#automated coffee machine

[yamifreshus]

The Business Benefits of Vending Machines

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[coffeebotholdings]

Top Benefits Of Having A Coffee Machine In Your Office

The caffeine in espresso acts as a stimulant, which could assist employees fight fatigue and stay alert throughout the day. By providing an automated coffee machine within the office, you are ensuring that your employees have a reliable source of strength to keep them focused and productive.

Read Also:- Top Benefits Of Having A Coffee Machine In Your Office

[prettyflyshyguy]

I regret to inform you all that I'm in my failgirl era.

[helianthus21]

are you telling me he has this sick ass house with top notch technology but still drinks instant coffee?

[marigold-hills]

Sirius Black who doesn’t know what to do with his inheritance, so he gets deep into smart home technology.

Everything in his flat gets automated. His coffee maks itself, his fridge orders groceries, his washing machine always chooses the right cycle. He doesn’t need to do anything - weather and news displayed on the bathroom mirror before he can ask, the shower always perfect temperature when he steps under the spray.

It’s boring. He didn’t realise how much time he’d left over once all his life admin is done for him.

He’d get rid of the whole system if not for the Computer’s voice. He goes pathetic for it.

It’s soothing, when it speaks back to him, strangely human. Good at cheering him up when he’s a bit down and reminding him to eat or call his friends or take a walk when he gets too deep into a project.

Sirius falls half in love with a machine.

What he doesn’t know:

Remus Lupin has medical debt. Lots of medical debt. The company he works for has covered the expenses so he’s got a ten year iron-clad i breakable contract with them. Can’t quit his job until it’s paid off. Not unless he wants to be sued for everything he’s worth and he’s worth nothing.

He watches this man every second. Sleeps only when he sleeps. Has alarms set that respond to changes in his breathing, in his heart rate, so he’s sure to wake up before Sirius does. Can’t miss him asking for lights or for coffee or for his shower to be turned on.

Can’t make a mistake. If the company loses a client, it gets added onto Remus’ debt.

The cameras are everywhere, and the man doesn’t know. Remus is as good as his slave, and the man doesn’t know. Thinks it’s a computer he’s telling about his life and his problems and his joys, annoyances, days.

Remus falls half in love with him, then quite completely.

It’s risky, when he starts dropping hints. Tiny ones. Absolutely not to be noticed by anyone else, but he knows Sirius. Sirius will.

And Sirius does.

[heelix1r]

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 DON’T BE SHY … COME CLOSER 🌾

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ don’t be shy, jungwon just wants to take some pictures with you. won’t you join him?

bela is typing . . . oh to be in forced proximity with yang jungwon…

jungwon x f!reader | drabble | romance | no established au

masterlist | guidelines | requests OPEN !

like this order? check out my recently opened coffee lounge to make your own order to-go ;)

jungwon + romance + forced proximity + “are you blushing?”

you heard distinct chattering from inside the photobooth you were passing by on your way to the claw machines. by the time you turned the corner, you were startled to see jungwon standing on the side, crossing his arms lightly as he rolled his eyes at the commotion coming from the inside. he laid eyes on you, and his expression softened.

“so that’s where you guys were headed off to,” you retorted with a chuckle. “i was wondering how i could���ve lost all seven of you.”

“it was jake’s idea,” he said, tapping on the photobooth with his hands. “but i lost rock-paper-scissors with jay since we both entered the booth last. so now i just have to wait here.”

you heard a muffled “almost done!” from sunoo inside the booth.

“but never mind that,” jungwon said, pushing himself from the photobooth, placing his hands in his pockets. “where were you headed? or were you just looking for us?”

“oh no.” you shook your head. “i gave up five minutes ago, i was going to leave you guys for dead. i wanted to check out the claw machines.”

jungwon shook his head as he saw heeseung’s foot step outside of the booth, presumably preventing himself from falling out. the both of you could hear fragmented bickering about who got to be in the front, faces being smushed in, and an onslaught of swearing, laughing, and yelling that seemed to have no end. you gave each other a knowing look—jungwon definitely was the lucky one by staying out of there.

“well, i’ll come join you,” he mused, nudging his head over to the claw machines. “i bet what you’re doing is a lot more productive than whatever they’re doing.”

“good idea.” you had resigned yourself to taking the lead, and jungwon was more than happy to follow suit. by the time you two had your backs to the photobooth, everything that happened next was too quick for you to process.

in a flash of whirring movements, you yelped at the feeling of your arms being grasped—jungwon’s grunt mirrored your surprise as you watched the other boys chase the two of you down, forcibly pushing you into the photobooth. you and jungwon stared at each other amidst processing their unfiltered laughter. you could hear an employee scolding them to keep it down.

“what are you guys doing?” jungwon asked, his face showing more concern over everything else.

“take some pictures!” riki called out from the outside. “you two are the only ones who didn’t get to, so jay threw in a few more won for you guys to do. see you later!”

it was hard to miss their parading footsteps fade into the distance. you turned to the bright, inviting screen, giving you the option of the standard 4-picture portrait mode.

then it hit you.

you were alone in a close space with yang jungwon.

your body tensed up immediately at the realization, taking in the subtlety in the way his shoulder was pressed against yours. you could smell his cologne—it was faint, but you knew it was his. the only sound that filled your shared silence was the automated voice coming from the booth, inviting the both of you to choose some filters.

you were startled at the sound of jungwon clearing his throat. both of you turned towards one another slowly, your eye contact with him moving back towards the screen.

“we could just take some normal photos,” he offered nonchalantly. he even slouched ever so slightly after he tinkered with the options. “or some silly ones. have any ideas in mind?”

think, think, think.

jungwon, jungwon, jungwon.

“we could,” you mumbled quietly, very intentionally avoiding his gaze. you stared straight in front of you, as if the screen magnetized your vision. or rather, jungwon was repelling it.

repelling it would be far from the truth.

“y/n, that was not an answer.” you pressed your lips together as you heard his voice contort with confusion. “nonchalant or silly? or a mix of both?”

“silly,” you blurted out, your eyes still glued to the screen. “yeah, that would be a good idea.”

jungwon didn’t respond. as a matter of fact, you realized he didn’t reach out for the screen either. he sat there in silence.

