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#glorious keyboard
cutie-keebs · 1 year
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So I’m in the Philippines right now for the holidays and just found out that there are legit stores that sell keyboard parts.
All of them are just the budget brands like Akko and Royal Kludge, but they also sell Keychrons, Iqunix, and Glorious products.
I went for the GMMK pro since I was eyeing it when I started the hobby. People said its not really a good board but that’s up for me to decide. Now I have to wait for Osume’s Winterglow keycaps and we’re good to go
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kitty-witch-gaming · 1 year
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Streaming has allowed me to start picking up old hobbies that I thought were long buried. It's been 2 years since I last placed a keyframe, and I forgot how much I joy I get out of the animation process
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cyberspacebear · 9 months
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sometimes it hurts so bad knowing the internet will never be young again
that it will never feel new and bright and technological again
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dragonfruitflamb3 · 2 years
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Business as usual
I'm sorry but what kind of business do you do? Because dilfness is a VERY serious profession and those who judge who makes it in and who doesn't is a very serious matter
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splatdoro · 1 month
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this splatfest was so fun!!! Kicked ass and took names!!!
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axemetaphor · 1 year
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oooooh if you change your firefox to be Dark Theme it auto changes tumblr too
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chilled-ice-cubes · 1 year
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What’s wrong with prince of thorns, angel sanctuary and sadistic beauty?
prince of thorns: edgy trash that nevertheless has solid characterisation
angel sanctuary: incestuous trash that nevertheless is compelling
sadistic beauty: horny trash that nevertheless makes me ***
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yok00k · 1 month
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truth or dare
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pairing: hellokittylover/coquette!oc x boxer!jk
genre: angst, fluff
‧₊˚🎧⊹♡— are you playing? truth or dare
synopsis: rumor has it that jungkook is entertaining other girl(s)
word count: 3.3k
warnings: angsty, oc got: attachment issues, daddy issues [like the author], etc. oc is also kinda dumb (and broken) but she’s figuring shit out, lowkey she’s that bitch, jealous!oc, side characters were kinda introduced, mention of jk making out w/ another girl, jk’s character is complex: one sec he’s a playboy and another sec he’s down bad for oc?, open ending, unedited
a/n: this took place when jk and oc were in 2 month situationship and still getting to know one another! so their boundary wasn’t clear..
₊˚⊹ ᰔ
Everything seems to be a dream as soon as you wake up on another glorious day.
you’ve never felt so energized like this before. it’s a little strange to say but, you even feel like you’ve been reborn for some unknown reason. maybe today is going to be a good day for you.
well let’s see.. you’re off from work plus you basically got nothing to do other than clean your room a little for a little bit and to just chill around!
one of the first things you do as soon as you wake up is stare at your phone, particularly to see if jungkook has sent you a message yet as he always never fails to not. a simple yet sweet “good morning pretty :)” and “did my baby girl sleep well?” can add a bright color to your day. it shows that he cares and that he’s thinking about you too.
the anticipated message from your comfort person unexpectedly did not pop out in your notification. it kind of threw you off. jungkook never misses sending you at least one message, precisely at 8:30 every morning. even in the mornings where he had a boxing match the night before. today is indeed such a strange day.
you’re in no position to be sad just because he didn’t message you. in fact, you’re not, you’re just surprised, or so you think. at the same time, you shouldn’t be in shock owing to the fact that there’s no label between you and jungkook. indeed there’s something going on with you and him, whatever that would be except for being girlfriend and boyfriend.
you often ask yourself where you two stand. for you, it’s indistinct to identify what you are to him. all you know is that he is someone special to you. jungkook makes you feel like you’re the prettiest girl in the whole universe every time he’s around you. it’s the way he articulates his words when speaking to you. you can’t explain it.
you’re more than aware that you’re growing emotional attachment to him. getting used to his affection and now that you didn’t receive a message from him to start off your day, it dismays you. although you’re not sure if there's a hidden motive beyond those gut feeling, you choose to ignore it and start typing on your keyboard.
good morning my ggukie!!
r u free today?? kinda wanna hang out with you >o<
delivered | 9:01 am
since you didn’t establish any kind of plan that you’ll be doing today, you’re thinking of inviting him over. you have lots of things to show him, things you purchased when you went shopping with your best friend who also happens to lives next door, Yun-jin
speaking of her before you even forget, you have to call and ask her how her night went from clubbing last night. she initially invited and forced you to go. but your thousands of homeworks and seventy other things on your checklist didn’t permit you to go. partying is always fun, especially with her, but you have to stay focused on your priorities.
you find her inbox off your message app, the first thing you saw was her latest message from this morning
im aliveeeeeeebwwkwwjhskw
sent at 3:33 am
it made you chuckle lightly. she’s completely wasted. there’s no point of calling her as she’s probably still down. so, you decided to pull up to her apartment, bring a few painkillers with you. you’ll bet seven grand that her hangover is going to be so bad.
opening the door using the key she gave you, you spot her laying on the cream and fluffy rug in her cozy white themed living room. you quickly make your way towards her.
“yunny wake up” you said, gently rubbing her back. “i brought you some painkillers, take them quickly” handling her a couple of pain relievers.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ
you’re currently searching for breakfast in her mini fridge, something yun-jin can eat so she’ll feel better. your poor friend is a complete mess as she lazily walks toward the counter in front of you.
