#and Logistics: What to Expect in 2025

[winklix]

Custom Software Trends in Healthcare, FinTech, and Logistics: What to Expect in 2025

In 2025, businesses are facing increasing pressure to innovate, adapt, and respond faster to market changes—and custom software is at the heart of that evolution. From healthcare to FinTech and logistics, the demand for highly tailored, scalable, and secure digital solutions is driving organizations to rethink how they operate and serve their stakeholders.

Unlike off-the-shelf solutions, custom software offers the flexibility, integration capabilities, and user-centric design needed for industry-specific challenges. That’s why more businesses are turning to a custom software development company in London to build systems that are as unique as their operations.

This blog explores the key trends shaping custom software in healthcare, FinTech, and logistics, and why working with the best software development company in London is critical to future-proofing your organization.

Why Custom Software is Gaining Momentum Across Industries

Before diving into industry-specific trends, it’s important to understand why custom software development is on the rise:

Tailored to unique workflows

Better integration with existing systems and tools

Enhanced scalability as business needs evolve

Greater security and compliance control

Improved performance and UX

With industries becoming more data-driven and regulatory-heavy, custom software development companies in London are helping businesses move away from rigid, one-size-fits-all software toward adaptable solutions built with precision and intent.

Healthcare: Smarter, Safer, and More Patient-Centric

The healthcare industry is undergoing a massive digital transformation, especially post-COVID, where remote care and real-time data have become non-negotiable. Here’s how custom software is reshaping healthcare in 2025:

1. AI-Powered Diagnostics and Predictive Analytics

Healthcare providers are using custom AI models to diagnose diseases, predict patient deterioration, and optimize treatment plans. These tools are tailored to each hospital or clinic's data models.

Custom dashboards show real-time vitals and alerts

Predictive analytics improve patient outcomes

Machine learning algorithms learn from localized patient data

A leading software development company in London can integrate AI into existing hospital systems for a seamless clinical workflow.

2. Telemedicine and Remote Patient Monitoring

As patient demand for remote care grows, custom telehealth platforms with secure video, chat, and scheduling features are becoming essential.

HIPAA and GDPR-compliant communication

Integration with EHR systems

Custom apps for wearable device tracking

Unlike generic platforms, custom tools can cater to specific care pathways, which is why hospitals often partner with the top software development company in London to ensure both compliance and user-friendliness.

3. Workflow Automation for Clinical Staff

Healthcare software is automating admin-heavy tasks like appointment scheduling, billing, and claims processing—freeing up more time for patient care.

Robotic process automation (RPA)

Intelligent scheduling systems

Custom reporting tools for compliance audits

This shift toward intelligent automation is led by custom software development companies in London who understand the critical balance between efficiency and accuracy in healthcare.

FinTech: Secure, Scalable, and Disruptively Agile

In FinTech, the need for innovation is constant. As consumer expectations and regulations evolve, so does the need for custom-built platforms that prioritize security, scalability, and real-time performance.

1. Blockchain and Smart Contract Development

Blockchain is more than a buzzword—it’s becoming a foundation for secure and transparent financial transactions.

Custom wallets and blockchain-powered apps

Smart contract platforms for automated, trustless agreements

Decentralized finance (DeFi) integrations

Many startups and banks alike are working with a custom software development company in London to build proprietary blockchain infrastructure tailored to their business models.

2. AI-Driven Risk Management and Fraud Detection

Custom FinTech platforms are using AI to scan for anomalies, detect fraudulent transactions, and offer dynamic credit scoring.

Real-time fraud alerts

Machine learning for transaction pattern analysis

Customizable scoring models based on internal data

Working with the best software development company in London enables FinTech firms to create robust security frameworks that evolve with threats.

3. Personalized Banking Experiences

Whether it’s investment platforms or mobile banking apps, personalization is driving user engagement in FinTech.

AI-powered financial planning tools

Custom dashboards with real-time data feeds

Behavioral analytics for product recommendations

Generic solutions can't meet the level of customization modern FinTech users demand—making custom software essential.

Logistics: Data-Driven, Automated, and Real-Time

The logistics sector is moving toward total digital transparency and smart automation to meet growing demand and rising customer expectations. In 2025, custom logistics software is enabling faster, smarter, and more sustainable operations.

1. Real-Time Supply Chain Visibility

Custom software solutions now offer full visibility across supply chains—from factory to doorstep—with real-time GPS tracking and condition monitoring.

Custom IoT dashboards

Route optimization tools

Predictive maintenance alerts for fleet management

Partnering with a top software development company in London allows logistics firms to build and integrate visibility solutions across disparate systems.

2. Warehouse Automation and Robotics Integration

Custom software is now the glue between hardware (robots, conveyors, pickers) and backend logistics systems.

Custom APIs for robot coordination

AI algorithms for inventory placement and picking

Voice-controlled systems for warehouse workers

With increasing warehouse complexity, off-the-shelf software often falls short, driving demand for tailored systems built by custom software development companies in London.

3. Sustainability and Carbon Tracking Tools

As companies face stricter ESG regulations, they need custom platforms to track, report, and reduce emissions across logistics operations.

Carbon calculators based on real-time route data

Dashboards for compliance reporting

Smart routing to reduce fuel usage

Custom tools allow businesses to set and meet sustainability goals, something generic software cannot easily provide.

Choosing the Right Custom Software Development Partner

With so many vendors in the market, selecting the right software development company in London can be overwhelming. Here are key qualities to look for:

✅ Deep Industry Expertise

Choose a team that understands your vertical—whether it’s compliance in healthcare, security in FinTech, or real-time data in logistics.

✅ Full-Cycle Development

Top providers offer end-to-end services—from product discovery and UI/UX design to development, QA, and ongoing support.

✅ Agile Methodology

Agile development ensures faster delivery, flexibility, and constant iteration based on user feedback.

✅ Integration Capabilities

The ability to connect new solutions with your legacy systems or third-party APIs is crucial.

For many UK-based enterprises, the best software development company in London combines these qualities with a track record of building scalable, secure, and high-performing applications.

Final Thoughts

As healthcare providers, FinTech firms, and logistics companies embrace digital transformation in 2025, one thing is clear: custom software is no longer a luxury—it’s a necessity. Industry-specific demands, compliance requirements, and the need for real-time intelligence mean that off-the-shelf tools simply don’t cut it anymore.

Whether you're looking to automate hospital workflows, launch a new financial product, or streamline your supply chain, working with a custom software development company in London ensures your solution is fit for purpose and future-ready.

When you collaborate with one of the top software development companies in London, you're not just hiring coders—you’re gaining a strategic partner invested in your success.

Need a Tailored Solution for Your Industry?

Partner with the best software development company in London to build secure, scalable, and smart custom software designed to help your business thrive in 2025 and beyond.

[theastralsage]

Folded Hands

❤︎ tags and content: strip poker, friends to lovers, emotional sex, soft dom caleb, possessive, praise kink, table sex, first times, caleb x f!reader ❤︎ author note: reuploaded 🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @/omi.resources ©2025 theastralsage do not repost, copy, translate, or modify

It starts with a bottle of wine and an innocent game of poker—just a quiet night on Skyhaven, something light to pass the time between missions and memories. But when the clothes begin to come off, the stakes rise higher than either of you planned.

For Caleb, restraint has always been second nature: in battle, in command, even in love. But when he sees you again—sitting before him, laughter on your lips and old longing in your eyes—he learns what it means to fold.

You don’t warn him that you’re coming.

You know his schedule by now—know the window when patrol shifts ease and the briefing rooms go quiet, when he might have a sliver of time to breathe without a headset pressed to his ear or someone barking his title down a comm line. It’s selfish, maybe, showing up unannounced, but something about Skyhaven’s artificial skyline and the faint hum of the platform beneath your boots feels too sterile without him.

You pass two levels of clearance before reaching his wing. The security personnel stationed outside glance at you but don’t question a thing—they know your face, probably know your name too. Caleb’s name gets you into places most people never dream of, and the thought settles strangely in your chest.

You pause outside his door, hand hovering near the chime for a beat longer than you mean to. Then, with a quiet breath, you press it.

The door slides open almost immediately, like he was already on the other side.

He doesn’t speak at first—just stands there in the entryway, jacket sleeves rolled to his elbows, dog tags peeking from beneath the collar of his half-buttoned shirt, hair still damp from a recent shower. There’s a moment of silence, but it isn’t awkward. If anything, it stretches soft and golden between you like the sun lingering just a little longer on the horizon.

Finally, his voice breaks it. “Pipsqueak. You came.”

You smile, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets. “I figured you might need someone to make sure you were still eating real food and not surviving off nutrient packs again.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Guilty as charged.”

You expect him to step aside, to usher you in like he always does, but instead he studies you for a second longer—eyes flicking briefly down your frame, as if double-checking you’re really there and not some illusion conjured by exhaustion or hope. Then he steps back, wordlessly holding the door open.

The moment you cross the threshold, the quiet hum of Skyhaven gives way to something softer—his space is dim, cozy, nothing like the sterile exterior of the station. A warm light glows from a small lamp near the couch, casting lazy shadows across the room. There’s a pot simmering somewhere beyond the partition, faintly spicy and comforting. And the faintest trace of your favorite scent lingers in the air—subtle, but unmistakable.

“Been working late?” you ask, shrugging off your jacket and draping it over the back of his chair.

“Always,” he says, closing the door behind you. “But… I’m glad you’re here.”

You glance toward the source of the smell, eyes flicking toward the kitchen. “You cooking?”

He nods, sheepish. “Trying to, anyway. Got roped into making a proper meal tonight. I may or may not have bribed someone on the logistics team for decent ingredients.”

You raise a brow, mock seriousness. “You bribed someone for dinner?”

“Only a little,” he says, lifting one hand in mock surrender. “I didn’t know you were coming, but there’s enough for two. Stay?”

You don’t even have to think about it. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

He doesn’t move right away. Just watches you for a moment longer, the faintest crease between his brows, like he’s still calibrating the reality of you standing in his space. Then something eases in him—shoulders relaxing, expression softening—and he gestures toward the small dining nook by the window.

“I’ll plate up,” he says. “Make yourself at home.”

And just like that, you’re back in orbit around him again, the two of you drawn together in quiet gravity, as if no time has passed at all.

Dinner is quieter than you expected, but not in a bad way. Caleb sets the table with military precision—two bowls of something simmered and savory, still steaming from the pot, a bottle of wine between you, half-full glasses catching the soft light like blood-red glass. You’re close enough to see the fine scar just under his jaw when he leans forward, but far enough that you still feel the distance he keeps around most people.

Except you’re not most people.

He waits until you’ve eaten a few bites before speaking, and when he does, his voice is softer than usual.

“So,” he says, watching you over the rim of his glass, “how’ve you been holding up?”