“y/n,” he said after a few moments. “look at me.”

you obliged. to your horror, you saw a glint of a smirk stretch across his lips, watching intently as his body leaned in closer to yours, closing the distance between the two of you ever so slightly.

you were in complete shock. jungwon’s stare had you pinned, frozen like a deer in headlights. and as he approached your face even closer with his, you knew you were completely busted. his face was so close, you felt him breathing on your skin. your noses were nearly touching.

he broke the silence once more. “are you blushing?” he hums, that foxy grin appearing without remorse.

you whip around in an attempt to distance yourself from him, as if it would save your dignity. “no,” you answered (a little too forcefully). “i am not. it’s just the screen. there’s… there’s strawberries all over the filters.”

there were no strawberries on the screen. dork.

jungwon chuckled softly. you watched his hand approach the booth screen, starting the countdown abruptly.

“if you’re not blushing, then,” he mused, “then we can move on to being silly, right?”

as if directly on cue, you felt fingers pinching your cheeks in, turning your face towards him. he had a knowing smirk on his face as he gently squished the skin of your cheeks. you knew that he knew that your face was abnormally hot.

before you could protest, the first shutter went off.

you pushed his fingers away, “that was uncalled for!” you exclaimed, wailing your arms. “how dare—”

click. there goes the second picture.

you turned to the camera in horror, and jungwon bursted out into a fit of laughter as you realized how little time you had left.

the camera caught your horrified stare. click.

there was no fighting this. jungwon was playing with you and getting a laugh out of it. mustering what courage you had, you turned back to jungwon within the few seconds you hand, cupped his face, and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. you heard him gasp as the final click went off.

at last, the photo booth was wishing the two of you farewell. you hardly processed that you had just willingly kissed jungwon’s cheek for the sake of the photos, and by the looks of it, jungwon wasn’t really processing it, either.

“two can play at that game,” you muttered, reaching out for the curtain to leave.

but before you could, jungwon nearly pounced on your hands, shooing them away from the curtain, and briskly moving themselves down to cradle your hips. your head whipped around and your eyes met jungwon’s, your faces inches apart.

“was that you being silly?” he asked, his voice low.

that crimson heat forced its way back up to the skin of your cheeks, much to your dismay. “what would you do if i said no?” you whispered.

he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, his fingers tightening around your waist. he pulled you closer, your bodies now pressed against once another.

“i wouldn’t let you leave this booth,” he replied.

as a sharp inhale entered your mouth, both of you were startled out of your trances as a loud banging could be heard from the door.

“are you done yet?” sunghoon asked from the outside. “we’re hungry and out of tickets. hurry up!”

“coming!” you yelled out quickly, composing yourself enough to hastily push the curtain to the booth to the side, allowing the light to display your close proximity with jungwon.

sunghoon had turned around and walked to the rest of the group as you slowly made your way out. but before you could step completely out of the booth and back into the arcade, jungwon grasped your wrist.

you whirled around and saw his facial expression in full view. you felt your breath hitch at how intensely he stared at you, his eyes observing you closely.

this isn’t over, he mouthed to you.

with a huff, you exited the photobooth completely, taking the two sets of photos. when jungwon got out, you gave him his.

he looked at the set of four photos, smiling knowingly as he pressed a soft kiss to it.

“we’ll get back to this later,” he said to you. and by the looks on his face, you knew he was telling you the truth.

the two of you met up with the group before walking out. you couldn’t help but keep peering at the photos you two took together.

you were definitely blushing now.

[tinyshyteacup]

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A/N: I am alive ! Sorry for the slow update but here is the next part !

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Tw: cussing, fluff

Part 17

Words of Command - Part 18

The communal floor of Stark Tower was unusually still. A breeze from the automated ventilation stirred the long drapes beside the windows, and light poured in—soft gold across glass, metal, and silence.

The aftermath of what had happened the night before still clung to the walls like an echo.

At the center console, Tony Stark looked every bit the genius-billionaire-insomniac, hair tousled, arc reactor glowing through a rumpled Black Sabbath shirt, coffee in hand like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Holograms danced in front of him—blueprints, security schematics, and tracking data cascading in midair.

Agent Collins stood just to the side, shifting uncomfortably under Stark’s scrutinizing gaze.

“These,” Tony said, gesturing like a magician unveiling a new trick, “are the new key cards. Retina-matched, palm-synced, neuro-linked to your heart rate. So if you’re panicking, bleeding, or doing a very bad impersonation of me? It locks you out.”

He slid a card across the table toward Collins.

“Don’t lose it, rookie. Or misplace it in a vending machine like the last one.”

A beat. “And if you’re still thinking about shooting someone in this building? Maybe aim for the espresso machine next time—it has less moral ambiguity.”

Collins flushed, stammering, “Yes, sir. Of course. I—I’m sorry again—”

Tony waved a hand dismissively, then turned his eyes on you.

“And you,” he said, pointing, voice light but laced with something tighter, “Thumbelina.”

You blinked. “Hmm"

“Yeah. Honestly, the most terrifying thing about that entire debacle was how calm you were.”

He reached under the console and slid another card toward you. Unlike Collins’ sleek black one, yours was silver, marked with a small Stark Industries insignia and a delicate engraving of a rose.

“Custom-coded,” he added more quietly. “Highest clearance short of mine or Pepper's. And it tracks your location anywhere in the building… or, you know, if someone tries to relocate you.”

You hesitated before picking it up. “Tony, this is…”

He cut you off with a glance—his tone softening only fractionally.

“Don’t read too much into it, Thumbelina. Just… consider it your golden ticket to not getting Winter-Soldiered next time a Hydra Barbie struts through my door.” His jaw twitched faintly before he turned back to his holograms.

"Because between you and me? I don’t know what would’ve happened if Barnes had flipped. And I’d rather not find out.”

Behind you, Bucky stood against the window, arms folded tightly across his chest. His face was carved from stone, eyes unreadable. But at Tony’s last words, you saw the flicker in his posture—a subtle clench of his metal fingers. His jaw worked, once, before he spoke.

“I wouldn’t have hurt her.”

It was quiet. Firm.

Tony didn’t look back. “Good plan, Tin Man. Let’s stick to it.”

You reached out and gently brushed your fingers over Bucky’s hand. His head turned toward you immediately, eyes softer now, focused entirely on you.

“You okay?” you asked quietly.

He glanced at the security card in your hand. “You keep that close. Anyone tries anything again... they won’t get the chance to finish a word.”

He meant it.

And this time, even Tony didn’t argue.

You found Tony later, alone on the terrace of Stark Tower. The city sprawled out beneath him, bathed in afternoon haze, a living thing of sound and motion.

He stood by the railing, sunglasses in place despite the shade, drink in hand—something amber that caught the light.

“Didn’t peg you for a brooder,” you said gently as you stepped out.