“last night was so fun, you should’ve come,” she murmurs, hopping on the bar stool as she watches you cook her breakfast. “Jaeyun won’t stop asking me about you.”
oh you almost forget about him. Jaeyun is Yun-jin’s childhood friend who has a huge interest in you. well that’s what Yun-jin has told you, but you swore to her that you won’t tell him that you know. back in your senior year of high school, you mostly have the same classes as him. oftentimes you two hang out and study together in a local cafe. you enjoy his company a lot, but only as friends. just when you and Jungkook started talking, your friendship with Jaeyun unintentionally grew apart. you lowkey miss hanging out with him. anyways, you take a mental note to check up on him later.
yun-jin tells you more about what you’ve missed. most of them are about the hot guys that she encountered in the night club. that’s not new to you because she’s always out there looking out for hotties.
“oh i forgot to tell you, you remember Blythe? she’s wildin’ last night too” of course, how could you forget about the girl who spreads malicious rumors about you? you genuinely don’t know what’s up with her as she constantly talks shit about you though you never know her personally. to you, she’s just a friend of a friend and some type of hater. indeed, it’s a one- sided beef. she is also known for making out with multiple guys and god knows what at every party she’s in.
“my god, who was her target last night??” you interestedly asked. you and yun-jin have a silly habit of keeping track of her targets. you two soon discover that she goes for the basketball players and athletic guys in general.
“I don't think we’ve seen the guy in a club before but I’ve heard he does underground boxing.” she said as her eyes glanced to her left, trying to recollect her memory. Jungkook might be familiar with the mysterious man. he could be either in his circle or one of his opponents.
you just hum, you expected she’ll go for another basketball player. you guess she’s trying something new.
“but girl, let me tell you. the boxer guy looked so drunk and she was dry humping on him like a damn get a fucking room bro” she adds more details on the tea, while pretending to cry as she covers her eyes.
“wait was the guy totally intoxicated ?” you ask as cracking the eggs on the hot pan.
“No, he was still responding back to her, running his hands around her body and stuff.” you’re glad you didn’t see that yourself, or else you’ll cringe. your friend giving you a summary of how the night went is enough. still, it’s entertaining. for a while.
“let me see if she posted something on her IG” yun-jin utters, pulling out her phone from her pocket.
she taps on her screen multiple times, and finally she finds a story that the girl posted. “look, she posted this”
and with that, yun-jin faces the phone your way. you take a glance on her screen, showing you a low exposure photo of the girl sitting on the uknown guy’s lap. her face is showing while his face wasn't captured. the blurry image seems normal. until your eyes examine the familiar tatted arm that’s wrapped around the girl’s torso. you swear you’ve seen those tattoos before. it takes you a while to recognize the ink into the deep layer of their skin.
then it hits you— those not-so-foreign tattoos belong to jungkook, your jungkook.
oh. your heart suddenly drops.
your eyes lock with the phone screen surface longer than the usual, by which makes your friend frown.
“hey, what’s wrong?” Yun-jin concernedly ask
maybe that’s why he hasn’t texted you yet. maybe he slept wit—
“y/n? you ok?” your friend calls for you again, interrupting your thoughts, though they didn’t fully vanish.
shifting your eyes to her, you blink rapidly “yeah, i’m completely ok,” swallowing your lies away. you can feel your eyes watering, and you don't want your friend to see you break down.
after cooking her breakfast, you decided to head back. “I forgot that I have something to do, I’ll go now” you rapidly put your shoes on
‘she’s not eating this breakfast with me?’ Yun-jin thinks as she watches you leave her apartment.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ
As soon as you get back to your apartment, you walk towards your bedroom. immediately, you throw yourself on the bed.
“I’m so stupid” you groan as you kick the baby pink multi layer bedsheets on your bed.
and once again, you can’t explain this bothersome feeling. anger? feeling betrayed? jealousy? sadness? all of the above?
you can’t understand. no, you’re trying to understand in the midst of confusion.
you really like him, you really do. and he says he likes you too. he even confessed his feelings to you first! since then, it was safe to assume that you two will establish a label soon. you were so sure of it, until now.
how.. how come he’s with another woman?
the more you think about, the more you feel the sting in your heart. the unpleasant emotion is spreading inside your system, it’s urging you to throw up. you find yourself removing dead skin out of your cuticle using your thumbnail, a habit which you only do to relieve anxiety.
you have so many questions that need to be answered. were the feelings he felt about you real? or was he just playing you? or did he just forget that you exist in his life last night? or did he just lose interest in you? these questions bring out your inner conflicts. so many questions you’re afraid to know the real answers of.
just before the skin next to your cuticle bleeds, your focus shifts to the triple loud ping coming from your phone. Of course, those messages belong to the one person who you least likely want to face right now.
morning pretty
sorry just woke up, having a severe hangover rn
still down to hang out? I can pull up a little later
sent at 11:59 am
his text confirms your suspicion, proving that he was drinking heavily last night. you can’t stand seeing him today. you will just cancel your initial plan and make up some lame excuse.
nvm, we can just hang out another time.
no, erase that. you’ll avoid him from now on, there won’t be another time!
nvm, I feel sick. please don’t come over.
seen at 12:00 pm
my poor baby, i’ll take care of u
sent | 12:01 pm
no need, thanks tho
delivered | 12:01 pm
not being in the mood to keep talking to him, you send the last message before putting your phone on ‘do not disturb’ mode. leaving jungkook’s messages unseen
considering that your day has been ruined, you choose to shut down the world and take a long nap.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ
on the other hand, jungkook definitely notices how cold you turned out to be. maybe it's the time of the month for you. thus, today his mission is to grab things you typically crave for: brown sugar milk tea, some sweet pastries from your favorite bakery shop, and finally, the icing to add on top, a bouquet of white roses.
jungkook usually pampers you with a bunch of food and affection. that’s why he pays attention and takes mental notes (or even notes on his phone) of tiny details about you. it satisfies him to see you all spoiled.
that’s the reason why he jumps out of his messy bed and initiates to get ready. starting off his usual morning routine by taking a cold shower. not much time after, he applies his skincare.