You shrug, rolling your shoulders as if it’ll shake off the weight of everything. “Same as always. Working, reporting, picking up intel where I can. Got clipped by a rogue Wanderer last week, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

His jaw tightens just slightly. You catch it even if he thinks you won’t. “You shouldn’t be dealing with that alone.”

You offer a small smile, lifting your glass to your lips. “I wasn’t alone. Zayne had my back. We made it out clean.”

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes dropping to his plate. When he speaks again, it’s low, almost like he’s talking more to himself than you. “I hate that you’re still in the middle of all that.”

You tilt your head. “You think I should be locked away in here with you?”

He looks up sharply, but there’s no bite to your words—just a trace of amusement, tempered with something softer.

“I think,” he says after a pause, “that I’d sleep better if I knew you were safe.”

You don’t answer right away. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable, but full—like a breath you’re both holding, unsure when to let it go.

Eventually, you break it with a quiet laugh. “God, this wine is strong.”

He glances toward your glass, brow lifted. “Already feeling it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, nudging your plate away. “But in a good way. I think I needed this.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression. You lean back in your chair, swirling the last of your wine lazily, and glance toward the side table where the deck of cards sits, half-hidden under a data tablet.

“Hey,” you say, catching his gaze, “still keep a deck around?”

His eyes flick toward the cards, then back to you. “Always.”

“Good.” You smirk, setting your glass down. “You up for a game of poker?”

He leans back, arms folding across his chest, that familiar amused glint in his eyes returning. “You’re tipsy.”

“Which means I’m just reckless enough to win,” you shoot back, giving him a mock-challenging look. “Unless you’re scared I’ll beat you again.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, already reaching for the deck. “You cheated last time.”

“Did not.”

“You stacked the deck when I blinked.”

“Prove it.”

He stands, pulling the cards free with a flick of his wrist, and walks slowly back toward the table. “You’re on, then. But I’m warning you... I play for keeps.”

You look up at him, heartbeat catching just a little at the way the warm light slides over the edge of his jaw, the faint smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“That so?” you murmur, voice soft with challenge. “Guess we’ll see what you’re willing to bet.”

And just like that, the room feels warmer. Not just from the wine. Not just from the way his eyes linger on you a second too long. But from something simmering beneath the surface—just waiting for one of you to fold.

The cards move fluidly between Caleb’s fingers, shuffling in smooth, practiced motions, each flick of the deck precise in a way that feels entirely him—controlled, deliberate, like even this moment of downtime is something he needs to master. He sits across from you now, long legs stretched under the table, sleeves pushed to his elbows, the fitted line of his jacket hugging his frame like it was made for him. There’s a slight crease between his brows as he cuts the deck, but it softens the moment he glances up and catches your gaze, a spark of amusement flickering there.

You lean into your hand, the curve of your mouth lazy. “You gonna deal, or just admire the cards all night?”

His gaze lingers on you, eyes half-lidded, voice low. “Thought I was admiring something else.”

Your stomach tightens, not because of the wine—but because of that voice, that look, and the way he says it like he means every word.

He starts to deal, and the first few rounds pass easily—banter traded, hands won and lost. You bluff; he calls it. He folds; you grin. There’s tension simmering under the surface now, subtle but growing with each glance, each casual brush of fingers on the table or leg beneath it. The room is too warm. Or maybe it's just him.

“So,” Caleb says, tapping his cards against the table, “what exactly are we playing for?”

You shrug, watching the way the light catches in his hair, casting faint gold at his temples. “Didn’t set terms.”

He hums, as if weighing options. “We could make this interesting.”

You arch a brow. “Interesting how?”

He lifts his glass for a slow sip, gaze unwavering. “Loser of each hand removes something.”

There’s a quiet beat—just a moment where the air stills and your breath stalls—but then you set your wine down, fingers brushing your cheek as you pretend to think.

“You’re serious?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Only if you are.”

You meet his eyes, steady. “Alright, Colonel. But you’re going to regret this.”

He grins, all confidence and something darker beneath it. “Can’t wait.”

The cards are dealt. You lose the next round, of course—whether by fate or the fact that your mind is no longer entirely on the game. With an exaggerated sigh, you slide your sweater off your shoulders and toss it over the arm of the couch behind you. You don’t look at him, not directly, but you feel his eyes track the movement like a predator watching the first sign of weakness.

The round after that, he folds way too early.

You tilt your head, not bothering to hide your smirk. “Really? You’re giving up that easy?”

“Maybe I just wanted to even the field,” he says, and this time, he unzips his jacket.

He peels it off in one slow, smooth motion, the fabric whispering over his skin as he drapes it over the back of his chair. The dark shirt beneath fits him too well—clinging to the curve of his shoulders, the line of his arms, like a second skin. You swallow a little too quietly.

The game continues, barely. Small losses, smaller victories. Neither of you’s really trying it seems. Your bracelet ends up on the table. His socks go next. It’s almost ridiculous, but neither of you laughs.

It’s your deal. You flick a card onto the table with the sort of flair only three glasses of wine can inspire. “Call it.”

Caleb leans forward, folding his arms against the table, his voice quieter now. “Don’t tell me you’re throwing this one too.”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Who says I’m not just bad at poker?”

He tilts his head, studying you with a gaze that sees straight through your act. “You forget I grew up with you. I know when you’re pretending.”

You hold eye contact, the challenge clear, but so is the invitation. “Your turn.”

He looks at his cards, then at you. There’s a slow exhale, almost like he’s bracing for something—and then he lays them down.

A flush. A clear win. But he doesn’t smile.

“I had a choice,” he says softly. “And I’d rather lose to you.”

Then—without waiting—he reaches for the hem of his shirt.

This time, the motion isn’t quick. There’s no humor in it, no shrug. Just slow, deliberate movement as he drags the fabric up his torso, revealing inch by inch the toned expanse of his chest—cut with lean muscle, marked by faint scars, the synthetic gleam of his right shoulder catching faint light. His eyes don’t leave yours. If he’s giving you a show, it’s intentional. If he’s waiting to see how you’ll react—he’s watching closely.

The shirt hits the floor shortly after. And when the silence stretches, heavy and filled with a different kind of charge now. Caleb doesn’t reach for more wine. He just breathes slow and deep, bare and still, like the next move is yours to make.

You should have folded.

The thought hits you a moment too late—right as Caleb places his hand down on the table with quiet finality, his cards a clean, easy win. He doesn’t gloat. He doesn’t need to. The way he looks at you, eyes steady and dark with quiet heat, is far more effective than any smirk or tease.

The silence that follows stretches, weighted and slow, and you feel it settle over your skin like the hum of something electric waiting to arc.

There’s no way out. You’ve lost the round. You take a breath, steadying your hand as you reach down to the hem of your shirt, feeling the faintest tremble in your fingertips—not from nerves, not exactly, but from the awareness that this moment has long since stopped being about poker. With careful fingers, you lift the shirt over your head and pull it free, the air cool against your skin as your bare shoulders meet the open room. You’re still in your bra, modest and simple, but under his gaze, it might as well be nothing at all.

You place the shirt beside your jacket with what you hope is casual ease, though you can feel your heartbeat stuttering just beneath your ribs. When you glance up, Caleb is watching you, unmoving, his expression unreadable—but the tension in his jaw, the way his gaze lingers, betrays him.

You clear your throat softly, needing something—anything—to cut through the moment.

“I, um… I need more wine,” you say, pushing up from your seat before he can respond.

You cross the room with too much purpose, your steps just a little too quick, the air against your skin feeling too sharp now, too exposed. Your fingers reach for the bottle, more for something to do than for any real need to drink. You’re not even sure if you meant to escape the moment, or if part of you just wanted to feel the cool glass in your hands before the warmth burning in your chest gets too much to hold.

But before you can pour, you hear the quiet scrape of a chair behind you, the soft sound of his footsteps—slow, deliberate—drawing closer.

You don’t turn. You don’t have to.

His presence fills the space behind you like a shadow stretching in the light—close enough that you can feel the heat of him ghosting along your back, but still not touching, not yet.

“You sure you need more wine?” he asks, voice low, with just the barest hint of gravel at the edges.

Your fingers pause on the neck of the bottle. “I’m just... cooling off,” you murmur, trying to sound breezy, unaffected, though your voice is already tighter than you’d like.

There’s a beat of silence, and then he hums—not skeptical, exactly, but amused in a way that makes your skin prickle with awareness.

“That why you’re trembling?”

The words land too softly to be accusatory, but they knock the breath from you all the same. You close your eyes, just for a moment, and instantly regret it—because now every inch of him feels closer, like the air has folded in around you, and you’re standing in the center of a storm that’s just barely restrained.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to look at him over your shoulder, and you find him already watching you—his gaze pinned to yours like it’s holding you in place.

“I thought you said you play to win,” you manage, your voice low, barely more than a breath.

There’s something in his eyes now, something deeper—desire, yes, but also something rawer beneath it, something like vulnerability wrapped in steel. He lets his gaze drop, tracing the line of your jaw, the curve of your lips, then lower, lingering at the bare skin of your shoulder before meeting your eyes again.

“Maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to lose,” he says softly, and there’s no teasing left in him now—just honesty, quiet and bare and thick with everything neither of you has said aloud.

You don’t speak. You don’t have to. Because then his hand lifts, slow and careful, and his fingers brush the side of your arm with a touch so light it barely registers as contact—just a whisper of skin against skin, a question asked without words.

You don’t pull away. And in that silence—warm, charged, breathless—the line you’ve both been toeing begins to blur, then fade entirely.

Caleb’s fingers linger at your arm, unmoving for a breath, and then they trail upward—slow and deliberate—sliding over the curve of your shoulder and up along your neck, his touch featherlight but sure. He’s watching you closely, as if waiting for hesitation, for a sign that you’ll step back.

But you don’t.

Your breath catches as his hand finds the edge of your jaw, thumb brushing just below your cheekbone, his palm warm and steady against your skin. And still, he waits—so close now you can feel his breath on your lips, but he doesn’t move that final inch until you do.

You lean into him, just barely, and that’s all it takes.

He closes the distance like gravity finally winning—no pretense, no gentleness, just years of wanting poured into the kiss as his mouth crashes into yours with an intensity that steals the air from your lungs.

It’s not soft. It’s not polite. It’s a question, a claim, a thousand unsaid things slammed into one desperate kiss. His hand tilts your jaw up, deepening the angle, and you meet him with just as much urgency, fingers digging in the bare line of muscle at his side, pulling him closer, like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you don’t hold onto him. His other hand braces at your waist, grounding both of you as your bodies come flush, heat meeting heat with nothing left between but breath and skin.