He didn’t look at you, just lifted the glass in a half-salute. “Rooftop brooding’s in the billionaire starter pack. That and daddy issues.”

You smiled faintly, letting the door slide shut behind you. The wind teased your hair, light and playful in contrast to the tension that still clung to him like static.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you offered. “For the card. The upgrades. Everything.”

Tony tilted his head, finally looking at you.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, voice still smooth, but quieter. “You didn’t ask to be dragged into any of this.”

“I’m here because I want to be. Bucky—he…”

“Thinks you’re his handler,” Tony interrupted, eyes narrowing behind his shades. “Still. Despite all the progress. And despite the fact he looks at you like you're the only safe place he's ever known.”

You looked down at your hands. “Yea, I know.”

Tony drained his drink and set the glass aside with a click of crystal on steel. “You know, if you were anyone else, I’d have locked Barnes in a vibranium box and shipped him off by now.”

You blinked up at him.

“He’s dangerous, Thumbelina. He’s got more kill commands in that head than most nukes. And if someone whispers poetry in Russian, he'll take out half my lab. So forgive me if I’m not sleeping well.”

The sarcasm was still there—but now it trembled just enough to show the cracks.

You stepped closer. “But you didn’t lock him up.”

“No,” Tony said, softer now. “Because he didn’t snap. Because you, god knows why, have faith in him.”

He exhaled hard, raking a hand through his hair.

“I saw what happened the other night. He didn’t hurt you. That means something. I just…” His voice dropped. “I don’t want to be the guy who says I told you so after something breaks. And I sure as hell don’t want it to be you who pays the price.”

You placed your hand lightly on his arm. “Tony, I know what he’s capable of. But I also know who he is now. You’ve seen it too.”

He looked down at your hand. “You’re good for him. Maybe too good. Just—promise me you’ll keep that card on you. And if something feels off, you run, okay? Because even the best of us can lose control.”

There was a pause. He added, more gently, “And maybe I care more than I let on. Don't make me say it out loud or I’ll combust.”

You smiled through the tightness in your chest. “Noted.”

Tony nodded and pulled his sunglasses off, eyes tired but sincere. “Now go check Manchurian Candidate. Before he broods a hole through my floor.”

You turned to leave but paused. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you”

The workshop hummed with artificial light and low-toned rock playing from a half-covered speaker somewhere on the cluttered shelves. Screens flickered with diagnostic data, schematic overlays of Bucky’s arm rotating in slow motion beside a real-time scan of his nervous system. The scent of oil, hot metal, and solder hung in the air like cologne.

Bucky sat on the reinforced stool with his left arm clamped into a calibration rig, a faint whirr-click pulsing as Tony adjusted a servo near the elbow joint. He flinched, just slightly, more from reflex than pain.

“Relax, Tin Man,” Tony drawled, leaning in with a fine-point tool between his fingers. “You jump like I’m tightening bolts with a wrench and a prayer.”

Bucky gave him a narrowed look but didn’t rise to the bait. “You talk a lot for someone who’s supposed to be concentrating.”

“And you grunt a lot for someone with enough years to have heard jazz when it was edgy,” Tony shot back. His tone was teasing, but the undercurrent was cautious—calculated. He didn’t trust easily.

A silence passed, broken only by the soft hiss of hydraulics and a string of code scrolling on a nearby display. Then Tony added, more pointedly

“Since you didn't go full Terminator on us, I feel safe enough to bring up a topic of immense personal importance.”

Bucky sighed. “Let me guess. Her.”

“Ding ding ding.” Tony didn’t look up, but there was a smirk in his voice. “My favorite receptionist. Whisperer of stray murder puppies. You know she’s important to me, right?”

Bucky’s jaw twitched. His lips parted, slow and thoughtful. “She’s important to a lotta people.”

Tony side-eyed him. “Yeah. Which is why I’m keeping an eye on you, Frostbite. No offense... Okay, some offense.”

Bucky's gaze dropped to the limb Tony was working on. His metal fingers flexed, this time not in defense—but curiosity. Familiarity.

“You think I’d want to hurt her?” he asked, not with hostility, but that quiet kind of self-loathing that made even Tony pause.

“No,” Tony said after a beat, tone shifting slightly. “But you’re still figuring yourself out. And she’s got this... thing where she puts others first. Loyal to the end. And way too forgiving.”

“She’s not forgiving,” Bucky corrected gently. “She believes in people. There’s a difference.”

Tony actually looked up at that, giving Bucky a more measured stare. Something passed between them then—not quite friendship, but an understanding.

Mutual protectiveness.

Mutual guilt.

“You know she calls you ‘sweet when you’re quiet,’ right?” Tony said, smirking now, screwdriver back in hand. “Which is a weird thing to hear while trying to eat pancakes, by the way.”

Bucky gave a rare huff of a laugh. “That’s her. Says the strangest things with a straight face. Makes you believe ‘em anyway.”

Bucky looked away, jaw flexing slightly. “She deserves to feel safe, not… manage me.”

Tony finally looked up, goggles pushed to his forehead. That, more than anything, made Bucky uneasy. Tony’s sarcasm vanished for a moment.

“Still think she’s your handler?” Tony asked, voice flatter now, more serious.

Bucky shifted on the stool. “I don’t know. I thought that at first. But… not anymore.”

He flexed his metal fingers, gaze distant. “When she’s around, I don’t feel like a weapon. I feel like someone who could maybe learn to be human again.”

Tony’s expression didn’t soften—Stark didn’t really do soft—but it did shift. Understanding replaced the usual edge. He leaned against the bench, arms crossed.

Bucky blinked. “What?”

Tony gestured dramatically. “Come on, Barnes. The looks. The way you practically short-circuit when she walks in. You’re over here talking like a noir detective monologuing about love and redemption. It's textbook.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to disagree, but… he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled and said, almost to himself. “She’s… soft. Kind. She's never called me Asset.”

Tony tilted his head, watching. “She also trusts you.”

“I know,” Bucky said quietly. “That’s why I want to protect her.”

Tony stood straight again, brushing his hands off. “Okay, Loverboy, don’t make this weird. Look—if you ever do forget who you are again, or even think about slipping—I’ll vaporize you myself. No hesitation.”

Bucky nodded. “I’d want you to.”

Tony held his gaze a second longer, then, satisfied, picked up the casing panel and returned to tinkering.

“She deserves a guy who knows what she’s worth,” he said offhandedly. “You ever figure that out, maybe you won’t need her to save you all the time.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “Maybe I don’t want her to stop.”