Jungkook hears loud chatters of two men talking from his living room as he walks out of his bedroom. he opens the door and perceives his hyungs chilling by his couch.
“yah jungkook, that chick you brought from last night was way out of control” Jimin complains as soon as jungkook enters the living room.
“yeah kook, kicking her out at 3 in the morning wasn’t a good idea. she’s loud as hell and I had to deal with one of your neighbors' complaints again” Taehyung, who was their designated driver, added annoyingly.
“whose chick?” jungkook confusedly asks.
“yours” both of his hyungs exclaim in unison, which the youngest responds with a shrug.
to be honest, Jungkook doesn’t remember shit from last night. he can recollect some memories, but not a whole bunch. drinks. yes, he drank a lot. there was this girl he randomly made out with, however he can’t remember her name or what she looks like. not that she’s relevant to him anyways.
jungkook chooses to not care about the insignificance, he could spend his time better than that. and by the word better, he spends time thinking about you.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ
the constant sound from your doorbell that’s been ringing for who-knows-how-long wakes you up from your wonderful nap.
you gently rubbing your eyes, then you tap the screen of your cellular to see the time; 3:59 pm.
shit, how long were you out for? no idea. you look at your window and see the raindrops rolling down the glass. it was just sunny before you drifted to sleep a few hours ago.
down below to your screen, you notice jungkook messages and a few missed calls from earlier and just now.
7 missed calls from 🐰
55 mins ago
I’ll stay for the night so I can take care of you
delivered | 12:03 pm
just grabbing few things for my baby and I’ll be there soon.
delivered | 12:30 pm
it’s raining heavily and now I’m stuck in traffic
delivered | 1:01 pm
I’m here!
delivered | 1:44 pm
baby? are you home? I'm here
delivered | 1:51 pm
don’t know where u at but I’ll be here waiting at your front door :(
delivered | 1:56 pm
after reading his texts, you rush to the door. there’s no way that man will wait for those hours outside your front doo-
indeed, he’s in front of your door, waiting for you to open up to him as he’s sitting on the ground. besides him, a couple of light brown paper bags, his backpack, and a bouquet of flowers are also laying on the cold cement.
“hi my pretty!” he cheerfully greeted you, rushing to get up from the ground. jungkook walks up to you with a smile full of relief and happiness as if he wasn’t wasting his time for two hours waiting for you right there.
you attempt to avoid his gaze, your eyes examine his black long sleeve that really fits him nice and is damp.
“come in, you should change your clothes.” you mutter coldy
it’s inevitable to not be concerned that he got wet from the rain. Even if you don’t wanna let him in, it will guilt you if he gets ill.
jungkook does what he was told, gathering all the stuff he brings with him and steps into your flat. he feels the strange coldness as soon as he lands his eyes on yours. something isn’t right. something is wrong with you.
He settles his things by your couch and changes into a new oversized t-shirt in front of you. after changing, he reaches for the paper bags to show you the things he got.
“look baby, I got you your favorite drink, some pastries, i know how much you lov-”
“thank you, but you shouldn’t have. I told you to not come” your stern voice cuts him off before he finishes his sentence. you’re trying to keep your cool. your tone is full of nothing but seriousness. not a hint of sweetness in them, which makes jungkook tilt his head on the side, confused by your odd attitude.
“but baby, I just wanted to be here to take care of you.” he insists. by all means, he won’t listen to what you say.
“I hate when you do this” you sigh
“did i do something wrong? are you mad at me?” he attempts to reach you, but you’re too quick to avoid his touch. “tell me what’s wrong baby, please” Jungkook added once more. he doesn’t understand why you avoid him.
“do you treat your other girls like this too?” you ask, eyes shooting lasers at his. an anger rushes through you as the thoughts of him spoiling girls other than you.
“my pretty, what are you talking about?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, looking down closely to you. where are you getting these notions from?
“my friend saw you last night”
it took him a couple seconds to remember
“listen to me baby, whoever I was with, she meant nothing” Jungkook defends himself quickly, reaching for your hand, trying to reassure you that she’s insignificant.
it’s not working.
“I just wish you could’ve told me we weren’t exclusive.” you said wipe a tear from your upper cheek before it could roll down further.
“or maybe I was just dumb to assume we were since you initially told me you liked me, I'm sorry, I don’t really know how this whole thing works” you dryly chuckle, honestly admitting to him that you’ve never been in this type of complicated situation before. now you feel like a fool, getting mad at him for something you can’t hold against him.
jungkook shakes his head, reaching for you one more time, placing his gentle on the side of your face, caressing it. you did nothing as you stood still.
“no, i’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I do like you. I still do and that won’t change. I was just so drunk last night and could barely remember what happened. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”
but somewhere deep down is telling you that he’s only sorry because he got caught.
“you’re free to do whatever you want, Jungkook. I don’t think we’re on the same page so it will be best if we don’t see each other anymore” you articulate as best as you could.
you don’t want to let him go, due to the fact that you’re growing so much feelings towards him. it’s almost as if you’re enamored. but that’s also the same reason why you must let him go. you must, or you’ll get hurt deeper.
“y/n, please don’t say that”
“No, you know how much I like you. you know how much I value you. yet in return, I feel like I’m just a plaything to you that you can play with whenever you want.”
“that’s not true baby, you know that” Jungkook protests, shaking his head. the main problem is you don't. you absolutely have no idea of his motives for pursuing you. is he doing it because he's falling for you too? or he's just playing one of those games. those dangerous games you won't involve yourself with.
he’s looking for words to proves you that his feelings were genuine, but fails to. maybe because he never knows how to show his real feelings. or maybe he was never genuine to start with.
