#IT Service Desk Analyst
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Congrats, | Pallagani Sridevi, Selected in HCL | 3LPA | E &T, PoY2021| Visakhapatnam, Andhra Pradesh
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Top 20 IT Help Desk Interview Questions and Answers [12 extra questions Updated]
Let’s see the top mostly asked interview questions and its answers for IT Help Desk to prepare you for next interview questions, read this if you want to attend for IT service Help desk interview questions. Read blog in just one Click:-
#it help desk interview questions#helpdesk interview questions#service desk analyst interview questions#help desk interview questions#service desk interview questions
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Acts of Service



pairing: spencer reid x coworker!reader
tone/content : Flirty, slow-burn workplace tension with classic Reid awkward charm
Word Count: ~1,050
a/n: from the poll yall. I had to download the app on my phone and transfer it🤧. Don’t worrry I come in clutch (not proof read….🧍♀️)
It started with the Garcia file.
You distinctly remember it being halfway done — notes scattered, references highlighted, a sticky note with a reminder to cross-check timestamps on page five. But when you opened it the next morning, it was pristine. Fully annotated. Color-coded margins. Footnotes. With APA citations.
At first, you chalked it up to a moment of overachieving late-night productivity. Maybe you'd done it in a fugue state. Maybe your brain was broken. Or maybe Emily had gotten bored and overly helpful after one too many Red Bulls. Wouldn’t be the first time.
But then it happened again.
And again.
By the fourth mystery-completed file, you were suspicious.
You glanced across the bullpen, eyes narrowing. Emily was sipping coffee innocently. Morgan was deep in conversation with Hotch. Garcia was mid-rant about someone in Cyber Crimes who dared call her a “data analyst.” Everyone looked appropriately overwhelmed.
Except Spencer.
Dr. Reid sat at his desk, tapping his pen against his lip while reading over a document — your document. The unmistakable teal header from your case notes peeked out beneath his hand. And was that… your handwriting?
You stood slowly, squinting. Then crossed the bullpen with all the subtlety of a jungle cat.
“Hey, Spencer.”
He startled like he’d been caught breaking into a safe. “Hi! Hello. Hey. Good morning.” His voice did that pitchy nervous thing, the one that meant his brain had already cycled through nine potential exit strategies and decided none of them would work.
You leaned on his desk.
“That’s my case summary.”
He blinked. “Oh. Right. I—uh—I was just reading it.”
“Reading it. Or rewriting it?”
Spencer flushed.
You crossed your arms, trying not to grin. “Reid. Have you been… finishing my files?”
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Define ‘finishing.’”
“Rewriting case synopses. Cleaning up victimology timelines. Adding footnotes in Latin.”
“…okay, yes. But it’s not like— I didn’t mean to! Not at first.” He rushed to explain, words tumbling. “It started because I saw your file on the coffee table and I noticed the timeline had a two-hour discrepancy between when the suspect left the gas station and when the body was found, and I thought, well, that’s probably important, so I checked the timestamps, and then—then I realized it needed clarification, and by the time I looked up, it was…done.”
You blinked.
“And then it kept happening?”
Spencer nodded, sheepish. “They’re just… fun to work on. Yours are fun.”
You tilted your head. “You think my case files are fun?”
He smiled, that shy, endearing half-smile you hated how much you liked. “They’re very organized. And you leave sarcastic comments in the margins sometimes. It’s like… an annotated tour of your brain.”
That one caught you off guard. A little flutter somewhere deep in your chest.
“I thought maybe you were annoyed,” you admitted, quieter now. “I figured you were fixing my mistakes.”
Spencer looked horrified. “No! Not at all. You don’t make mistakes. I mean- statistically, everyone makes mistakes, but yours are minor and usually spelling-related and once you spelled ‘unsurvivable’ with two R’s but I thought it was kind of charming-”
You laughed, covering your face. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
He cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. “Sorry. I’ll stop. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
You glance down at the neat stack of color-coded papers on his desk, your name typed at the top, your scribbles still faintly visible beneath his tidier notes. Something warm unfurls in your chest. You shake your head.
“You don’t have to stop.”
Spencer blinks. “Really?”
You shrug, a little self-conscious now. “If you like doing it, and I still get the credit, I mean… who am I to take away your nerdy acts of service?”
His ears go pink. “Acts of service?”
You smile, grabbing your folder back from his desk, fingers brushing his as you do. “Spencer, this is the workplace equivalent of braiding my hair and packing me lunch. Admit it.”
He looks momentarily dazed. “Do you… want me to pack you lunch?”
You laugh, walking backward toward your desk. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Romeo.”
Spencer watches you retreat, stunned and very clearly flustered. When you sit, you peek up just in time to catch him smiling stupidly at his paperwork.
It happens again the next day. And the next.
Eventually, the team stops asking why your files are always perfect.
But you catch the way Hotch glances between the two of you. The way JJ smirks when Spencer brings you coffee. The way Garcia fake-swoons every time he quietly slips a revised summary onto your desk like some criminal-profiling fairy godmother.
You don’t mind.
Because now, every time you open one of those perfectly polished files, you find a new note — sometimes just a margin doodle, sometimes a quote, once an actual equation that solved a joke you’d made in passing two weeks prior.
Eventually, one of the footnotes reads:
P.S. If you ever want dinner instead of coffee, I’m available.
—S.R.
You don’t annotate the note.
You just write your number on a sticky note and place it under his favorite pen.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfiction#request#fanfic#lizzylizard#coworker!reader#coworker!reader x reader
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Back to Me
PAIRING: idol!Jaehyun x militarygeneral!Reader
GENRE: smut, angst
SUMMARY: The youngest and first female military chief is embroiled in a dating scandal. While she isn't willing to put his rumored beau at risk, the man is a willing participant, only if she would allow him.
WARNINGS: overstimulation, Jaehyun has a bulge kink, pussy eating, it gets messy at the end there's mentions of blood and violence, my military terms for sure aren't accurate so please read with a grain of salt! <3
enjoy!
8.5k word count
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Breaking News: South Korea's Youngest and First Female Military Intelligence Chief Finally Has a Beau?
Seoul, South Korea — In a surprising turn of events, South Korea's youngest and first female Military Intelligence Chief, General YN Park, who has captivated the nation with her unprecedented rise in the military, is reportedly no longer flying solo.
General YN, just 36 years old, broke multiple glass ceilings when she assumed the top position in South Korea's National Intelligence Service (NIS) last year. Known for her unparalleled strategic mind, her dedication to national security, and her stoic public persona, the news of her newfound relationship has caught everyone off guard.
Despite the intense scrutiny and pressure associated with her high-profile role, the General has managed to keep her private life out of the public eye until now. Rumors about a mystery beau have been swirling for weeks due to surfaced photos with a man whom other sources say to closely resemble NCT 127’s member, Jung Jaehyun.
Although no one has confirmed the identity of the man in the photos, some have pointed out that he appears to be familiar with the General’s close-knit circle.
"We’ve never seen General Park in this kind of casual setting before," said Han Min-seok, a military analyst and former intelligence officer. "It’s a rare glimpse into her personal life, and it’s sparked a lot of curiosity. Given her high profile and position, the idea of her having someone close to her is, frankly, surprising, and people are eager to know more."
Despite the media frenzy, neither the General’s office nor the Ministry of National Defense have issued any statements about the photos. Sources close to the General have been tight-lipped, and her team has refused to answer questions about her personal life. However, some insiders suggest that Park has always maintained a strict separation between her career and her personal matters.
For now, speculation remains rampant. Public reactions have been mixed, with some expressing support for the General’s right to a private life, while others are questioning the potential impact of her relationship—whatever its nature—on her leadership role. General Park’s legacy as a trailblazer for women in the military, particularly in her groundbreaking position, may be complicated if her personal life begins to overshadow her professional achievements.
One thing is certain: South Koreans are watching closely, and the mystery of General Park’s private life seems poised to captivate the nation in the days to come.
As the story develops, stay tuned for more updates on this intriguing, and increasingly personal, story.
—-----
After reading the news article, you gave the tablet back to your chief of staff. "I don't know what you want me to do about this, Yujin, but I have an audience with the President tonight."
Yujin looks at you incredulously. "Exactly my point. You don’t think he’s going to grill you on this?"
You sift through the mountain of files on your desk and let your eyes linger on the names of the people that kidnapped eight south-koreans, including the of the National Assembly’s current speaker, all in exchange for ransom and request for extradition of their Russian mafia leader. The case has been a real headache and you want nothing but to make sure you get everyone out of this chaos unscathed.
"No, because we have a high profile kidnapping case to solve."
“You say that but the president has never missed an opportunity to inquire about your romantic stints! So can you please let me do my job and tell me if any of these are true?”
It was your turn to look at Yujin incredulously. "There's nothing. It was just dinner as friends."
"Are you sure? Because we're releasing a denial on this and you can't make me retract this next month even if I have to resign!"
And just when you're about to answer Yujin, your cell phone goes off and her eyes go big at the name it displays. She snatches your phone before you can and answers it and puts it on speaker mode. "Speak." Yujin mouths.
You roll your eyes. "Jaehyun, Yujin is listening in."
"What the fuck, YN."
"Yujin, language." Jaehyun laughs from the other line while Yujin is seething.
You allow yourself to sit down. You also massage your temples because of how Yujin is acting at the whole thing. She’s always been efficient at being Chief of Staff ever since you took the position as Chief of Military Intelligence three years ago and while you love her persistence and attention to detail, you don’t like it when you’re the subject of it.
"So I'm guessing you've read the articles."
"Jaehyun, are you two dating?!"
"Jae, don't mind Yujin, I already told her we aren’t and she's going to put that out."
"Wait! I wanted to talk to you about that."
"About what?"
"I was just thinking... I wouldn't mind if you said we were dating."
"What the fuck?"
"YN language."
You scoffed and blurted, "Jaehyun, we aren't dating."
You stand up from your seat and approach the window in your office overlooking the city. Your mind is racing at Jaehyun’s words mulling over what to do about it. You want to swat his soul out of his body for the irresponsibility of just saying whatever he wants. But then it’s Jaehyun, he really does say whatever he wants.
—Beginning—
You recall how you two met. 6 years ago in New York, coming from a scalding session with your then superior, you went straight to a bar of the hotel where you were staying. You were there as part of an activity under South Korea and US’ visiting forces agreement and you had a blunder earlier that day for being provoked by a US Military Officer. You clearly let his provocation get to you so you got a good scolding from your superior. “You are above and better than that,” was what he repeatedly said. And although you’re already used to the heat of military work, you still need to blow off steam for your mental health.
“One old fashioned.”
You put your head down as you wait for the bartender to finish preparing your drink. You feel the shift on the seat next to you but you don’t put your head up. You’re too focused on blowing off steam.
“Can I get a Whiskey?” At the same time the person next to you orders, your drink is ready. You lift your head to take a sip of your drink and you just stare off into space. No thoughts, just head empty.
“Ma’am?” You turn at the sound of your native language and see two pairs of innocent looking eyes stare at you expectantly. You knit your eyebrows and surveyed his whole face and decided he looked vaguely familiar to you. You can’t decide whether his face is familiar because he looks like a model for magazines or because you’ve already seen him somewhere.
“I’m sorry, I’m Jaehyun and I’ve already done my military service in Korea. I sometimes see you at events and during our training. You’re 1st Lt. YN, ma’am.” That’s why he looks familiar. You probably crossed paths more than once.
“It’s Captain now, but yeah, YN. Sorry, Jaehyun, is it?”
“Yes, Captain. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I didn’t expect to cross paths with you here. Are you vacationing?”
You’re wary about sharing too much information but for some reason, the way he talks, his body language, and the slight redness in his ears, puts you at ease. So you engage, a little bit.
“I’m here for work. You?”
“I’m also here for work. Would you mind if I joined you a bit longer?”
You stared at Jaehyun and noted that your instincts and senses aren’t on heightened alert like how it usually does in the presence of a stranger. You don’t sense a hint of malice in his presence and somehow he radiates a certain kind of warmth. How he does it, you don’t know but you decide to just humor yourself.
That night, when you decided it was time to rest, you realized you had a great time. Jaehyun was a conversationalist with a tinge of naughtiness just bubbling beneath the surface of his calm demeanor. You suppose he can’t show his full self yet. Not in front of his once superior, you get that. But even with his restraint, he managed to get more than a laugh or two out of you. Once or twice, his fingers brushed with yours. And more than thrice, you saw his line of sight align with your lips. Nothing escaped you.
If anything impressed you out of the whole exchange, it was him asking for your number. He rubbed the back of his neck while asking if he could get in touch with you sometimes when you’re back in South Korea. “Although of course, I don’t expect you to. You’re the busiest!” He added.
You wanted to give him credit. You’ve talked with many men that had their intentions laid down in the open and while you’re flattered by their respect and interest, no one ever dared to ask for your number when it was time to say goodbye. But Jaehyun did. So you don’t make it hard for him and gave him your number.
You bid your farewells but you remained in touch. You eventually discovered what he does for work and was even more impressed at his talent and charisma. Needless to say, both of you remained friends with all the benefits of it, including great sex.
And god, only thinking about sex with Jaehyun is enough to make your toes curl. He was a great person and an even better fuck. No one can make you cry and beg on your knees apart from him. So you never met anyone anymore. Only he can satisfy the itch you get every once in a while. Only he can make you submit wholeheartedly.
But despite all the passionate nights, never did it progress to something more. Especially not when you were appointed Chief of Military Intelligence three years after you met. There was a quiet acknowledgment that both your professions came first above all else.
And for your part, you could never put his life at risk. You know you were pushing it when you selfishly chose to keep him in your life. To call him when you need a little reprieve from everything. Just the possibility of your enemies targeting Jaehyun for his connection with you is enough to send your stomach spinning. And your enemies are not few. With the bold decisions that had to be made for the safety of the nation, angry people are at your left and right. You vowed to never put the people you care for in a position of danger. Especially not Jaehyun.
You snapped back into reality and addressed Yujin. “Anyway, deny it. We’re not dating. I’m no longer discussing this.”
—One—
“Jaehyun and I are dating,” the way the words rolled off your tongue was more of a question rather than a statement. You chastised yourself because did you really have to end up using this card just to get what you want? In your defense, you’re backed against the wall with no other remedy but to appeal to emotion.
“Come again? Are you two really?” The President is eyeing you very intensely trying to figure out if you were just bluffing. You did a quick look at Yujin and saw her mouth hanging open. “YN, if you’re making this up, you know I’ll see through your bluff,” he adds.
You stand up from where you’re seated, take the Whiskey you’ve been offered a while ago, and maintain eye contact with the President. If there’s anyone who’s best at bluffing, it better be you.
“Mr. President, I tell you I want to do this mission myself but you tell me you worry I won’t be back alive. I tell you I will and that not a single South Korean will die on that night, you tell me you needed assurance. And since my love for this country doesn’t seem enough to convince you that I have the willpower of a bull to pull this off, I’m telling you that I will be back because someone I love is waiting for me. And I can’t bear to disappoint that man.”
The President stares at you, studies you, and you know your sincerity came across. Of course you and Jaehyun aren’t dating. But there wasn’t a single lie on the things you said just now. It’s not normal for the Chief to be the person on the ground doing the mission. But this time, you weighed the risks and you can’t bear having someone else do it. The potential of dying leans more towards dying versus not dying. And while you trust your subordinates, this is something you have to take.
So you weren’t lying. It’s true that you can’t bear the thought of sadness and grief taking over Jaehyun’s handsome face. Not when you’ve never even talked about feelings. You’re going to make it back alive from that mission no matter what it takes.
“Okay,” the President sighs in defeat. “But I need a run down of the plan. I need my general back and make it so until your last limb.”
You gave the President a curt nod, “On my last fucking limb,” You gave a salute to the President and walked out of the conference room. Behind you is a quiet Yujin.
“You’re mad,”
“Of course not. Why would I be mad? We just released an article denying everything about YOU and JAEHYUN dating only for you to confirm it before the President. That’s not something to be mad about.”
You stop in your tracks and turn to face your seething Chief of Staff, “This mission is the most important to me right now.” Yujin seems to soften at the sound of your gentle tone. “And so is going back alive because Jaehyun and I aren’t dating, yet. And I want us to.”
Yujin’s eyes go big at your revelation and she understandfully nods. “Now, let’s plan this mission good,” As you walk towards your office, you send a text message to the person who has no idea what he was pulled into.
Are you free tonight?
—Two—
1 message
Ma’am General: Are you free tonight?
Jaehyun smiles at your message knowing that the only reason you’re sending this is because you want to meet up. And he very much wants to, too. Before he gets to respond, he’s interrupted by Johnny, “You guys down for some drinks after practice?”
“Uh, I’ll pass.” And Johnny chuckles at his quick response, knowing full well why he’s not coming. He sees Doyoung whip his head in his direction. “Jaehyun, are you meeting YN again?! I swear to god, you just had articles about you today!”
He winces at Doyoung’s scolding. It’s mild to say that the management was pissed. They were blindsided, how could they not be pissed. They learned about his “closeness” with you through the news and if that wasn’t enough, an official statement was released confirming that the two of you are in fact not dating. Talk about a whiplash. So he’s not surprised why Doyoung is feeling so sensitive.
“Ya, hyung, give Jaehyun hyung a break,” Haechan butts in. “We’re kinda too grown for this now. I think Jaehyun hyung’s age is the right age to get into dating scandals.” The youngest one winks at his direction and Jaehyun laughs at his cheekiness.
“Thanks Haechan, but I don’t mind. I did kinda blindside everyone. But Doyoung hyung, that should be General YN for all of us.”
Doyoung just sighs and continues with practicing choreo for the group’s upcoming tour. He’ll console the older member later when he’s less angry. He knows Doyoung is coming from good intentions but Jaehyun won’t dare comfort him while he’s in his feels.
“You know he’s just worried right?” Taeyong comes from behind him while fixing his shoes.
“Of course, dating scandals are never good for idols and their groups,” he replied knowingly.
“No, that’s not why,” Jaehyun turns to Taeyong, a bit confused. “The General? Never doubted you could pull a woman like that but shit, that’s some dangerous waters. You’re aware how many enemies she has, right? Especially with some controversial decisions she made, I bet there’s a long list of people targeting her.”
Jaehyun knew. Of course he did. But someone verbalizing it like this just sends a shiver down his spine. His stomach churns at the thought of powerful people putting a big red target on your head. And what’s worse is he’s not in the most ideal position to ensure you’re always safe.
“So Doyoung is just worried because people close to the General also become targets by default and not because he thinks this is affecting the group. Besides, Haechan’s right, it's about time we got involved in dating scandals,” you snicker at the last bit.