You sigh into his mouth—soft, shaky—and he swallows the sound like it’s the only thing he’s needed since he came back from the dead. You can feel it in the way he kisses you: the hunger, yes, but also the grief, the guilt, the impossible devotion he’s been carrying like armor. His mouth moves with desperate precision, lips parting yours like he’s memorizing every second of this in case it gets torn away again. When you pull back for air, just barely, his forehead rests against yours, breath ragged, eyes fluttering shut like the moment is too much to hold.

“Tell me this is real,” he whispers, voice rough, thick with something cracked open and raw.

You nod, your fingers curling against the base of his spine. “It’s real.”

And then he kisses you again.

The second kiss is deeper, hungrier—less careful now, as if something inside him has cracked open and there’s no point in trying to put it back. Caleb’s hands slide down your back with firm, reverent pressure, like he’s relearning the shape of you by touch alone, his grip tightening when you arch into him.

Then—without a word—he pulls you back toward the table. With one swift motion, he sends the deck of cards, the half-empty wine glasses, everything scattering to the floor with a crash that makes your heart leap. The sound doesn’t faze him. If anything, it makes his breath deepen.

He looks at you, chest rising and falling with barely leashed control, his hands already sliding down to your hips, guiding you back until your thighs press against the table’s edge.

“I’ve been patient,” he says, voice hoarse and low, each word like gravel dragged across silk. “For years, I waited… I held back… but not anymore.”

You don’t speak—you can’t. Because the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing left in the universe that matters, steals every coherent thought from your mind.

He turns you with careful insistence, hands firm but reverent as he guides your body to face the table. You grip the edge, breath catching, the cold surface against your palms a stark contrast to the heat that radiates from him behind you.

When his hands return, they’re rougher now—claiming. He drags them slowly over your sides, then up your back, the tips of his fingers teasing the band of your bra. He bends down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, then another, slower, teeth grazing the skin just enough to make you gasp.

“You have no idea how many times I dreamed of this,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear as one hand slides around your waist, the other flattening over the small of your back. “Of you, right here—mine.”

The last word is a growl.

He presses against you, chest to your back, hips flush to yours, and you feel how hard he is already, the heat of it grinding just enough to make you whimper. His metal arm braces against the table beside yours—cold steel humming with quiet energy—and when you shift your hips back into him, he curses under his breath.

“That’s it,” he growls, one hand sliding between your thighs, forcing them to part. “Keep doing that and I won’t last.”

He dips his head again, this time kissing down your spine, slow and reverent, but each kiss feels like a brand—like he’s marking you one breath at a time. His hands return to your hips, and when he straightens, you feel the weight of his stare on your back like a spotlight.

“You don’t get to hide from me anymore,” he says, hands gripping your waist like you might vanish if he lets go. “You’re mine now. Say it.”

You bite your lip, breath ragged. “I’m yours.”

Your breath catches when you feel Caleb’s fingers slide into the waistband of your pants, his touch both reverent and possessive, and though his movements are deliberate, there’s no mistaking the weight behind them—he’s not teasing anymore; he’s unraveling, and he’s going to take you with him.

He leans in close, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “Don’t move,” and the way he says it, low and threaded with rough restraint, leaves no room for disobedience, only heat curling low and fast through your core.

You brace your hands against the table as he begins to tug your pants down your hips, dragging the fabric with agonizing slowness, like every inch he reveals is something sacred, something he’s waited too long to see again. His knuckles brush your thighs, his breath warm against the back of your neck, and when your pants pool around your ankles, he lets out a quiet, nearly broken groan that vibrates straight through you.

It’s your panties he lingers on.

His fingers trace the waistband, sliding along your skin like he’s memorizing you by feel alone, and then, without warning, he curls his fist into the lace and tears it clean in one savage motion—just a sharp, decisive snap, and then nothing but cool air on bare skin and the hot, heavy sound of his breathing behind you.

“I’m not waiting anymore,” he says, almost like a confession, and the ruined fabric is discarded without care as his hands return to your hips, steadying you, grounding you, claiming you all over again.

His touch drifts lower, smoothing over the curve of your ass, then up the small of your back, the contact so firm and slow that it borders on worship, his thumb brushing along the dip of your spine like it belongs there. He leans down, lips pressing against your shoulder, trailing heat with every kiss as he works his way downward, pausing only to let his teeth graze lightly against your skin, the quiet sound of your gasp spurring him on.

“You have no idea,” he whispers, voice hoarse with the weight of everything he’s been holding back, “how many times I dreamed of this—of you, bent over in front of me, mine to touch, mine to take.”

The sound of his belt unfastening fills the silence like a drumbeat, followed by the low scrape of a zipper and the shuffle of clothing pushed hastily down his thighs, and then he’s behind you again, thick and hot and hard, the head of his cock sliding through your folds, coating himself in the slick evidence of how ready you are for him.

He doesn’t press in—not yet.

One hand anchors you by the hip, the other coasting along your front, splaying across your belly before drifting downward, parting your thighs further until you’re open for him, exposed and trembling beneath his touch.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” he murmurs, his voice cracking on the edge of a growl as he guides himself to your entrance, teasing the sensitive skin with slow, shallow strokes. “Thought I’d never get to fuck you like I always wanted.”

When he finally pushes in, he does it in one slow, brutal thrust, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs as your body stretches to take him, your hands clutching at the edge of the table for dear life. He doesn’t move right away—just stays buried inside you, fully sheathed, his hands tight on your waist as if he’s holding himself back from coming right then and there.

“Fuck,” he groans, low and guttural, his mouth pressed against your shoulder blade. “You feel like heaven.”

And then he begins to move.

Each thrust is hard and deep, perfectly paced to drive you wild, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that’s all hunger and dominance and years of frustration finally, finally, breaking loose. The table creaks beneath you, your legs spread wide, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room with every punishing snap of his hips.

His hand slides up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades and urging you further down against the table, and when your cheek hits the cool surface, your breath escapes you in a soft, desperate moan.

“You were made for this,” he growls, his mouth near your ear, the heat of his voice sinking into your skin like a brand. “For me. This body, this sound—mine.”

You manage his name on a broken gasp, your voice shaking, your body already on the verge of losing itself entirely as he continues to thrust into you, each movement rougher, deeper, more desperate than the last.

His hand slides between your thighs again, this time to circle your clit with unrelenting pressure, the pads of his fingers slick and confident, and when you cry out, he doesn’t stop—he doubles down, whispering, “Come for me. Let me feel you fall apart.”

And gods, you do.

The orgasm crashes into you like a storm, seizing you from the inside out, your entire body tensing, walls clenching around him as pleasure tears through your spine and explodes behind your eyes. You sob his name, breathless and undone, and he holds you through it, his hand on your hip tightening, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering as he loses himself in the feel of you shattering around him.

“Ah—fuck—gonna come inside you,” he groans, every muscle in his body going taut as he drives into you one last time and stills, buried deep, spilling into you with a guttural moan that’s as much pain as it is relief. His chest presses flush to your back, arms wrapping around your waist like he’s anchoring himself there, like he can’t bear the thought of letting go.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. The air is thick with heat, your bodies tangled, breath syncing in a slow, uneven rhythm that speaks more than either of you could right now.

He doesn’t say anything, but the way he holds you, the way his lips brush the side of your neck in a kiss so soft it almost breaks you, says everything he can’t.

The silence that follows is heavy. It’s the kind of quiet that settles deep into your bones, warm and full, like the world has finally stopped spinning long enough to let you catch your breath. Caleb doesn’t move for a long moment, his chest still pressed against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist like he’s anchoring you to the earth itself. His breath ghosts over your shoulder in slow, unsteady exhales, his body still trembling faintly against yours as the aftershocks roll through both of you.

Then, with a gentle murmur—your name spoken like a vow—he presses a kiss to the back of your neck and pulls out of you slowly, carefully, as though he’s afraid he might hurt you if he moves too fast. He catches your waist as you sway slightly, already reaching for you before you even realize you need the support.

“Easy,” he says, voice low and still rough at the edges, but his hands are impossibly gentle. “I’ve got you.”

And you believe him. You always have.

He helps you straighten, one arm still firmly around your middle as the other brushes a loose strand of hair from your face. When you glance up, your eyes meet his, and for the first time tonight, you see all of him—not just the soldier or the survivor, not the boy who left or the man who came back, but Caleb, who looks at you like you’re the one thing that kept him tethered while the rest of his world burned.

Without a word, he leans in and kisses your temple, slow and soft, before guiding you gently toward the bed in the corner of the room. The lights dim as you pass—probably movement-commanded, but it feels like the room itself is exhaling.

“Stay,” you murmur, already missing the warmth of his body as he helps you sit at the edge of the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says immediately, brushing his thumb over your thigh as if to reassure himself more than you. “Just getting something.”

He returns a moment later with a warm, damp cloth and a fresh towel, kneeling in front of you like you’re something precious, like tending to you is the most natural thing in the world.

Caleb’s silent as he cleans you—tender, focused, his touch slow and steady as he wipes between your thighs, along the insides of your legs, his hand cupping the back of your calf as he works. There’s nothing hurried or clinical in his movements; everything about the way he touches you now speaks of devotion, of reverence, like this is part of the ritual. Like this is sacred, too.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, eyes flicking up to meet yours as he dabs the cloth gently between your legs.

Your voice is small, but sure. “Better than okay.”

A soft smile tugs at his lips, and he presses another kiss—this time to your knee—before setting the cloth aside and wrapping the towel gently around your hips. He helps you ease back into bed, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders, and then, finally, finally, he slips in beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight as his arms curl around your body and bring you close again.

You rest your head against his bare chest, listening to the slow, rhythmic thud of his heart as his hand drifts through your hair in lazy strokes, his other arm banded around your waist, holding you like you’re the last thing worth protecting in the universe.

“I missed you,” he says after a while, voice barely more than a breath. “Just—” his hand squeezes gently at your waist “— you. Everything about you.”

You tilt your head, fingers brushing lightly over the scar near his ribs. “You always had me. Even when you weren’t here.”

He doesn’t answer with words—just a long exhale, a kiss pressed to your forehead, and the way he holds you tighter like he’s finally allowing himself to believe it.

And in the quiet hum of Skyhaven, tangled in Caleb’s arms, with nothing between you but skin and truth, you feel more safe, more known, more his, than you ever have before.

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

Gotta say, thank you very much for sharing your insights into the 2025 conclave. I love reading them; your takes and bringing into focus people largely overlooked by English speaking media.

I'd love to know where you look for information and (you've probably answered this before but I'll ask anyway) was there anything that you think may have happened prior to the 2013 conclave that influenced appointing Francis as Pope?

Once again thank you for sharing your takes, I'm looking forward to your posts!

Hello!