"I'm not one of your playthings. so just— ” you pause, shifting your eyes on the ground. “go away"
Jungkook locks his gaze to you, hoping you will look back at him and take back what you said. but he can read you face and make it seem like he’s not welcome there anymore.
without any words, he leaves, leaving you accompanied with melancholy.
series m.list
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qqueenofhades · 1 month
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I also think leftists view liberals and centrists as worse than right wingers because liberals and centrists maintain the status quo, thus prolonging capitalism. In the case of accelerationists, they think a revolution is only possible if people are desperate enough to want one and so they often align themselves with right wingers who they know will make things worse (see MAGA communism as one example). To them it doesn't matter if the fascists will take power because they believe fascism always fails and communism will naturally follow. All the deaths will be worth it in the end.
I hit ask before I finished. I meant to add in parentheses that all of that is of course an oversimplification, but those are pretty much the arguments I saw in multiple leftists subreddit, on tumblr and twitter in the past few months. I know leftists irl are more normal.
See, this is what I mean when I point out that Online Leftists have become just as much of a zero-sum radicalized death cult as the MAGA Trumpists. They're willing to embrace any atrocity, global disaster, terrible people, and massive death toll as long as they think it'll bring their Shining Ideology (TM) to fruition, and then of course this will last a thousand years and never be changed and humans will bow down as a group to this Shining Ideology and destroying everything will be Worth It In The End. Apparently. This is complete ahistorical genocidal nihilistic gibberish, where any progress to fix the world and make a better future for the billions of people alive right now is actually Bad because What About the Glorious Revolution?!?! It is Totally Real! It Will Work! O Bow To Us Great Keyboard Warrior Dipshits! If You Don't Want to Violently Die With Everyone You Love, You Are Part of the Problem!!!!!
Now, I don't know about you, but I sure as fuck don't feel like sacrificing everyone and everything is a great tradeoff for whatever Communist Utopia these cosplaying pissbabies think would be the ultimate fruition of their labors. It's lazy, it's dangerous, it's stupid, it excuses them from ever having to do any effort to make the world better right now, and it feeds into the worst impulses and movements of humanity and the same mistakes that have been repeated in history over and over. This is basically what the late 19th-century and early 20th-century Communists thought: people would rise up in a Great Socialist Revolution, overthrow capitalism and fascism and every other bad thing in the world (which would somehow never ever come back, I guess) and then the future would be bright and shining forever. In practice, it resulted in tons of bloody and pointless deaths, a lot of failure, and some communist regimes that were absolutely zero improvement whatsoever on the oppressive systems they had replaced (and often were in fact MORE oppressive, but online leftists don't listen to people who actually grew up in these regimes and are not eager to see them come back). And guess what? Capitalism and fascism were not actually defeated Once and For All Time! Because yet again, you cannot just Violently Revolute your way to Ultimate Morally Pure Power once and for all, kill the Right People (aka everyone) and then everything is fixed forever. If it was ever going to work, it would have already done so. It has not. This fallacy is the cause of pretty much all the evil in human history. So. Yeah.
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Text
Unmanageable 1
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Pete Brenner
Summary: your manager sets his eye on your (plus!reader)
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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A thump jolts you from your work. You glance over lazily, chin cupped in your hand, as the murmur of voices follow. You cluck and reach for your earbuds, popping them in your ears before you can hear the subsequent disturbance.
Your job isn't glorious. Nothing really is in Hammer Ford. You're the line IT tech at the local bank working on ancient PCs which can't handle the national system's updates. Most of your time is spent trying to make a simple process work.
Work is work. You could do much worse than sitting forgotten behind a desk as the bank manager gets his jollies off with the clerk. This decrepit town can't offer much better, in terms of both male counterparts and career prospects.
The wired buds don't really block out the ruckus. You lean on an elbow and clack away at your keyboard. It never lasts very long.
You pluck away as the clock above your door ticks on. You yawn with your eyes open, dropping lower and lower as your eyes glaze over. A knock has your spine straight.
You clear your throat and call out, "yes?"
The door opens. Pete, the manager, fixes his tie as he enters, one tail of his shirt untucked, "hey, uh, I was having some issues with my laptop. I know it's not a work device but... I don't wanna drive all the way to the city."
"Hmm, I can have a look after work," you shrug. It's usually nothing. You typically have people calling on you for support outside your office walls.
"After work..." he repeats, "the wife kinda is expecting me to take her out for dinner, so..."
You repress a sigh. He is the manager. If you fall behind, it will only be his own fault.
"Sure, you need me right now?"
His eye brow tweaks and he drags his fingers around his half-grown goatee, "need you... oh, yeah, should I bring it to you or..."
"What's easier for you, sir?"
He chuckles, "you know, you're the only person who calls me that."
You just stare at him. He's your boss and you'd like to keep it that way. You get up, "here, I'll just come look."
"Thanks, sweetie," he grins as you cross the office, "life saver."
"Mhm," you hum as you near him.
He doesn't move. He just stands, his arm across the doorway and watches you. You look past him and clear your throat.
"Right, right," he steps back and swings his arms down, "the computer."
He retreats and turns away. As he does, you see Marska giving him a flustered look. Gross.
You follow him into his office and waits by the door as you pass. You try not to think of what just happened in there. Thankfully, you're not his type.
You wince as the door clicks shut.
"Oh, you don't have to--"
"Right," he overrides your protest, "I'll just get my laptop."
He goes around his desk and pulls out a sleek macbook. You don't see many of those. He puts it facing you and opens the lid.
"I'll let you poke around," he says as he presses his fingertip to the censor to unlock it, "it's just the damn mousepad."