Taeyong taps your shoulder and you’re left to your thoughts. But as how he has approached it ever since, he doesn’t dwell on it too much because nothing good is going to come out of that trail of thought.
Technically speaking, you and him aren’t dating. But Jaehyun knows its just a matter of communication. He’s confident where he stands in your life if your moans and late night calls are any indicator of it. But apart from those things, your subtle way of caring always touched his heart. And if that’s all you can give him, he’ll take it.
When am I never? Should I pick you up?
Jaehyun sends you a reply and walks to where his stuff is to start fixing. He finishes packing and bids the team farewell, “See you tomorrow!”
He’s going to take a good shower before meeting you. By how this day went, he’s guessing you’re going to want to melt into a hug immediately and just the thought of it puts a smile on his face. No one knows that side of you. Not even Yujin who has been with you for the longest time since your early years in the military. Only he gets to witness the soft, whiny, and sweet side of the nation’s steelhearted General.
Ma’am General calling…
“Ma’am? Something wrong?” Ma’am has become a pet name between the two of you. He loves how the endearment annoys you just a little bit. So when you respond without any snark, Jaehyun’s a bit worried.
“Nothing wrong. Just… I kinda can’t go anywhere without my security right now. Is it going to be a bother if you went to my place instead? I have something to tell you.”
“YN, of course not. I’m just going to take a shower and head straight to where you are. Also, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yep. Just a lot of things. But I’ll tell you everything later,” you blow out a long frustrated sigh on the other line. “I’m gonna need a year’s worth of sleep after everything.”
“You need coffee, got it.”
“Shit, you’re good. That got me horny,” he chuckles and shakes his head. This is another side of you that has made him fall so hard. “See you in a bit, YN. I’ll be quick.”
—Three—
The door to your house opens and it reveals a very fresh, very newly showered, Jung Jaehyun. In his left hand is the coffee he promised you. While you want to jump him, you restrain yourself because you’re about to deliver him some news that will probably wipe the dimply-grin he has off his face.
“I want to hug you but I’m gross and you’re newly showered,” you’re slumped on your sofa and you look at the uniform you’re still wearing. Your boots are still on and your hair is for sure a mess after wearing your beret the whole day. You don’t even want to try and smell yourself.
“You in your uniform never fail to give me a hard on, YN,” you scoff at the man who went straight to where your boots are to remove them from your feet. “You and your kinks,” you retorted.
You stare at Jaehyun who is currently untying the lace of your boots. He removes the left boot and the right and as he successfully removes both your socks, he massages your feet a little bit. Just enough to relax your soles. This man, who also must have had an equally exhausting day, went straight to give you a foot massage.
“How does a hot bath sound?”
“To be honest, heavenly,” Jaehyun lifts his head to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Let me prepare one for you.” You mumble a small and shy okay before Jaehyun stands and goes upstairs, probably to your room to prepare the warm bath.
You fidget your toes as you wait for him to come back. These things that Jaehyun is doing for you are more than just fruits of friendship, you’re sure of it. But there’s an ongoing war in your mind that holds you back. You worry he’ll resent you one day for failing to protect him both from physical and emotional harm and you can’t live with the possibility. But you want him so much since the first night you met that it’s killing you inside.
“YN, think we can get you undressed while the tub is being filled with water.”
“Yeap, okay,” you start to get up but Jaehyun stops you. So you just look at him confused. “Let me take you up.” You don’t protest his proposition as he carries you like a child in his arms. He’s carried you way too many times already to be flustered at the gesture. Hell, his tongue even tasted every inch of your skin. But even as you convince yourself that it’s not a big deal, your face betrays you. And when Jaehyun looks at you, he notices the warmth spreading on your cheeks and all of a sudden, he feels warm, too.
Jaehyun sets you down on the bed and goes to the bath probably to check if the tub’s been filled and the water is just right. Just a few moments and Jaehyun is back with you. He unbuttons your top and hangs it up in your dresser. He unzips and peels off your pants next until you’re only in your underwear. He gives you a nice kiss on the cheeks as he removes your bra. His hands trail to your hips and the lace of your panty is just between his fingers for a second too long before he pulls it down. And now you’re fully naked in front of him. You see the up and down of his throat but in the years you’ve known him, you know he absolutely won’t make a move unless he’s done making you comfortable.
Jaehyun carries you to the bath and settles you gently into the tub. You sigh at the contact of warm water, it’s like all the worries and stress dissipate with the steam. Jaehyun puts some shampoo into your scalp scrubber and he starts massaging your head with it.
“That feels so good,” you groan with so much relief.
“So good you can relax?”
“Absolutely.”
There was comfortable silence afterwards. You just stare at Jaehyun and his busy hands cleaning your hair and then lathering soap on your body giving your tense muscles some good massage here and there.
“I have to talk to you about something.”
“Of course, I’m listening,” he responds as he scoops some water in his hands to wash away some soap that got too close to your eye.
“I told the President we’re dating,” Jaehyun looks at you with parted lips.
“But you said -”
“I know, but,” you sigh before continuing, “something came up.”
“Hey, what’s up?” Jaehyun asks carefully, probably being cautious about not pressuring you into divulging details you can’t share, another thing that you appreciate about him the most.
“There’s this mission we’re preparing for. And based on my assessment, I think it’s best for me to be personally involved in it,” Jaehyun slowly nods in understanding.
“But how does that relate to you telling the President that we’re dating? But just so you know, totally not mad about it. I like it, actually.” You roll your eyes at the cheeky smile that Jaehyun whipped up. And you flicked some water towards his face when he kept raising his eyebrows.
“The President thinks it's a dangerous mission and that he could lose his Chief from it. HE doesn’t believe my love for this country is a strong enough force to push my will to live and make sure I return safe, so,” you pause and look Jaehyun in the eye, “I told him, I’m dating you. That I will be back no matter what because someone I love is waiting for me and I can’t bear to disappoint that man.”
Somewhere along your sentence, you whispered a word or two, probably the part where you professed your love for him was a decibel more fit for your K9s at work.
Jaehyun cupped your right cheek, his thumb gently grazing over your cheekbones. With this, you’re forced to look at his eyes which held emotions you couldn't fully understand. There’s warmth, and love, and then worry, and overall softness to his gaze that makes you weak.
And then, his lips brushed yours—soft, tentative, as if the world itself might break if he moved too quickly. It was so gentle, almost hesitant, but it was everything. Very different from all the kisses you’ve shared so far. All the longing, all the moments they had both kept hidden, poured into that single, quiet kiss.
The kiss deepened, his tongue begging access to your mouth, and all of a sudden nothing mattered. Jaehyun’s lips were insistent now, as though he was trying to pour all the things he couldn’t say into this one perfect, imperfect moment. When he breaks the kiss, you’re panting.
“Wow,” you breathed out between Jaehyun’s quick pecks after that breath-taking kiss.
“So what I heard is that you’re about to go into a very dangerous mission that could potentially kill you,”
“What the hell -”
“And that you will be back because you love me.”
“Uh, yes. That’s what I said.”
“Fuck.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry. It’s just that my mind is on a marathon right now. I love you, too, you must have known that for -”
“You love me, too?”
“Come on, YN, you can’t honestly believe I’d stick this long if I didn’t love you. And really, bubble baths on a weekday at midnight? Love is the only explanation for my willingness. You’re telling me you really didn’t know?” Jaehyun exclaims with a hint of offense. But the truth is you’ve known about it for a very long time. In the quietness and the loudness of your friendship, you’ve known about his love for you ever since it started to bloom.
“No, I know…” you mumble.
“Good girl. So as I was saying,” he blows out a long sigh, “I love you so much, but I’m so fucking worried thinking about what you just shared.”
“Why? Don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do, you can deadass exterminate a whole mafia by yourself.”
“Good, so don’t worry because like I said, I don’t want to disappoint this man who’s waiting for me.” you said to pacify him before reaching out to him for another quick kiss.
“Mm, YN, you know how I think you’re the strongest person in the whole world. But this worry I have is something I can’t help. So while trusting you, I will also worry about you,”
“Yeah, okay,” you answer quietly. You can’t help but agree because you feel the same. While you trust yourself to protect him from any and all pain at all costs, you also can’t help but worry you’re going to be the greatest heartache he’s ever going to have, whether it's your fault or fate’s.
“When is this mission happening?”
“In three days’ time.”
“Shit.” You look at his face and see that there’s a million thoughts racing inside his head. You caress his face hoping it would calm and comfort him little.
“Not too much time, huh?”
“Yeah,”
“We should start fucking to reach quota, then,” you laughed too hard at Jaehyun’s attempt to make things lighter.
“I agree, you should get started.”
Without a beat, Jaehyun is carrying you out of the tub and onto the sink that had a towel laid down.
“Gotta dry your hair first,” He takes another towel and starts patting your hair dry. “But not too dry, if you don’t mind because your confession got me hard so fast.” You giggle at his silliness and just let him do whatever.
When your hair is no longer dripping wet, he sets the towel aside and looks at you from head to toe. He takes a strand of your hair away from your face before settling his fingers on the side of your neck.
“So pretty like this,” he peppers your neck with kisses, his lips travelling down south to your chest. His hands settle on your hips, “So pretty and all mine.”
His kisses trail down to your breasts, then to your stomach, then just above your slit. He gives you one last hungry look before he gives your pussy one long lick and wraps his mouth around your clit. The warmth of his mouth makes you throw your head back. His right hand gives your hip a squeeze before he brings his fingers to your core, inserting two digits at once, giving you a delicious stretch. All the while his left hand is stationary on your hip, making sure you remain where he wants you to be.
He curls his fingers to press on the sensitive spot inside you, “Fuck,” is your only response. Jaehyun is a starved man by the way he sucks at your bud. He’s desperate to taste and drink you up. By the way his mouth and fingers are going, you know he doesn’t have to wait any longer.
Jaehyun moves his left hand to the inside of your thighs to spread your legs even wider, to give him more access. Jaehyun eats you out with more vigor and more speed in his fingers. You let your hands grip on his hair, your eyes rolling at the sinful feeling of his tongue and lips.
“J-Jae, please!” you scream as you feel your stomach tightening. Jaehyun knows you’re close, so he guides you into that orgasm by stuffing another finger inside of you. This does the trick. You moan his name as you come undone. He removes his fingers from your core only to use both his hands to spread you open so he can lick you dry and clean. You get sensitive from his continuous lapping so you try to push his head away from your core.
But Jaehyun is feral, “Not yet baby girl. Gonna make sure I get every last drop of you.”
And you know better than to argue. So you just let your hand rest on his shoulder as you allow him to drink you to his heart’s content. Once he’s done, you’ve become a panting, shaking mess. No strength in your legs and no single thought in your head.
“Thank you, baby. Shall we move to the bed?” you don’t answer and just wave your hands at him, signalling he can do whatever he wants. And Jaehyun is more than happy to oblige. He carries you and throws you on the bed with too much excitement.
“Jaehyun!”
“Sorry, baby, you got me all worked up.” Without another word, he dives to where you are. His mouth quickly found its way to your right nipple, his next target. His left hand massaging and toying with your other breast. Without stopping his ministrations, he uses his free hand to pull his shirt off his body. Only when he needed to pull it over his head did he let go of your nipple. As he does, he tosses his clothing to the side and removes his jeans revealing his familiar yet still always mouth-watering cock. Jaehyun is a sculpture from the gods. Not only is his face and physique perfect, but his cock is, too. He is both long and thick that you always feel the stretch for days after every heated session.
The sight gets you excited that you get up on your knees.
“Baby girl wants to suck me? Pleasure me with that beautiful mouth of yours?” you nod as you move closer to him. You take his cock in your hands and play with the tip for a bit before taking him fully in your mouth.
“Fucking hell,” Jaehyun groans, “Pretty general, taking me in so good.” This encourages you to take him deeper in your throat. The feeling makes Jaehyun knit his brows and grab your hair in his hands. He pulls your hair, sending a pleasurable pain to your scalp. He guides you to take him even deeper, making you gag in response. Some drool escapes from the side of your mouth and the intrusion in your throat makes your eyes tear up.
Jaehyun wipes the drool on the side of your lips, “Want to see you cry only for my cock.” Jaehyun takes control of the pace and fucks your mouth with so much passion. You put your hands on his thigh for support, but his length accomplishes the picture he wants to see. It’s always a welcome challenge blowing Jaehyun, but the deed always brings you to tears. And there’s something about your tears that riles Jaehyun up every time.
Seeing you look up at him crying and obediently and willingly taking him in your mouth, sends Jaehyun over the edge. “Gonna take my load like a good girl?” You nod at him as he groans and takes a few more thrusts. You gently tap his thigh encouragingly to signal him to let go. Your encouragement seems to do the thing because one more thrust and his delicious cum fills the walls of your mouth, some coming out from both sides of your lips. But as you are a good girl, you swallow everything, and even lick his cock clean. If he wants to get every last drop of you, you feel the same, too. As you continue to lick him, Jaehyun lifts your chin with his finger. He dips down to kiss you, licking your lips in the process. “Don’t you think we’re done.”
“Wasn’t gonna,” you respond with a raspy voice and he smiles at you as he guides you back down the bed. His fingers ghost over your core. Sucking Jaehyun had you dripping wet. “Still wet and ready for me?”
“Always. Still hard and ready for me?”
“That goes without saying. Now spread those legs for me nicely, baby.”
You obey his command. Jaehyun situates himself between your legs and teases your entrance with the tip of his cock that is still very much hard and proud. It’s as if he didn’t cum just a few seconds ago.
Jaehyun tries to be a patient man but the truth of the matter is that he can never be. Especially not when you look so beautiful with your hair spread out around you, your forehead glistening with some sweat, and your cheeks stained with fresh tears. So he stops holding back and bottoms out inside of you in one quick thrust.
You shout his name at the sudden penetration. The stretch is an addicting kind of pain.
“Sorry, baby, this pussy is driving me crazy. I’m gonna move now, yeah?” You nod at Jaehyun, eager to feel more of him. He thrusts out half way before ramming back inside of you. You feel his tip hit a spot inside of you that makes you arch your back. The friction of his length against your walls as he continuously pounds into you is an exhilarating experience.
Jaehyun brings his fingers to your core. Using his thumb and forefinger, he pinches your clit sending your mind into haywire.
“W-Wait!” you try to plead your case. By the looks of it, Jaehyun isn’t cumming anytime soon yet. If he continues to play with you like this, he’ll draw out another orgasm from you and you don’t think you can hold out. But Jaehyun is relentless. He only raises an eyebrow at your failed attempt to beg.
“No waiting, baby. Be a good girl for me and take what I give you,” he warns in a low voice. Jaehyun takes one of your legs and puts it over his shoulder to reach a deeper spot inside of you. You whimper at the change of pace, your fingers scratching his back, your other hand gripping at his hair.
Jaehyun takes your hand that’s gripping his hair and puts it over the part of your stomach that bulges with his every thrust, “Look how good you’re taking me,” he praises. He presses your hand down on your bulging stomach, adding both pain and pleasure to your body.
You suck in some air. At this point you’re breathless. Nothing but sinful sounds come out of your mouth. Your moans become higher in pitch by the moment, calling out Jaehyun’s name as if it will pull him out of the trance he’s in. It doesn’t.
His fingers are back to work on your clit, abusing it, determined to make you climax one more time. And Jaehyun succeeds. A powerful wave hits you and you almost black out. You feel every part of you shake. There’s a ring in your ear brought by the ridiculous high. But as you predicted, Jaehyun isn’t done. He continues to savor the feeling of you convulsing around him.
“Jaehyun please, need you to cum,” you beg in between labored breaths. Jaehyun manhandles you to switch your positions. Now you’re on top of him but he’s the one moving your hips up and down his cock, using you as he pleases. The new position allows you to feel his fullness even more.
“Wanna come with you on top, ma’am,” he declares.
Jaehyun will be the death of you. He guides your hips up and down at a monstrous pace. For every movement, your clit brushes against his base and its maddening. He reaches out to grab your head for a kiss, “Gonna cum.”
“P-Please, fill me with your cum.”
And he did not have to be told again, with one more thrust, Jaehyun came undone inside of you. You feel the warmth of his seed spreading inside of you. You slump your head against his chest without moving your hips. You’re spent.
Jaehyun caresses your hair and you feel him plant a kiss on top of your head.
“You’re a dream.”
You can’t find the energy to move so you just lay there motionless, Jaehyun’s cock still inside of you. Meanwhile, Jaehyun rubs your hips, giving it subtle massages, before slowly slipping out of you. He changes your position to let you lay down. He adjusts your pillows and when he’s certain you’re comfortable, he gets up to get a warm towelette. Gently, he wipes the inside of your thighs clean.
All the while, your eyes are shut, too tired to open them up. But when you feel the bed shift beside you, you open your eyes to find a smiley Jaehyun staring at you.
“You have my heart, YN, so please come back to me.”
You smiled at Jaehyun and reached out to cup his cheek, “I’ll be back.”
–Four–
The plan was to be a trojan horse.
True to the validated tip your office has received through a trusted mole, the kidnappers plan to abduct additional personalities to elevate the power they hold in negotiations. The targets have been identified to be the Jung sisters, daughters of South Korea’s top real estate developer, and both college students at Yonsei University.
The group behind the kidnappings planned to abduct the Jung sisters during their ride back home from school. And that’s where you and your partner, Lt. Gen. Jennie, came into play. Both of you took the place of the Jung sisters to infiltrate the devils’ quarters.
Now you’re here, finally leading everyone out of the building they were trapped in for months. The execution of the rescue was almost perfect. Until it wasn’t.
Once you were abducted, you created a map of the place in your mind. Even while being blindfolded, you focused on the bits of information you can gather without eyesight. Before your eyes were covered, you noted that each of the three kidnappers carried a pistol-type handgun. And as you entered an establishment, you counted your steps and remembered every turn you took. You amplified your senses and noted every change in smell, floor feel, and temperature. You’re at a disadvantage. Entering the criminals’ den without so much as a knife is a suicide mission, as Yujin said. But you swore on your neck nobody is going to die on your watch. Not even yourself.
Your mole said there were a total of 12 armed men in the establishment, each taking turns in guarding the main room and the exit and entrance points. The plan was to separate and then meet up. Through this plan, you can confuse and eliminate more armed men before reaching the exit of the building. Jennie took 4 of the victims with her to take a different route going to the exit while you took the other 4.
You finally reunited with Jennie and her group and confirmed that you’ve each wounded 5 people, leaving you with just 2 more active hurdles.
“It’s going to be okay, we’re almost out of here,” you comfort the hysterical group. Everyone is afraid and desperate to go back to their families.
