worst-archivist

[worst-archivist]

Jon shakes his head and makes an unidentifiable noise, one that’s an equal mixture of disappointment and defeat. Qingque’s unintentional “L’s” (or maybe they are intentional, who knows) are slapped away away from his face in a minor display of frustration.

‘Jaundice,’ ‘Janice,’ god this girl was really getting to him. Oh, but his last name of Sims is fine. Of course it’s JUST the Jon that bothers her.

Jesus, calm down. You KNOW that if you correct her she will just do it more. If you ignore it for long enough she’ll drop it like a dog and some overused toy. Huh… Does that imply that I’M the toy in this analogy…? No. Drop it, Jon. Drop it.

“I’m so, so very complimented that you think I’ve aged better than some 200 year old fox. That must be the sweetest thing you’ve said to me yet, you must be in a good mood.”

Despite how he was trying his best to cover it up with dry humor, Jon still felt awkward at Qingque’s comment on his hair.

Generally speaking, Jon always felt uncomfortable whenever his appearance was mentioned. He never knew how to respond to insults nor compliments, so an awkward shift of weight was always his go-to.

And that’s what he did now, simultaneously breaking his gaze with Qingque.

“My hair is fine, I said earlier. And thank you for the compliment on my potential, I guess? But I am NOT going to comb my hair just for some oddly marketed internet video. Bloody hell- I’m not going to BE in an internet video. I’m not… going to MARKET myself? J…Just stop. Stop it. Please.”

Qingque's face twists into one of concern as she leans further in, marveling in how sunken into the mess of papers on his desk he is. "Mm, I don't know if I should be impressed or concerned, Mister Sims. You look like if a vidyadhara merged with a bearskin carpet." Her eyes trace his back in a path reminiscent of an over-exaggerated bell curve graph.

"A bother?" She walks back to, ah, what was his name again? Jango's–Jordan's–Jack Sickolis's– side. "I'm quite hurt, Mister Sims." A grin graces Qingque's lips. "I'm only a bother on company time. In fact–" She pulls out her cell phone. "I've come here with a plan for you!"

She turns on her cellphone, her eyes trained on the screen. "So, I've been noticing that your social life, is, for a lack of better wording, absolutely atrocious. But you know what isn't?" She points the screen at him, revealing a photo of a man with glasses. "The demand for men wearing glasses!"

Qingque nods, a wide smile on her face. "Yep, that's right! We're gonna get you Interastral famous!" She pauses. "Or whatever social platform of your choice... famous." Qingque's arm flies to his shoulder, shaking it. "C'mon, Janice! Let's do it! If you're going to have eyebags, at least monetize the visual appeal of it!"

It'll be fun for me as well, Qingque thinks, though she doesn't want the smile on her face to get even wider than it is now, lest Jon deny her "genius" plan.

[worst-archivist]

This is the sort of art I was talking about guys

What's your favorite color of the alphabet? True or false?

“What’s your favorite bloody finger, the middle one on my left or the middle one on my right?”

[worst-archivist]

Jon didn’t visibly respond to her vidyahara-bearskin comparison. Nor did he to her insults about his social life. If Qingque wasn’t used to his shlumpy nature by now AND hadn’t just watched him collapse, she very well may have mistaken him for dead.

“Mmpgh…” With a bit of a struggle, Jon drearily lifts his head to look at whatever Qingque is showing. Despite his glasses, he still needs to squint to see the screen. Even though Qingque had switched them on, her cellphone seems to illuminate his face more than the dimmed and yellowed archive lights ever could.

The video itself is of some TikTok star in a pair of stereotypically nerdy glasses, dancing in a skirt just a few inches too short. Jon’s eyes scan the whole video, darting all around. It’s like you’re showing your mom a thirst trap, he gives off the same feeling.

Is… is this one of those tick tock e-boys? F-boys? C-boys, even? I mean, he does have cat ears on. Do people call cat boys c-boys? Or is that for a cuck boy? That’s… oh fuck it, that’s not what matters right now.

“U… UAGH-! W… what the…“ He’s absolutely sputtering all over himself. He pushes her phone aside, and gathers his words well enough for a resounding “NO.”