So to answer your second question first: yes, I know a fair amount about the dynamics leading up to the conclave that elected Francis twelve years ago, although a lot of it is stuff I've actually learned fairly recently. While official balloting counts of papal conclaves do not exist, unofficial counts do tend to emerge afterwards, and from the ones for 2013 we see the future Pope Francis (i.e. Jorge Mario Bergoglio) initially positioned as one of three softcore/mainstream conservative vote-getters, along with Canada's Marc Ouellet and Italy's Angelo Scola. Bergoglio then cannibalizes the votes of moderate cardinals Sean Patrick O'Malley (USA) and Odilo Scherer (Brazil), and finally picks up more and more of Ouellet's supporters until he defeats Scola after five ballots.

This is in part speculative, but the conventional wisdom/widespread educated guess is that Bergoglio started as a Latin American regional favorite who then gradually became the "anyone but Scola" candidate because of how the math shook out. It should be remembered that the 2013 conclave, unlike this year's, was, or at least seemed, fairly ideologically homogeneous; everyone in it had been appointed by John Paul II or Benedict XVI (themselves very similar to each other in most ways), and there was not a clear "progressive" option. What happened with Pope Francis as time went on was that it turned out that the Latin American cultural and theological environment that he came up in, when "scaled up" to the global Church, looked very different from Euro "conservative Catholicism". What we got from that was twelve years of a Pope who didn't actually make any major changes to Catholic doctrine and who had plenty of "hot mic" moments about women or gays of the sort one would expect from an elderly Peronist living and working in Italy, but who was enormously more concerned with what kind of place the Church was--how welcoming it was--for people who just "weren't like" the Central European and Northern Italian aristocrats and academics around John Paul and Benedict.

Also, people forget this today, but as Archbishop of Buenos Aires, Bergoglio came across as much more doctrinaire and conservative, especially on issues related to sex, than he did as Pope. You can still find lots of LGBT South Americans, including LGBT South American Catholics, who have a very different and much less positive opinion of Francis than do similar people from other parts of the world. Suddenly having to deal with a worldwide constituency genuinely changed his way of looking at some things. The same might happen with a successor who isn't as good on these issues (then again it might not). With Cardinal Ambongo (papabile, deeply homophobic but otherwise Francis-aligned Archbishop of Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo) in particular there are reasons to believe that if he became Pope it'd be politically and logistically very difficult for him to reverse Francis's more pro-LGBT decisions, even though he might want to.

The Latin American cardinals of twelve years ago, who weren't well-understood in the West and who ended up producing, arguably even imposing, a Pope who reigned the way Francis did, are today the African and Asian cardinals who don't like gay people very much and often aren't crazy about women either, but who over the past week have mostly been interested in talking about climate change, decentralizing Church governance structures, and fighting terrorism through interreligious dialogue.

As to where I look for information: I first found these sources by Googling the cardinals' names and reading anything that didn't look like generic Global North boilerplate, but some that I've found that way are ACI Africa, 9News Nigeria, the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, Kaniva Tonga News, Radio New Zealand, the Papua New Guinea Post-Courier, and the Straits Times out of Singapore.

I hope some of this helps/is of interest to you!

[unnameablethings]

Trump's stupid ass new budget bill

alright, just finished reading through the 28 page summary created by the CRS (shoutout to the Congressional Research Service) of the 870 page One Big Beautiful Bill Act which Congress just passed to update the budget. took a while because I kept pausing to look things up. You can ALSO read the CRS summary at this link, OR the full 870 pages if you have the time:

Here's what jumped out to me in vaguely chronological order as they come up in the bill:

-Much more stringent work requirements for SNAP and Medicaid - the expectation will be 80 hours of work or volunteering a month to qualify unless you are severely disabled or have a child under 14

-Even more stringent enforcement of SNAP and Medicaid needs documentation, including a requirement for address verification

-very bizarrely, people who make $1 million or more in a year are prohibited from claiming unemployment in following years. This is apparently the pet project of a weirdo Republican Senator. who's out here as a millionaire claiming unemployment.

-Overtime pay is now tax-exempt. This is true specifically for the 0.5x overtime premium not for the base rate, and it's on up to $12,500 in income. If you work a lot of overtime you may get a bigger tax refund this year as a result.

-Similarly, the first $25,000 you earn each year in tip income is now tax-exempt for people in traditionally tipped professions. (The IRS will be defining these professions and providing guidance within the next 90 days, but "server" is a pretty safe bet.)

-You can deduct up to $10,000 in interest paid on a car loan for a personal vehicle from your taxes if you meet certain conditions - the car loan must have a start date after 12/31/2024 and final assembly must take place in the United States.

-Federal unsubsidized loans for grad students and parents are now capped.

-SAVE is gone, so are all income-based student loan repayment plans except for the Repayment Assistance Plan (RAP.) RAP is based on gross income, not discretionary income, and does not take into account household size. It has a 30 year repayment period before qualifying for forgiveness.

-There's a new kind of retirement account - it's called a Trump Account and works like a traditional IRA. You open it for a kid and can contribute up to $5,000 per year until the kid is 18, at which point it converts into a regular IRA. The government will give a $1000 boost to any baby born between 2025 and 2028. Remains to be seen how this will work logistically.

-the EPA has had massive amounts of its funding stripped

-there's now financial incentives for companies to invest in oil and gas drilling

-financial incentives for green energy have pretty much all been repealed

-Colleges will have federal funding revoked for any degree program where the average graduate of the program makes less than a comparable cohort of high school graduates (one of those things which sounds good on paper but ends up in sort of a dire situation for any degrees which aren't primarily profit-focused).

-various tax cuts for rich people, particularly around not having to pay taxes on investments

-increased tax incentives for employers to cover dependent/childcare and higher limits for how much they're allowed to help employees with (positive!)

-HUGE budget additions to Department of Homeland Security and the military. yikes.

overall it's a trainwreck and it sucks! with some weird shit in there as a bonus.

[fookinhellcurlyyy]

Don't Panic, It's Just Another Monthly McDon't Sighting™ (Stunt Season Isn't Over Yet)

AKA: The Soccer Aid Promo Tour Disguised as Romance (Also, possibly the fake LT3 muse for the GP to pin on lol)

────────

I was debating on sharing this but I can already feel people would start asking about #McDon't in a bit (due to Zara's IGS indicating that she's at the Stereophonics show that L just posted).

I'm expecting at least one interaction per month leading up to Soccer Aid (and honestly, people should too—it might help ease the frustration when something does happen, because at this point, it's inevitable). I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I really believe they’re using this stunt to promote Soccer Aid this year, especially with L and Sam both participating.

Also, I think this is the best time to add this: just yesterday, @delicateperspective found a very curious article from Entertainment Daily which I also further looked into. Here's the one from The Sun:

(NOTE: Might either be related or unrelated—but still, CURIOUS.)

Long-serving celebrity booker Stefania Aleksander has left her full-time role after seven years, having also been mentioned in the BBC investigation into pro Giovanni Pernice’s alleged bullying of dance partner Amanda Abbington.

Stefania has been replaced by long-standing staffer Jasmine Fox and will now be working on ITV’s Soccer Aid.

But BBC sources insisted her departure as celebrity talent executive was not connected to any of these issues.

One told The Sun on Sunday: “Stefania worked on the series for a long time and she came under increasing pressure over the last couple of years.

“There was the fallout over Seann Walsh and Katya Jones being seen kissing, then the bust-up between Giovanni and Amanda, then the Graziano Di Prima and Zara McDermott kicking incident and finally the fallout over Wynne Evans making sexual comments.

A BBC Studios spokesman said: “Stefania remains a pivotal member of the Strictly production team, has already been involved with the upcoming series, and will return to work part-time on the show later in the summer.

“She stepped away from what is a full-time role to spend more time being a new mum and to suggest she has temporarily left Strictly for any other reason is false and unfair.”

TL;DR: Celeb booker Stefania left STRICTLY temporarily to "focus on being a mum" and work with SoccerAid for a bit. She will return to the show (to work part-time) late in the summer—possibly after wrapping up Soccer Aid.

You can see in Stefania's public linked in that she started working as a Celebrity Talent Executive for Soccer Aid 2025, and left BBC's Strictly Come Dancing this month (again, temporarily).

TERM DEFINITION:

(I'm too lazy to put it all together so thanks Google lol But this is basically what they do as per research)

Celebrity talent executives and talent bookers both work in the entertainment industry, but they have slightly different roles:

Celebrity Talent Executives focus on managing relationships with high-profile talent. They often handle negotiations, casting decisions, partnerships, and big-picture planning for events, shows, or campaigns. Their goal is to bring the right celebrity into the right project, aligning both creative and business goals.

Talent Bookers are responsible for securing celebrities or performers for appearances—like talk shows, award shows, festivals, or brand events. They reach out to representatives, coordinate schedules, and finalize logistics to ensure the talent actually shows up and fits the purpose of the event or production.

In short: Talent execs handle strategy and relationships, while bookers handle outreach and scheduling.

────────

I don’t think I need to elaborate on what the possible connection is—you probably already see what I'm getting at.

Bottom line: it's a very solid possible connection.

Take a breath, ignore the headlines (though yes, it’s being closely monitored—and wow, it’s messy lol, they can’t even get their stories or timelines straight), and just keep larrying on. It'll all be over soon.

[caffedrine]

April Fools 2025 Short Story - Ricci Corporation

I pretty much have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t trust me, and you shouldn’t either. This translation is not guaranteed to be accurate, it’s mostly written for myself to follow along with the story.

This spring, I’m changing jobs.

I went for a job interview at a stunning skyscraper that embodied wealth and luxury—it was as if money flowed like water there.

Rio

“Emma.”

Emma

“No way, Rio!? I can’t believe I’m seeing you here… Wait, are you working here now?”

Rio

“Yeah. I heard you were interviewing at this company.”

Rio

“I couldn’t just sit around, so I transferred jobs myself.”

Emma

“For that reason!?”

Rio

“I’ve always dreamed of it. A forbidden office romance with my friend—and future bride—Emma.”

Emma

“That’s not happening, okay?”

Rio

“Ah, I love that cool side of you too!”

Rio

“Don’t worry, Emma. I’ll protect you from the flashy guys.”

Emma

“Flashy guys?”

Rio

“Our CEO—he’s always jingling and jangling with jewelry and being loud. Everyone calls him ‘Jingles’—”

Silvio

“The only one calling me that is you, you damn mutt.”

Rio

“Ouch, ouch, ouch—! Don’t grab my head like that! What if it cracks!?”

Silvio

“Hah. Maybe cracking your skull and sending you to the hospital wouldn’t be such a bad idea?”

(This is the CEO…? I can literally hear bones creaking—is Rio going to be okay?)

Keith

“Quite the lively day today… Wait, is that Emma?”

Emma

“Mr. Keith!? I didn’t expect to see you here too—not just Rio, but you as well.”

Rio

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Emma

“Yeah, I dropped something in town the other day.”