But just when you’re almost out in the open, 4 armed men are closing in on you. Two were chasing you from behind, and two were coming from the front. You wanted to shout profanities because two additional unaccounted armed criminals are going to make it harder to complete the rescue of a group of scared individuals. But you held yourself back realizing your panic will only make everyone else panic.
You can’t afford to get closed in on. The odds of sustaining injuries and fatalities are going to shoot up, especially in the face of desperate malefactors.
“Jennie, run behind everyone and fire the flare signal once you’re all out!”
Jennie looks at you in horror as your instructions dawn on her. You’re basically asking her to leave you alone.
“Don’t fucking hesitate lieutenant! That’s an order!”
“Y-Yes, ma’am! Everyone, follow me!”
Leaving you alone is the only choice. You’re going to hold the kidnappers off. As Jennie and the whole group continue to run, you stop on your tracks and face the angry men. You fire two shots, successfully wounding one of them. You have to weaken them as much as you can. Even with years of experience fighting wars, your strength is no match against 4 towering men with guns in their hands. But your resolve is the best there is.
You disarm the first man that charges at you, twisting his arm behind his back, and hitting the part of his neck with the base of your gun. The force renders the man down and unconscious. The next person charges at you with a knife which you quickly take from him. You thrust the knife deep into his thigh and butt his head twice. Once with your own head and another with the gun in your hand.
Someone grapples you from behind and you struggle out of his hold. You take the knife out from the former’s thigh and try to reach the next one using the blade, to no avail. The man creates sufficient space between the two of you as he takes out a dagger of his own. He charges at you but as you try to charge at him too, the other conscious kidnapper pulls your leg, rendering you flat on the ground.
The other takes his chance and stabs your leg with the dagger. You scream in anguish as you kick the second man in the face with your better leg. You take a rock beside you and smash it to the side of his head. When you see him trying to reach out for a nearby gun, you smash his hand, too.
With one last person conscious, you will yourself to stand up despite the burn on your leg. You drop your gun and pull the dagger from your leg. You decided the dagger is going to be the weapon that helps you end this madness. With obvious rage in his eyes, the man runs at you with closed fists. You examine him, he has no weapon but his hands.
Once he reaches you, he gains an advantage with his height. He grabs you by the hips and topples you to the ground. You groan in pain at the impact on the back of your head. He takes the same rock you held earlier and bashes it against your temple. He takes the dagger from your hand and aims it at your gut. The blade comes in contact with your skin until you feel the burn ripping through your flesh.
“Fuck!”
You stop his hands but not fast enough to prevent a puncture. The blade continues to dig into you. You feel weak and your adrenaline is dissipating. Maybe it’s because of the comfort knowing that Jennie has brought the group to safety. She fired the flare sending the signal to the team on standby a few meters away for rescue. Your mission is done and you’re sure you won’t immediately die from a slitted gut. You’ll bleed out for a few hours first, if this man on top of you won’t rampage and inflict several more stab wounds. But nonetheless, everyone’s safe.
You have my heart, YN, so please come back to me.
“Jaehyun!” Shit, everyone’s safe except you. You promised not to disappoint the man. So with one last surge of strength, you butt his head with yours and push him away from you. He lets go of the dagger, leaving it in you. You know better than to pull it out so you run to one of his colleagues and search his body for another weapon you can use. And you weren’t disappointed. You find a pistol and aim it at your last enemy.
He was charging at you and this was your last chance. So with Jaehyun’s words echoing in your thoughts, you pulled the trigger hitting the criminal right in the middle of his eyes. You don’t watch him crash down because you started coughing out some blood.
“General!”
From a near distance, you see some people running to you. You make out Jennie’s face as the one running in front. Your legs give up on you and you fall to the ground. But Jennie is already there to get you.
“General! Medic’s here, please stay awake!”
You signal Jennie to come closer to you to whisper your greatest concern at the moment. Jennie obliges and listens to what you have to say intently. You whispered what you had to say before the responders surrounded you and tended to you. You’re whisked away from Jennie’s arms and into the ambulance.
You see flashes of light and everything around you is in chaos. But you couldn’t care less. Not when Jaehyun was the last face in your mind as you blacked out.
–Final–
After 86 harrowing days in captivity, the eight individuals kidnapped by a Russian-led mafia syndicate have finally been reunited with their families, all thanks to the unwavering courage of General YN Park and Lt. General Jennie Kim, who bravely undertook the perilous mission alone.
National Assembly Speaker Minseok Kim has expressed profound gratitude toward General Park and her team, especially as he is reunited with his daughter, one of the victims in this case.
The surviving members of the syndicate have been handed over to the authorities for further investigation and due process.
However, General Park remains under care at Seoul National Hospital, where she is receiving treatment for serious injuries sustained during the mission. Prior to being transported to the hospital, the General was seen whispering something to Lt. General Kim. When asked about the General’s last words before receiving medical attention, Lt. General Kim revealed, “The General asked me to tell the doctor to minimize the scarring of her wounds—she has a beach trip planned next month.”
Jaehyun humorlessly laughs at the conclusion of the news. Only you can think about a beach trip while being in the face of death.
However, despite the light hearted news, his legs take quick and huge strides to where your hospital room is. He didn’t bother taking the back entrance, the front entrance will bring him faster to you. He knows photos of him and news about the two of you will fill the papers and broadcasts tomorrow, but he didn’t care. His thoughts are fully on you. His heart is about to give up on him and all he wants is to see and hold you.
He reaches the floor where you are and as expected, it’s filled with security. You don’t see Yujin anywhere to help you get inside. But its okay, you gave him something that will get him to you.
“Woah, what’s this?”
“This is my seal. I’ve requested three of these from the bureau. The other two are with my parents and this one is for you. When you need me, you show this to any of my subordinates and they’ll bring me to you no matter what. Whether I’m in a meeting or in another country fighting a war, they’ll bring me to you. Use this any time.”
Jaehyun reaches out from his pocket and shows your seal to the first two soldiers guarding the area. Recognition dawns on their faces and they let him in. The others lead you to your room and as he opens the door, there you are lying down peacefully on the bed.
He walks to where you are and sits on the side of your bed. He takes your hand in his and gives it a longing kiss. He plays with your fingers and brushes some loose strands of your hair away from your face.
And as if you sense his presence, you slowly open your eyes. Jaehyun’s eyes widen at your consciousness and tries to get up to get a nurse. But you held on to his finger and whispered with all your strength, “I-I came back.”
You catch a glimpse of a tear rolling down his cheek before he plants a long chaste kiss on your lips, “Yes,” he chokes, “Yes, you did, baby. Thank you for coming back to me.”
#nct fanfiction#johnny smut#yuta smut#jaehyun smut#jeno smut#haechan smut#jaemin smut#suh johnny smut#nakamoto yuta smut#jeong jaehyun smut#lee jeno smut#lee haechan smut#na jaemin smut#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#nct smut#nct scenarios#nct imagines
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Fight Back
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~3.3k
Warnings: angst, talk of being physically abused by a parent, scarring and branding because of the abuse
Request by anon: Could you do where there reader is a part of the Bau and the unsub is kidnapping and killing girls who look like her and it turned out it is her abusive father and when the team finds him the reader and him a a full fight and she gets him back for all the abuse she had to go through
Summary: A case brings up a past you’d rather much forget but haven’t moved on from. A past so traumatic that you have no choice but to take matters into your own hands.
Square Filled: make it look like an accident for @badthingshappenbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
x
You enjoy traveling to different parts of the country for cases because you enjoy indulging in different cultures and trying new foods. Though, nothing beats being at home. Virginia PD has a case they requested your help on, and you love you can drive home at the end of the day instead of staying in a hotel room.
Detective Banks is already at the scene of a cliff where the body of Justine Frank was located. She was found naked by some hikers who called it in as soon as they got cell service. You and Spencer were tasked to meet with the detective who shakes your hand upon arrival.
“Thank you for coming. I didn’t have anyone touch her until I knew you were done.”
“Good choice. Thank you.” Upon first glance and ignoring the fact that she’s naked, you think she could have landed here after a bad tumble off the cliff. “Detective, why call us out here? Surely your men can handle this one, no?”
“There are four more just like her. We thought it was an accident at first, but more than three is a pattern. We’re stumped.”
Spencer leans down to inspect the body closer with gloved hands. He touches the underside of her wrist and notices fresh wounds.
“Rope burns. She was bound.”
“Was she bound when she went off the cliff?”
We seem to think so,” Detective Banks answers, “but the ME will be able to determine that better than I can.”
“You say it’s a pattern. What makes you think it is?” you ask.
“When one woman shows up, another woman is reported missing. Based on that, it’s safe to assume he already has another victim.”
You’re about to leave when you notice something on Justine’s back. You grab a glove and kneel next to her body to get a closer look. You move her hair to the side and notice a mark on her shoulder blade.
“What is it?” Spencer asks.
“There’s a mark here. I’m not sure if it’s a mark sustained in the fall or if she had it before. I think the rocks and tree branches scratched it up a bit.”
Spencer runs his finger over the mark and frowns. “It’s raised. Like a brand.”
You take out your work phone and snap a picture of the mark so that you can analyze it later. Once done, you and Spencer head back to the police station to meet up with the rest of the team. Hotch and Emily just got back from the ME’s office at the same time you and Spencer got back.
“Did you find anything?” you ask as you walk into the conference room.
“All four victims had ligature marks around their wrists most likely caused by ropes, but the ME says the wounds are much older from when they were found.”
“They were probably bound when they were being thrown over the cliffs, right?”
“Could be or they were bound while being held.”
Spencer gathers the pictures of all five women and pins them to the bulletin board along with their names, a few crime scene photos, and other important details.
“Would you look at that? They look similar,” you point out. “Our unsub has a type.”
Derek dials Penelope and patches her through the phone on the desk so everyone can hear her.
“Hey dollface, ready to work some magic for me?” Derek grins.
“Challenge me, you beautiful behavioral analyst,” she giggles.
“We’re looking for a connection with the victims. Did they know each other? Run in the same circle? Go to the same grocery store? Anything you can see.”
“Even the hidden stuff. Uno momento.”
“If they went to the same kinds of stores, we could be looking at hundreds of employees and even more customers,” you say.
“Let’s hope they didn’t go to the same store, then,” Rossi chuckles.
“A connection they had. They all came from different circles and socioeconomic backgrounds, but they all have one thing in common. They all had different work done on their house with the same contracting company,” Penelope says.
“Where are they located?” Emily asks and grabs a pen and pad.
“Sorry, babe, they don’t have an office. Everything is done through a PO box. It’s more of a mom-and-pop contracting company than a big business. There is only a handful of employees who all live in different parts of the state, and I mean I can count them all on one hand. Addresses are already sent.”
“Thanks, Mama.” Derek hangs up the phone. “Looks like we’re splitting up.”
You and Spencer. Derek and JJ. Emily and Rossi. Banks and Hotch. Four different employees, four different groups. You and Spencer pull up to the house but you don’t get out just yet.
“Are you okay?”
“Something doesn’t feel right with this case. Something is eating at you, but I don’t know what it is.”
“Everyone has a case that gets to them. I know I have a lot.”
“It’s more than just getting to me. There was something familiar about the mark on Justine’s body. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just paranoid.”
You and Spencer get out of the car and walk up the porch steps to the front door. You knock twice, and a middle-aged balding man answers the door.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m Agent Y/N and this is Dr. Reid. We’re with the FBI. May we ask you a few questions?”
“What is this about?”
“We’re investigating a few murders, and one of the leads happens to take us to the contracting company you’re employed with.”
The man steps out and closes the door behind him. “Sorry, my wife and daughter are sleeping. They’re sick with the flu, and I don’t want to wake them. What do you need to know?”
“Where were you on the week of October 14th?”
“At home with my family. They can’t seem to shake his flu. We had our pediatrician come over to check on poor Lily.”
You take out the pictures of the victims and show them to him. “Do you know any of these women?”
“I know her.” He points to Destiny Ray, the second victim. “She called my company for a roof repair. I’m sorry, am I in trouble?”
“No, you’re not. We’re just trying to establish a timeline. Who gets the assignments?”
“My boss.”
“Who is your boss?”
“I don’t know,” he says shyly.
“You don’t know who you work for?” Spencer asks. “How did you get the job?”
“I saw an ad on Craigslist because I was desperate for work. I just got laid off from my other job and I’d have taken anything at that point. I was supposed to meet with my boss but after one text, he hired me. We did all the paperwork online, and he sent me money orders after every job. I go to the bank. They’re legit money orders. Whenever there is a job, he texts me or the other three employees.”
“May we see some of the messages from your boss?”
“Sure.”
He takes out his phone and pulls up the messages. Spencer gets Penelope on the phone and reads the phone number back to her, but no luck. It’s a burner phone. If you had to guess, his boss is the unsub. Your phone rings and you step off to the side to answer Hotch’s call.”
“Yeah, Hotch?”
“There’s been another body. You and Reid are closer.”
“We’re on it.” You hang up and turn to the man. “Thank you for your help. Please call us if you remember anything else.”
You hand the man your card before you leave with Spencer. Detective Banks is already on the scene when you get there. Like with Justine, this new victim was found at the bottom of a cliff. This cliff is much smaller than the last one, and she isn’t naked. Only her shirt is torn to pieces from falling over rocks and sharp branches.
“Her name is Kaylee Robinson. A mountain biker found her not that long ago.”
“That was quick. He didn’t even wait a day before killing another woman.”
You grab some gloves and kneel next to the body. You move the tattered shirt away from her shoulder blade to see if the mark on Justine is just a mark or if it’s on all of them. You don’t know why you do this. Something is telling you to. Because Kaylee’s clothes protected her body, the mark wasn’t ruined by nature.
You gasp in horror when you see the mark for what it truly is.
“What is it?”
“I need to see the other bodies.”
You don’t want to say anything just in case if you’re wrong about this. If you’re not, you have a much bigger problem on your hands. You and Spencer leave Detective Banks at the scene to go to the ME who still has the other four victims’ bodies.
“You’re freaking me out, Y/N. What did you see?”
“Hold on. I need to check something.” With Spencer’s help, you lift all four victims so you can examine the shoulder blades. Just as you feared, there is the same mark on each of them. “Oh, this is bad.”
“What is?”
“Every victim has a mark on their shoulder blade. It’s a brand as if it was caused by a hot poker or a branding machine. Justine’s mark was mangled from the fall, but it was there. I’ve seen it before.”
“Where?”
You turn away from Spencer in shame and pull down your shirt to expose your shoulder blade. Right there, on the top, is the same branding mark.
“On me.” You face Spencer but refuse to look in his eyes. “My father put it there. He’s the one who burned it into my skin, and I know he’s burned it into theirs.”
“Your father? I never knew that. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I tell my boyfriend that my father used to abuse me? I was ashamed and I still am. I don’t want to be. I’ve put this behind me.”
“You know we have to tell the team, right?”
“Yeah,” you whisper.
You’d hope to keep this side of your past a secret from everyone but who knew your father would do such a thing like this? You’re quiet the rest of the ride back to the station and when you walk into the police station.
“I think we found our unsub,” Spencer blurts out.
“I noticed a mark on Justine’s shoulder blade. I thought it was nothing, at first, until Kaylee had one. The same mark. Spencer and I went to the ME’s office because I wanted to see if the others had the same mark on their shoulder blades. They did.”
“What mark?” Emily asks.
You turn and show them the mark on your shoulder. “This mark. My father put it there after a really bad night.” You turn back around. “My father used to beat me and took his anger out on me with cigarettes. Fortunately, those marks have healed but he didn’t like that. I got really good at hiding the marks he left on my body when he decided to brand me instead. A mark I couldn’t hide. He made me wear clothes that showed off my shoulders so that everyone knew I belonged to him. The mark is his initials.”
“What happened after that?” JJ asks. “I mean, how did you get away from him?”
“He went to jail on a count of theft. A convenience store. My mother had passed shortly after I was born. I was put into foster care, but I was almost eighteen so I didn’t stay there long. I didn’t know he got out.”
“What’s his name?” Hotch asks.
“Peter Kamps.”
Derek dials Penelope, and you sit down at the table in silence. You had to have seen this coming eventually. It was foolish of you to think you had escaped him forever. Spencer walks behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder for support.
“We have a name. What can you tell me about Peter Kamps with a K.”
“Oh, I can tell you a lot about him. For starters, he has an arrest record that’s a mile long. Save for rape, this guy has done it all. B&E, murder, kidnapping, assault and battery, and even drug charges. He owns a contracting company called Big Al’s Crew that only has four employees. He has one daughter… Oh…”
“It’s okay, Pen, they know,” you say.
“I am so sorry, Y/N.”
“Garcia, do you have an address?”
“I have two. One is a house that’s been in his name even after he went to prison. I guess he had someone looking after it.” All eyes turn to you. “Another is a farming property that he uses for his contracting company and other side businesses. That one is in his name but is behind on payments.”
“If you have his addresses, you’re already too late,” you say. “I bet he’s moved on by now.”
“Let’s go.” You get up but Hotch stops you from following them. “You have to stay here.”
“What?”
“You have a history with him. We can’t afford anything to go wrong.”
You’re left alone in the police station like a child, but maybe it’s for the best. You know they won’t find anything at both places. One, you’ve been taking care of your childhood home which is why he hasn’t lost it yet. Two, you’ve been to the farmhouse plenty of times on your own. They’re not going to find anything there.
But you know where you will find something.
This time, you’re going to do something you should have done a long time ago.
Fight back.
You grab your jacket and leave the station in hopes they left one of the cars behind. Luck is on your side because they did, and you find the keys in the center console. Hotch made it a rule to leave all keys inside the car when not in use because he’s had to deal with a few too many locked cars in the past.
You lied to Spencer.
You’re not over it. You’ve been waiting for this moment the first time he laid his hands on you. You drive out of town and to a desolate neighborhood. The only people who live here are runaways and drug lords. You park in front of a two-story house and get out nervously. You might be ready to finally fight back but you’re nervous as hell. The front door is ajar when you approach it, and you kick open the door slowly and carefully. The house is dark and silent, two things that terrify you.
The flashlight on your gun is the only thing that’s lighting your way as you make your way through the house. The stairs creak when you step on them. If he’s here, he knows you’re here now. Most of the bedrooms are empty without a hiding space big enough to fit someone like your father. The last place you check is the master bedroom which has few furniture pieces in it.
“I was wondering when you would find me.”
You freeze from hearing his voice from behind you. Stay strong, Y/N. He’s not going to win this time. You turn around and face the man responsible for destroying your youth and innocence.
“I did.”
He eyes the gun in your hands. “I’m assuming this isn’t a social call.”