He glanced toward the glass wall separating the workshop from the common floor—where you’d left earlier to bake with Pepper, your laugh barely audible through the insulated door.

Tony finished the adjustment and pressed a button on his remote. The brace unclamped, and Bucky’s arm whirred smoothly as it came to life. He flexed the fingers again—no glitch, no catch. The smallest smile curved his lips.

“Not bad,” Bucky admitted.

“High praise, coming from Cap’s ex-roommate,” Tony said, then added quieter, “Just... don’t screw this up, Barnes.”

Bucky stood, glancing down at the arm before meeting Tony’s eyes.

“She sees something good in here. Even after all the bad.” he said slowly

Tony’s smirk faded, replaced by a more solemn nod.

The city outside the window blinked with quiet life—cool blue lights spilling across the sheets, striping your forms like reflections from a slow-moving river. Stark Tower always felt too big at night, the hum of its tech softened to a ghostly lullaby.

You lay on your side, head resting against your pillow, hair slightly mussed from sleep. The oversized t-shirt you wore—hung loosely around your frame, bare feet tangled beneath the throw blanket.

Bucky lay on his back beside you, fully dressed in sweats and a black tee, his metal arm resting across his stomach. The space between you wasn’t large.

His head turned slightly toward you, eyes silvered in the moonlight. “Doll?”

You nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

“I keep thinking about something Stark said,” his voice rasped, like gravel being gently scattered. “About you...”

"Tony says a lot of things, most of it bullshit." You deadpan

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckled under his breath, and it startled even him. “He does.”

There was a moment where the silence thickened again, this time with memory. He turned his head, eyes meeting yours in the dark. “Doll… I used to think you were my handler.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t anymore.”

That made your breath catch. You blinked slowly, not trusting yourself to speak.

“You feel different,” he continued, and his voice had that sounded like hesitant wonder. “When you touch me—it’s not… control. It’s comfort.”

“That's ... good,” you whispered.

His eyes softened. “I still wait for orders. I’ll catch myself looking to you like… like I need permission to breathe.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You never did.”

He nodded, but it was heavy.

Tired.

Honest.

“Yeah, but it feels easier when you’re nearby.”

His flesh hand shifted slightly on the sheets between you—like he was thinking about reaching for you but wasn’t sure it was okay.

His gaze dropped to your fingers.

He didn’t move away.

“I like hearing you talk,” he admitted, voice barely audible. “It makes the static go quiet.”

You smiled faintly, then yawned, your body curling slightly toward him. Not touching. Not really.

“I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

He turned his head again, looking at you with something raw in his expression—something real.

“Thanks, Doll.”

A long, steady breath passed between you. Outside, distant thunder rolls lazily over the city, a storm crawling in. The occasional flicker of lightning backlights the clouds, casting dim shadows that briefly stretch across the walls.

You’re both on your backs now, close but not quite touching. Then you feel it—a shift in the mattress. Just slight. Delicate.

Bucky is moving.

You don’t look at first. But his arm—his flesh one—crosses the neutral space between you, and fingertips gently brush your forearm. Not a grab. Not a possessive touch. Just the trembling edge of contact.

“Doll…” he says softly, voice thick. “Can I…?”

You glance at him.

His face is tense, but open. Not fearful, but expectant. The kind of look someone wears when they’re stepping out onto a frozen lake for the first time, testing if it will hold.

You nod.

He trails his hand up, slowly, fingers dragging against your skin until he reaches your wrist. There, he rests his palm lightly—not holding, just being. His thumb ghosts over the skin there, feeling your pulse.

“You always run cold,” he murmurs, half to himself.

You smile, a little shaky. “I guess so.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then, in a voice as soft as the dark around you.

“Can I ask you something ? And you can lie if it’s easier.”

That earns a soft laugh from you, nervous and unsure. “Okay.”

His brow furrows slightly. His thumb still gently strokes your wrist, grounding himself in that fragile contact.

“When I’m not… y’know, losing my mind or tryin’ to kill anyone… do you like being around me?”

You shift to your side, facing him. His hand slips naturally to rest between you on the mattress, but his gaze stays locked with yours.

“I do.”

He nods slowly, you can see the next question forming, nerves tightening his jaw.

“Doll…” His voice is low and careful, like stepping into a room he isn’t sure he’s welcome in. “Can I…?”

You turn your head slowly, meeting his eyes. “Can you what, Bucky?”

His Adam’s apple bobs. His metal hand, lifts from the bed by mere inches. You see the muscles in his shoulder flex. He hesitates.

“Can I keep touching you?”

He’s not asking for permission to take.

He’s asking to connect.

You nod slowly, a little smile at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah, Buck. You can.”

He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding and moves with such delicacy it almost breaks your heart. He uses his flesh hand—bringing it up. His fingers skim the curve of your cheek, knuckles first, cautious and reverent.

He cups your jaw softly, thumb ghosting just beneath your eye like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve into mist if he presses too hard.

“You’re warm now,” he murmurs.

“So are you,” you whisper.

His mouth quirks—an actual smile, crooked and small. “That’s good. I feel like I haven’t been warm in a long time.”

You shift slightly toward his touch.

He watches you a moment longer, the silence between you thick with something tender. Then, gently, his thumb strokes your cheek again, “Doll… Do you—do you feel anything for me?”

You blink slowly, heart thudding so loud it drowns out the city noise.

“Bucky…” you say gently, voice barely above a breath. “I do feel something. I care. I worry. And sometimes when you look at me… I feel it all the way down in my ribs.”

Bucky releases a small, almost incredulous laugh through his nose. “That’s a hell of a place to feel something.”

You smile. “Well, that’s kinda ...where you live now.”

“Do you think…” he starts again, voice shaky, “if things were different—if I’d met you before—”

You lift your hand, placing it lightly over his metal fingers. “I’m glad I met you now, Bucky. Because this version of you—the one that’s healing, that’s choosing—he’s the one I want to know.”

His breath catches. Just a little. His lips part like he wants to speak again, but instead he lets his forehead drop forward, resting it gently against yours.

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

💼 Leith Pierre x Reader (Personal Assistant) - Headcanons

Note: Crazy... very crazy bc I don't see much fanfic of this man x reader, where is yall at damn?? 😭🙏

★ Art credit: @clearfitz on tiktok ★

Let’s say you are his personal assistant at Playtime Co.—a job that comes with high risk, higher expectations, and possibly higher emotional stakes than you bargained for.