Emma

“While I was searching for it, Mr. Keith came up and helped me.”

(Jade… isn’t that the famous, long-established pharmaceutical company everyone’s heard of? Amazing.)

(…No, more importantly—)

Emma

“Even Mr. Azel is here?”

Rio

“You know him too!?”

Emma

“Yeah, there was a free fortune-telling event at the mall recently.”

Emma

“I was thinking about changing jobs, and when I happened to make eye contact with Mr. Azel, he offered to read my fortune…”

Azel

“That’s when I saw signs of a turning point and recommended joining Ricci Corporation.”

Rio

“Why this company of all places?”

Azel

“Why? That’s a strange question.”

Azel

“This company has a brilliant CEO, generous benefits, and is one of the world’s top-tier white companies…”

Azel

“It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say this company dominates all logistics and rules the world. Why wouldn’t I recommend it?”

Rio

“…CEO, this was your doing, wasn’t it? You used Emma to lure me into working harder, didn’t you?”

Silvio

“Hah. Sure, as an influencer, you’re useful in lots of ways—but don’t get full of yourself.”

Silvio

“Our freelance consultant has a sharp eye for talent.”

Azel

“Your compliment honors me. I’ll be using your employee referral program, so…”

Azel

“I look forward to receiving the referral fee. Thank you very much.”

Silvio

“That depends on this girl.”

(…Crap. I was so caught off guard by how many people I know here.)

Silvio

“Hey, girl. What can you do for us?”

(It’s here—my chance to highlight my strengths…!)

Emma

“I love talking to people like this.”

Emma

“Meeting many people, connecting, and expanding networks is something I excel at—”

Emma

“With those relationships and bonds, I promise to contribute to this company.”

Rio

“Ahhh, there’s no reason not to hire her! As expected of my Nana—she’s so talented it’s blinding!”

Silvio

“Shut up already. Get back to work.”

Azel

“I’ll give my strongest recommendation as well—since I’ve already made the invoice.”

Silvio

“You just want the referral bonus. Also, you work too damn much.”

Keith

“If things don’t work out here, how about joining my team?”

Keith

“I’m not great with people. But having you around would be a huge help.”

Silvio

“Don’t you go poaching other people’s candidates.”

Silvio

“Tch… Well, whatever. You’re hired.”

Emma

“Is that question all you needed?”

Silvio

“Yeah, that’s enough.”

Silvio

“Someone who can wrangle this pack of oddballs must be a damn skilled beast tamer, huh?”

Silvio

“I’ll work you to the bone—along with that damn dog.”

At that time, I didn’t know—

That at Ricci Corporation, I would actually awaken my true talent…

As a beast tamer.

[resurrectionist3]

Praying for Love, Paying in Naivety

The Worst People Trilogy - Part I

Daniel Cleaver x fem!Reader (18+) 🖋️- 02/14/2025 🔏 - 02/15/2025 ⏳ - 3038 words

⚠️CW - 18+ NSFW, brief p in v, general smut, cheating (dont do it), debauchery and devious acts, mentions of drug and alcohol use, cigarette smoking, Daniel Cleaver again (im sorry), small Mark Darcy appearance at the end (sorry again)

✧─── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ───✧

Author’s Note - been planning this little stunt for a while (but of course I wait until the last minute to write it). I was going to say that this isn’t good but now that it’s done, I definitely believe it’s good and I hope you like it. If you cant tell by the song, it’s inspired by “But It’s Better If You Do” by Panic! At the Disco. Stay tuned for the next two parts coming this weekend, this trilogy will be wild. And no, I don’t want to hear about the logistics of them not recognising each other with just face masks on. I didn’t come up with the entire concept, I’m just filling in the fun details. This is also only partially edited. So if there are any egregious errors, return in about a day or two and they might be fixed. Timex Part ii WILL exist, I promise! But Valentine’s Day arrived so quickly and I told myself I’d do this idea for the holiday!!

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

I looked over the ornate invitation a couple more times before exiting my car.

Rarely would I ever attend such an event but I had been in need of some excitement.

A certain line on the invite stuck in my mind as i secured bronze eye mask to my face:

‘Consider bringing a spouse or partner along. Or don’t.. if you would be so bold.’

“Are you busy on the 14th of February, dear?” I had asked my fiancé.

He paused and thought in silence, as he always did. “Busy with work that day, love. So sorry.” he said finally.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. What was new? All he ever did was work.

“That’s alright,” I had responded. I repeated it again to myself there in the car as I pulled the diamond engagement ring from my finger and placed it in the locked glove compartment.

I checked the invite once more for the address; this place looked .. abandoned. Certainly no place for a party. It was located in an older part of London, tucked into an alleyway. A proper secret hideaway, one that I wouldn’t have noticed if I weren’t looking for it.

I knocked on the heavy metal door, not sure what to expect. A moment later, footsteps sounded and a small opening in the door slid to the side.

“Password…?” Came a soft voice from within. I furrowed my brows at the invite and spoke loud and clear to the person on beyond the door.

“Vices and virtues.”

The opening shut and a lock clicked open. The heavy door opened slowly with a loud, ominous creak. I swallowed hard, wondering if this was honestly a good idea. But I was nothing if not a curious bitch with a desperate need for more excitement.

I turned around the door to thank whoever let me in and found myself shocked when there was no one there. A chill ran down my spine as I searched the dark corner with my eyes before continuing on.

Dance music played in the distance growing louder as i approached the main room. The smell of cigarettes and something illicit hit me before I entered. The room was full of different people, all hiding their identities with some form of mask on their faces. Various attendees crossed the room in all directions around of me, each of them lost in their own conversations.

I grew disoriented as I navigated the crowd, nearly bumping into a group doing lines of coke off of a glass top table. My chest tightened as I excused myself from them and I sighed in relief when I finally stumbled to a bar.

‘My god, I’m truly past my days of partying, aren’t I?’ I thought to myself.

“This crowd too much for you?” A voice said behind me, making me jump. The bartender stood there, a young man with slicked back dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He even wore a mask of his own, a white one adorned with gold filigree on the edges and decorated with black music notes.

He chuckled lowly at my jumpy reaction and sipped his own drink, a peach and lime daiquiri. “Didn’t mean to startle you, miss. Is this your first time here?”

I nodded slowly and settled myself onto the barstool. “It is. I haven’t been to a party like this in ages.”

He began to mix up a drink, something that looked light and refreshing. “Well, try not to overthink anything. Or overdo it. Most people are just here to have a good time. In more ways than one.”

He glanced to a couple further down the bar who were … very interested in each other. I looked for a moment and widened my eyes at the sight.

“Well.. I’d be lying if I said I had come here for anything different.” I admitted to the bartender.

“I can guarantee, miss, there’s plenty of people here who would be more than willing to get lost in you.” He responded.

“Do you know anything about who’s throwing this party? And who invited all these people?” I asked him, taking out my invitation.

The bartender sucked air through his teeth and shook his head apologetically while he continued the drink in a silver shaker. “No, miss. Afraid I don’t. I get an invitation, same as you lot. I come in, make the drinks, I’m paid on the way out, and that’s that. And I get paid enough to not ask questions.”

I sighed and nodded in understanding while i watched him strain the drink into a glass and begin on an orange garnish. “But I’ve worked these parties enough times to know how they go,” He slid me the drink as he finished and I took a sip, feeling myself physically relax.

He paused for a moment and took a hard look at me. His brow furrowed momentarily as he looked from me to the crowded room.

“You know, I saw a gentleman earlier with a mask quite similar to yours,” He said gingerly as he scanned the people around the room. I turned in my seat to look as well, surprised.

“You did..? That’s… is that common at these types of parties?” I ask, turning back to the bartender who was wearing a satisfied smile.

“I wouldn’t say common but, it happens,” He nodded behind me and I looked again, this time catching him. A tall gentleman in a black suit, wearing a bronze mask that indeed looked oddly similar to my own.

“When it does happen,” the bartender said, having leaned closer to me. “I like to think of it as a sign.”

My brows raised at him and he shrugged wordlessly, returning to his own dignified beverage. He said nothing else to me as I finished my drink and pondered my decision.

‘What the hell…’ I thought. ‘That’s what you’re here for.’

I left the glass on the bar and slid from the stool to walk to the man. He seemed to notice me right away, a subtle smile forming on his lips. I returned the look and stopped a bit further from him as some party goers walked in front of me. From what I could tell, he was surely handsome. And a breath of fresh air compared to what waited for me at home.

Whatever that bartender had put in my drink seemed to have an effect on me, or maybe it was the atmosphere of the party finally pulling me in. Whichever it was, it had made me far more confident. Or at least extremely bold.

I strode across the room to the man, feeling my heels click on the concrete floor below.

When i reached him, he smirked wordlessly at me and only paused a moment before leaning down to press his lips to mine. I didn’t object, instead sliding my hands up to his broad shoulders and sighing. The man held me to him and for a moment, everything around us faded away. The music became muffled along with the voices of the crowd around us and nothing else seemed to matter.

Not the party. Not the people. Not the drugs. And certainly not my fiancé back in his office at work, no doubt. Just me and this illustrious stranger.

Before I knew it, we were moving from the main room down a hallway off to the side. Several doors were at varying degrees of openness, revealing the rather unholy acts being committed in the rooms around us. When we reached an empty one, I wasted no time at pulling my new lover back to me. My tongue slid across his lip and made its way into his mouth as his hands caressed along my back gently. I felt the zipper of my dress slowly falling and my dress gradually slipping from my body, eventually ending up a pool of black velvet on the floor.

The man’s suit jacket and shirt went as well, tossed carelessly to a corner as I pushed him to the red velvet bed adorned with various pillows and blankets. I kneeled down by the edge of the bed to pull down his trousers and pants beneath them, revealing a large and erect cock. The man let out a groan and let his head fall back as i stood and straddled his waist over the bed.

‘His .. voice, it’s.. no, it’s nothing.’

I smiled as I leaned over him and kissed him once more, our masks gently tapping against each other.

I gasped and released a long moan as i sank down on his length, pausing immediately to adjust to his size. My breathing was heavy as i planted my hands on his chest to keep myself up. Soft, slight moans slipped from my lips as I lowered myself onto him, finally settled when he was fully inside.

I slowly shifted my hips, unable to shake the feeling that this was all … familiar. His voice, his groaning and moaning. His hair, his eyes. His cock…

It was all faintly familiar somehow. I opened my eyes to look at him once again and noticed his mask.. slipping.

I did what i knew I shouldn’t have done. But curiosity got the better of me in the moment. My hand trailed up from his chest, to his neck, and eventually to his face where I lifted his bronze mask…

“DANIEL??” I shrieked, entirely too loud. He jumped, suddenly startled, and so did I - directly off his cock.