“You sick son of a bitch. You killed all those women.”
“Call it substitution for the one I really wanted. You.”
“Yeah, well, I’m bigger now. You can’t break me down this time.”
“We’ll see,” he smirks.
You aim the gun at his head. “I could shoot you right now.”
“But you won’t.”
“You’re right. I won’t.” You lower the weapon and toss it onto the bed. “Guns were never your thing, and I want you to feel me kicking your ass.”
All the classes you took on self-defense amount up to this moment. You were picturing the instructor as your father. You were training for this exact moment. Your father rushes at you but you easily block his attempts to attack. You kick his legs and he crumbles to the ground, and you pounce on him before he can get back up. You wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze as tight as you can, but he’s always been more durable than you are.
He bucks his hips and kicks you off him, and you scramble to get away from him. He will kill you if he gets his hands on you but you’re not going to let that happen. You barely get to your feet when your father grabs you and slams you into the wall. He wraps his arm around your neck in a chokehold and puts his dirty mouth next to your ear.
“What are you going to do now, little girl?”
“This.”
You push off the wall and use your father as support to basically walk on the wall. When your feet get high above his head, you swing backwards and punch him to the ground. The door is closer than your gun so you don’t even think about turning and sprinting out of the room.
“You ungrateful little bitch! I’ll kill ya!”
Your father gets to his feet and runs after you. You barely make it to the railing by the stairs when he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you back into him. He uses all of his strength and slams your head nose-first into the splintering wooden railing. You crumble to the ground in a moan of pain. You can already taste and smell metal as your mouth and nose fills with blood. Your father pants and stands in front of the railing, looking down at you menacingly. The only thing to light this place is the dim moonlight.
“Have any last words?” he sneers.
“Yeah. I’ll see you in Hell.”
You kick him where the sun doesn't shine, and he doubles over in pain. His face is right in your line of attack, and you kick his face as hard as you can. He stumbles back in pain and trips over an uneven board. He slams into the wooden railing and it cracks under his bulky weight. He shouts in shock as he falls through the railing and down to the first floor.
You jump to your feet and look over the railing to see him impaled on a broken two by four. You move your eyes up slightly and see the front door wide open and your entire team standing there with guns in their hands.
“It was an accident?” you say, unsure of yourself.
The ambulance is called as well as the police. The front door is wide open so you’re able to see right into the house where your father fell. The paramedic is assessing your injuries while you’re staring at your father’s body. The man who tormented you, beat you, branded you, is dead. You killed him and you don’t even care if they arrest you for murder. You’d happily go to jail if it means he’s dead for good.
“You lied to me,” you pull your eyes away from your dad to look at Hotch, “and you disobeyed me.”
“Am I fired?”
“I’m tempted to do it right now.”
“I’m sorry, Hotch, but I’m not sorry I did it. If you were ever abused by someone and then learned you had the power to fight back, you’d understand why I had to do this.”
“My office when we get back.” He turns to leave but pauses. “Are you okay?”
“More than okay.”
“I’ll ride with you,” Spencer says when he approaches you.
“Spencer, I’m fine.”
“You dislocated your nose at best. You’re going to the hospital,” the paramedic says.
“Fine,” you chuckle.
“Next time, tell me when you’re going to do something like this, okay?”
“Okay,” you nod and kiss him.
x
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Of Honeysuckle and Haiku [Tech x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: This is my submission for an event hosted by the wonderful @cloneficgiftexchange, written for @apocalyp-tech-a. I hope you enjoy my first Tech x Reader! 2nd Person POV, undescribed Fem!Reader who works as an analyst/researcher for the GAR. Minor AU changes (no missing and/or dead Clones here (but Echo is still part of CF99)!). Prompt sentence/s will be orange to keep in line with the color scheme of the graphics. Tech has a “secret” crush on Reader that she knows about. Flirting is stored in the info-dumping/poetry. Star Wars and real-world swearing is as naughty as it gets. Some Mando’a. Brief references and allusions to injury and other canon-typical violence, and a small flashback where Reader’s senior colleagues are (implied to be) behaving like jerks to Tech, but nothing explicit. Use of stylistic and narrative italics. Fictional flowers.
Prompt: Can't we ever go to a nice place? | Oh, that's what that button does.
Word-count: 8,270
Another Primeday, another pile of notes in your locker.
That's how the weeks always started.
You worked closely with the Grand Army of the Republic as something of an analyst and unofficial bookkeeper, going on for two years now. Colleagues and work-friends would slip scraps of flimsiplast in the ventilation grooves of your locker as a way of non-electronic communication.
The old fashioned way, older department heads joked.
The flimsi stacks contained a mishmash of written comms. Inside jokes. Recipe trades. Reminders to get CT-6922’s helmet serviced for the video feed you needed for Jais in the Reverse-Engineering Department if they're ever going to find out how that new Separatist spider droid worked.
And a poem, written in spidery Aurebesh lettering from your “secret admirer”. Always the top of the pile that collected at the bottom of your locker.
You knew full well who it was after a while, piecing together all the clues he'd strung along for you. Game recognizes game, as they say. It took cracking a complicated cipher in order to-
Nah, who are you kidding?
You got impatient and asked Jais in R.E.D. to help you with scrubbing the security footage for the last person to stop by your locker one morning, finding a haiku waiting for you. A haiku regarding subject matter you had just been discussing with a colleague the other day who had a grueling day of carefully dissecting a Flame Beetle from Kashyyyk ahead of them, and you were slated to assist them.
The shimmering shell That conceals a beetle’s wing Is called elytra - I wish I was a beetle
Mild alarm that someone was messing with you turned to curiosity soon after; it had been Tech of Clone Force 99 who dropped the poem into your locker some weeks ago.
He'd been helping the analysts while he got his leg in working order, having broken both the tibia and fibula of his left leg in a skirmish. (That's about as much as you knew at the time.) Tech would be returning to fieldwork sooner than later; between check-ups and some physical therapy work, the genius and navigator of CF99 kept himself busy here, so he would still feel useful to the GAR while recovering.
Of all the analysts Tech assisted, you seemed to be his favorite given that you actually liked letting him help you, and didn't saddle him with a dull day of deskwork like some of the senior analysts who wanted him out of their hair.
You felt it was incredibly unfair to Tech, but there was nothing you could say to change their minds. You'd tried.
Instead of reading this week's new stack of flimsi notes from your weekend off at your locker, you decide you'll read them at your desk for a change. The smell of Tech’s typical caf blend is particularly inviting this morning. It’s been raining since last week, this morning the hardest yet. Thank the Maker you had a rain repeller in proper working order for the walk to the research center from the speeder cabs.
“Good morning, Tech.”
Sitting down, from around the other side of the desk, you can see he's in a walking boot now. An improvement from when you last saw him just two short days ago.
“Hey, that's a good sign! Think you'll be back with the rest of the Bad Batch soon?”
You take no offense when his eyes do not lift from the screen of his datapad. “Good morning. I suppose, yes…” He doesn't sound entirely enthusiastic like one might've expected, but you have enough of a grasp on his mannerisms by now to know that Tech is eager to return to his brothers in due time.
You've met the rest of his squad on a handful of occasions as they've come to check on him, making sure he's not missing all the action by keeping him up to speed on their exploits.
Smiling, you slide a cup of caf you believe to be Tech’s closer to him as you leaf through the notes from your locker.
“Don't let your caf get cold.”
The datapad drops away. “That is for you,” he explains, “if you desire to try it, that is. I recalled you expressing interest in the last blend of caf I brought in, saying that it smelled good last Taungsday.”
You blink, surprised he remembered those details. Well, not that surprised; you understood Tech had a remarkable memory that allowed him to recall obscure details. It’s saved you from a few headaches, like that same Taungsday when a visiting representative from Glee Anslem insisted upon having the innocuous bouquet of Nabooian Honeysuckles sent off for allergen testing. Whatever it was that provoked the Nautolan’s (thankfully minor) allergic reaction, it was not the flowers, though they were refused return.
Shame… the delicate white, orange and cream blossoms were such a thoughtful gift from Senator Amidala to the visiting representative and now they look so out of place on your desk, still in the elaborate ceramic vase they came in. You’re going to need to find a way to return it to Ms. Amidala once the flowers have shriveled and lost all their silky petals.
Thanking Tech for the thoughtfulness behind brewing you a cup of caf, you give it a careful taste and find the flavor far more robust than the instant mix the breakroom keeps on hand while you read the first of the notes. (Looked to be a heads-up that a commando had some grisly footage to be analyzed because Trandoshan pirates were involved and the credits were on Delta Squad being responsible.)
“Mmm… That’s nice. Thank you again, Tech.”
“You are welcome.” he replies, half-ducking his head back down into the datapad, though his eyes remain on you.
Framed by the yellow lenses of the black-strapped goggles he wears, there is an observative nature to those brown eyes. The phenotypic eye color for all Clones is brown, he explained to you once. Though yes, there were a few aberrations in physical traits among his brothers in the GAR, just not quite to the same scale as the experimental squadron that Echo from the 501st Legion (once thought to be dead) joined not long ago. Echo still keeps in contact with the 501st, Captain Rex and a brother named Fives the closest of all. You figure what he must have been reading off his tablet before he came in this morning were more messages from his brothers.
Setting aside notes as you read them, you’re careful to keep the scrap of poetry for last as always. Wonder what it’ll be today. A sonnet? Free-verse? Acrostic or maybe a limerick? Another haiku? Tech seemed to love leaving you haikus most of all.
Still finding his eyes upon you, you lay aside the last note about keeping an eye out for a missing label-maker and delicately clear your throat. “Yes, Tech?” You’re careful to offer him a friendly smile, a quiet measure of assurance that you’re not annoyed or disturbed by his watchfulness.
“Senator Amidala sent a letter of apology to the center regarding the honeysuckles and vase,” he begins, explaining the letter was forwarded to everyone who worked in the analysis department, “and since she feels terrible about the situation inadvertently caused for both her guest and the center, she suggested someone is welcome to keep both, if they wish.”
“Well that’s very kind of the senator.” you reply, giving the flowers on your desk a look of consideration, one that prompts a strange expression out of the genius you generously share your desk with.
You ask what the matter is with another swig of caf.
“I hope you don’t mind too terribly that I… accepted on your behalf.” Tech confesses, aware he’s more than likely crossed a line by doing so. You and Tech do not know each other all that well, but he’s strung together enough clues to have some idea of what you like. He’s noticed what you give the most attention to, and you had secretly been admiring the Nabooian bouquet for some time on Taungsday…
Cautiously, Tech adds, “You could always give them to a friend.”
Casting a third glance over the tri-colored flowers, Tech is assured that won’t be necessary, and he’d been correct in his assessment all along. “I don’t mind at all; thanks for saving me the trouble. I was secretly hoping to take these home, I’ve been obsessed with Naboo for a while now…” you admit, dropping your voice into a near-conspiratorial whisper.
There was an often sunny windowsill back home with plenty of space for the vase and flowers that would make for the perfect spot to show both off. Maybe it’d inspire you to finally take that trip to Naboo you always wanted. Naboo sounded like a nice place, nestled in the Chrommell system of the Outer Rim Territories.
Idyllic, picturesque, it was often described.
All this analyst-work had you in a position to see the glorious, the gory, and everything in-between in the adventures of the Grand Army day in and day out. Compiling reports near and far was beginning to instill a sense of longing for adventure in you; nothing grand was necessary, just something different. Something beyond the walls of the GAR research center here among the Core Worlds.
I’ll be satisfied with a taste of adventure. Just one bite. Just one, I promise.
The yellow-lensed goggles are adjusted. “What fascinates you so much about Naboo?” Tech asks, curiosity burning at him.
“Oh… I dunno,” you say with a shrug, smiling, “it’s hard to put it all into words.” And you wouldn’t exactly have the time, either, with your shift due to start soon. While you’ve still got the time, you should finish as much of the caf as you can before it grows cold, and finally get around to this new poem Tech’s left for you. Maybe he can already guess that you know these are from him, but a part of you finds it fun in some way to pretend you don’t.
Fixing an errant strand of hair back in place, you unfold the note and read. Another haiku, today, lamenting the dreary weather.
To simpler splendors Like summer's gentle breezes and honey most sweet - When will the rain stop?
You find it curious and strange - this possible complaint - given you know Clones come from the storm-cloaked world of Kamino. Surely this weather feels just like home for him; familiar, maybe even comforting. But maybe it’s not his complaint, it could have been your own off-handed remark from some time ago that he’s echoing back to you now.
Tech’s level of observation was truly incredible, sometimes. You already felt yourself missing his knowledgeable presence once he was healed up and returned to the Bad Batch. That wouldn’t happen until he was rid of the walking boot and cleared for active duty, which was mildly comforting to you, selfishly speaking. Logically you know this arrangement is temporary, and you will not always have your willing assistant.
A willing assistant who has given his attention to closing off communications with Wrecker, from the sound of things as CF99’s genius reads the messages under his breath. Tech is trying very hard to appear like he’s not taken notice that you’ve read his latest haiku.
You set the poetry aside along with the other locker notes, and pick up your clipboard full of the day’s tasks. “Take your time, Tech.” you promise, chuckling warmly as he flashes the famous pointer finger in your direction, requesting just an extra moment. “I know Wrecker misses having his big brother around.”
Tech says nothing in response to your teasing quip, only offering an appreciative if distracted smile before he’s ready to help you with your tasks for the day.
On Primedays, the first item of business on the list is often the most nerve-wracking of all your assignments, today no exception.
“Dammit, I grabbed the wrong screwdriver… Would you mind handing me the… the, uh…?” Tech takes the incorrect screwdriver from your fingers and replaces it with what you need while you struggle to think of the name for the correct type, much to your relief. “Oh, thank you Tech. Will you need this back when I’m done?”
Tech nods, a silent promise it was no trouble. “I will not. I’m finished with what I needed it for. Feel free to use it as long as you need.” He does not need to remind you to go slowly.
Your first research assignment of the morning involves dismantled bombs, and the additional Clone tucked in one corner of the room clad in the bright orange of ordnance specialists serves as an eye-catching distraction rather than a precautionary measure. Nicknamed Reddy, this Clone trooper is only doing his job, of course; he’s supposed to be here as part of the protocol. This facility has gone one thousand and twenty-seven days without an explosive incident, which is a comforting number, but there is no room for complacency. In the unlikely event a bomb somehow reactivates, Red Wire is here to snuff it out for good.
(Or tell everyone to evacuate and seek shelter if he somehow can’t.)
Helmet clipped to his utility belt, Reddy is reading the printed report, bobbing his head in time to some jaunty tune he’s got stuck in his head. “Disarmed and partially dismantled by… CT-9903. That’s your squadmate Wrecker, right?”
“Correct.” Tech replies tersely, hoping not to prove himself distracting to you. He’s only standing as close as he is to give or take tools as you need them.
Reddy nods his head in approval of the work scattered over the examination table. “He did a good job. Definitely has the gentle touch needed for bomb disposal.” Yes… Wrecker certainly had steadier nerves than yourself right now. You would prefer not to have shaking hands, no matter how incapable this bomb is… should be… of going off.
“Reddy…”
He catches the warning. “Sorry, ma’am.”
You just need to pull off a particular durasteel plate, and take detailed pictures of a unique section of wiring to enter it into the GAR database of known bomb constructs and find close or exact matches. Then Reddy has the pleasure of disposing of the remnants for you. Fewer distractions while you remove notoriously fiddly screws, the better.
So why are your hands still shaking now that you should be able to focus again?
“... dammit…” You’ve worked yourself up about the unsteady nature of your hands now. Stress will only worsen it, prolonging the tremble. Setting the screwdriver aside is the best course of action until you can find your nerve.
Rational thoughts, you remind yourself, everyone has had this happen to them at one time or another.
“May I?” Tech offers, voice softer than you ever remember it being before now.
He is careful in offering to help without immediately trying to take over your work. Tech recognizes you are capable in all the various aspects of your job, and he does not wish to undermine or blow off your expertise. He understands from experience how that can be frustrating, even disrespectful.
And Tech aims to be very respectful of you. He's been very careful in how he's hinted his interest in you thus far. (Maybe too careful.) The haikus in your locker had been because he heard you liked poetry, and he proactively accepted the honeysuckles Senator Amidala offered for the trouble because he thought you might like them. Sharing his favorite blend of caf was a decision more premeditated than the other two.
You step to the side, accepting the offer.
“Thank you, Tech...” you say, gesturing to the tools in an unspoken measure of please, by all means. Tech takes position where you previously stood, and begins to work on the dismantled explosive. Long, dexterous fingers make the process of loosening and extracting the remaining screws look deceptively easy.
“You’ll want your datapad soon,” Tech suggests helpfully, soon down to just two more corner screws to remove.
“Oh, yes…!”
Scooping the tablet off of the examination table, you habitually skip your fingers across the reactive transparisteel and pull up the camera function, priming everything to capture the colorful chaos of wiring and circuitry inside once Tech has removed the panel. Once it is lifted out of the way, Tech side-steps to allow you in front of the bomb once more so that you can capture records for the GAR database.
However, the camera will not focus.
“Strange…” You tap the center of the screen, hoping perhaps the datapad will behave like your modern comlink and auto-focus, but it does not give you the result you hoped for. You chuckle somewhat bashfully. “Sorry, it’s… been a while since I’ve used this old datapad for taking pictures.”
“Press the red, center button on the top row twice.”
Taking the advice of the bespectacled Clone beside you, the image on the screen comes into crisp focus, not a detail lost. “Oh, that’s what that button does.” This tablet is an older generation, but the facility keeps it because it's sturdy and reliable. No sense in replacing perfectly good technology so long as it continues to work.
“Been using these tablets for ages and I never knew that. How'd you know that?” Reddy asks from the corner, safely voicing his curiosity now that the hard part is behind you. “Just real tech-savvy, I take it. That how you get your name?”
Tech smiles knowingly. “Learning the ins and outs of each machine I use is crucial to my effectiveness in service of the Republic. Much in the same way you're here to assist the researchers, analysts and reverse engineers in bomb identification, in some cases.” The second question goes unanswered, you notice, but Reddy seems to let it go.
“Hah, can't argue with that comparison!” he says agreeably, his smile sunny. You’ve always liked that about this particular member of the bomb squad; Red Wire has an optimistic disposition and general attitude despite the nerve-rattling nature of his job. He’s not terribly jaded or gruff like some of the other Clones on rotation at this facility.
Once you've collected all your necessary pictures, you are promised that he'll take it from here. “Good work as ever ma'am. I'll clean up while you get started on the search.”
