrapped questions! 🌸💕✨️
- @stardustsirenmelody
Questions from the spotify wrapped questions
Thank you for asking💗
4 - Artist/band you didn't thought would be in your top artist (if any)
Honestly I knew who my top two are going to be, so the rest was surprise lol. But probably Linkin Park, because I started listening to them daily just few months ago and I didn't when spotify stops collecting data for the wrapped.
7 - Most streamed month of your top artist (explain if you think/know why)
To be honest I don't understand this question, like month where I listened to BO the most?😭 then it's probably january or february, because it was before and after I saw them live
12 - A song you feel should be higher up
There's a few...
Dethrone by BO
Jaded by Lucas Estrada (LOVE that song)
can we start over? by Charlotte Sands
All of u by NOISY
Stripped by Palaye Royale
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anthonysstupiddailyblog · 9 months ago
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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.
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cienie-isengardu · 1 month ago
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I admit, I personally do not see Bi-Han as a person interested in gossip for the sake of gossip. More like a man that would like to be left alone and in peace than to deal with other people’s nonsense. But that is exactly what makes those intro dialogues so funny and no less interesting for me. Bi-Han for whatever reason does listen to other dead people’s complaints, cries for revenge or just about missing their children and is passing the messages to the living. Which highlights the “dead are my family” mentality when the man is all about the cold death and perfection, but also raises a question, was he asked to do so by those souls? Or is he just part of death in a way that allows him to know stuff like that? 
(And don’t let me start on the “return to your mother’s arms” or the general theme of rejoining someone in death. There is so much to say about it!) 
I may joke about Bi-Han hanging out with other dead to gossips, but frankly, I think this is more like gathering intelligence and the collecting data is the result of his assassin / Earthrealm Defender upbringing. What is even more, as much as Bi-Han definitely likes to know secrets of others, I love the implication from MK4 that he indeed share(d) those secrets with Kuai Liang
Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang)’s BIO:“After Shao Kahn’s defeat at the hands of Earth’s fighters, Sub-Zero’s warrior clan known as the Lin Kuei is disbanded. But with the new threat brought on by Quan Chi, the ice warrior once again dons the familiar costume once worn by his brother, the original Sub-Zero. He also holds secrets passed onto him from his sibling… secrets that could hold the key to stopping Shinnok.”
A passing of secrets that MK4 comics even showed as Kuai Liang’s flashback.
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Personally, I see Bi-Han less as someone engaging in gossip and more as someone that for sure pays a lot of attention to everything that is said around him. He is great at listening and yes, the fact he caught Tanya calling her superior just as Mileena when agitated/upset and connecting the dots on spot says a lot about his experiences with picking up the clues and seeking the weakness to exploit. Bi-Han himself said, “Everyone has a weakness” and he for sure enjoyed finding a weak point of Tanya!
But also, this idea of Bi-Han listening from shadows to others’ gossips, whispers and prayers is in fact inspired by old comics Mortal Kombat: Baraka (MK Babality) from 1995
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(mind you, the comics is from 1995 so Noob Saibot was not yet a really established character. I'm including this as example of Bi-Han solely just because of Noob Saibot's connection to his lore)
For me, one should always be on guard around Bi-Han for you never know when he will steal your secrets, even from simple gossip.
But in all fairness, there is something incredible funny to imagine Bi-Han being stuck between arguing and idle talking (dead) people - and maybe even encouraging them to spill all the spicy details and deepest secrets (especially if this is Kung Lao's family as I picture them arguing like Mulan's dead ancestors in Disney animated movie 🤣).
I get that MK11 wanted to present Noob Saibot as the edgelord, especially as Death, Darkness and Shadow is his character theme, but intro dialogues like this:
Noob Saibot: Vera's soul calls you. Jacqui: Keep mama's name out your mouth, Revenant! Noob Saibot: Revenant? I am Wraith!
or
Noob Saibot: Your dead ancestors whisper. Kung Lao: With quiet pride, I'm sure. Noob Saibot: They mock you, Kung Lao.
or
Noob Saibot: Gorbak's spirit cries for vengeance. Sheeva: Our feud with the Osh-Tekk is over. Noob Saibot: You abandon your traditions.
and
Noob Saibot: Onaga whispers your name to the Dark. Sheeva: I shall not be his puppet as Goro was. Noob Saibot: He would have you for his bride.
made it looks like Wraith Bi-Han is hanging a lot with dead people just to gossip 🤣 What of course makes sense, as Noob Saibot repeatedly said that dead are his kin now. And also fits MK1 Sub-Zero's habit of collecting secrets.
On another hand, Noob can be also seen as medium and messenger between alive and dead ones ("Vera's soul calls you", "Gorbak's spirit cries for vengeance"), so as a BONUS, here a MKX's intro dialogue in which Bi-Han is the one (dead) calling to the alive:
Kung Lao: Seen your brother lately? Sub-Zero: Noob Saibot's whereabouts are unknown. Kung Lao: He calls to you from the other side.
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