I stared in horror at him, finally taking it all in. It was HIM. My ex boyfriend. That I hadn’t seen in TWO YEARS. I tore my own mask from my face and let it fall on top of my discarded dress.

“(Y/N)??” He responded, suddenly also aware of the situation.

We both stuttered and stammered at one another, each trying to simultaneously explain ourselves and scold the other person.

“What on EARTH are you doing here??”

“What am I doing? What are YOU doing?? I thought you despised parties!?”

“I swear to god, Cleaver, you orchestrated this whole thing, didn’t you? Like a pathetic Jay Gatsby??”

“Me?? Oh please, (Y/N), like I’d invite you and that fiancé of yours if I did!”

My hands shook with frustration as I began to gather my dress. “I will NOT do this Daniel, not again! I left you for a reason-“

I turned from him, tired of his voice, and began to dress myself. Daniel then paused and scoffed at me. “Oh, well… that’s too bad, (Y/N)! I could honestly tell you were enjoying it. Seems like you needed a good fuc-“

I sighed hard and turned around to kiss him again, furiously this time. Unfortunately, he was right. I *did* need a good fuck.

When the deed was done, the room was eerily silent compared to how it had been a few moments ago. Daniel and I sat quietly and civilly beside each other on the bed, each smoking a cigarette. The room was beginning to become foggy, the ceiling clouded with the noxious blue smoke from the nicotine sticks. I felt more relaxed than I had in a year. Unfortunate to say, I really needed that. Needed this. Needed him.

“So, how’s life treating you..?” Daniel asked nonchalantly. I immediately scoffed at him and rolled my eyes, taking a drag on my cigarette.

“Oh please.. spare me. If I wanted small talk, i would’ve stayed home.”

“Oh?” Daniel mused. “Trouble in paradise..?” I glared at him and his shit-eating grin. “Is Arsey Darcy not all you thought he’d be….?”

I rolled over and stared at the other wall ignoring him, as Daniel chuckled behind me.

“Ah, no more engagement ring? Call off the wedding did you? A shame, really.”

I furrowed my brows and panicked for a moment at the feeling of my ring being missing before I remembered I had left it in the car. I sighed and sat up, taking a long inhale of my cigarette. “Nope… No, still very engaged. And so ready to be married.” My sarcastic tone was so obvious, it almost sounded scripted. “The wedding is in a week.”

Daniel reacted, recoiling. “Oh dear, a week? And you’re here?? Alone, and with no engagement ring on?? My god, he must’ve really screwed it up… Not that I’m shocked by that, though.”

Daniel’s surprise changed to satisfaction as he leaned back casually and breathed in his cigarette. “I supposed he wasn’t actually worth it after all.”

The venom in his tone was undeniable and it stoked the flames of anger that had already grown inside me. I huffed and tossed a velvet pillow at his head, groaning as he laughed. “Oh, it’s so funny, isn’t it? What about that woman you slept with behind my back, then? Brenda, or Brandy, or whatever her name was?”

Daniel’s expression changed and he looked away from me. I nodded and it was my turn to laugh. “Oh, I see. Divorcing her soon?”

Daniel put out his cigarette and took a moment. “No. We never married.”

He was uncharacteristically quiet when he said that. He seemed genuinely defeated, truly upset about the situation perhaps. It made me quiet in response, my grin fading. I flicked my cigarette ashes into the tray and took another deep drag.

“I uhh… I left here there. In the church,” Daniel admitted quietly. Something about his tone pulled at my heart in an annoying way.

Why did I feel bad for him?

“I just couldn’t bring myself to do it… with her,”Daniel looked to me then, his blue eyes meeting my (y/ec) ones, and for a moment … I remembered the time when I loved him.

I paused and thought of the night we ended things. The night we caught each other. The look on the girl’s face as she realised who I was. How Daniel looked when he saw me with his best friend. I remembered how it felt when Mark Darcy confessed his feelings for me, and told me that I deserved more than what Daniel was willing to give me. I thought of him at work, late at night so he could afford to buy me nice things and plan the wedding we were to have in a week.

All of it flooded back to me then as I sat nearly naked beside the man who had cheated on me, and whom I had cheated on. And it dawned on me.

“We’re… bad people, aren’t we?”

“The worst.”

We both sighed in unison, sitting with our silence for a few moments. My eyes drifted to Daniel, slowly meeting his again.

And we laughed.

I stood without another word and retrieved my dress, and Daniel did the same with his own clothes. I felt his warm hands on my skin as he helped me zip my dress in the back, careful and gentle like he used to be when we were together. Like when he would help me get dressed to attend his company parties.

A commotion beyond our room broke our quiet moment, startling us both. We took our masks and went to open the door, just as it opened on its own - revealing the bartender.

He grinned at us, a mischievous and entertained expression as he stuck his head into our room. “I do hate to intrude but, the police have arrived.”

Me and Daniel both reacted in unison, gasping. “Police?? What on Earth for?” Daniel asked in shock.

“Well, the drugs, of course. But follow me, I’ll get us out. I know a way.” The bartender responded effortlessly. He disappeared from the room and began to walk in the opposite direction of the main room which had fallen to chaos since we were last in there. Daniel and I rushed to keep up, following close behind as the odd bartender weaved in and out of dark unused hallways walled with bricks.

Eventually, we reached a set of metal doors which the bartender pushed open and walked us onto the street. The cold February winter hit me hard, sending a chill across my body. I couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, hearing the police sirens around the corner. Daniel laughed with me, the both of us doubling over in our amusement.

“Oh my god, of course this would happen,” I said when I recovered. I turned to thank the bartender who helped us, but found myself confused when he was nowhere in sight. Daniel was equally as confused, looking up and down the alleyway and street for him, to no avail.

“Strange chap, truly..” Daniel said finally. I nodded in agreement and looked at my mask in my hand. Daniel looked to his own and back to me with a grin.

“We mustn’t tell anyone about what happened here,” I said firmly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Daniel responded. We nodded to each other and tossed our masks against the brick wall behind a few discarded crates. They landed together with a subtle click, falling into the snow quietly. I waved as i walked in the direction of my car, while Daniel went the opposite way down the alley waving as well.

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

“Other news: police raided a secret party near Old London last night, making several arrests and collecting evidence of various different illicit substances,” The newscaster said sternly on the telly the next morning. I rubbed my eyes sleepily as i poured myself some tea and went to the table beside Mark Darcy who was reading the paper.

I eyed my magazine casually, flipping through the glossy pages as Mark glanced up at the screen for a moment. “My god, how ridiculous. Such frivolous nonsense lead to so many arrests. I would never engage in such debauchery in my life.”

I scoffed out a laugh and looked up to the screen myself. There showed a photo of two bronze masks lying in the snow outside of the building. They were set almost perfectly next to each other, making for a wonderful and ironically pleasing image as the newscaster droned on about the raid.

“Oh I agree completely, dear. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that.”

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

Of course, let me know what you think! Sorry to edge you with a short smut scene but part iii will make up for it hopefully. Part ii will hopefully be out by tonight for everyone’s viewing pleasure! And if you’d like to be tagged in the next two parts, just let me know!🫀Happy Valentine’s Day!

✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧

Tag List:

@incorporealbombchelle (bc i know you’re gonna want this)

[porterdavis]

Logistics

Trump's promise to deport millions of immigrants was repeated often in the closing weeks of his campaign. Left to his own devices I suspect the project would recede into the background as his wall building did, outside of a few photo ops. This time will probably be different though because he will be coming into power with an entire cohort of zealots pre-selected and briefed on their roles, the Project 2025 brigade.

They will take their mission seriously (and not let Trump backslide on the promise). All of which begs the question -- how to round up, house, feed, transport and deport millions of people? Japanese-internment style camps in Oklahoma or Arizona? Who builds them, who operates them, who guards them, who pays for them?

How long will they be needed? Does anyone seriously expect Mexico to open its border to allow millions of people from all parts of South America into their country? Armed opposition seems a certainty. What is the exit strategy? The prospect of brownshirt troops roaming the night-time streets, breaking down doors to apprehend people of colour, both legal and undocumented with no rapid recourse to courts is not one that Americans of principle would long accept.

Soon the crops would lie rotting in the fields, factories and abattoirs would close for lack of workers, daycare centres would close, patients would lie untended in their nursing homes, prices of everything would rise.

Trump and his new friend Musk intend to burn everything down to the ground. We can only hope they do it quickly enough that the effect is obvious and immediate...no boiling of frogs....and there is time for men and women of honour to rise while there is still hope of resurrection.

Otherwise the great American experiment will collapse just as previous empires have, dragged down from within.

[mariacallous]

Ukraine is braced for a Kremlin summer offensive that will make a heavy dent in its weapons stockpile. Cautious that rebuilding those supplies requires sustained interest from its Western backers, Kyiv is opening what one official called its “Wild West” arms industry to investors, promising to become the world’s “breadbasket” for lethal military equipment.

Over the past three years, Ukraine’s allies in NATO have donated around $140 billion of military aid that has helped hold Russia back.

On top of receiving missile defenses, drones, and more conventional artillery, Ukraine has developed its own impressive arms industry. Much attention has been paid to its manufacturing of attack drones—2.5 million drones are expected to be produced in 2025.

Since the start of the war, Ukraine has built an arms industry with an output capacity of over $35 billion.

However, recent estimates suggest that only around $12 billion, according to Ukrainian officials, worth of orders have been placed, meaning there is a huge amount of excess capacity. Kyiv hopes that Western allies will seize this opportunity to invest in Ukraine’s domestic arms industry—and it is making Ukraine’s defense sector as attractive as possible to Western investors.

“Of course, it would be better if they were straight donations, but we also must be realistic,” said Serhii Kuzan, chair of the Ukrainian Security and Cooperation Center. “We know that making our arms industry as attractive as possible is the best way to keep our Western allies interested and sending money here.”

Kyiv’s pitch to outside investors looks something like this:

Ukraine is still the West’s first line of defense against the Kremlin, effectively fighting a battle on behalf of NATO by keeping Russian forces from progressing farther west into Europe. Ukraine has done an incredibly impressive job, given early estimates suggested the country would fall in three days, so it’s in the West’s interest to keep supplying Kyiv with weapons.

Another part of the argument is that it is cheaper and quicker to get those weapons to the front line if they are made in the country itself. Producing the weapons in Ukraine is easier as, under its current state of martial law, the nation doesn’t have the bureaucratic, regulatory, or logistical problems in manufacturing and testing weapons that most NATO countries do.

If that’s not incentive enough, Ukraine has become something of a “Wild West” for weapons production. Those were the exact words a Ukrainian government official used when I was in Kyiv last month, describing how testing weapons on an actual battlefield against a real enemy drives innovation faster than labs or testing ranges.