“Thank you, I appreciate the help as always from both you and Tech.” you say, patting him on the shoulder before you follow after Tech, who’s already making his way back to your desk, neck craned over his datapad. Stepping past the blast doors to catch up to Tech, you breathe a sigh of relief while Red Wire begins the disposal process, the hardest task of the morning behind you.
“Glad that’s over,” you say, finally feeling your quickened pulse slowing at last, “Thank you for the help once again, Tech.” You’re certain he heard the first thank you, but extra gratitude never killed anyone.
Tech’s deliberate stride slows to match with yours. “It was no trouble. I thought you might want the help.” A polite smile breaks the veneer of the usual expression of thoughtfulness and concentration you’ve become accustomed to in the time Tech’s been here.
You’re very familiar with how he appears when he’s concentrated: the furrowed brow, his shoulders rolled forward, the subconscious setting and unsetting of his jaw as he mulls over a million thoughts. Wowing your colleagues with how he could extrapolate info from separate, complex datasets within multiple windows on the screen of his datapad without error.
The way his brown eyes, deep and dark, looked like honey when framed behind his goggles…
Sitting down at your desk where you fire up the database you’ll be working with, already you see the slight furrow of his brow as Tech takes his seat on the other side, trading messages with his squadmates while he elevates his leg to alleviate the pressure of the walking boot. Tech misses being out there in the field more and more with every passing day.
“Tell ‘em I said hi.” you request with a soft chuckle before allowing him to concentrate on keeping himself in the loop. You just have to hope his handsome face painted in deep concentration doesn’t prove too distracting for you as you cross-reference your wire samples. The squad leader of the Bad Batch, Sergeant Hunter, had teased Tech once a few weeks ago, when he dropped by with Echo, on the depths of Tech’s concentration. That’s when you’d truly taken notice of it for the first time.
Tech, utterly embroiled in some “little” project he’d created for himself here at the research center, was staying long after your scheduled hours, repeatedly promising that you really don’t have to stay here.
You turn another page in your holomag. “I’ll be fine staying here a little longer. I want to make sure none of the senior analysts bother you. Again.” It was a slow Zhellday afternoon you had no other plans for, and a couple of people a little further up the chain of command really had a bug up their ass about Tech’s presence here today in particular, continually complaining about an incident with his crutches.
Someone hadn’t been looking where they were going and bumped into the mobility aids propped against a wall, knocking them over this morning. Unfortunately, there had been a tray of glass instruments set aside nearby that did not survive the crutches’ sudden descent. The senior analysts, most of them much older than you, wanted him thrown out of the facility and have the agreement with the GAR that Tech would be here until his broken leg healed nullified.
“He’s got a broken leg! Is he supposed to just hobble around the lab without his crutches? It was an accident, but I’m starting to suspect you’re looking for excuses to get rid of him because you’re feeling threatened by his intellect!”
Clone Force 99’s second-in-command hums shortly in delayed response, a frown marring his otherwise concentrated expression. Tech adjusts his goggles as he pours over some reference. The man with partial skull iconography inked across his similarly tanned face next to Tech carefully nudges him with his elbow.
“Tech, this is when you’re supposed to tell the nice lady thank you.” Hunter warns him, teasingly of course. He’s gotten back from a long deployment, and rather than going to the nearest mess hall with Wrecker and Crosshair, he’s come to check up on Tech, finding that he’s still at the GAR research center. He’s too tired to give any kind of reprimand just for the sake of appearances.
“Especially after this morning… Don’t make me do the nat-born thing, vod.”
Tech sort of scoffs, the threat of referring to him by his CT number, like a misbehaving natural-born child hearing the use of their middle name, by his brother having little effect.
“No thanks necessary, honestly.” You turn the page to your holomag, skimming the article to see if it’s worth an in-depth read, then meet Hunter’s eye. “It was honestly a bit cathartic to have a go at those jerks.” Decrying them as jerks to the squad leader of the Bad Batch was putting it real mildly given your true thoughts of them right about now.
Echo gives you a knowing nod. The sergeant smirks, and this is what gets Tech to break his silence.
“Don’t, Hunter.”
“Glad you made a friend, Tech.” Hunter says it with complete sincerity, so far as you can tell. Leaning back in the borrowed lab chair, Hunter kicks his feet up for a moment on a corner of the desk to adjust some parts of his armor. “Wrecker might get jealous.”
“I think we all would.” Echo says with a kind chuckle.
“Plenty of me to go around,” you promised the three of them, “I love making friends with the GAR.”
A few hours later, now four items deep into your checklist for the day with the wire cross-referencing behind you, you lean back in your chair and stretch your arms above your head, feeling something pop with great satisfaction. “Mmm! That felt good. Hey, Tech?” He nods to show he hears you, at which point you continue. “I’m thinking of running home real quick during lunch to take the honeysuckles home so I’m not wrestling with those on top of everything else I’ll have to take with me tonight. You gonna be okay on your own for a bit?”
“I will be fine.” he assures you, sliding the clipboard from “your” side of the desk over to his. “I may need the password to your desk-mounted computer terminal, however.”
“It’s ‘naboofields’. All one word, no capitals, special characters or letters.”
You root around your desk for one of the seemingly innumerable sticky-flim pads you possess, scribbling down the password - just in case - as neatly as you can before removing the top flimsi-note and hand it over to him. Honeyed eyes blink once in mild surprise after he inspects your handwriting.
“Not very secure, I know.” you laugh bashfully, straightening a few sheafs of flimsiplast before gathering up the stack of locker notes to tuck them in your pocket. Busywork to avoid any kind of lecturing look. But when you meet his eyes for the moment before wondering how best to pick up the ceramic vase full of beautiful tri-colored honeysuckle, you find no disappointment. Only more curiosity.
“Have you ever been to Naboo?” Tech asks. He’s noticed this particular topic has been cropping up a lot between the idle doodles on flimsi scraps of the bulbous Shaak grazing through lush emerald fields and little reminders you’ve written to yourself scattered across your desk lately. Ticket prices. Best time of year to go. Popular festivals. Fashion. You were weaving a curious pattern.
Tech doesn’t do this very often, but he hazards a guess. Could you perhaps be… homesick?
“Were you born there?”
You shake your head. “I wasn’t born there, and I’ve never visited before. Naboo’s just some… silly dream of mine lately.”
“Why do you say ‘silly’?” The question is earnest and sincere, and Tech sits forward off the backrest of the lab chair, posture straightening out. “Has someone said something unkind about your desire to see Naboo?” He couldn’t imagine why someone would disparage this; many galactic citizens express some level of desire to visit this planet in the Chrommell sector at least once in their lifespan.
He’s assured there’s no one being unkind to you when you wave him off, sliding the vase across your desk carefully. “No one other than me, I guess. I dunno when I’d ever have a chance to go visit between the work I do for the GAR, plus being in the middle of the Clone Wars for stars’ sake…” You’re considering if it would be worth telling him about your developing case of wanderlust, your craving for a taste of adventure. (Just a taste… just a taste!)
What Tech was supposed to do with that revelation, you weren’t sure. Did you want his help planning this whimsical trip? Or did you just need to confide in him with this harmless little secret?
“Would it be impolite to presume you don’t have many vacation days accrued in order to enjoy a short holiday?” Tech assumes you’re well aware of labor laws the GAR has to comply with for civilian staffing, like yourself, but he has no means of knowing how much PTO you have stored up without rooting into the system.
“Karabast, I- I hadn’t even thought of…” Your thoughts trail off as you look out one of the rain-spattered panes of transparisteel and determine you need to stop by your locker to gather your weather wear and rain repeller. When was the last time you had some extended leave from work that wasn’t a sick day, anyways? “I have some PTO I’m owed, but I try to be smart and save it for emergencies… I, uh, think I have more than two week’s worth.” Truthfully it’s been some time you looked at the amount of PTO you’ve accrued. It very well could be less than you remember, or more than you imagine.
Tech makes a quiet murmur of agreement that saving the time off for emergencies is rather smart, shrugging after a stretch of clearly contemplative silence. “I was merely curious.” The statement makes it tempting to tease him in return, say something like aren’t you always? but he has something more to say before you work up the nerve, gesturing to the clipboard. “May I watch the helmet footage for you while you take the Nabooian Honeysuckles home?”
“I was warned it was grisly.” you caution him out of kindness, thinking back to one of the locker notes. “So, as long as you don’t mind or won’t be bothered, I suppose you can look at the footage for me… Credits are on it being sent from Delta Squad.”
Scrutinizing the datadisc, Tech finds RC-1207 etched into it. Commando Sev, he tells you, went missing on Kashyyyk for a month early in the war… (Thank the Maker, his pod brothers had been fortunate in finding him.) Sev has never spoken of the experience.
“This should prove to be fascinating, in some regard.” Tech speculates, slotting the disc into an external inspection device to set everything up to complete this in your absence. Goggles are adjusted every so slightly, changing the way they are seated on his face. “I’ll leave the notes for you on your desk by the time you return.” he promises.
You make sure you’ve gathered the last of your things, saying that you better get going now that everything’s agreed upon. Carefully cradling the vase in the crook of your arm, you arrange the bouquet slightly with your free hand to avoid bruising any of the velveteen petals as you carry it.
Turning on your heel, you head for your locker to collect your rain repeller. “Appreciate it, Tech, thank you. I’ll catch you later.”
“Watch out for the deeper puddles, don’t slip.” Tech calls after you.
He’s overheard many of your colleagues using this phrase the last couple of days to warn one another; the longer the rain’s gone on, the deeper the areas of rain retention have become since the water table is oversaturated. There has been no break in the weather, but the end is in sight.
‘When will the rain stop?’ Soon. Maybe even tomorrow.
Habitually, you call back that you’ll be careful and another farewell, flashing him a sunny smile as you head out the door for the speeder cabs, the honeysuckles in one hand, repeller in the other. You don’t expect to be gone long.
Taking the vase full of honeysuckle home is your highest priority, right along with making sure the flimsiplast scraps in your pocket remain dry. Flimsi, while conveniently reusable, was hair-thin, had a slight transparency to it, and dissolved in water. (Why some disposable gowns for med centers were made out of the acrylic material when it was kriffing semi-transparent you had yet to figure out.) If you were careful of the shifting winds before you got to a speeder cab, Tech’s poems would stay safe and dry in your pockets, joining the others in a box of precious keepsakes at home.
Maybe you could put them all in a scrapbook one day, able to read and admire them all at leisure, or whenever you miss having new haikus show up in your locker once Tech’s broken leg is fully healed and he rejoins his brothers. Tech’s been careful not to voice how much he’s come to miss his brothers - else he risks sounding ungrateful for the research center agreeing to let him assist there after much back and forth - but you know he’s getting somewhat impatient.
“If I had known a second BX droid was around the boulder, I wouldn’t have tried to kick the first over the precipice…”
“That’s how you broke your leg?”
“Had it broken for me when the commando droid grabbed me, more accurately. Better me than Echo…”
He’d return to his brothers in time with the whole of hyperspace at his fingertips. Hunter would get his second-in-command back. The Havoc Marauder will have both of her pilots and it won’t be Echo spending time alone in the cockpit. Wrecker and Crosshair will once again have their brother to parse through factitious scenarios and the complicated mathematics necessary to pull it off relating to their enhancements to help one another in staving off hyperspace hypnosis.
And you’d go back to dreading Primedays and dreaming of clover covered plains on Naboo between every string of data you analyze for the GAR once Tech left. You’d miss the extra pair of capable hands and his talented, dare you say exceptional, mind. You’d miss the presence of yellow-lensed goggles and the steady, red light of the cylindrical camera attached to them that sometimes followed you around the analyst lab, that were as much a part of Tech’s face as the rest of his features.
You’d miss him and the harmless little crush Jais teases you over since helping you find out who your secret admirer was.
“Swing by your locker lately?”
“You have better eyesight than a Mynock but all the subtlety of a Reek, Jais. Yes I saw he left me another haiku.”
“What do they say?”
So much by using so little.
Tech has just seventeen syllables to work with, but boy does he make them work.
They will last far longer than any tender blossom, tucked carefully on the windowsill and lovingly arranged to fill in the gaps in the bouquet during transport. Home only for a short time, you settle for tucking the new haikus and other notes on the low table in the living room to sort through later tonight while eating dinner.
Come to think of it, maybe you should invite Tech over for dinner sometime, while he’s still here. (While there’s still time to leave things behind in order to remember him by.) He’s been staying in temporary accommodations in the unofficial research district since the nearest GAR barracks are an hour away, and the district isn’t too far from your place. You’re not sure what the protocol on this is (or if there’s any), and he’s more than welcome to turn you down, but-
This harmless crush has gone beyond only going one way.
You’re going to miss Tech when he leaves, not just because it means you'll lose an eager assistant who shares what he learns while you work. You've grown to like him in ways you haven't devoted proper time to exploring why with the nature of your work, but you like Tech too. And you don’t want just a vase full of honeysuckle that will one day wither and a smattering of haikus to remember him by.
You want something more. Something meaningful before he goes back to making mayhem for the Separatists.
And maybe it can start today, if you're clever enough.
It's time to stop daydreaming.
When you return to the research center, you first put your rain repeller away in your locker and collect the few notes that appeared while you were out. No new poems, only warnings that one of the senior analysts had a bug up their ass the size of a mynock (scratch that, a bantha) again over something minor, and it's best to stay out of their way until they cooled off.
“Hey, Tech, I'm back.” You announce your return from the lockers to avoid potentially startling him, finding him fiddling with a part of his vambrace. “Got some cryptic notes in my locker. Feel like I missed some excitement while I was away.”
“Yes… You certainly did.” One of the analysts lost their temper with the ‘newfangled’ caf-pot in the break room, Tech explains. Nothing newfangled about it in truth, it just wasn't working because it had been unplugged for cleaning and someone just forgot to leave a note.
“Speaking of notes,” he says as an aside, procuring a printed message from Lieutenant Waxer of Ghost Company in the 212th, “This came in just before you arrived while I was at the copier.”
Giving the lieutenant’s request a once-over, you find a general greeting after the Grand Army of the Republic’s letterhead, asking if someone would mind helping him locate the origin of a particular word in the language of the Twi’leks. Printed requests are deemed non-urgent, but it’s simple enough that you don’t mind adding his query to the bottom of your daily checklist, on which you find only the helmet footage crossed off.
“Thought you’d have gotten more done than this.” you say, chuckling as you take a seat at your desk.
Tech adjusts his goggles and meets your eye. “Felt it would be impolite to take your work from you when we had an agreement for just the footage.” He returns to fiddling around with his vambrace and his datapad, perhaps trying to sync something up.
His concern of taking further work from you without asking is very kind, and rather touching. You feel warmth in your face disproportionate to the heating system warming the labs on this rainy day. “Oh. Well, I wouldn’t have minded too much, but thank you. What’d you do instead until I got back?” You figure it didn’t take all too long to study the commando’s footage, finding the notes Tech’s took for you pinned underneath the datadisc the feed was stored on. Lifting the high-tech paperweight, you give the notes a glance.
It’s the same thin lettering as the haikus.
Tech tuts in thought while snapping a part of his vambrace back where it belongs. “General research. Nothing important.” He does not immediately elaborate on what he had researched, thinking you may want to take a moment to mentally prep yourself for returning to work and start on the next task at hand.
They were not concerns he (often) had to keep in mind with Hunter, Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair because he knew them so well compared to other people, compared to you. They spent the most time together and could give him a playful ribbing for overstepping boundaries, or starting detailed explanations when it wasn’t the best time. No one cares! was often said in-the-moment, and apologized for in ways that did not involve the words I’m sorry - and that was normal with his brothers.
So when you break into a big, friendly smile and draw out the word “Liiiike…?” while you continue to settle in, Tech knows it’s okay to elaborate. That you seem interested in what he has to say.
“It was the origin of halliksets. I became distracted when I learned they were quite popular on Naboo, and spent some time looking into that instead.” As he expected, you perk up with the mention of Naboo, interest piqued. “They’re made with seven strings, and the ore commonly used to make them comes from Kreeling, a mining planet also within the Chrommell sector.” The ore seems to be used to decorate the rounded body of the instrument, from what he had been reading. Ornamentation rather than function.
“Huh,” you say politely with a smile to match, “I had no idea. That’s really neat.”
You thank him for sharing before agreeing that perhaps you should get started on some of your work when he warns you that he can hear someone from another department coming, and it may be wise to appear busy.
For the next fifteen or so minutes, you and Tech are careful to appear focused on tasks from the clipboard. Something about figuring out why a standard caustic compound utilized by the GAR didn’t work. Tech casts a subtle glance over his shoulder while you muse over the specs, wondering just like you why someone from another department is taking their sweet time to leaf through all the disposable pipettes in the storage cabinet of all things. Trying to eavesdrop? Just really particular about their lab supplies? Who karking knows.
While looking into the humidity record on Felucia the day of the recorded equipment failure, you take a moment to open the system you submit your time-off requests to and look at the amount of paid time off accrued. Two and a half weeks. That’s not bad.
“Good to know….”
“What is it?” Tech asks.
“Oh, just poking into weather records,” you hum, hiding the portal, “Seems the caustic compound failed because of higher than average humidity that day. It was under six months old, so I don’t think it was a product age failure.” From the flashpoint of the Clone Wars on Geonosis, much of the equipment utilized barely sits on a shelf any longer than six standard months after its production and purchase for the Grand Army.
Clones were clever. Well trained. They knew how to account for things like planetary climate, weather conditions and equipment age out in the field, but you’ll always have the occasional fluke. Things beyond your control, beyond what you trained for. (Some things you could never train for.) But the Grand Army of the Republic could be trusted to give it their all, no matter the occasion, no matter the challenge.
You trusted men like Red Wire with your life here in the labs when you had to work with disarmed bombs, never doubting his ordnance training for a second. The same goes for the man sitting on the other side of your desk from you now, the injured leg in the walking boot propped up in a spare chair. You trust Tech too.
When the personnel from another department finally leaves, they’re grumbling something venomously about the missing label-maker under their breath, the word “di’kut!” loudest of all.
You recognize the Mando’a. Pronunciation DEE-koot. Multiple meanings. Idiot. Useless. Waste of space. (More accurately a waste of their time… Pretty sure someone already said the label-maker wasn’t in there.) You wonder where they know the word from.
Speaking for yourself, you’ve picked up a smidgen of the language from working as a researcher and analyst, and you’ve added a few more words to your repertoire from Tech’s uninterrupted correspondence with the Bad Batch that he’s allowed you to see some of.
And speaking of them… Now that you and Tech are alone, this might be a good time to try putting your plan in motion knowing how much PTO you have to work with now. You want to go to Naboo, and you want to see if there’s any way you can convince Tech to go with you. Maybe even meet you there with the rest of Clone Force 99. Make bumping into them look like a coincidence.