🧠 First Impressions / First Meeting:

You weren’t supposed to meet Leith Pierre on your first day.

Your assignment was clear: get oriented, fill out endless NDAs, and begin work under his secretary. But he walks in. Personally. Mid-argument with a head engineer, coat billowing, voice laced with sarcasm and frustration.

“If I wanted mediocrity, I’d have hired a vending machine. Now, unless you're planning to automate your own replacement, fix it.”

And then—he sees you. He pauses. Just long enough to make it clear that he’s clocked you.

“...You’re not one of the interns, are you? Too calm for that. Good. You must be the assistant they sent me. Let’s hope you’re better than the last one.”

His tone isn’t cruel. Just clinical. Dry. Sharp-edged, like he’s testing your reaction for cracks. When you don’t flinch, don’t smile too hard, don’t try to impress him, just nod and introduce yourself like a professional—he notices.

“Hm. Straightforward. Useful. Follow me.”

No warm welcome. No “nice to meet you.” He talks as he walks, barely looking back.

But he lets you walk next to him. Not behind.

🧠 First Few Weeks: The Ice-Cold Fire

From day one, there’s an energy.

Not romantic. Not exactly. More like... gravitational. He doesn’t smile at you. But he looks at you longer than necessary sometimes. And when you speak in meetings, he listens. You’re one of the only people he doesn't interrupt.

You don’t flirt with him either—he'd eat that alive—but the way you carry yourself? Calm. Efficient. Never needing his validation, but always making his work smoother? That earns a different kind of respect.

The mutual impression early on:

Leith’s impression of you: Useful. Impressive composure. Surprising intuition. Dangerous if underestimated.

Your impression of Leith: Demanding. Brilliant. Arrogant... yes but calculated, in a way that draws you in. He sees everything. And yet... he watches you differently.

🔧 Month 2–3: The Shift in Language

At some point, the way he talks to you changes.

“Have the files ready.” → “Can I trust you to keep this between us?”

“I need the report by noon.” → “You’re the only one I trust not to butcher this."

“You again.” → “You’re still here. Hm. Good."

The shift is so subtle, no one else would notice.

He’s still Leith: sharp, analytical, borderline insufferable when stressed. But he doesn’t raise his voice around you. He checks in after a particularly chaotic day in the lab.

He starts bringing you a second coffee or whatever the drink you like when he goes to get his own—never mentions it.

You begin to sync.

You finish his sentences. He starts anticipating your notes during meetings. You argue, sometimes, when you’re brave enough to push back—but he likes it. He never shuts you down. He challenges you like an equal.

That’s when the feelings start to bloom. Quietly. Privately. Deeply.

🧪 How It Evolves:

Over time, the working relationship turns from curt commands to subtle trust. He starts giving you access to confidential projects. Letting you sit in on meetings he doesn’t let anyone else attend. Maybe even slipping up and calling you by a nickname—though he’d never admit it.

He never praises directly, but:

He gets irritated when others waste your time.

He asks for your opinion more than he does anyone else’s.

He defends your work like it’s his own. Crazy isn't it?

And when you bring him coffee without asking—but made exactly how he likes it?

“If you’re trying to earn points, it’s working. Not that I keep score.”

✨ The Vibe Between You Two:

Tension—not hostile, but always charged.

Unspoken understanding—you often know what he needs before he says it.

Banter—dry, clever, never too emotional, but there’s heat under the words.

💥 The Moment He Feels Something for You

It’s late.

You're both staying after hours—again. You’re typing something up; he’s pacing in front of a chalkboard, shirt sleeves rolled up, mumbling formulas.

At some point, he says something out loud—not to you, just to the air:

“This isn’t working. Nothing’s working. Useless.”

You speak up without looking at him:

“You're exhausted. Take a breath. You’ll see it clearer in the morning.”

He goes silent. You look up.

And his expression? For once, it’s not composed. Not guarded. He’s just... looking at you. Like he sees something new. Like it just hit him that you’re not just competent. You’re comfort.

He doesn’t say anything. But he sits down beside you for the first time, close, shoulder brushing yours.

“You always talk to me like I’m not a monster,” he mutters.

You smirk, eyes on the screen. “If you were, I’d still schedule your meetings.”

And he actually laughs. Quiet, almost surprised.

🌡️ The Moment You Feel Something for Him

It might be something painfully human.

You bring him tea instead of coffee one day because you know his stomach’s been off. He says nothing at first, just looks at it. Then at you.

“...You remembered.”

Not shocked. Not grateful in a grand way. Just... soft.

That’s the moment you realize: under the cold control, there’s someone lonely. Not pitiful, but starved for connection he doesn’t know how to ask for.

And you’re the only one he ever lets close enough to see that.

🔥 Slow Burn, Unspoken Tension

Neither of you say it.

You don’t flirt. He doesn’t confess. But the glances linger longer. The silences become comfortable. He starts calling you by your name more than your title. You catch him watching you when you laugh.

At one point, he tells a higher-up, flatly:

“No one touches my assistant’s schedule but me. If you need time, you go through me.”

You find out through someone else. He never mentions it.

But you hear him say your name over the intercom late one night when he thinks you're gone. Like he's checking if you're still there.

[royalarchivist]

Ramon: u could automate this. do you want me to automate a coffee machine?

Fit: Oh, Ramon is like– "We could automate this coffee!" [Reads Ramon's next sign] It's true. I mean– well, I mean... The Favela's coffee shop here, Starbobby, it's kinda like a local business, do we really wanna... automate this to be nation-wide? Y'know? Like...

Ramon: [Slowly turns and nods at Fit]

Fit: [Laughs] Ramon's like, "Yes." [Laughs] Alright, alright, alright, fine– yeah! Whatever makes the coffee easier to get!

Sunny: waittttttt i can have my own coffee FACTORY

Ramon: big corporations

Fit: I mean, that's life! This is inevitable. When a business is successful enough, this is bound to happen, so... Who are we to fight it? Who are we, residents of Quesadilla Island, who are we to fight late-stage capitalism?

[yamifreshus]

Modern Vending Options for Office Break Rooms

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[coffeebotholdings]

Reasons Why Your Office Needs a Coffee Machine Today

More than a hot drink, a cup of coffee is a ritual, a source of energy, and a productivity uplift. In an office, there are a lot of hustles that sometimes keep one in full concentration and wakefulness the whole day. This is where a reliable automated coffee machine comes in, which will be able to rain benefits on improved employee performance and morale.