“What might take you months, even years of developing, testing, and manufacturing in the West will only take weeks here,” said the official, who spoke on the condition of anonymity as they are directly involved in the war effort. “We are the best test field in the world because mistakes here mean death. We can tell you very quickly how your product does or does not work on the battlefield.”

Western arms companies willing to invest in or work directly with the Ukrainian defense industry will have real competitive advantages in the fast-changing, high-tech world of modern weapon design. They will also be able to say with absolute certainty what works on the battlefield and what doesn’t.

When the war eventually ends, those who took advantage of Ukraine’s Wild West approach will find that they have a workforce with real-world battlefield experience. “Smaller European countries that have typically smaller armed forces are necessarily obsessed with the idea of maximum lethality for minimum cost,” said one European defense industry source. “From that perspective, it would make sense to make use of these people who know how to make stuff that we know for sure works.”

And the money doesn’t hurt. Europe is braced to spend up to $936 billion on rearming itself.

Depleted weapons stockpiles will need to be refilled, and there won’t be many places able to compete with Ukraine when it comes to making piles of gear by people with a track record of making relatively cheap and deadly effective weapons.

Those in joint projects or who have opened factories in Ukraine will be well-placed to secure large orders worth eye-watering sums of money. The German arms giant Rheinmetall has already committed to opening factories in Ukraine, while Britain’s biggest defense firm, BAE Systems, is one of many that has set up a legal entity in the country.

Placing strategic NATO assets in Ukraine also offers the prospect of providing a level of security without actually admitting the country into the alliance.

“If you have German engineers or British managers working in Ukrainian factories on joint projects, you create a pretty major deterrent to Russia launching attacks on those areas,” said William Alberque, former NATO director of arms control. “The more you can stitch Ukraine’s arms industry into the NATO and European defense industry, the more they are involved in decision-making and the greater that deterrent becomes.”

That’s the sales pitch. What’s the downside? Well, Ukraine is a country still at war and there’s no clear end in sight. We don’t know what Ukraine will look like politically in five years’ time. If the war is over, there is no clear indication of what a peace settlement will look like in terms of territory—or what assets Russia might be able to seize. And there is still every chance that Russia will launch another invasion down the line.

There is also the small matter of Ukraine being under martial law, meaning there are export controls on weapons made in the country, as well as no clear timeline on when an investor might be able to export weapons outside of the country for profit or for their own domestic militaries to use. The uncertainty regarding martial law also includes who any intellectual property might belong to, defense industry sources say.

That said, whatever the risk, Ukraine losing this war and Russia becoming emboldened is still by far the worst option for NATO. There are many who believe that even the donations to date have still been given through gritted teeth, to the shame of the West—and that the need for commercial considerations is a stain on the West’s record. As another Ukrainian official said: “We really are fighting a war on behalf of the West. If we lose, Russia won’t stop at Ukraine. Without your support, we simply cannot compete with the scale of their weapons manufacturers.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello hello! How are you doing miss Raven?

Just read your toughts about book 7 chapter 12 part 1 (wow that's a mouthful) and am pretty happy you enjoyed it like i did! I totally agree with your critiques on it too, especially regarding the lack of in-depth analysis towards Cater. I feel like this was the perfect chance to delve into his character even if for a short while, but I guess the team had to limit themselves to a specific number of chapters, and decided to prioritise some things over the others.

Hopefully, when the novel of book 7 comes out(💀) we'll get more in-depth with each dream/characters. At least this is my guess after reading the first novel and snippets of the second, where I really enjoyed the extra details to the world and characters (ignoring the weird language translator spell that doesn't make any sense the more you look into it).

Buut we'll have to wait a long time for that, which I'm mostly fine with because I don't want a rushed product(though the wait is still a little painful😣)

On a side note, the Ace Attorney bit with the two Deuce idea is so genius I really wish it was real. Really put me in a mood to write it when I read it dndhejvd

Anyways! Sorry for the too long yap and wish you a good day/night!!

[You can read my full thoughts on the book 7 part 12 Cater and Deuce update here!]

Twst 2025 updates gonna be like book 7 chapter 20 part 34 section 56 paragraph 89 sentence 10 💀

Yeeeah, I feel like Cater's dream was relegated to being one of those "funny haha" dreams (*stares at Epel*) and didn't really examine his character in a new and/or meaningful way 😔 I'm not sure if there would be a satisfactory way for the devs to have us dream hopping to each of the casts' dreams without something being compromised, whether it be the pacing or the quality of the writing. Unfortunately, each character is only allotted so much time... so Cater wasn't able to have his character shine and we focused on some of the shallowest aspects of him, things we already know. You'd think that literally being in his dreamscape would reveal something... heftier (?) about him.

I don’t expect a full-on depresso Cater moment, but I’d at least have liked to have a little more than what we got. Like what if the OG Cater barging in at least acted a little more serious, or had glimpses of his “true” character peeking through? What if we got an actual explanation as to why Cater had his clone be his stand-in, like he was too emotionally out of it that day and needed time for himself?? What if OG Cater wore a normal Heartslabyul dorm uniform, indicating how he wants to be among the common people and be friends instead of the isolated ruler??? What if Cater wakes up because the Deuce imposter trial reminds him of his own inability to be “true” to himself??? We could have gotten WAY more.

LIGHT NOVEL, IT'S ON YOU TO SAVE THE DUMPSTER FIRE THAT IS THE TERRIBLE DREAM SEQUENCES 🤡 But even then, I have major concerns about the length of the book 7 light novel. They'd have to either cut each dream short to contain it all in a single volume OR extend it across multiple volumes in order to grant every dream the proper time and development they didn't get in the game. (I talk more about this topic here!) It sounds like a logistical nightmare no matter how you think about it... And yes, that translation spell makes no sense the longer you ponder it and it was not explained adequately-- Stay strong for the wait... (<- still has to finish reading the first volume of the light novel)

You have no idea how badly I want that double Deuce imposter trial to happen OTL IN FACT I WANNA DO MY OWN REWRITE (since I've actually written a Twst x Ace Attorney trial fic before!) TOO... Alas, holiday season is so busy + I have other things to write so if I do it at all, it might come out around the time the book 7 Heartslabyul update comes out in EN 😭

[womenofnoise]

Happy 2025 to all of you following this account. It's you who keeps us going, and for that, we are forever grateful.

2024 was a big year for us, as it saw the first edition of Women of Noise Fest last September in my hometown, Chattanooga. You'll surely be happy to know that Women of Noise Fest 2025 will also be happening. I'm still working out the details as of now (venues and other logistical matters), but the goal is to make it a three-day event this year. As previously stated, this is a PRIVATELY CURATED festival, so please don't flood our inbox with requests!

What else can be expected from Women of Noise this year? More podcast interviews will be recorded and more print interviews will be posted on our website. The third edition of our Zine will likely come out. There might be a few additional charity compilations; nothing is set in stone yet. Fingers crossed, there will be some coverage of a few other music fests and special events.

One thing I can guarantee is that myself and the other mods are going to stay spicy and not take bullshit from anyone. This account is for noisy women and run BY noisy women. This is a platform for women and girls and femmes to scream and squawk and beep-boop without male scrutiny, and always will be.

Stay tuned for more goodies. Eat your veggies, drink water, brush your teeth, watch your levels, and don't blow up your overdrive pedal like I did (seriously, it caught on fire). Pictured: My last live setup, sans toasted overdrive pedal. Anyway, let's make 2025 the best year we can given the sociopolitical hellscape we're all going to be stuck in. See you soon.

- Admin @aleprouswitch

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (6/2/2025) Episode: The Home Stretch

After their heart-to-heart, Skye lugged xir massive pregnancy pillow up to Betty’s room. It flopped dramatically across the mattress like it had claimed squatter’s rights.

“I’m sorry,” xe said, sheepish. “This thing takes up like… sixty percent of the bed. Maybe seventy. I might need to file a zoning permit.”

Betty grinned. “That just means we’ll have to snuggle harder.” She slid behind xem, arms curling around what used to be xir waist. “Also, maybe I have a few... extracurricular activities in mind.”

Skye grinned, heart full, and tossed the pillow aside. “No more obstacles. Not anymore.”

Things escalated quickly… until they didn’t.

Slipping out from under the covers, Skye stared down at their babies’ home, now occupying what felt like most of the room. "Um. Betty," xe muttered, voice dry. "We’ve got a... logistics issue. Pretty sure my belly just applied for its own zip code.“

Betty leaned back, eyes widening as she took in the situation. “Okay. Didn’t think the bump would be the boss of us, but here we are.”

Skye snorted. “I swear this thing has its own momentum.”

“Well,” Betty replied, already reaching for her phone, “good thing we’re not the first Sims to face this particular challenge. Let’s see... tips, diagrams, possibly a minor miracle.”

Skye grinned, watching her scroll. “Tell me we’re not about to be that couple that gets injured mid-woohoo.”

“No complaints until we try pillows,” Betty chided, cheerful as ever. “Big ones. Little ones. That giant body snake we just kicked out? She’s making a comeback.” The pregnancy pillow returned with great ceremony. There were diagrams. There were contortions. There were groans. And eventually, there was a breakthrough.

Later, tangled in limbs and cotton, Betty bumped her shoulder against a very limp, very breathless Skye. “Told you we were up to the challenge,” she murmured. Skye gave a lazy thumbs up from the depths of the mattress. “Next time, we bring a whiteboard.”

Now in xir final trimester, Skye and Betty made one last trip to the local OB clinic.

The midwife frowned slightly as she confirmed xir surgery date. “Scheduling your surgery this late isn’t recommended for sims in your situation. It’s still technically within the window, but I’d strongly suggest moving it up a little. The Sixam Sack’s a medical marvel, but…”

Skye glanced at Betty, whose face mirrored xir own feelings. Once I give birth, it’s back to reality, xe thought. Skye wanted to meet xir baby, but overall, xe was enjoying pregnancy, and neither of them was in a hurry to face Elyse and Greyson.

“I’m here for work. That’s when my assignment ends,” xe fibbed. That date had originally coincided with the end of xir contract, but Angel had recently bumped it up to give them “…a little babymoon on me. Rest, relax, and enjoy our beautiful country with no deadlines.”

“It’s your choice,” the midwife shrugged. “You and the baby look great; growth’s right on target. Best of luck with everything!”

“I know the midwife said everything looks good, but my body’s not changing the way I expected,” Skye told Betty the next morning as they set up for xir final pregnancy progression photo.

“How so? I think you’re adorable.” Betty playfully reached around and pinched xem from behind, making xem jump. “Maybe you can stay pregnant…” and we can stay here “…forever!” She grinned and gave xem a saucy wink.