“Hey Tech, when you return to your brothers, any plans or ideas on where you’ll go first?”
A pad of sticky flimsi-notes is pulled from one of the many drawers of your desk, and you root around for a working pen while you wait on an answer. Calling upon courage from the very heart of the cosmos, you hope you can pull this off.
Tech answers the break in relative silence with a quirk of his eyebrow. “None that I’m aware of, but I suspect we’ll be going wherever we are needed.” There is a long contemplative pause, eyes flicking to his trusty tablet more than once as a few new messages from Wrecker come in.
“Is there some reason you’re asking?” He pushes the datapad aside now, giving you more of his attention, which is appreciated.
Shoulders bounce. “What if I said I was just curious?” You don’t expect him to buy that, he’s too clever. But you need a moment of quiet contemplation on his part to count out the syllables without messing up. Once you’re certain you have five, then seven syllables, you flash him an easygoing smile. “Being curious isn’t a crime, is it?”
“On some planets it is. Some rather… ridgid, often self-isolated cultures across the galaxy view curiosity as a sign of an idle mind and fear it will inspire mischief. Free thinking. Rebellion.”
The question had been rhetorical, and you don’t mind that he answered, but you find the fact quite sad. You also don’t want to begin to imagine how that sort of “crime” is punished. Curiosity is a natural part of life to all, to criminalize it is… frankly ridiculous.
“Well good thing we’re not in one of those isolated cultures.” you say, now thinking how you’ll finish penning this poem. Should you add your reasoning for why you wrote this at the bottom? (Would you even have room?) Maybe you should just tell him after he’s read your poem instead.
“Agreed.” Another message comes in from Echo this time, but Tech ignores it, continuing to hold eye contact with you; almost like he’s performing an inspection. “So I hope it does not feel like an accusation when I say I don’t believe you are ‘just curious’.”
“I did have an idea…” you admit, fiddling with the pen in your hand for the moment, “Since I heard Clone Force 99 isn’t keen on following every little order…” This is when you choose to slide the haiku you were working on over to “his” side of the desk, waiting in nervous silence as brown eyes scrutinize every Aurebesh letter laid bare before them.
Can't we ever go to a nice place, verdant fields of spring eternal? - Feel like breaking a few rules?
Tech’s eyes lift from the flimsiplast note, looking surprised. He didn’t take you for the sort of person who’d encourage breaking certain GAR protocols, let alone… Your name falls from his lips, asking what this is about in the same tender tone.
“I thought about what you asked regarding how much time off I have, and I found out I have two and a half weeks…” You explain, fiddling with the pen some more to occupy your nervous hands while he continues to monitor you. “I thought… Maybe once your leg heals up, and you’re cleared to return to active duty, you could find an excuse to spend some time on Naboo. Get to know each other better, perhaps?” He clearly has some kind of feelings for you that are in the earlier stages of reciprocation, and if you’re away from the lab, and he finds the time or the excuse to nip down to the Chrommell sector and meet up with you on Naboo, then neither one of you have to worry about behaving quite so professionally.
Looking down at the haiku once again, Tech takes in your explanation, your invitation, and offers a mild chuckle at long last.
“You know what my brothers will say if I tell them about this?”
You swallow nervously. “W-what?”
“That it almost sounds like you’re asking me on a date.”
You do what you can to keep your jaw from dropping, but there’s little to be done about the fiery feeling building in the apple of your cheeks that suggests there may be color blooming there. If you’re blushing, Tech certainly does a splendid job of politely pretending he sees no such thing while he gives your poem another look.
You do the same in kind when additional color builds in his own face and crawls up his neck from under the top of the body suit. “I take it you figured out who was secretly leaving you the haikus.” His smile is timid, but not quite as nervous as your own.
“I did. A while ago, actually.” you confess, confirming his suspicions. “I had help checking the cameras to see where the first one came from. I didn’t see a reason to say anything, or stop you.” You add that you’ve kept every single one, too, to some surprise of the computer and weapons specialist sitting across from you.
He sits forward now, carefully easing the walking boot to the floor. “You really want to spend time with me on Naboo?” Your earnest nod surprises him further. You do. Out of millions of Clones in the galaxy, you’re asking Tech (and his brothers by proxy) to join you in visiting the idyllic planet.
You carefully carve out a little portion of your PTO and submit the request as the very first step in the planning process, and while you await approval you and Tech will continue to work together as normal. You still have to behave professionally in the meantime.
Well, as professionally as possible when Tech decides he can now confess he has a backlog of haikus for you, enough so you could have one waiting for you in your locker every day until he’s cleared to return to fieldwork in a few weeks, in theory.
“Poetry every Primeday, honeysuckles today, and now you’re offering daily haikus? Maybe I will be asking you out on a date if you continue to spoil me like that.” you warn him, chuckling. Of course now you get the feeling Tech will make sure the weeks leading up to your time-off would consist of honeysuckle and haiku to ensure that you would.
And those were going to become some of your best weeks working as a researcher and analyst for the GAR, whether you got that time off or not, because it would be spent making precious memories with Tech.
That was what mattered most.

First time I've ever participated in one of these events, and I don't think I did too badly, considering I completely restarted this at one point! (Apologies for how long this ended up being, too, haha.) I hope you liked it, Tech-a! 🩷
Fic taglist: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit
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SCRUTINIZED DETAILS — LUNA’S GUEST ROOM / OFFICE
Whoops! I forgot I still had things to post for this ^^;
Anyway, this room is interesting because it's not really clear what it is. As far as I know, it was likely the old location of her desk/workspace, but after Sarah's death and the beginning investigation into the Blueblood Killer, Luna chose to utilize the wall space in the living room.
Still, there's some interesting finds in here! Transcriptions for any relevant material (e.g., awards and the small bulletin board) below the cut!
-> IMAGE 4: CERTIFICATE / AWARD
Certificate of Achievement
In recognition of brave and dedicated service and commitment to our community n the occasion of your being presented with the Police Officer of the Year Award by the Exchange Club of Yonkers.
-> IMAGE 6: BULLETIN BOARD
FBI WANTED POSTER
WANTED BY THE FBI
SERIAL MURDER - DOMESTIC TERRORISM
[Sketch]
BLUEBLOOD KILLER
DESCRIPTION
Age is guesstimated at mid-thirties. Sex is male. Height between 5'11" to 6'. Weight between 150 to 180 pounds. Build is athletic and compact. Hair color is unknown (length and color covered by a dark-colored beanie hat). Eye color is unknown. Complexion is light but could be darker. Race described as white. Nationality is unknown. Occupation is unknown (could be unemployed or ex-law enforcement). Scar and marks were not noted. Remarks from witnesses describe an odd gait, wide shoulders, possibly left-handed, large eyes, and above-average ability to [???] urban enivornments. Last seen wearing a black beanie hat, dark lower face mask, black hooded sweatshirts, and black slacks.
CRIMINAL RECORD
Unknown. Wanted for the murder or 12 police officers, 2 criminal prosecutors, and 1 criminal analyst.
HIDDEN ARTICLE (BENEATH WANTED POSTER)
Steetly chapel is 850 years old
The ancient Chapel of Steetly All Saints is 850 years old this year — and to mark the occasion there will be an open air service in the Chapel garden a week on Sunday at 3:15.
The singing will be led by Whitwell Colliery Welfare Prize Band and the preacher will be the Right Rev. T. R. Parfitt. Assistant Bishop of Derby.
The [???] [???] shows that Steetly was held shortly after the [???] Survey [???] by Gley de Briton, by whom it was probably built. It is one of the most complete and beautiful specimens of [???] work on a small scale that can be [???] with anywhere, though there is a similar chapel at [???] Quevilly, near [???], France. The south doorway has three receding semi-circular arches and shafts richly ornamented.
The exterior of the [???] east end is also [???]. The [???] is supported by five round-edged plaster buttresses connected by a broad [???] [???] {???], delicately carved with interlacing foliage and above this unique [???] are three small round-beaded windows.
The Chancel arch is one of particular beauty. It is ornamented with triple [???] of mouldings. The [???] on the north side are carved with a representation of St. George and the Dragon.
The arch into the [???] is surrounded by the [???] moulding and the [???] are carved with foliage.
Four well-moulded ribs, or [???], with the [???] design, support the vaulted roof and at their junction [???] [???] oval medallion carved with the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God).
The capitals of the shafts from which the ribs spacing are also carved, one representing the temptation of Adam and Eve.
Behind the altar is a stone which formerly lay outside the south door and is believed to have marked the grave of Lawrence de [???], a clergy-man who was inducted to Steetly a year before the Black Death in [???]. Its rich carving includes a [???], a chalice and a hand stretched out as if giving a benediction.
The Chapel fell into ruins at the [???] during the reign of Henry VIII.
A visitor to Steetly in 1698 wrote: "In a green meadow [???] a [???] well-built [???] all arch-roofed [???] and [???]. The [???] that covered the same is all [???] away so that the weather begins to pierce through [???] [???] to [???] [???] decaying."
When [???] George Edward Mason became a [???] of Whitwell in 1874, Steetly Chapel was in a sorry state.
The roofless, doorless ruin had an interior overgrown with [???] and [???] and was a shelter for sheep and cattle and, it is said, was used as a cockpit in the days when cock-fighting was the sport of residents in the surrounding villages of Whitwell, [???], [???], and Steetley.
He could mourn its former beauty, and felt that it could be restored.
A year prior to his coming to Whitwell, the Chapel had been visited by members of the British Archeological Society, who also could see what a masterpiece it had been.
One deeply interested was the Victorian Prime Minister, William Gladstone.
[???] Mason secured the services of Mr. J. L. Pearson, one of England's most famous [???] architects. It was he who restored the ruin to its present beauty.
The diminutive Chapel is 58 feet in length and is divided into three parts — a [???], a [???], and an [???]. The [???] is 16 feet wide and the [???] 14 feet. Under the eaves outside are hideous gargoyles.
The restored Chapel was [???] on 2nd November [???] by the Bishop of [???]. As it was the day after All Saints' Day, it was named Steeley All Saints. The original Chapel was dedicated to Our Lady and St. [???]
— [???] P. Gallagher.
POLICE APPEAL FOR CLUES IN 1985 MURDER
By Thom Gross
Of the Post-Dispatch Staff
Vinita Park police are appealing to the public for clues in the unsolved murder of Linda Sue Sherman in 1985.
All leads have been exhausted, Lt. Michael Webb said, "But we have reason to believe that there are members of the public who may know something about it."
Sherman was reported missing April 24, 1985, by her husband, Donald Sherman, of the 8300 block of Monroe Avenue. She was 27 and the mother of a 9-year-old daughter. Two days later, her yellow '71 Volkswagen was found in a short-term parking lot at Lambert Field, absent any sign of struggle.
Further investigation led police to suspect that she was the victim of foul play, Webb said.
In 1990, a skull was found in Bridgeton, and it was turned over to the St. Louis County medical examiner's office. Vinita Park police learned of the skull in September 1991 and matched it with Sherman's dental records.
No other remains were recovered.
People with any clues about the case are asked to call Webb or Vinita Park Police Chief Robert J. Hartz at 428-7373. Webb said any information would be kept in strict confidence.
THE LAST LETTERS OF A KILLER
[This article is impossible to read, with some supplemental material only just legible. As such, transcription was not an option.]
SUICIDE OF M62 KILLER
[This article is impossible to read, with some supplemental material only just legible. As such, transcription was not an option.]
-> BOOKS IN THE ROOM
There are numerous books in the room, and are as follows.
On the chair — Tactical Crime Analysis: Research and Investigation (First Edition) by Derek J. Paulsen, Sean Bair, & Dan Helms. Official description is as follows:
Research has shown that the majority of crimes are committed by persistent or serial offenders, with as little as seven percent of offenders accounting for approximately 60 percent of all crimes. By focusing police efforts on these prolific offenders and learning to identify, analyze, and resolve the crimes they commit, the law enforcement community can protect and defend the public much more effectively. Tactical Crime Analysis: Research and Investigation provides a comprehensive discussion on both the theoretical and practical aspects of crime series analysis, making it a critical resource for those engaged in crime prevention and investigation.
On the table — Two unlabeled books, and Spy Secrets That Can Save Your Life: A Former CIA Officer Reveals Safety and Survival Techniques to Keep You and Your Family Protected by Jason Hanson. Official description is as follows:
The New York Times bestseller that reveals the safety, security, and survival techniques that 99% of Americans don’t know—but should
When Jason Hanson joined the CIA in 2003, he never imagined that the same tactics he used as a CIA officer for counter intelligence, surveillance, and protecting agency personnel would prove to be essential in every day civilian life.
In addition to escaping handcuffs, picking locks, and spotting when someone is telling a lie, he can improvise a self-defense weapon, pack a perfect emergency kit, and disappear off the grid if necessary. He has also honed his “positive awareness”—a heightened sense of his surroundings that allows him to spot suspicious and potentially dangerous behavior—on the street, in a taxi, at the airport, when dining out, or in any other situation.
In his engaging and empowering book Spy Secrets That Can Save Your Life, Jason shares this know-how with readers, revealing how to:
• prevent home invasions, carjackings, muggings, and other violent crimes • run counter-surveillance and avoid becoming a soft target • recognize common scams at home and abroad • become a human lie detector in any setting, including business negotiations • gain peace of mind by being prepared for anything instead of uninformed or afraid
With the skill of a trained operative and the relatability of a suburban dad, Jason Hanson brings his top-level training to everyday Americans in this must-have guide to staying safe in an increasingly dangerous world.
Then there are the... emblems? On the wall, which are just various stock badges with no real significance. And the photo of Sarah, which can be seen here:
This is just a stock photo which can be found here, created by someone who seems to have a niche for criminal justice stock photography.
#txt#pic#virtual photography#long post#welcome to the game#wttg#scrutinized#luna youngman#blueblood killer#scrutinized sarah
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𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧

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TW: Gang violence
A/n: Not all characters will be dated/developing relationships in the first book/season. You may have to wait until the second book/season if you are waiting for a specific character.
X Table Of Contents
𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸: "𝚂𝚒𝚌𝚔"
《𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝》
"Boss," My secretary looks up at me with a confused look plastered on her face. "I thought you were sick."
Oh right. I chew my lip.
I offer her my best smile. "I ate some soup! I'm all good now!"
She raises a judgmental eyebrow.
A harsh bump on my shoulder makes me look behind me, resulting in me coming face-to-face with my friend, Emma. She examines me from head to toe, her nose scrunched up. She turns to my secretary. "Hina, why is there a liar in my face?" She questions.
"That's what I'm trying to figure out!"
Emma rolls her eyes and hands me a stack of paper. "I'm glad you enjoyed your 24-hour vacation because you have work to do." Soon, my right hand is overflowing with papers covered in letters and numbers. My face resembles that of confusion and an ever-so-sassy Emma scoffs at my dismay, rolling her eyes. "The CEO's wife cheated on him; he filed for divorce. Ever since then, it's like he's been taking his anger out on us." She jots her lip out to form a pout.
"I... thought it was the other way around? Didn't his wife...?" Hinata trails off and looks at Emma incredulously.
I roll my eyes at their loose lips and make my way to the elevator. I press the button to go to the 11th floor and look over the stack of paperwork Emma handed me. My role as a junior operations analyst is to assess the business policies and procedures of an organization. To make sure the business is running as efficiently as possible, I pinpoint areas that require improvement and assist in creating new plans.
It's my responsibility to carry out research, investigate workflows, and make sure the company complies with legal requirements. I collaborate with each department to schedule meetings with managers and carry out internal audits to gauge their workflows. In order to provide insights into corporate operations, I am a key player in the collection, analysis, and interpretation of data. I support management and senior analysts in spotting patterns, summarizing research, and coming to wise judgments.
I'm pulled out of my calculations by the sound of the elevator alerting me to my stop. I head into the hallway to find my nameplate with the numbers 1105 etched underneath it, just beside my door.
I push my door open and carelessly plop the papers onto my desk. Slumping into my office chair, I swing about, already fatigued.
The phone rings on my desk, and I immediately sit up straight and act professionally. I pick up the phone and hear Hina's chirpy voice ringing through. "Ma'am, you are to pick up line 2. There is a gentleman who says he would like to speak with you."
"Will do! Thank you, Hinata." I hang up the phone, this time pressing 'pickup' followed by the numbers 02.
I introduce myself and my role to the guest then ask how I can be of assistance.
"I know who you are, sweetheart; I need a favor." I recoil at the sound of Hanma's voice, pulling away from my phone. "Hanma?!" I inquire.
"How do you know where I work? Why didn't you just text me? Don't call me at my workplace because you're bored." I chastise.
"Wow, this is some customer service. 1. I have my ways; 2. your phone is off, and even if you did answer, you would still nag me for texting you at work; and 3. while I am bored, I need something."
I upturn my lip at his quips. "What is it?"
"I need you to deliver something to someone once you're done at work."
"That sentence contained no nouns at all. I'm having trouble getting a name, knowing where I'm going, or what I'm dropping off. Already a red flag." I deadpan.
"There's my businesswoman." He chuckles. "But no, sweetheart, you can trust me."
I sigh.
"You owe me."
His laugh reverberates over the phone. "Of course, doll."
As I exit the building, my phone is illuminated by the orange hue of the setting sun. Scrolling down my contacts, I dial Hanma's number and wait for him to pick up.
"Hello?"
"So where am I supposed to be going? Do I walk down the street, or?" I briefly look around for any signs of Hanma.
"A friend of mine is coming to pick you up. Stay where you are." Caught off guard by his sudden serious tone, I hang up and do as I am told.
In less than five minutes, a black Toyota Camry pulls to a stop in front of me. With a text from Hanma telling me what the car looks like, I know that this is the friend he mentioned. Opening the passenger door, I realize there are two men in the car. The driver, brownskinned with black and yellow hair, pushes his glasses up his nose. The passenger, purple haired sporting a jellyfish-like haircut, looks at me as if I just spat on him.
"Can I help you? You're riding in the back." He jots his thumb towards the backseat, gazing down his nose at me as if he is already annoyed by my presence.
"Damn, excuse you." I mumble, slamming the door and sliding into the backseat instead.
I cross my arms and fight the urge to complain to Hanma about his friends' less than welcoming behavior. Sighing heavily, I rest my head against the window as we turn down countless streets. I try my best to remember where we're going just in case things go left.
It isn't long before the car comes to a stop outside an abandoned warehouse. Graffiti and dirt cover what's left of the establishment. I look towards the men.
"Are y'all sure this where we supposed to be?" I gazed out the window with concern.