With his mind going 100 kilometers per hour, (not miles, mind you. He’s British after all), he’s unsure of how to respond. “Jesus, it’s ONE thing to show me an image with questionable background during work hours, but it’s another to suggest that should be ME!? What the bloody hell has gotten into you? NO. I AM NEARLY THIRTY, I AM NOT DOING THAT.”

He was standing up now. The 4 inch height difference was a defense mechanism rather than an intimidation tactic. After all, Jon was the intimidated one here. His entire personhood was getting actively threatened.

I don’t get paid enough to deal with this girl. Fucking shit.

"geez, why is it so dark in here?" the lights in the room flick on with a click of a switch. qingque sneaks up to the man hunched over his desk, before leaning over his shoulder. "mister jango, that can't be good for your eyes." her gaze flickers over to his posture. "–or your back."

@worst-archivist

[worst-archivist]

The mental anguish from Qingque’s “Jango” causes Jon to instinctively grimace from pain. She’s messed up his name so many times now that he’s quite used to it, but he definitely still hates it. Simultaneously, however, he’s been seemingly trained to respond to anything between Jolene and Juggernaut. He couldn’t tell if Qingque knew this and kept up the act to bother him, or if his name was just really that forgetful. After all, she never seemed to remember his corrections. And so Jon had gave up the effort of protesting.

This is why at Qingque’s “Jango,” Jon crumbles overtop his keyboard at very beginnings of conversation, already not caring for the basic social etiquette to meet her eyes.

His voice came out as muffled due to his own face-down defeat, “My bloody sight and posture are fine, leave them well alone. If you’re simply here to be a bother, you may also take your leave.”

Quite honestly, Jon was in the mood for some social interaction right now. He’d been inadvertently isolating himself for the sake of typing this document for the archives, so much so that he couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen another’s face. Whether he’d be willing to accept conversation from Qingque is… questionable at the least. But even if he did, he wouldn’t admit it. He’s simply an asshole like that.

"geez, why is it so dark in here?" the lights in the room flick on with a click of a switch. qingque sneaks up to the man hunched over his desk, before leaning over his shoulder. "mister jango, that can't be good for your eyes." her gaze flickers over to his posture. "–or your back."

@worst-archivist

[worst-archivist]

What's your favorite color of the alphabet? True or false?

“What’s your favorite bloody finger, the middle one on my left or the middle one on my right?”

[worst-archivist]

“Yeah, well. If we all were like you I doubt society would’ve progressed past the Middle Ages. You keep being you and I’ll keep being me.”

He sighed at her next question. “No, im not hungry. And it’s not a type of food either. I’m- I’m not going to take the time to explain smoking to you. I doubt you would find it pleasant.”

what do you call an alligator in a vest? an investigator.

A few too many seconds of awkward silence pass, broken only by a drawn-out sigh and slow clap.

“Congrats on giving me a migraine. I’d ask if you’re here to make a statement, but I’d expect you’d throw out another pun.”

[worst-archivist]

“It’s JON. J-O-N. Not Jordan. It’s Jon.”

“And Qingque, I don’t need a fucking foxy immersion, I need a goddamn cigarette.”

what do you call an alligator in a vest? an investigator.

A few too many seconds of awkward silence pass, broken only by a drawn-out sigh and slow clap.

“Congrats on giving me a migraine. I’d ask if you’re here to make a statement, but I’d expect you’d throw out another pun.”

[worst-archivist]

Jon listened intently, making sure that he didn’t cause any outside feedback that could be picked up by the tape recorder on his desk.

Oh, there was a tape recorder…? Outdated technology aside, how (and when) did that show up? By the time it had been noticed, Qingque had already finished talking. It’s almost like it appeared out of thin air in the midst of conversation.

Who knew where Jon had kept it, it very well could have been hidden in plain sight all along. A tape recorder against brown, black, and beige papers isn’t exactly a contrast. Well, if it made her feel any better, Jon seemed to be aware of its presence. That… in and of itself could be taken as an even more concerning matter, however.

Once Qingque had mentioned her employment, Jon snapped out of whatever trance he was engrossed in. Did she say she would be working for HIM?

“W…wait wait, what do you mean by you look forward to working for me? You said you’re already working for a Divination Commission- and, and that you crashed out of some sort of spacecraft?” He rubbed his temples. God, he could already tell he was gonna get a migraine.