Read Also:- Reasons Why Your Office Needs a Coffee Machine Today

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Do gallifreyans have jobs? Like a cashier or a janitor or a nannie?

Do Gallifreyans have jobs?

🎓 Post-Academy Occupations

There's no strict requirement for Gallifreyans to be employed because the concept of money is outdated to many of them, but a lot take up roles to stave off boredom or help in the community. After completing their education, Gallifreyans have several potential career paths, influenced by their level of academic achievement:

5th Grade Graduates

Those who leave the academy after the 5th grade often take roles such as:

Media Commentators

Artists

Aides for Cardinals

Aides for Junior Time Lords

6th Grade Graduates

Passing the 6th grade opens up more technical and administrative roles, like:

Administration and Maintenance of the Citadel

Space Traffic Controllers

Junior Technicians

Temporal Nexus Point Observation Researchers

Lab Assistants

Service in the Watch

7th Grade Graduates

Graduating the 7th Grade is very impressive, and opens up the highest echelons of Gallifreyan society like being a Cardinal or the Lord President. However, not a lot of people get this far.

🤖 Automated Assistance

Gallifreyan society heavily relies on advanced automation to meet virtually every need, reducing the necessity for many jobs humans are used to, for example:

Cleaning Machines: Automated systems patrol city complexes and handle street cleaning.

Druges: Massive automated humanoid servants found throughout Gallifreyan Houses.

Robotic Avatroids: Avatroids supervise children's brainbuffing (intensive education) and act as nannies.

🏫 So…

Gallifreyans don't need to work like humans, but many choose to keep busy with jobs or hobbies that interest them. With all their fancy machines, they can focus on the cool stuff – like art, science, and not-so-menial tasks.

Related:

💬|⏰🎉Do Time Lords celebrate their birthday?: The (non)importance of name-days.

💬|⏰🕯️How does religion work on Gallifrey?: Overview of the history and perception of religion throughout Gallifrey’s history.

💬|⏰💄Do Time Lords have a beauty industry?: The fashion trends and general attitudes towards make up and clothes.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[chobani-flip]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged for tidbit tuesday by @tiltingheartand and @actuallyitsellie so I'm taking the tags as carrying over to wednesday and will be taking no objections to my impeccable logic here's three snippets for three prompt fics I'm writing for @wakeupnew @bucktheally and @apartmentsmoke (they can have fun guessing what is for whom😁)

#1

In the aftermath, they’re sitting - a little stiffly - on Tommy’s couch, taking turns sipping from six different cups (sipping in Buck’s case, anyway; he’s doing his best to avoid describing the unholy noises Tommy’s making in order to "aerate his palate") as Tommy determines if any of the coffee samplers Buck brought are worthy of being dialed in on his espresso machine. All the while, Buck’s trying not to stew in the delayed embarrassment at his own knee-jerk overreaction and hypocrisy. He’s famously tried to walk off much worse injuries in the past, and after the lightning strike, he’s extremely familiar with how it feels to want to be left in peace and quiet for a while.

#2

He raises his head and opens his mouth the smallest amount to inform Tommy of his plans, but gives up half-way through when he feels his lips come into contact with tantalizing warm skin and downy hair. It’s only been a couple of months but already his body has adopted new unconscious rituals, automated motions; like grabbing the largest plate out of the cupboard for Tommy when they have croissants for breakfast because he likes to unravel them in a spiral and fling flakes all over the kitchen island, or like now when his lips make contact with Tommy’s skin, and the new directive his body obeys without thinking is to kiss, caress, taste…

#3

Evan Buckley arrived in his life on the wings of a Category 5 hurricane. Everything else follows from that. 

At least that’s how Tommy rationalizes the frankly insane decisions he’s found himself making in Evan’s presence and under the influence of his gorgeous blue eyes and smart smiling mouth. 

After the shitstorm that was the end of his last long relationship, Tommy was careful with his heart in a way that he never felt the need to be in any other aspect of his life. And yet with Evan, he found himself agreeing to meet his family after a single failed date, and asking the 90 engine driver to drop him off at the hospital to try to make it, and deciding to risk exploding his kitchen by experimenting with new recipes because Evan was coming over for dinner, and last time Tommy was over at Eddie’s, Chris mentioned how much Evan liked caramel sauce and then showed him a TikTok where a credible abuela insisted you can make the perfect dulce de leche every time out of condensed milk if you boil it in an unopened can.

all of these may be subject to change but MIGHT be ready before the episode tomorrow? anyone else who feels like it, consider yourself tagged, tag me and show me your fic snippets *grabby hands*

[alpaca-clouds]

Why AI sucks so much

(And why it doesn't have to.)

AI sucks right now. Because it was never to be used, like it is used right now. Because the way AI is currently employed, it does the one thing, that was always meant to be human.

Look. AI has a ton of technological problems. I wrote about it before. Whenever you have some "AI Writer" or "AI Art", there is no intelligence there. There is only a probability algorithm that does some math. It is like the auto-complete on your phone, just a bit more complex, because it has been fed with basically the entire internet's worth of words and pictures. So, when the AI writes a story, it just knows that there is a high likelyhood that if it has been asked to write a fantasy story it might feature swords, magic and dragons. And then puts out a collection of words that is basically every fantasy story ever thrown into a blender. Same when it "draws". Why does it struggle so much with teeth and fingers? Well, because it just goes by likelihood. If it has drawn a finger, it knows there is a high likelihood that next to the finger is going to be another finger. So it draws one. Simple as that. Because it does not know, what a finger is. Only what it looks like.

And of course it does not fact check.

But all of that is not really the main problem. Because the main culture actually just is the general work culture, the capitalist economy and how we modelled it.

See, once upon a time there was this economist named Kaynes. And while he was a capitalist, he did in fact have quite a few good ideas and understood some things very well - like the fact that people are actually working better, if their basic needs have been taken care for. And he was very certain that in the future (he lived a hundred years ago) a lot of work could be done by automation, with the people still being paid for what the machines were doing. Hence having the people work for like 15 hours a week, but getting paid for a fulltime job - or even more.

And here is the thing: We could have that. Right now. Because we did in fact automate a lot of jobs and really a ton of jobs we have right now are just endless busywork. Instead of actually being productive, it only exists to keep up the appearance of productivity.

We already know that reducing the workdays to four a week or the workload to 30 or even 25 hours a week does not really decrease productivity. Especially with office jobs. Because the fact is that many, many jobs are not that much work and rather just involve people sitting in an office working like two hours a day and spending the rest with coffee kitchen talk or surfing the internet.