"Right," you step up and squint at the screen. You lean in touch the pad. It's definitely lagging.
He strides away, pacing on the other side of the desk, hands in his pockets.
"Thing's too fancy for me," he scoffs, "but I like the look of it."
"It's a good machine," you confirm as you go into his drivers, searching for updates.
You feel him watching you but shrug it off. Everyone's a little touchy when you're on their personal device. He stops and bounces on his feet.
The cursor continues to jump around as you scroll and suddenly a window pops open. Safari resumes it's last tab and you quickly hit command W as you see a pending wheel atop a very explicit video. Yikes.
You try to not show the slip up as you go back to searching the drivers, "you got antivirus?"
"Uhhh, I think," he answers as if it isn't essential.
"Hm, doesn't look like it," you mutter, "I'm updating the mouse driver but you need security software."
"Right," he comes around as you click through the system window to update. He stands behind you and watches over your shoulder, "got any recs? I'll get it set up right away."
"Bitdefender's good," you suggest.
"Mm," he leans down, against you, putting his hands on the desk on either side of the laptop, "think you could show me where to find that."
"I can send you a link," you grit out, prickling at his proximity.
"Well," you move your arm back, prodding him with your elbow, soft enough for it to seem accidental, "that should be fine once it updates."
He huffs but backs away. Your neck is stiff with tension. You face him and check your watch.
"I'll get back to it," you say.
"Yeah, thanks, sweetie," he chimes, "sure you don't want a coffee? Take a load off."
"I'm good," you insist, "got a lot to do."
You open the door before he can catch up to you. As you leave, Marska watches over her shoulder from the front desk. You ignore her and quickly hide in your office. Knowing Pete isn't too aware of security procedures, you should do a review of the serves to make sure everything's safe.
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another-lost-mc · 8 months
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Can we hear about Simeons missexts please? I love chaos
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➤ adventures with technology: sexting | simeon
nsfw | gn!reader | other characters briefly mentioned
cw: mentions of (attempted) dirty talk/messages; sending/receiving dirty pics (badly)
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— He likes to use proper spelling/grammar when he texts, but he'll get more lax about it when he's too horny to care.
— It takes him a while to realize that the software autocorrects things. He's texted I wanna duck you so bad more times than you can count which is a bit of a mood killer.
— (He gets flustered when you send him random duck emojis to tease him about it later.)
— He switches the keyboard to one of the demonic languages by accident. He can read some of the old tongues, you can't read any at all. It's really embarrassing when he hands his phone over to someone to fix it for him because he knows what they'll see if they peek at his message history to you. (It's usually a variation of where and how he wants fuck you.)
— He's bad at taking pictures. His selfies are usually blurry and out of focus.
— His sexy selfies and dick pics are even worse. He has trouble getting the angle right, or he leaves the flash on and it illuminates his cock in a harsh light that isn't very appealing.
— Sometimes when he tries to take a dick pic, he turns the front-facing camera on by accident so instead of his glorious angel cock, you see a blurry shot of his face, brows furrowed and hair falling haphazardly across his face while he concentrates.
— He forgets how to send you the pics/videos. He's too embarrassed to ask anyone else for help. You wrote up a little how-to guide in his Notes app, but he forgot how to access that too.
— The next time you see him, he hands you his D.D.D. and lets you look through them in-person.
— (This has the added benefit of having you within arm's reach when you get a little hot and bothered after you look at them together.)
— He likes it when you send him dirty voice messages or recordings of yourself, but he forgets how to adjust the volume on his D.D.D. so sometimes it starts blaring through the speakers. (He stopped trying to listen to these anywhere but the privacy of his room.)
— He has sent photos to the wrong contact in his phone by accident. He has also sent them in group chats too.
— (Mammon keeps a betting pool going about how long it'll be until Simeon's next dick pic screw-up.)
— As a joke, the others will sometimes mess around with Simeon's phone settings on purpose when he asks them for help with something else completely unrelated. He still can't figure out why it sends you 🍆 emojis whenever he types the word cock.
— One evening they changed your contact name in his phone to Michael for a laugh. The next morning, Simeon sent "you" a detailed text about what he dreamt about the night before:
Good morning, love. You looked breathtaking at the dance last night. I wish you could've spent the night here with me. I woke up hard just thinking about how gorgeous you were. Your skin is so soft, I'd love to feel your thighs squeezing around my cock right now. Tpying wit one hand isso tedious, can yoou call me ijnstead? I want you to hear me when i come
— He thought "your" reaction was an attempt to be coy and teasing at first, until he realized he wasn't talking to you at all. Needless to say, no one else has tried to pull that kind of stunt again.
— (The archangel is also growing increasingly concerned about the Devildom's influence, and yours, on Simeon.)
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captain-mj · 28 days
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So the King Koenig (don't have german keys on my keyboard lol)?? With Horangi being his like?? Concubine I'm assuming since you said lover instead of husband?? Elaborate.
I said lover cause I hadn't decided, but let's go with concubine/courtesan <3
König hated peace meetings. Truly, he did. Right now the representative for the other side was rattling on and on, but they had a wandering gaze. It kept listing off to his right side where his lover was.
Horangi.
König looked at him and he couldn't blame the man for gazing. His mask was an elegant black shape with some red accents, covering the bottom half of his face. The hood on his robe had been pulled up to cover the rest of him, the only exception being his eyes. There was a gold collar around his pretty throat and gold bracelets on his wrists to signify that he was owned. Owned by König.
Despite being mostly covered, he was clearly a beautiful man. Beautiful dark eyes with such long eyelashes that fluttered every time he blinked.
"Should he be here?" They said softly, their displeasure clear.
"Why wouldn't he?"