Out of the corner of his eye, he checked the clock.

6:15 a.m is too early for a new hire, isn’t it? But I guess that’s not the WEIRDEST circumstance here. What a wretched ass Wednesday.

“Oh, huh… I don’t think that’s supposed to make that noise, but okay…” The young woman standing in a dimly-lit office begins shuffling through the papers once more. A red light attached to device in a corner goes off.

“Damn it, noooo! I’m supposed to be playing celestial jade in an hour, how did I get here…?” She mutters, completely engrossed in her aimless search.

@worst-archivist

[worst-archivist]

“Ah, yeah. I’d apply at the Divination Commission if you’d take my spot at the archives. Classic switcharoo, no one would notice.”

“But I’m sure someone would pick up on our differences in work ethic. Unlike some, I have the slightest hint of pride in what I do.”

what do you call an alligator in a vest? an investigator.

A few too many seconds of awkward silence pass, broken only by a drawn-out sigh and slow clap.

“Congrats on giving me a migraine. I’d ask if you’re here to make a statement, but I’d expect you’d throw out another pun.”

[worst-archivist]

It takes him a minute to understand the joke.

“That’s… a pun on air conditioning fans, isn’t it? Jesus Christ, Qingque. With how dry that was, you should focus on puns with humidifiers instead.” He can’t help but smirk at this one, then mentally slaps himself for it.

what do you call an alligator in a vest? an investigator.

A few too many seconds of awkward silence pass, broken only by a drawn-out sigh and slow clap.

“Congrats on giving me a migraine. I’d ask if you’re here to make a statement, but I’d expect you’d throw out another pun.”

[worst-archivist]

“Stallion novel-? What do you…” He was thoroughly confused what this meant until the girl mentioned being surrounded with women. “OH. WOAH woah woah, you have got the WRONG picture. I’m not, well, at least I’m not… Can’t say how much I speak for the others, LEAST of all Tim or Elias but-“ He stopped himself, realizing that he’s rambling.

“You’ve, uh, got me off topic. I… I will not be coming back to that. Anyways, you mentioned transmigration? You’re already familiar with the topic?” He can’t help his attention being drawn towards this. Dealing with the paranormal may be his job, but he’s always had a sort of fixation with it. If there’s some piece of information she knows that he doesn’t, he’ll get to the bottom of it. He has to.

“I… Don’t think I’ve introduced myself. Jonathan Sims, head archivist of…” he looks around, “Of whatever you’d want to call this. I’d love for you to tell me what you know. Don’t hold anything back.”

He’s also considering what this stranger said about ‘getting back home’, but with transmigration being mentioned, his mind is far past sidetracked. To be quite frank, it’s derailed completely.

“Oh, huh… I don’t think that’s supposed to make that noise, but okay…” The young woman standing in a dimly-lit office begins shuffling through the papers once more. A red light attached to device in a corner goes off.

“Damn it, noooo! I’m supposed to be playing celestial jade in an hour, how did I get here…?” She mutters, completely engrossed in her aimless search.

@worst-archivist

[worst-archivist]

😳 [chanting] STORY TIME STORY TIME STORY T–

(Send 'story time' + an emoji and my muse will tell you about a situation that's happened to them where they felt that general emotion.😳 = flustered)

—————————

“A situation where I’ve been flustered, you ask? I might get like that when I’m proven wrong with something, but that’s a normal reaction, isn’t it? Or-Or maybe when someone points out my… ahem, elderly appearance. I know I look older, but in all actuality I’m only 28. My looks are not my priority, per se, but that doesn’t mean I’m immune to insults.” As if on cue, he brushed aside a strand of greying hair that had fallen past his line of sight.

He went silent, taking a moment to think. “I’m… trying my best to think of an interesting time where I’ve been flustered. I know that you’re expecting something unique. I mean, that’s why you asked, after all. But in general, I really don’t get that way. I’m not an emotional person.”

But there’s one instance where Jon can’t help but get flustered. And to his utter dismay, it seems to follow him through the institute’s halls.

It’s always just around the corridor’s bend, with short, ginger hair, and eyes the same blue as an unending, cloudless sky: Jon’s fellow coworker, Martin K. Blackwood. Jon would hate to admit how accustomed he’s already grown to his company in the few days he’s held this new position, but it’s true.