And there are tons of boring jobs we can already automate. I mean, with what I am working right now - analyzing surveying data - most I do is just put some parameters into an algorith and let the algorith do the work. While also part time training another algorithm, that basically automatically reads contracts to make notes what data a certain contract involves. (And contrary to what you might believe: No, it is not complicated. Especially those text analysis tasks are actually super simple to construct, once you get the hang of it.)

Which also means, that half of my workday usually is spend of just sitting here and watching a bar fill up. Especially with the surveying data, because it is large, large image files that at times take six to ten hours to process. And hint: Often I will end up letting the computer run over night to finish the task.

But that brings me to the question: What am I even doing here? Most of the time it takes like two hours to put the data in, run a small sample size for checking it and then letting it run afterwards. I do not need to be here for that. Yet, I do have to sit down for my seven and a half hours a day to collect my paycheck. And... It is kinda silly, right?

And of course there is the fact that we technically do have the technology to automate more and more menial tasks. Which would make a lot of sense, especially with the very dangerous kinda tasks, like within mining operations. Like, sure, that is a lot more work to automate, given that we would need robots that are actually able to navigate over all sorts of terrain, but... You know, it would probably save countless lives.

Same goes for many, many other areas. We could in fact automate a lot. Not everything (for example fruit picking is surprisingly hard to automate, it turns out), but a lot. Like a real lot.

And instead... they decided to automate art. One of the things that is the most human, because art for the most part depends on emotions and experience. Art is individual for the most part. It is formed by experience and reflection of the experience. And instead of seeing that, they decided to... create a probability generator for words and pixels.

So, why?

Well, first and foremost, because they (= the owner class) do want to keep us working. And with that I mean those menial, exhausting, mind-numbing jobs that we are forced to have right now. And they want us to keep working, because the more free time we have, the more time we have to organize and, well, rise up against the system, upon realizing how we are exploited. Work itself is used as a tool of oppression. Which is why, no matter how many studies show that the 30 hour week or 4 day week is actually good, that UBI actually helps people and what not, the companies are so against it. It is also why in some countries, like the US, the companies are so against paid sick leave, something that is scientifically speaking bonkers, because it actually harms the productivity of the company. And yes, it is also why still in the midth of a pandemic, we act as if everything is normal, because they found out that in the early pandemic under lock down and less people working, people actually fucking organized.

And that... also kinda is, why they hate art. Because art is something that is a reflection upon a world - and it can be an inspiration for people, something that gives them hope and something worth working towards to. So, artists are kinda dangerous. Hence something has to be done to keep them from working. In this case: Devaluing their work.

And no, I do not even think that the people programming those original algorithms were thinking this. They were not like "Yes, we need to do this to uphold the capitalist systems", nor do most of the AI bros, who are hyping it right now. But there are some people in there, who see it just like that. Who know the dangers of actual art and what it can mean for the system that keeps them powerful.

So, yeah... We could have some great stuff with AI and automation... If used in other areas.

I mean, just imagine what AIs could do under communism...

[stardropsaloongossiptrain]

Bachelor/ettes and Farm Chores

Bachelors:

Shane -- I think he's the most likely to do actual farm work, especially if you killed Morris fixed up the community center. He really loves taking care of the chickens, and remembers the ones you got from Marnie's. He also likes the other animals, and will probably spend all day with them. He'll water the crops sometimes, if it's not too hot, but will really just wonder why you don't get more sprinklers.

Alex -- Alex will also help out a lot around the farm, partially as a means of staying fit and partially to help you. He'll haul materials and supplies where you need them, and help keep the animals fed and crows chased off. Will train your pet to do tricks. This is not a farm chore, he trained Dusty.

Sam -- Mr. Sunshine will probably fall back on stuff his mom had him do around the house-- vaccuming, doing the dishes, etc. If you show him a few times how to do something, he'll put it in his routine, but will probably forget every once in a while. Undiagnosed ADHD King!

Harvey -- He has a full time job, so he doesn't have much time to help out on the farm itself. He does keep the house tidy, though, and will do the shopping for anything you don't make yourself. He is an extreme couponer and though he will never admit it misses Joja when it's gone just because of the savings. On days off, he does like to help with production stuff like making pickles or jam, and will help on harvest days if he has the time to do so.

Elliott -- He helps but it's never very structured. His writing schedule takes up a lot of time, but he does like helping with the crops. If he accidentally stays up all night working, he'll go out when the sun starts to rise to water the crops and make sure they're healthy, removing dead leaves and such. Not very helpful with the animals, he doesn't like the smell and is lowkey uncomfortable with so many animals around. Will feed/water the pet, however.

Sebastian -- Just because he's married and doesn't need to save up for Zuzu doesn't mean he stops working. He enjoys his work. He does the least around the farm, I feel. He will take care of the pet, and sometimes offer to feed the animals for you, but will probably just do a little around the house on coffee breaks. It isn't that he's lazy or anything, he just figures you know the farm better than him. Most likely to help when you're crafting stuff, he's good at machines.

Bachelorettes:

Abigail -- She's got the energy and the time, and I think without her dad and mom around she would actually want to help contribute. You aren't going to focus on everything she does wrong or nag her to help, so she actually likes to do it. Most enjoys maintaining the slime hutch if you have one, or knocking down trees for more lumber for you. Introduce her to Marlon, get her a sword, and she'll keep monsters off you while you mine. Just don't mention it to the in laws.

Leah -- When she's not focused on making her next piece, Leah likes helping around the farm. She's there every harvest, but will also keep an eye on kegs/casks/preserves for you and remind you when they're ready to turn over. Will pick an area to do work in so she can sketch it when she's finished.

Penny -- She's still pretty busy tutoring the kids, but she likes taking care of the house. She makes most of the meals and will help reset makers when she gets home in the afternoon. She might keep her own flower garden, if there's space for it.

Maru -- She's not the best at helping with actual chores, but will upgrade things for you to make life a little easier-- better sprinklers, autofeeders, automated makers. If you do really need a hand though, she will be there helping.

Emily -- Another one of those full time job havers. Emily will help out on the farm if you need her to, but she's more likely going to do house chores. Would most likely help turning over makers, if anything. She doesn't want to throw you off schedule, though, particularly if you run a big maximized farm.

Haley -- She barely cleaned the couch cushions living at home, homegirl is not gonna be the type to get her hands dirty on your behalf. The least employed woman here, the most time on her hands, the least helpful. Might eventually contribute if you asked her to, but she doesn't do much willingly. Maybe as she gets older it might change, but she's your wife and not your farmhand.