"I don't believe we should bother a concubine with our discussions of politics."
König glanced at him, body tensing like a predator ready to pounce. For a glorious moment, he thought of ripping his jugular out. The man, despite his obvious chagrin, switched back to the topic at hand.
How dreadful. Was the poor man a eunuch? Could he not understand that after hours of this droll talk, he liked having handsome company to spend time with?
His mind started to wander to better things he could be doing. Like dragging Horangi to bed or kissing him or snuggling later.
As the meeting drew to close, the man asked him his thoughts. Only problem was König had tuned him out completely.
"One moment." He purred, trying not to let this guy know that. He tilted his head to Horangi who leaned up.
"Boils down to him getting a chunk of land for farming and you get access to a river we need to travel to the northern countries."
Another thing König loved about Horangi. He made things easy.
"I agree to the deal." König glared at the man. "I'll allow my advisors to talk over where the land is. I have more important matters to attend to." He got up and walked away, tugging Horangi by his hand.
Horangi moved quickly to his side to press into him. His arm went around Horangi's shoulders instead.
"My King, you really should pay more attention to things."
"It's boring." König groaned as he led them to his chambers. "I much prefer to have you do that. It interests you."
"Your advisors dislike your dependency on me. They believe I'm influencing you."
König pulled off his hood, loving the way Horangi's body instinctively relaxed and softened upon seeing his face. "Hong-jin, if you asked me to burn down every country I came across, I'd do it. I'd poison the rivers. Raze crops. Slaughter people." He kissed along his exposed wrists. "For your love, a kingdom seems small."
"I don't want that." Horangi chided. "I much prefer the violence you show in the field to the sadistic acts of a tyrant."
"Remind me to fight with my troops more." König sat back, treating the bed how he would a throne. His legs were open and his back straight. Power radiated off of him. It was all posturing, but it was undeniably effective.
Horangi slipped his robe off, leaving himself in just the jewelry. Besides the collar and bracelets, he did have necklaces and earrings in. Decorated. Along his hips were tattoos intertwined with scars that were made to resemble tiger stripes. His dark hair fell around his ears and spiked up, a mess from being put under a hood all day.
"Would you prefer if I rode you or should I lay down?" Horangi purred.
König swallowed. "Lay down for me."
Horangi slid past him and got on his knees, stretching and putting his ass on display for a moment before twisting and laying on his back.
König undid his belt, slowly sliding it from his loops. It hit the ground with a thud.
Horangi shivered a little and König wondered what he was thinking. The anticipation seemed to get to him as goosebumps broke out among his naked skin.
HIs shirt and pants fell on the ground not too long after. His giant hands ran along Horangi's inner thighs. "Beautiful."
Horangi smiled lazily. "My King, you know I don't like to wait."
"Not waiting. Savoring. There's a difference." He chided but he kissed him.
His legs wrapped around König's core and he rubbed against him, reveling in the skin against skin.
König held his legs open and got the special oil he kept specifically for Horangi. It smelled nice and it held heat easy. His fingers danced along his inner thighs until Horangi whined wordlessly. How could he continue to deny him when he sounded like that?
Carefully, he slid one of his fingers into his warm body. "So tight, Kätzchen. So small."
Horangi moaned and pushed back, desperate for it despite the burn. König put his hand on his lower back so he could feel Horangi roll his hips against him. Before long, he added another finger, loving the little mewls it got from him.
He reached deeper into him, stretching him out and preparing him thoroughly.
"Just put it in already." Horangi ordered, thrashing a little. "Want your cock. I don't need to be coddled."
"Prepped and coddled are very different things."
Horangi hissed at him and clawed at his shoulders. "Come on. Break me open. Don't you want to see me cry from it?"
König groaned. "Such a filthy mouth."
Horangi glowered before grinning viciously. "Fuck me like that representative wanted to. Fuck me like I'll finally shut up."
König flipped him over so his face was in the bed and yanked his hips up. With a smooth motion, he thrust into him, feeling more than hearing the squeak it forced out of Horangi. Despite Horangi's goading, he rocked into him to start, trying to make sure he wouldn't tear him.
The moment he was certain Horangi really could handle it, he pulled out until just the tip was in before shoving himself all the way back in. He grabbed him and forced him to bend further, sliding in as deep as he could.
"Just like that, 애인. Just like that." Horangi moaned sweetly, trying his best to get closer. His hand reached down and pressed at his lower stomach, intensifying the pressure for both of them.
König was a machine in bed. He didn't stop, didn't falter. He pulled all the way out every time, only occasionally stopping to grind into Horangi's prostate to get a few mewls out before going back to his thrusting.
His lips pressed against Horangi's shoulders and back, loving him dearly. His Horangi.
He switched his grip to instead pull him up and to his chest, thrusting up and into him.
Horangi clenched when he was deep inside, trying to please König. Pleasure sparked through him each time he could feel him bare down.
His thrusts sped up as he started to get close. "This what you wanted? Learn your place yet?"
Horangi nodded quickly and pressed further into him. "Just like that. I love you."
"I love you too." König whispered to him, stroking Horangi slowly. Horangi came hard and the fluttering of his tight hole dragged König over the edge. "I love you. I love you so much. My stars. My love. My heart."
Horangi bit into König's arm, tightening his grip as König fucked him through both of their orgasms. His legs had a slight tremble in them when he finally went limp and satisfied.
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ask-viggo-and-dagur · 3 months
Note
Dagur. Let's not pretend you don't got the hots for hiccup, c'mon spill the tea.