Jon can claim he hates him all he wants, insult him even. Hell, he has tried everything from giving himself the “ick”, to avoiding Martin’s general presence. But whenever he happens to enter the same room, there’s no denying that split-second glint in his eyes before he tears himself away.

Nor could he defend his flush whenever he’s brought a cup of tea. It’s a simple gesture, simple enough to be interpreted as a random intern’s task that got somehow pushed to Martin. But to him, it’s deeper. It makes him feel something, it lets him feel seen. He just can’t help it, he’s drawn like a moth to an all-seeing flame.

But of course asking Jon, he’s just not ‘one to get flustered.’ He’s not that sort of guy. Not in the slightest.

“…No, I’m sorry. I can’t think of anything at all. I wish I could give you something worth your time.”

[worst-archivist]

“Forget about puns, all I’d need to mention to be a hit comedian is your name. Your existence itself is a joke.”

what do you call an alligator in a vest? an investigator.

A few too many seconds of awkward silence pass, broken only by a drawn-out sigh and slow clap.

“Congrats on giving me a migraine. I’d ask if you’re here to make a statement, but I’d expect you’d throw out another pun.”

[worst-archivist]

“Uhm, no? We don’t have, uh, starsniffs as you say.” Sniffing stars would explain why this girl is talking like she’s on another planet, that’s for sure.

“I’m… quite baffled you don’t even know where you are, but this is the Magnus Institute.” He looked for some sense of realization in her face as he continued. “…London.”

“Those papers on my desk are documented ‘paranormal experiences,’ or so they want to seem.” The latter was mumbled beneath his breath. “Anyways, this celestial jade of yours. Would that go under the same category orrr?”

Jon was trying to make sense of this and was failing terribly.

“Oh, huh… I don’t think that’s supposed to make that noise, but okay…” The young woman standing in a dimly-lit office begins shuffling through the papers once more. A red light attached to device in a corner goes off.

“Damn it, noooo! I’m supposed to be playing celestial jade in an hour, how did I get here…?” She mutters, completely engrossed in her aimless search.

@worst-archivist

[worst-archivist]

☠ ― Send 'story time' + an emoji and my muse will tell you about a situation that's happened to them where they felt that general emotion.

(Alternatively, if you cannot see the emoji(s), you can send the word alone.)

😄 - Happy

🙁 - Sad

😡 - Angry

😣 - Worried

😱 - Scared

😳 - Flustered

😵 - Confused

🙄 - Annoyed

😥 - Hurt

😶 - Embarrassed

🥰 - Lovestruck

😎 - Cool

🤡 - Playful

🥱 - Tired

😑 - Bored

😋 - Hungry

�� - Sick

😮 - Surprised

😌 - Proud

�� - Guilty

😓 - Helpless

😈 - Mischievous

🤐 - Speechless

🥺 - Hopeful

😧 - Disappointed

😉 - Flirty

🤗 - Safe

🥴 - Dazed

🤫 - Shy

[worst-archivist]

what do you call an alligator in a vest? an investigator.

A few too many seconds of awkward silence pass, broken only by a drawn-out sigh and slow clap.

“Congrats on giving me a migraine. I’d ask if you’re here to make a statement, but I’d expect you’d throw out another pun.”

[worst-archivist]

“Hey! That’s not my… I mean, I just-I just found it like…”

He stopped himself from defending the messiness of this hellhole. There was more important matters to attend to, such as the distressingly employed space girl (???) that seemed to be trapped in his office.

Jon motioned to the exit behind him, confused with whatever problem she was trying to explain. “The… the door to leave is right here, if that’s your issue.” He cleared his throat, continuing, “Although, I’m wondering how you ended up here, to be quite honest. I’m usually the one that unlocks these doors in the morning, so how did you…?”

His guard was slowly dropping as his curiosity crept through.

“Oh, huh… I don’t think that’s supposed to make that noise, but okay…” The young woman standing in a dimly-lit office begins shuffling through the papers once more. A red light attached to device in a corner goes off.

“Damn it, noooo! I’m supposed to be playing celestial jade in an hour, how did I get here…?” She mutters, completely engrossed in her aimless search.

@worst-archivist