[sunshinesmebdy]

Moon in Virgo: Tidy Up Your Biz and Harvest Financial Abundance

Astrologers, rejoice! Business gurus, unite! Because under the meticulous gaze of the Moon in Virgo, it's time to blend cosmic wisdom with practical strategy. Get ready for a potent mix of grounded energy, keen analysis, and a sprinkle of earthy magic ready to boost your business and finances.

Virgo's Virgo-ness: Picture a spotless spreadsheet, a perfectly balanced budget, and a to-do list so organized it whispers sweet satisfaction. That's Virgo's domain. When the Moon dances through this earth sign, it brings a laser focus on details, a knack for efficiency, and an urge to declutter both your physical and financial spaces.

Business Benefits:

Sharpened Skills: Hone your expertise, take that online course, or finally master that new software. Virgo's energy fuels learning and skill development, making you a powerhouse of knowledge and competence.

Channel your inner Hermione Granger under the Virgo Moon! Devour knowledge like polyjuice potion, mastering that new software with flick-of-the-wand ease. Whether it's an online course on astrological forecasting or the intricacies of blockchain technology, Virgo's studious energy makes you a sponge for information, transforming you into a confident, competence-wielding powerhouse ready to tackle any business challenge.

Streamlined Operations: Virgo loves a well-oiled machine. Use this lunar phase to audit your business processes, identify bottlenecks, and implement systems that save time and resources.

Don your efficiency hat, because under the meticulous Virgo Moon, streamlining your business becomes a cosmically ordained quest. Scrutinize processes like a celestial accountant, unearthing time-sucking bottlenecks and banishing them with automated spells (aka, handy new systems). Watch as email chains unfurl into streamlined communication channels, meetings morph into laser-focused action sessions, and your once-chaotic workflow hums like a perfectly tuned engine, freeing up precious time and resources for your entrepreneurial magic to truly shine.

Networking with Purpose: Quality over quantity is Virgo's motto. Connect with potential clients or collaborators who share your values and expertise. Think strategic partnerships, not random coffee chats.

Forget the business card bingo of generic gatherings – Virgo's discerning Moon demands quality connections. Seek out collaborators and clients who mirror your values and expertise, like kindred spirits drawn together by constellations of shared passion. Think chess match, not cocktail party. Craft targeted pitches that resonate with their specific needs, and cultivate strategic partnerships that feel like cosmically ordained alliances. This intentional networking isn't about collecting contacts, it's about igniting mutually beneficial collaborations that propel your business towards the stars.

Marketing Magic: Craft targeted campaigns that speak directly to your ideal customer's needs. Virgo's analytical prowess helps you understand your audience and deliver messaging that resonates.

Under the analytical gaze of the Virgo Moon, ditch the shotgun marketing blasts and unleash laser-focused campaigns that whisper sweet nothings to your ideal customer's soul. Virgo's eagle eye pinpoints their deepest desires and pain points, transforming you into a messaging maestro. Craft content that speaks their language, addresses their specific struggles, and showcases your solutions like the missing puzzle piece to their perfect life. Let go of generic pitches and embrace storytelling that resonates with their values, because under this lunar influence, targeted marketing isn't just effective, it's downright magical.

Financial Fortunes:

Budgeting Bliss: Break out the spreadsheets and get granular. Categorize expenses, track income, and create a budget that feels secure and sustainable. Virgo loves a balanced bottom line.

Spreadsheets sing and budgets balance under the Virgo Moon! Unleash your inner accounting alchemist and transform financial chaos into crystal-clear clarity. Categorize expenses with the precision of a cosmic librarian, track every penny like a moonbeam, and craft a budget that feels not like a restrictive cage, but a beautifully organized, secure haven for your financial future. Virgo craves equilibrium, so find that sweet spot where income and outgoings waltz in perfect harmony, leaving you feeling abundant and empowered, the maestro of your own financial orchestra.

Debt Disposal: Tackle outstanding debts with renewed determination. Negotiate better terms, make extra payments, and experience the liberation of financial freedom.

Ditch the debt demon and embrace the warrior spirit under the Virgo Moon! Channel your inner debt disposal dragon, breathing fire upon outstanding balances with renewed determination. Hone your negotiation skills like a celestial diplomat, securing lower interest rates and crafting repayment plans that fit your budget like a cosmic glove. Make extra payments with the fervor of a moonbeam illuminating a dark cave, watching those numbers shrink faster than a vampire in sunlight. Embrace the sweet liberation of financial freedom, feeling the weight of debt lift like a cosmic spell dissolving, leaving you empowered and ready to conquer your financial Everest.

Savvy Investments: Research, compare, analyze – Virgo's energy is perfect for making informed investment decisions. Seek advice from trusted professionals and prioritize long-term stability over short-term gains.

Transform into a celestial stockbroker under the Virgo Moon! Put on your research goggles and analyze potential investments like a cosmic detective, comparing, contrasting, and sniffing out hidden risks. Consult trusted financial oracles for guidance, but ultimately, let your own Virgo-honed discernment be your compass. Prioritize long-term stability over fleeting trends, building a portfolio that grows like a well-tended celestial garden, not a gambler's dice roll. Embrace the slow and steady path, for under Virgo's meticulous gaze, informed investments blossom into financial freedom, one calculated decision at a time.

Unexpected Windfalls: Keep an eye out for unexpected opportunities to increase your income. Virgo favors those who put in the work, so your dedication could be rewarded with a bonus, a new client, or a lucky windfall.

Keep your antennae tuned to cosmic whispers under the Virgo Moon, for fortune often favors the prepared! Your dedication and sharpened skills could attract unexpected boons like a bonus shimmering out of thin air, a new client drawn by your newfound expertise, or a windfall landing softly as a celestial feather in your lap. Remember, Virgo rewards hard work, so keep hustling, honing, and learning, and trust that the universe may just surprise you with a bonus chapter in your financial story.

Bonus Tip: Embrace the earthy magic of Virgo! Surround yourself with green spaces, incorporate crystals like citrine and jade into your workspace, and practice grounding exercises to channel the Moon's practical energy.

So, there you have it! The Moon in Virgo is your invitation to tidy up your biz, fine-tune your finances, and reap the rewards of your focused efforts. Remember, success is a marathon, not a sprint. Pace yourself, celebrate the small wins, and trust that under Virgo's meticulous guidance, your business and finances will shine.

Now go forth and conquer, astrologically savvy entrepreneurs! Your financial stars are aligned.