Same goes for you Viggo.🤭🤭
Dagur: Oh, I’m not pretending. At all. Hiccup is glorious. Have you seen him? Have you seen that subtle muscle refinement from dragon riding? And those eyes? And holy fuck, don’t get me started on his hair. Ughn…
Viggo: I think Dagur needs some time alone. He just got drool all over the keyboard. And yes, well, I’ve come to accept my feelings for Hiccup, whether they may be returned or not.
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sunboki · 1 year
Text
-> IT'S NOONA TO YOU
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han jisung x implied fem! reader
warnings — alcohol usage, cursing, reader is almost harassed, protectiveness, fluff, comfort, drunkenness, reader is stressed, making out, somewhat suggestive content, mean bosses :(
w.c — 1.1k
summary — the drinking party your colleagues invited you to sounded like a great way to spend this long-awaited friday night, one of those colleagues being han jisung. he’d always been a sweetie to you, but when a drunk friend gets a little too comfortable you discover a side to han you’ve never seen before.
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This week had been shit. The people you worked with were great, yeah, but your boss? He could choke for all you care.
You see, this lunatic had the nerve to place even more work on your shoulders on a Wednesday. Literally two days before a glorious Friday and two days before your colleagues wanted to meet up for drinks.
You pushed through, but not without a few mental break-downs and never-ending cups of coffee along the way.
Thursday evening was your breaking point, one day before a relaxing outing and you were convinced you’re losing it. Head shoveled into your hands with frustrated tears leaking between your fingers.
However the internal panic attack was disrupted by Han Jisung, by far one of the sweetest guys in the office who apparently was working late as well. He peeked his head over at you, round eyes filled with concern.
“Don’t look at me right now, I look horrible.” You groan, eyes screwed shut.
“I don’t care, I just want to make you feel better,” that sheepish smile returned to his face, guiding you out of your seat, “How about we go for chicken and beer?” The dark-brown haired boy suggested, eyebrows lifted expectantly.
“We’re having beer tomorrow with everyone else at the meet-up.” You groaned, beginning to edge back to where your desk was.
Yes, beer did sound great, but drinking with Jisung would have to wait until tomorrow. For now there was work to do, work that your asshole of a boss wanted finished.
“Then at least some coffee? You might need some more caffeine before getting back to work.” He sighed, giving the scattered mugs surrounding your space a dirty look.
And I mean, the sweetheart was trying his hardest to pull you from your stress, you might as well give in. Especially when he was offering you free coffee. How could you say no?
The iced beverage tasted better when you were sitting with Han, sipping away your misery for a short moment.
“Looking forward to tomorrow?” He glanced up, the wafting scent of his drink floating over to you. That’s when you realized the traitor wasn’t even drinking coffee at a coffee place, but tea instead. What a grandpa. But it was nice how he was doing this for your sake.
As you said, a sweetheart.
Maybe this was the support you needed to make it to the next day.
Wrong.
The remainder of the night was hell, but sending your boss a not-so-friendly message along with the finished documents sailed you to Friday.
Lucky for you, the few hours before your outing you’d spent getting ready for the drinking party—not typing away on your keyboard like a possessed spirit. Something comfortable but almost rewarding, like your good job badge of making it to the end of the week.
“Jeon and Makgeolli are better!”
“You dumbass it’s beer and chicken!”
Your colleagues playfully argued, laughing and clinking glasses around you. The atmosphere was lively. Actually, almost relieving.
Apart from Yuna, a friend of yours, trying to persuade you to mix Soju with beer, everything was going fantastic. That was.. apart from when a drunk Hojeong stumbled towards you.
“Oh.. Y/n’s so pretty. Don’t you think so?” He seemed to speak to Yuna who’d moved across the room long ago to talk to Jeongin, apparently hammered.
Unbeknownst to you, Han Jisung, the traitorous tea-drinker was staring at Hojeong with a not-so-friendly glare from across the table.
Not knowing how to react, you nervously laughed, discomfort written all over you. And when Hojeong slipped beside you on the long booth, you slid further away.
“Y/n~ don’t be getting all shy on me! I can’t help but want to be close to pretty girls.” But as his hand inched to grab your shoulder, an opposing force gripped Hojeong’s wrist, stopping his movements.
“First off it’s not Y/n, it’s Noona to you, can’t you see she’s uncomfortable? It’s disrespectful to touch a person without their permission.” This tone of voice was unlike you’d ever heard, especially not from the man with such a happy façade like last night. Upon realizing it was Jisung your jaw went slack.
Holy shit.
In all your years of working with Han Jisung, he’d never sounded so incredibly sexy and scary at the same time. Perhaps it was the few shots you’d had earlier or the way the veins in his forearms flexed unconsciously that had you melting in your seat.
“Ugh. Fun sucker.” Hojeong groaned, slumping like a dejected dog. Nonetheless he pulled away, leaving you to yourself—better yet, leaving you with the struggle of not being able to think of Jisung the same ever again.
Ironically, that happy façade appeared just as fast.
“Are you okay Noona? He didn’t touch you did he?” The worried man scanned you, brows knitted together anxiously.
“Can I kiss you, Jisung?” The words didn’t even appear to be a question, dazed as you glanced at his plush lips that looked far too lonely for your liking.
What was in those shots?
Han gulped, using his first name like that with that face was dangerous, especially coming from you. Not here. Not in this busy restaurant.
“We have to take this outside.” He led you to the side of the building, pout adorning his face, “Why would you ask that then.. I wouldn’t have been able to control myself.”
“Then lose control here, it’s just us.” You’re drunk. Because no way the Jisung you knew was picking you up by the thighs to practically eat your face in the hottest make-out you’d ever experienced.
First come first serve huh.
“Noona.. I want you.” Han hummed, soft pink lips swollen and hair tousled from your tugging—his eyes glazed over with lust.