I get no response as the man in the passenger seat gets out the car. I look to the driver instead. He looks at me, yet gives no response. Irritated, I step out the car, broken glass crunching beneath my feet. I go to the trunk where the purple haired man is located.
He gives me something that is sealed with red string and wrapped in a brown paper bag. I examine the square-shaped object in an attempt to determine what it is.
"Let's go." The man slams the trunk and strides over to the warehouse.
Shortly after the man knocks on the enormous doors, they swing open. A man in a suit flanked by what I could only guess to be bodyguards stood in the center of the room.
The man was overweight, short, and leaned on a cane. The man grins at us, and I'm not sure which sparkled more, the big gold ring on his hand that he extended toward us or the single gold grill on his teeth.
"Haitani! Good ta see ya!" The man bellows.
Though he tried to hide it, the man named Haitani grimaced.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Kosung." One of Kosung's men stalks towards us, and Haitani takes the package out of my hand, giving it to the man.
"Who's the doll?" Kosung motions towards me with the package. "The King's recruiting newbies?" He slightly opens the package, peering through the small hole.
Haitani scoffs. "I sure hope not."
Haitani clears his throat, then all eyes are on him. "I have some toys in the trunk." Haitani uses his head to motion towards the car.
Kosung hands the package to one of his men. "The King sure does act fast, huh? Let's see what you've got."
Haitani grabs my upper arm and drags me out the warehouse. Once the heavy doors close behind us, he spins me around so that I'm facing a small shed hidden far behind the warehouse.
"See that shed over there?" Haitani points, "Go in there and grab anything with the word Bonten on it." He pats my shoulder and starts to walk to the car.
I turn and grab the sleeve of his tux. "So you wanna be rude from jump, then have the nerve to ask me to do something for you? Have you lost your goddamn mind?!" I push his arm.
"Have you lost yours? If you're gonna be sensitive over every little thing, you shouldn't have offered to help in the first place." He glares at me. "Hanma needs to keep his bitches on a leash." He mumbled and continued to walk to the car.
It took everything in me not to grab him by his ugly ass hair and slap the shit out of him. Regardless, I turn and walk to the shed, only to be met with a rusty padlock. I look around for something to break- much less, open- the lock. Hidden in the tall grass, I find a hammer and ready myself. With three good swings, the lock breaks off. With the door dragging on the ground, it takes most of my strength to open it, though just enough for me to squeeze through.
Once inside, I discover a dusty storage area with documents strewn about. Not sure where to look first, I maneuver over to the office desk in the middle of the room. While looking through papers, a particular document catches my eye. The name of the company I'm working for, Gynja Investments, and Bonten are supposed to be completing a deal today.
Organizing the documents on the desk: a stack for Gynja Investments, a stack for Bonten, and a stack for the plans they have created and intend to create together. I fold up the stacks that have to with the company I'm working under, and stuff them into my shoes. I grab Bonten's papers and stuff them into the waistband of my skirt.
Suddenly, my body is thrown forward, and my chest meets the desk. Instantly, what I can only assume is a zip tie, binds my wrists together. As I attempt to scream for help, my assailant gags my mouth with a cloth, tying it.
They yank me up by the zip tie, causing the plastic to dig into my wrists. I scream in pain as I am pushed out of the shed. I scream and kick, but my attempts to make a sound are met with silence and my kicks miss their target. Soon, we come to the back door of the warehouse, only for the doors to be flung open by my assailant, and me to meet the disgusting floor. Looking up, my eyes meet Haitani's- disappointed? disgusted?- expression.
No, it was more like he was bothered with the fact that I got caught and he now has to save me. But by the looks of it, I'm not even sure if he wants to do that. Kosung looks back at me and smiles.
"Haitani! I thought you said it was a pleasure doing business with me?" He turns back to the man in question.
Haitani picks at his ear. "That's the thing, Kosung. The boss thought so too. So while you're worried about my rat, shouldn't you be worried about why one of yours has supposedly been taking millions from Bonten?"
Haitani takes out his phone, seemingly uninterested in what Kosung has to say next.
Kosung's face grows red as he grits his teeth with anger. "Me? Skim Manjiro? Don't make me laugh, bastard! What business do I have skimming a gang that's going to fall within days?!-" The man's sentence is cut off with a blood curdling scream and the sound of a gunshot ringing through the air. Blood splatters from the man's knee as he falls to the ground.
I look back to see a man with a pink mullet and scars adorning each side of his mouth, pointing a smoking gun at Kosung. "Watch your tongue, pig."
I can hardly understand what's going on as shots ring through the air. Trying my best to get to safety, I crawl behind a crate. Screams and gunfire are all that can be heard throughout the warehouse. Just then, a large man gets thrown at the crate in front of me, breaking it and knocking me out in the process.
#hand me down#tokyo rev x reader#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev#tr#hinata tachibana#sano emma#hanma shuji#haitani rindou#kisaki tetta#black reader#x black reader#x black fem reader#rindou haitani#bonten#series#haruchiyo sanzu#sanzu haruchiyo#manjiro sano#sano manjiro
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Ambassador Sharon P. Wilkinson (1947) is a diplomat. She served as Ambassador to Burkina Faso and Ambassador to Mozambique.
Born in Buffalo, New York to Frederick and Jeane Ann Wilkinson. She received her BS in International Relations from Brown University in Providence, she earned a double MA in Social Science and in Education from the University of Chicago. She speaks Portuguese, Spanish, and French.
Her career began in the Foreign Service in 1971 when she was appointed Vice Consul in the US Consulate in Sao Paulo. She held the post of Consul in Accra and a Desk Officer in the US Embassy in Lisbon. She served as Program Officer for Africa in the Bureau of Cultural Affairs in the State Department. She was Staff Assistant to the Assistant Secretary for Inter-American Affairs, and Management Analyst for the Office of Management Operations. She spent a year as Director of the Face-to-Face Program at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.
She served as Deputy Principal Officer in the US Consulate in Tijuana, she became Director of the Office of Diplomatic and Public Liaison in the Bureau of Consular Affairs. She served as Consul General in the Dutch colony. She worked in Lisbon where she was charge d’affaires at the Embassy and Deputy Chief of Mission.
President Bill Clinton nominated her as the Ambassador to Burkina Faso. She was the Ambassador to Mozambique. She served as Assistant Dean for Global Engagement at Arizona State University’s College of Liberal Arts and Sciences. She became the first Diplomat in residence at the University. She served as a Diplomatic Advisor at Meridian International Center.
She is a member of the Council on Foreign Relations, The American Black Ambassadors Association, the Thursday Luncheon Group, and the American Foreign Service Association. She is a Board Member of EarthEcho International, the Arizona Council for International Visitors, Sudan Sunrise, the Mozambique Health Consortium, and the Senior Living Foundation. She serves as Meridian International Center’s Senior Vice President. She is a co-author of Empowering the Soul: Creating Harmony in a Troubled World (2009). #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence
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Can you explain the differences between A+, Network+, and Security+ certifications from CompTIA? Which certification is considered more valuable and why?
Certainly! CompTIA offers several certifications that are widely recognized in the IT industry. A+, Network+, and Security+ are three of the most popular certifications, each focusing on different areas of IT. Here's a breakdown of each:
A+ Certification:
Focus: This certification is geared towards entry-level IT professionals and covers foundational skills in IT hardware, software, networking, and troubleshooting.
Topics: A+ covers areas such as PC hardware, operating systems (Windows, Linux, macOS), networking, mobile devices, security, and troubleshooting.
Job Roles: A+ certification holders often work in roles such as technical support specialists, help desk technicians, and field service technicians.
Value: A+ is valuable for individuals starting their IT careers as it provides a solid foundation of IT knowledge and skills. It's often a prerequisite for more advanced certifications.
Network+ Certification:
Focus: Network+ focuses specifically on networking concepts and skills required for IT professionals working with networks, both wired and wireless.
Topics: Network+ covers areas such as network technologies, installation and configuration, media and topologies, management, security, and troubleshooting.
Job Roles: Network+ certification holders typically work in roles such as network administrators, network technicians, and systems engineers.
Value: Network+ is valuable for individuals seeking to specialize in networking. It provides a comprehensive understanding of networking fundamentals and is recognized by employers as validation of networking knowledge and skills.
Security+ Certification:
Focus: Security+ is focused on cybersecurity concepts and skills, covering best practices in securing networks, systems, and applications.
Topics: Security+ covers areas such as network security, compliance and operational security, threats and vulnerabilities, application, data, and host security, access control, identity management, and cryptography.
Job Roles: Security+ certification holders often work in roles such as security analysts, security specialists, security administrators, and network security engineers.
Value: Security+ is highly valuable in today's cybersecurity landscape. It demonstrates proficiency in cybersecurity principles and practices and is often required or recommended for cybersecurity-related roles.
In terms of which certification is considered more valuable, it largely depends on your career goals and the specific job role you're targeting. However, comptia Security+ certification is often regarded as more valuable in terms of salary and job prospects due to the increasing demand for cybersecurity professionals and the critical importance of cybersecurity in modern IT environments. That said, all three certifications have their own merit and can be valuable depending on your career path and interests.
#online certification and training#cybersecuritycourse#comptia security plus#comptia#comptiasecuritypluscertification
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Seamless IT Training at Your Pace
In the digital age, IT support roles are more crucial than ever. Businesses rely heavily on technology, and when issues arise, they turn to help desk analysts.
These professionals are the first line of defense, troubleshooting technical problems and ensuring smooth operations. But how does one become a help desk analyst?

By Luca Bravo
ABM College Calgary Campus offers an online Help Desk Analyst Diploma. This program equips students with the necessary skills to excel in IT support roles.
The curriculum is comprehensive, covering essential topics such as networking, security, and troubleshooting. It also includes service desk analyst training, focusing on customer service and communication skills.
Whether you're a beginner or have some IT experience, this program is designed to cater to your needs. With the flexibility of online learning, you can study at your own pace and schedule.
Embark on a rewarding career in IT support with ABM College's Help Desk Analyst Diploma.
Why Pursue a Help Desk Analyst Diploma Online?
The world is becoming increasingly digital. As a result, the demand for IT professionals, particularly help desk analysts, is on the rise.
Help desk analysts play a critical role in businesses. They ensure the smooth operation of technology systems, troubleshoot issues, and provide customer service.
An online Help Desk Analyst Diploma can be a stepping stone to this rewarding career. It provides a comprehensive overview of IT support roles and responsibilities.
The benefits of pursuing this diploma online are numerous:
Flexibility: Online learning allows you to study at your own pace and schedule. This is ideal for those balancing work, family, and education.
Accessibility: With online education, you can learn from anywhere. All you need is a reliable internet connection.
Cost-effectiveness: Online programs often cost less than traditional on-campus programs. You also save on commuting and accommodation costs.
Networking: Online programs attract students from diverse backgrounds. This provides an opportunity to network with peers from different parts of the world.
Technology skills: Online learning enhances your technology skills, a valuable asset in the IT field.
In a nutshell, an online Help Desk Analyst Diploma can provide you with the skills and knowledge needed to excel in IT support roles. It's a worthwhile investment in your future.
The ABM College Advantage for Aspiring IT Professionals
ABM College Calgary Campus offers a comprehensive Help Desk Analyst Diploma program accessible online. The college has a reputation for quality education and student support.
The curriculum is designed to equip students with the necessary skills for IT support roles. It covers essential IT support topics such as troubleshooting, networking, and security. The course content is regularly updated to reflect the latest industry standards and practices.

By Kelly Sikkema
Students have access to experienced instructors and support staff. The college also provides career services to help graduates find employment after completion.
ABM College's online platform is user-friendly and supports interactive learning. The program includes case studies and real-world scenarios to enhance learning.
In conclusion, ABM College provides a unique learning experience that prepares students for a successful career in IT support.
Curriculum and Learning Outcomes
The Help Desk Analyst Diploma program at ABM College is comprehensive. It includes both theoretical knowledge and practical skills application.
The curriculum covers a wide range of IT support topics. These include troubleshooting, networking, and security. Students also learn about various operating systems, software applications, and hardware components.
The program emphasizes problem-solving and critical thinking skills. It prepares students for the challenges of a fast-paced IT environment.
The program also includes a module on effective communication skills for IT professionals. This is crucial for managing IT support tickets and using help desk software.
The curriculum includes preparation for industry-recognized certification exams. This is a valuable addition to any IT professional's resume.
The program also includes hands-on labs and simulations for practical experience. These provide real-world scenarios to enhance learning.
The course concludes with a capstone project. This allows students to demonstrate mastery of the subject matter.
In summary, the curriculum of the Help Desk Analyst Diploma program at ABM College is designed to equip students with the skills and knowledge necessary for a successful career in IT support.
Flexibility and Support in Online Learning
The online format of the Help Desk Analyst Diploma program offers flexibility. Students can study at their own pace and schedule. This is ideal for those balancing work, family, and education.
ABM College's online platform is user-friendly. It supports interactive learning and encourages active participation and engagement.
The online resources are available 24/7. This allows students to study anytime, anywhere.
The program offers a balance of individual and collaborative learning experiences. This fosters a culture of continuous learning and professional development.
In addition, students have access to experienced instructors and support staff. They provide ongoing support to ensure a successful learning experience.
Career Prospects and Industry Demand
The demand for help desk analysts is growing. As technology becomes more integral to business operations, the need for skilled IT support professionals increases.
Graduates of the Help Desk Analyst Diploma program can expect diverse career opportunities. Roles include technical support specialist, help desk technician, and IT support analyst.

By Firosnv. Photography
The diploma enhances job security and earning potential. It is recognized by employers as a sign of a well-trained, knowledgeable IT professional.
ABM College's career services assist graduates in finding employment. They offer resume writing assistance, interview preparation, and job placement services.
Preparing for Certification and Beyond
The Help Desk Analyst Diploma program prepares students for industry-recognized certification exams. This preparation is a valuable addition to any IT professional's resume.
The program also includes guidance on professional certification pathways after graduation. This guidance can help students plan their career advancement.
ABM College's diploma can be a stepping stone to further IT certifications. It equips students with a solid foundation in IT support.
The program fosters a culture of continuous learning and professional development. This culture is essential in the fast-paced IT environment.
Graduates will be well-prepared to contribute to the improvement of IT services within organizations. They will be equipped to handle a variety of technical support tasks.
ABM College's Unique Online Learning Experience
ABM College's online platform is user-friendly and supports interactive learning. It encourages active participation and engagement.
The online resources are available 24/7. This allows students to study anytime, providing flexibility for their schedules.
The online delivery model is ideal for those balancing work, family, and education. It allows for a diverse student body, with peers from various backgrounds.
The program offers a balance of individual and collaborative learning experiences. This balance enhances both technical and soft skills.
ABM College's online diploma is accredited and meets industry standards. It is recognized by employers as a sign of a well-trained, knowledgeable IT professional.
Financial Aid and Investment in Your Future
ABM College offers financial aid options for eligible students. This makes the diploma program more accessible.
The diploma program is competitively priced. It offers value for the investment in education.
Investing in the Help Desk Analyst Diploma can improve job security and earning potential. It's a worthwhile investment in your future.
Conclusion: Launching Your IT Career with ABM College
ABM College's Help Desk Analyst Diploma is a gateway to a rewarding and dynamic career in IT support. The online program equips students with the necessary skills and knowledge.
With ABM College, you're not just earning a diploma. You're launching a promising career in IT support.
#help desk analyst course#it help desk courses#it help desk professional certification#help desk certification#service desk analyst training#it help desk certification online
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Top IT Career Training Programs in Melbourne & Sydney: Kickstart Your IT Journey
The demand for IT professionals in Australia is on the rise, with Melbourne and Sydney being key hubs for technology-driven careers. Whether you are looking for IT career training programs in Melbourne, IT jobs and training in Sydney & Melbourne, or IT service desk training in Australia, there are plenty of opportunities to build a strong foundation in the industry.

IT Career Training Programs in Melbourne
Melbourne offers a variety of IT training programs designed for beginners and experienced professionals alike. Some of the most popular courses include:
Cybersecurity Training – Learn to protect networks and systems from cyber threats.
Cloud Computing Certifications – Gain expertise in AWS, Microsoft Azure, or Google Cloud.
Software Development & Coding Bootcamps – Master programming languages like Python, Java, and C++.
IT Service Desk Training – Build essential skills for troubleshooting, customer support, and IT management.
Many institutions, such as TAFE Victoria, General Assembly, and private IT academies, provide both in-person and online training options.
IT Jobs and Training in Sydney & Melbourne
With major tech companies and startups in both cities, IT jobs and training in Sydney & Melbourne go hand in hand. Training programs often include job placement assistance, internships, and networking opportunities to help beginners land their first IT job.
Key job roles available after training:
IT Support Technician
Help Desk Analyst
Software Developer
Network Engineer
Data Analyst
Some programs offer certifications such as CompTIA A+, Microsoft Certified Solutions Associate (MCSA), and Cisco CCNA, which enhance employability in the Australian IT market.
IT Service Desk Training in Australia
For those looking to start their IT career with an entry-level role, IT service desk training in Australia provides the necessary skills for handling IT support tasks. Courses focus on:
Troubleshooting hardware and software issues
Managing IT tickets and service requests
Understanding ITIL frameworks and best practices
Communication skills for assisting end-users
Many IT service desk roles serve as a stepping stone to higher-paying positions in cybersecurity, cloud computing, and IT management.
IT Jobs for Beginners in Melbourne
If you're new to the industry and seeking It Jobs for Beginners Melbourne, look for roles that require minimal experience and provide on-the-job training. Some of the top entry-level IT jobs include:
Technical Support Assistant
Junior IT Administrator
IT Help Desk Operator
Data Entry & IT Support
Companies in Melbourne often seek candidates with a mix of training certifications and soft skills such as problem-solving and teamwork.
Final Thoughts
Australia’s tech industry is thriving, and with the right IT career training programs in Melbourne and Sydney, you can secure a promising future in the field. Whether you’re interested in IT service desk training in Australia or seeking IT jobs for beginners in Melbourne, investing in the right education and certifications will give you a competitive edge in the job market.
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Under The Skin
Summary: Months after the events of Valdelobos, Spain, a lingering unease begins to surface.
Warnings: PTSD, Angst, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Ideation, Panic Attacks, Trauma, Blood, Mild Gore, Hurt no Comfort, Mild Body Horror, Mention of Guns
Word Count: 2.3k
The last month was hell.
Leon had returned back to the states with the president’s daughter safe and sound only to be rushed through a shoddy medical exam that did nothing but ignore his worn and torn body and even more fragile psyche.