“What happened to you? The soft-spoken Hannie.” You giggled, looking down at him whilst his arms securely held your legs around his waist, responding with a childish whine. His chubby cheeks dusting a rosy hue, you and your nicknames would be the death of him.
“C’mon, I’m walking you home.”
The stars looked exceptional, twinkling brightly overhead as the two of you trodded along the sidewalk towards your apartment. Yet the thought plaguing your head managed to slip out and likely threaten to ruin the atmosphere.
“You’re hot when you’re mad.” You mumbled, going point blank at the realization of what you just said. Out loud. Not a quiet, internal monologue. Out. Loud.
“What was that?”
“Huh? Nothing.. nothing at all. The wind.” You waved aimlessly, face burning.
He heard every word.
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all rights for this work are owned by @sunboki
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blood-orange-juice · 3 months
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I don't get this guy. I don't get this guy at all. The moment I think I Got This Guy someone quotes a line I don't know how to explain.
Another one from Labyrinth Warriors:
Childe: This may come as an unpleasant surprise to Miss Xinyan and Shiki Taishou, but I'm not someone who cares for allegiance and affiliation. 
Childe: Good and evil, right and wrong, duty and destiny... are these things really so important? Are they really more appealing than the euphoria of battle and close combat?
So... no grand glorious goal, no special destiny (or perhaps none that he cares for?), no sense of duty. No morals either.
Sir, why are you *behaving* then? He's surprisingly restrained for someone who thinks like that.
Why the No Lying thing? Ok, I can theorise he just doesn't want to overcomplicate things.
Why the maniacal keeping of promises? That doesn't help with anything (except for making him slightly more palatable to the general public).
He obviously tries not to kill when it's not necessary (to the point where we have no confirmation whether the guy has ever killed a human). He doesn't start fights first. There are some pretty strict rules that he follows and those seem to get him very little actual fighting. Seems a bit counterproductive.
Why the constant larp. Ok, maybe it's not larp, his set of social skills Just Looks Like That (understandable, considering where he got it).
Also that whole preciousness of childhood dreams thing. Looks like a moral stance to me.
Perhaps I'm overthinking things and there's truly nothing else? Battle as a form of trascendence, a tendency to only feel alive on a hefty dose of adrenaline, a few human attachments. Attachments come with a desire to make loved ones happy, I suppose that could somewhat humanise his behaviour.
Still doesn't explain half of it.
Or I'm overcomplicating things and he's trying to convince himself he really thinks that. Not exactly lying but not the truth either.
*bangs her head on the keyboard*
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galactic-academia · 2 months
Text
There is a fury to Terry Pratchett’s writing: it’s the fury that was the engine that powered Discworld. It’s also the anger at the headmaster who would decide that six-year-old Terry Pratchett would never be smart enough for the 11-plus; anger at pompous critics, and at those who think serious is the opposite of funny; anger at his early American publishers who could not bring his books out successfully.
The anger is always there, an engine that drives. By the time Terry learned he had a rare, early onset form of Alzheimer’s, the targets of his fury changed: he was angry with his brain and his genetics and, more than these, furious at a country that would not permit him (or others in a similarly intolerable situation) to choose the manner and the time of their passing.
And that anger, it seems to me, is about Terry’s underlying sense of what is fair and what is not. It is that sense of fairness that underlies Terry’s work and his writing, and it’s what drove him from school to journalism to the press office of the SouthWestern Electricity Board to the position of being one of the best-loved and bestselling writers in the world.
It’s the same sense of fairness that means that, sometimes in the cracks, while writing about other things, he takes time to punctiliously acknowledge his influences – Alan Coren, for example, who pioneered so many of the techniques of short humour that Terry and I have filched over the years; or the glorious, overstuffed, heady thing that is Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable and its compiler, the Rev E Cobham Brewer, that most serendipitious of authors. Terry once wrote an introduction to Brewer’s and it made me smile – we would call each other up in delight whenever we discovered a book by Brewer we had not seen before (“’Ere!’ Have you already got a copy of Brewer’s A Dictionary of Miracles: Imitative, Realistic and Dogmatic?”)
Terry’s authorial voice is always Terry’s: genial, informed, sensible, drily amused. I suppose that, if you look quickly and are not paying attention, you might, perhaps, mistake it for jolly. But beneath any jollity there is a foundation of fury. Terry Pratchett is not one to go gentle into any night, good or otherwise.
He will rage, as he leaves, against so many things: stupidity, injustice, human foolishness and shortsightedness, not just the dying of the light. And, hand in hand with the anger, like an angel and a demon walking into the sunset, there is love: for human beings, in all our fallibility; for treasured objects; for stories; and ultimately and in all things, love for human dignity.
Or to put it another way, anger is the engine that drives him, but it is the greatness of spirit that deploys that anger on the side of the angels, or better yet for all of us, the orangutans.
Terry Pratchett is not a jolly old elf at all. Not even close. He’s so much more than that. As Terry walks into the darkness much too soon, I find myself raging too: at the injustice that deprives us of – what? Another 20 or 30 books? Another shelf-full of ideas and glorious phrases and old friends and new, of stories in which people do what they really do best, which is use their heads to get themselves out of the trouble they got into by not thinking? Another book or two of journalism and agitprop? But truly, the loss of these things does not anger me as it should. It saddens me, but I, who have seen some of them being built close-up, understand that any Terry Pratchett book is a small miracle, and we already have more than might be reasonable, and it does not behoove any of us to be greedy.
I rage at the imminent loss of my friend. And I think, “What would Terry do with this anger?” Then I pick up my pen, and I start to write.
Extracted from Neil Gaiman’s introduction to A Slip of the Keyboard: Collected Non-fiction by Terry Pratchett
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