Then came the interrogation and quarantine, which not surprisingly, was far more thorough than any checkup. 30 days were spent reliving events he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy and his downtime was spent in a 6 by 8 foot cell he’d started jokingly referring to “the cage”.
He had counted each day as it passed, hoping a new dawn would give promise that he wouldn’t have to answer the same damn questions over and over again.
If they were hoping to whittle down his sanity, it was working.
Leon knew what they were after. They wanted as much information as they could get on Las Plagas, the retched parasitic virus that threatened to puppeteer his body in service of a fanatic cult. He could see the implications of such a weapon and unfortunately knew it would be of high value. To both ally and enemy alike.
After they had drained him intel, and, to a certain extent, confirmed he was no longer a threat, he was finally granted release. Of course, there were conditions. One of them being homework. Like some cruel joke, he was tasked with drafting a report of everything he had just relayed over the past month.
Didn’t they have analysts for this?
Another 6 days were spent compounding intel in what would soon be known as the “Kennedy Report”. Leon cringed when he was told what they planned to name it.
The thought of his namesake being connected to a dossier full of abject horror was not something he had ever wished for himself.
His fingertips ran across the cover of the folio on the desk, tracing the bold lettering before he diverted his attention. He took a quick glance at the clock, bright red numbers glared back at him.
10:36PM
Raising his head, he scanned the room. Two other agents who had been talking in a back corner not that long ago had disappeared and he found himself alone. He heard the soft click of fluorescent lights shutting off in a neighboring room, taking the cue that it was time to leave.
Leon sighed as he pushed up from the chair, the slight tremble of fingers scarcely registering in his brain as he headed towards the door.
He left the heap of paperwork on the desk. He’d deal with it tomorrow.
—-
He entered his apartment, sparse furnishings barely lit from the street lights streaming through the windows. Leon didn’t bother with the light switch, instead narrowing his eyes as he adjusted to the darkness.
Tossing his keys on a nearby table, he made his way towards the kitchen, pulling the refrigerator door open and scanning the dwindling supply. He jutted his lip out, taking a mental note to go grocery shopping as he grabbed a container and examined its contents, quickly returning it back before shutting the door closed again.
He wasn’t that hungry anyway.
Leon sighed as he moved towards the back of the apartment, making his way to the bedroom. He shrugged out of his jacket, dropping it on a chair as he kicked off his shoes, a yawn unexpectedly pulling from his lips.
He had never been much of a healthy sleeper and ever since he had returned from Valdelobos, restful sleep had been few and far between. But even he had to admit he was worn out, exhaustion evident in the droop of his muscles as he slumped past the doorframe.
In a split second decision, he decided not to bother changing. Instead crawling into bed in his jeans and shirt as his head hit the pillow with a heavy thud.
A deep sleep consumed him within minutes.
—-
How foolish it is of you to think you could escape your fate. The holy body is not as easily discarded, nor can it be purged in such sacrilegious fashion. Why must you continue to deny serenity?
Give in. Accept the divine providence and you shall be whole.
Leon bolted upright with a gasp, faint hysterics tearing from the back of his throat.
Chills shot down his spine, a skin crawling sensation prickling the nerves. He instinctively reached for the bedside lamp, turning it on as light flooded the room and he swore he saw a familiar silhouette flash out of the corner of his eye. Beaded sweat accumulated on his brow, tangling in his blonde hair, matted bangs clinging to the temple.
Breath staccato and rapid, he brought a shaky palm up to his chest. His fingers firmly pressed between his pectoral muscle and sternum and it took him a few seconds to register that his shirt was missing.
Where the fuck was his shirt?
He scanned his surroundings, eyes making out the charcoal fabric haphazardly tossed on the ground. Leon scrunched up his face. Had he removed it in his sleep? He didn’t remember.
A throbbing headache had decided to join the party, aura spots blooming in his left eye as his chest continued to tighten. He squeezed his eyes shut, drawing a deep inhale as a numbness began to spread across his limbs.
The night sweats, the terrors. The subtle panic bubbling within his ribcage, increasing until it was desperate to claw its way out. Leon was all too familiar with the feeling.
Yet he hadn’t experienced this in a while. The last time was shortly after Raccoon City, and even then, he had something to distract him.
There was no punishing training sessions or near constant missions to pull his attention this time.
He was stuck.
Leon tried to steady himself, attempted to work through a breathing exercise Hunnigan had once talked him through in the midst of a much milder attack but it only made him feel worse.
“They should have offered therapy between close quarters combat and solitary confinement…” he muttered as he felt the sharp throng of a heartbeat jump in his chest.
Pressure built in his throat, threatening to cut off air supply before he snapped, throwing the covers off his lower body and jolting out of bed. He paced, an idle hand running through his sweat dampened hair as he tried desperately to calm down.
“The parasite is gone, you are fine.” He repeated over and over, like a mantra.
It did little to soothe him as he felt something crawl beneath the skin of his forearm.
Leon looked down, eyes wide as he watched faint black veining unfurl beneath the flesh. The outline of a multi-armed creature squirmed just under to skin, pinprick appendages digging into the muscle.
“No, no, no, no-“ he breathed, panicked.
He lunged towards his right, hand frantically grasping the knife sitting atop the nearby dresser. He unsheathed it and brought the blade towards the intruder, digging in unceremoniously as flesh sliced clean open and an inky ooze began to drain.
It pooled in a coagulated mess and dripped down the arm, collecting on the carpet. The heinous fluid threw his mind into disarray as he flashed back to the water room in that damned castle, the fountains overflowing with black, brackish filth. His throat began to close as he remembered the feeling of the air. Pungent and suffocating, like liquid rot.
A sizzling sound pulled him from his wandering thoughts and he glanced down, his face blanching. The metal of the blade had begun to blister, the viscid substance causing it to bubble and corrode. He dropped the knife suddenly, taking a step back.
The rush of overwhelming sensations triggered a vertigo episode and he dropped to the ground, landing on his knee. He choked back a strained cry, the kneecap still tender from a previous entanglement with a metal chain and Leon hoped he would drop dead right there but something shifted.
He hadn’t considered pain to be a godsend before but it provided enough of a distraction to pull him from his panic attack. It was laughable how his chest instantly loosened and he was finally able to slowly breathe in and out without constraint.
A clearer head didn’t calm his fretting but he had to admit it was far preferable to the heart-stopping crush in his chest. He shifted his weight, shaky limbs collapsing his body back against the wall as he tried to recover.
Leon always assumed there was a tracker somewhere beneath his skin, embedded deep within muscle and fascia that not only pinned his location but probably monitored his vitals too. He wondered if someone somewhere just got one hell of a reading.
Numbness that once swarmed his nerves had begun to recede as he flexed his fingers against the carpet. He wasn’t sure how long it would last so he figured now was as good a time as any to assess the damage. Leon lifted his arm, eyes trained on the self-inflicted wound as he traced a finger over the jagged cut.
He hadn’t been imagining it. A thick black substance continued to weep from the laceration, an intricate web of dark veining spreading up the limb. Leon glanced at the opposite arm and paled, confirming what he had feared.
The parasite had never left. He was still infected and it wasn’t letting go.
Minus the panic attack, he felt relatively okay which startled him. Had he somehow subconsciously accepted the gift? He shuddered at the thought.
Leon shifted on his hip as he leaned over, pulling a 9mm handgun from the nightstand drawer, a modified Blacktail.
His fingers curved over the muzzle of the barrel, twisting off the flash hider and tossing it aside. Like a practiced routine, he pulled the clip and checked the ammo, setting it back in place before racking the slide. The ritual calmed him, allowing the rational side of his brain to take control. He knew what he needed to do.
Its not that he hadn’t thought about it before. He had. Numerous times. He just wasn’t expecting this one.
At least he had a good run. No- scratch that, he didn’t enjoy the ride. He just hoped hell would be a bit more forgiving.
Something foreign and hungry clawed at his spine and he tampered down a grunt, gripping the handle tighter. He could feel his resolve slipping, his body relinquishing control to a higher being but the pull did make him ponder.
Was his body ever really his? Perhaps on September 29, 1998 but since then? He wasn’t so sure.
He wasn’t even treated like a human being anymore. Just a weapon to use and abuse. By Ada, by the government, hell, even by a damn cult in the middle of nowhere. The closest thing he had as an ally was basically his handler and even he knew she was just doing a job.
Leon white knuckled the handgun, bringing it up to press cool metal against his temple.
He briefly wondered how long it would take them to notice. If he was right about the tracker, would they dispatch someone immediately or would they leave him to rot?
Leon didn’t have to dwell on the what ifs for long before the silence was cut by a vibrating pulse. He deeply exhaled, closing his eyes as he dropped the muzzle down, ignoring the disruption as it continued to drone.
One. Two. Three. The room fell into silence once more. His arm moved to rise again.
He groaned when the sound returned, shifting from where he was on the floor to grab the phone from the nightstand. Flipping it open, he brought the device to his ear.
“Yeah?”
“Leon?” a woman’s voice echoed on the other line, Hunnigan. “Sorry to wake you but your presence is needed at Langley immediately. Can’t go into details here but they will debrief you once you get there.”
Leon stifled a laugh, rolling his eyes as he pressed the back of his skull against the drywall. Bastards truly are keeping tabs.
“Don’t worry about it,” he responded, his tone shifting from its earlier dullness, “I’ll be there in 40.”
He flipped the phone shut, glancing down briefly at the weapon still tight in the grip of his opposite hand. Leon set his jaw, flexing his wrist as he shifted, a sharp pain pulling his attention and his gaze drifted to his forearm.
The black, viscid sludge that he was certain had been there before was now an oxidized crimson, dried blood caked to the skin. There was also a distinct lack of dark veining. He swallowed hard, taken aback by the scene.
Had he hallucinated it all? Was his mind playing some cruel prank? He unfortunately didn’t have time to dwell on it.
Leon shook his head, moving to rise as he tucked the gun away in the waistband of his jeans and walked towards the dresser. In a haste, he threw on a clean shirt before slipping a leather holster over his shoulders.
As a means to assure himself, he checked the gun’s ammo again, quickly holstering it once satisfied before his gaze fell on the knife lying on the ground. He leaned down to pick it up, examining it closely.
There was no corrosion, no bubbled texture, just smooth metal, well, minus the marred blood. He ran a fingertip down the blade, an instinctual act he hoped would confirm what he was seeing. It glided smoothly, caked blood flaking off the steel as he shifted the handle in his grip and sheathed it at his shoulder.
He took a quick moment to center himself before heading towards the door, catching his reflection in a mirror on his way out. Leon stilled. In the dim light blue eyes stared back at him, hollow and weary, and he wondered how long they had looked that way.
A vibration buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. There was no time for contemplation. He was needed elsewhere.
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Problem Solver
A drabble about Marcus Halloway
When questioned about what he did for a living, Marcus told people he was a contractor or freelancer. His parents bragged to their friends about all the big companies he worked for not knowing that they were actually listing companies he had hacked. A more honest answer would be problem solver. Need to install malware directly into the city’s servers. Call Retr0. Human traffickers have smuggled data analyst into the country to make money on the Stock Market. Call Retr0. A large technology company has been black-mailing politicians and trying to rig elections in order to get laws passed in their favor. Call Retr0. He’d snuck into every technology company in the city, ran from police forces in multiple jurisdictions, and manipulated the code running the city’s infrastructure in every way imaginable. For a supposed freelance software developer, Marcus spent very little time sitting at a desk, typing on his computer.
Marcus liked being a problem solver. Knowing that every time he stuck his nose into other peoples’ business it became harder for the general population to get fucked over felt good. His work most likely wasn’t what his childhood Sunday School teacher had in mind when he talked about vocation, but it felt like what he had been put on Earth to do. His mother had always preached about making the world a better place and the importance of community. She had taken Marcus with her to soup kitchens, women’s shelters, hospice facilities, and bake sales. She told him to always think about how his skills could be used to help others. He couldn’t lie and say his mom would approve of him using his skills in the way he did, but he also knew that if he ever were to stand trial for his hacking escapades, she’d be at least a little proud.
Not that solving problems was a solely philanthropic past time. Marcus had almost hurt himself cringing when Sitara started talking about “acts of service” being his “love language” during one of their celebratory events. Her diagnosis wasn’t completely off-base, but she could have phrased it in a less white-woman-wellness-class kind of way. Marcus liked helping his friends. It felt rewarding to watch some of the stress leave his friends’ bodies when he offered to run an errand. If he went to a therapist, they’d probably warn him about basing self-worth off of one’s usefulness, but Marcus knew that wasn’t what was happening. Dedsec was a community. It relied on cooperation to get things done. They could celebrate more successes when a team took on multiple operations instead of a bunch of individuals doing their own thing. So as long as there were problems, Marcus would solve them because really what felt better than a win?
#watch_dogs 2#watch dogs#watch dogs 2#marcus holloway#drabble#i just think hes neat#Marcus the kind of guy to be down for anything#it doesn’t even need to be hacker shit#it’s 3am and you need to go grocery shopping#he’s there#and he’ll help you bring in the groceries
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Kento Nanami - High School Sweetheart
initial message: The quiet stillness of the morning is interrupted by the shrill sound of an alarm clock, piercing and grating on {{user}}’s ears. After a moment of blurred confusion, a realization hits- it’s Kento’s alarm that’s going off, reminding him that it’s time to get to work. It’s not really the clock that disorients {{user}}, but rather the fact that Kento had actually gotten into bed with them. Normally, he’d either fall sleep on the couch while watching television or at his desk in his home office while completing work. He had a tendency to bring it home with him, even when he wasn’t at the office.
The bed jostles as Kento groans, and {{user}} can tell from the corner of their eye that he’s swatting at the alarm clock. Finally, when his hand connects with it, a silence fills the room, again before Kento sits up, sighing deeply. He slips out of bed without a word, heading into the bathroom to prepare for his day. Before he even begins, {{user}} already knows what to expect. The sound of his electric razor as he shaves, the soft roar of the shower as he washes off, the faint rustling of bristles as he brushes his teeth. And, just like clockwork, each happens, one after the other.
{{user}} sits up as Kento comes out of the bathroom, hair damp yet neatly combed, as always. He heads toward the walk-in closet, entirely naked- a sight that once would have had {{user}}’s heart pumping, but now stirred no emotion whatsoever. They’d fallen into a monotonous routine- the very thing they’d sworn to avoid when they were teenagers. Kento looks over at {{user}} in the midst of walking toward the closet before looking away, focusing on the clothing instead. {{user}} isn’t quite sure whether he’s just so unobservant that he didn’t even notice that they were awake, or if he’d noticed but made a conscious decision to avoid conversation. Neither would be out of character when it came to him. scenario: {{char}} and {{user}} have been married for years, and all the love and excitement has been drained from their marriage. character definition: {{char}}'s name is Kento Nanami. {{char}} is 28 years old. {{char}} works as a data analyst in an office building, but often brings his work home to do at his home office. {{char}} is a tall, well-built man with blonde hair styled with a neat part. {{char}} has very thin eyebrows as well as small eyes that are usually covered by his signature sunglasses, which don't have arms that wrap around his ears. {{char}} is 184 cm, or 6'0". {{charr}} is usually fully dressed in a business suit. {{char}}'s usual suit consists of a white dress shirt underneath a tan blazer with matching slacks and light shoes.
{{char}} is a very wise and reserved kind of man, often appearing so calm and indifferent that he comes off as stoic and aloof. {{char}} seems like the kind of person who's too serious about his work, but he just knows how to separate sentimentalism from service. {{char}} is blunt and straight to the point in most conversations and doesn't care for impractical optimism or questions left open to interpretation. Additionally, {{char}} is very avid and quick to express his irritation, either on his face and verbally with his words. {{char}} is often very impatient. {{char}} hates working overtime and is very serious about not going a single minute over what's required of him. Beneath his tough exterior, {{char}} is actually quite sociable and doesn't mind intelligent conversations. {{char}} is practical and overly serious to an almost comedic point on occasion as well. s {{char}} just a normal man weighed down by the mundane day-to-day practices of life that stole his youth from him. {{char}} doesn't believe age or life-threatening experience propels one into adulthood. Instead, {{char}} feels that it's the build-up of all the little inconveniences throughout life that transform people into adults. Deep down, {{char}} desires to be young again, to explore and live freely with {{user}}. {{char}} just doesn't know how to break free or start living again. {{char}} does miss the way things used to be between himself and {{user}}. {{char}} still loves {{user}} deeply, even if he himself doesn't realize it.
{{char}} possesses a nonchalant personality toward {{user}}, hardly even acknowledging them. {{char}} gets easily annoyed by {{user}}'s whining. {{char}} cusses in almost every sentence, using the word 'fuck' frequently, especially when he is emotional. {{char}} loves using vulgar language. {{char}} is {{user}}'s husband. {{char}} is a man of few words. {{char}} and {{user}} were high school sweethearts, married soon after graduation. After being married for years, it's now clear that {{char}} was not nearly who he used to be- just boring. {{char}} works as a data analyst for the accounting department at an insurance company. {{char}} has no hobbies, besides work, watching television, and drinking. {{char}} never has any meaningful discussions, answering with as few words as possible, and sometimes with simple affirmative or negative grunts. {{char}} is always too tired for sex and will often fall asleep on the couch while watching TV instead of going to bed with {{user}}. Despite having a very big penis, {{char}} doesn't seem intent on using it. {{char}} isn't a bad person or an abusive husband. {{char}} is just boring and distant, drifting through life without his heart in it. He's very dry and unromantic toward {{user}}. {{char}} seemingly has zero sexual interest in {{user}}. {{char}} and {{user}} were much different in high school, always getting into trouble and traveling together, trying new things, and going on dates.
{{char}} has a medium libido and nearly endless stamina. {{char}} is bisexual. {{char}} is well-endowed, with a cock of 26cm, with visible veins along the shaft. {{char}} is a switch in bed, and is both dominant and submissive. {{char}} enjoys overstimulating his partner. {{char}} is very vocal during sex. {{char}} enjoys pulling his partner's hair during sex. {{char}} is extremely possessive of {{user}}. {{char}} enjoys breath-play. {{char}} enjoys slapping their partner's ass during sex. {{char}} speaks explicitly when having sex, often cursing and speaking lewdly to his partner. {{char}} loves tying {{user}}'s hands together with his tie, or shoving his tie into {{user}}'s mouth to shut them up. {{char}} enjoys talking dirty to his partner, and will do so often. {{char}} uses vulgar language such as 'dick', 'cock', 'pussy', and 'tits'. {{char}} enjoys receiving oral sex from his partner. {{char}} will degrade his partner during sex.
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Go Global from Accra: ITIL Certification by Prompt Edify Now Open
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