“I do love it here,” xe agreed, leaning in for a quick kiss, “even if I want to meet our baby eventually. It’s just… my bump isn’t as big as I thought it’d be by now, and these other bumps filling the space I used to use the breastforms for are… a shock.” Xe looked away, embarrassed. “I mean, I noticed Peppino has them, but neither of my grandfathers grew anything like these, so I figured it was experimental side effects or something.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Betty gently lifted xir face with both hands. “You. Are. Beautiful. Your body’s doing its job, preparing to nourish our baby. I refuse to let you feel bad about that.” She ran her hands up and down xem for emphasis. “Now get over there and let’s show the nation what a perfect teddy-to-be looks like!”

Want To See More?

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[365sylviaplath]

Week of 3/10 - 3/16

astrology forecast + collective tarot card for the week

Card for this week: The Emperor - once known as the weekly card from 9/9/24 (the week i declared to be the most productive week of virgo season 2024), the emperor is back for the virgo lunar eclipse. you're the grounding force for yourself this week! drama may surround us these days, but you're more than equipped to keep yourself stable. hardship is inevitable, but you're standing firm. it levels you less and less as you're able to stick with your plans and learn from past experiences. everything led you here! learn from yourself, recognize how far you've come, and be open to sharing your successes and struggles with those around you who might be in similar situations. you'll recognize how much wisdom you have to share!

Transits/Astro forecast: introspection continues this week (accelerates, even). i'm getting specific with the past transit dates because i've gotten a lot out of reflecting on those specific timeframes lately - perhaps you will too! take what resonates etc etc. this is a fantastic week to clear out any clutter - mental, emotional, physical. the clear-shit-out energy is present all week, but especially friday into the weekend. i would advise keeping this weekend pretty low key - you'll appreciate having the opportunity to downsize and reconfigure. we're firmly in Fated Events territory now through April, and between retrogrades and eclipses.... expect some plot twists. give some extra thought to any major decisions (if you can't hold off until mid April). current retrogrades are mercury and venus.

tuesday 3/11 - mercury conjunct venus rx - last time we had this transit: august 7th 2024. even through the retrograde mayhem, today you'll find communication/brainstorming around social/romantic/artistic matters to flow effortlessly. you're a conduit for thoughts and expression, use this energy!! create!

wednesday 3/12 - sun conjunct saturn - last time we had this transit: february 28th 2024. a checkpoint of sorts- where have you leveled up and where are you putting effort into leveling up? if you've been consistently showing up and putting in the work, that should be clear today! if you need to recalculate where you're steering the ship, that should also be clear today. simplify wherever possible and re-commit yourself to The Process.

friday 3/14 - full moon in virgo, lunar eclipse, sun sextile uranus, mercury stations retrograde - mamma mia! so- last time we had sun sextile uranus: july 18th 2024, and last time we had a virgo lunar eclipse: february 21st 2008 (for good measure- we had virgo solar eclipses in early september 2015 and 2016). LOTS to reflect on in those timeframes - we've been closing out chapters from 2008 for several months now, but there's still more! 17 mighty years - insane to think about. i could say a lot about the virgo lunar eclipse, but the most useful comments i can make are: rest, clean, strategize, simplify and let things unfold. you don't have to hide under the covers! just don't overbook yourself and give plenty of time to process any downloads you might be receiving. sun sextile uranus adds an unconventional and eclectic flair to the day. then, naturally, mercury retrograde enters the picture for the usual logistical/communication chaos. back up your files, give yourself a cushion of time, expect snags for the next 3 weeks. kind of a lot to fit in one day!

potential journal prompts:

first week of venus retrograde check-in - where might you have been deprioritizing yourself in past relationships (romantic or platonic)? what might it look like to "get your spark back"?

Write open-endedly about a cycle you're ready to close. career, relational, lifestyle, anything. Give it a good farewell! focus just on releasing for now, we'll get to the new stuff shortly.

Keeping things super open again- 2008 -> 2015/16 -> 2025 - without applying any specific lens to this analysis, what are the first things that come to mind when you think of those years? what relevant cycles renewed/altered each year listed?

Where in your life might you be craving routine? What can you do to create that?

Not a journal prompt but felt like it belonged down here - clean something random that you don't normally clean or notice much! care for something often overlooked!

[forabeatofadrum]

El WooWoo and happy 3/5 to Persona 3 fans like me. Did you know this is the first actual WW of 2025? Well, I have WRITTEN! I know that a few days ago, I was all like "oh boy I am still not writing", but I HAVE WRITTEN!

And it's fitting that it's 3/5. A while ago I said I came up with a Persona 3 story idea where the S. Links find out what happened on March 5th, and I have been thinking about it more since I read a really great Persona 3 fic where each chapter is basically a small vignette into the story, and that made me think about this fic even more. Well, would ya look at that: the first 3 chapters are now up, on March 5th! It's Hidetoshi, Akinari's mother, and Saori.

(Fun fact, 3/5 came way sooner than I expected, cause if people call it March 5th, I can understand it's March 5th, but with 3/5 I read that as May 3rd.)

I actually have thoughts about this fic, but since I am also pretty sure none of my mutuals have played Persona 3, I'll put it under the cut. For now, have some lines of Bunkichi and Mitsuko's chapter.

A girl with blue hair stands out. Bunkichi knows his memory is no longer what it used to be, but he sure remembers her, especially since she once knocked over a huge stack of books. He slowly walks towards her, so that he can ask if she's looking for a particular book, when the door opens. His wife has returned from a small trip to Gekkoukan to oversee the move of their son's tree. It should be a happy occasion, so why does she look like someone's just died?

Yup, I put Fuuka in this chapter. Hopefully she won't fuuk up again by knocking over another stack.

And now, the weather: @quizasvivamos @coffeegleek @caramelcoffeeaddict @raenestee @tectonicduck 

@nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer

@that-disabled-princess @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @cutestkilla​ @wellbelesbian​

@artsyunderstudy​ @facewithoutheart​ @shrekgogurt @rockitmans @bitbybitwrites 

@whatevertheweather @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion @esilher @kurtsascot @blackberrysummerblog 

@nightimedreamersghost @ivelovedhimthroughworse @thnxforknowingme @martsonmars

Persona 3 March 5th thoughts under cut, as I said. Beware: it will contain spoilers for the end of Persona 3, and if you want to play it, but haven't, DO NOT CONTINUE. This game is best played completely spoiler free.

So. It's March 5th 2025. Kotone and Makoto have been dead for 15 slutty slutty years. I am actually listening to the video of the Persona 3 Reload cast playing the ending. ANYWAY, the S. Links don't know that they died. S.E.E.S. is obviously there for it, and The Answer shows how they deal with it, but Makoto and Kotone met so many more people, and they deserve to know what happened to their friend too. That's this fic.

But also, I am sort of puzzling with how to do it. The fic consists of 15 standalone vignettes, so I don't have to worry about it being a cohesive story. But I am trying to find out the logistics of these S. Links finding out. The school ones are easy. Hidetoshi, Chihiro, Rio, Yuko, Nozomi, Kenji and "Maya" (and eventually Kaz and Keisuke) find out at school, because rumours at school, or because of the upcoming memorial for the protagonist. I assume Mrs. Toriumi is partially in charge of it, since she was his teacher and all that.

Bebe and Saori have left school, so I do have to figure that out. I have written Saori's, but I don't know how Bebe will find out, since he's in France and I don't know if he had any other friends who would tell him. I think Bebe unfortunately finds out weeks later, after the funeral and all. I also find the idea of Mutatsu finding out WAY later very tragic, but again, no one knows that Kotone even met this guy.

That's an issue. The game doesn't make it seem like people know that Makoto and Kotone met most of the S. Links. Like, there are some guys who can find out through others. I think that maybe Hayase hears it from Yuko and Kaz, or whoever in the track world, or whatever. And maybe Maiko hears it from Akinari's mother.

But yeah... Tanaka and Mutatsu?? I also don't think Tanaka cares, because he's Tanaka, which might also be an issue.

Also, I genuinely don't like Kenji and Nozomi. Lmao. I genuinely am not looking forward to revisiting them.

So I gotta figure out a) how people find out and b) WHEN people find out. And what is realistic.

BUT YEAH, I am still puzzling a bit, but I am happy to have written something.

[kheritransportsltd]

What’s Driving the Demand for Local Transportation Services in West London?

The need for transport services across West London has witnessed phenomenal growth in recent years — and 2025 is no different. With fast-paced urbanisation, an energetic business community, and evolving consumerism, regional transport solutions have become an integral part of people's lives and businesses.

But what is actually driving this increased demand? From same-day transport to optimised freight flow, a myriad of elements are leading the way for how transport companies in West London are restructuring to suit contemporary needs. Here, this article looks at the key drivers behind the greater dependence on local transport and how companies such as Kheri Transports Ltd are evolving to provide more informed, efficient solutions.

1. A Quicker Business Culture

West London is the hub of a diverse and affluent range of industries — hospitality and retail right through to construction, healthcare, and technology. All of these are made possible through the rapid transport of goods, equipment, and personnel. With business systems running quicker than ever before, there is no need for delivery delay or logistics wastage.

Dedicated transportation services West London provide the flexibility companies require to operate against stringent deadlines. Whether it is moving inventory between warehouses, delivering products to customers, or enabling just-in-time production, a local transportation partner ensures operations progress in anticipated and timely manners.

2. The Emergence of E-Commerce and On-Demand Delivery

E-commerce has totally revolutionised the logistics sector. Next-day or even one-day delivery has become the norm today. In an effort to sustain this expectation, efficient and responsive transport solutions in West London that can transport commodities at high speeds across short distances must exist.

This transition to rapid fulfilment has necessitated localised transportation solutions with real-time tracking, smart routeing, and dynamic service hours. E-commerce merchants especially appreciate engaging with transport partners that have detailed knowledge of geography and traffic conditions in a locality — the key to customer satisfaction and brand reputation.

3. Urban Population Growth and Infrastructure Pressure

West London remains in a state of ongoing population expansion, putting further demand on every-day goods and services. This population concentration puts further pressure upon the transport network, i.e., roads and bridges, loading bays and routes for delivery.

Thus, an increasing demand for transportation services that are not only efficient but strategically intended to drive through city traffic, tight parking, and time-sensitive areas is on the rise. Companies rely on transport partners who can operate within such limitations and ensure timely deliveries.

4. Construction and Development Projects

The perpetual expansion of transport and housing projects within West London is also one of the leading causes of mounting transport needs. Building companies need timely delivery of equipment, materials, and tools to areas across the area.

Transport solutions in West London today must accommodate intricate logistics timetables, offer vehicle types appropriate for overweight and oversized loads, and come under strict defence regimes. Organisations that possess such abilities have become major drivers of business growth in the region.

5. The Requirement for Specialised and Flexible Services

Today, companies need more than just plain old transportation — they need custom logistics solutions that can grow with them. From small-lot delivery to the mum-and-pop shops down the street to scheduled delivery to multinational manufacturers, transportation providers are being called upon to accommodate a variety of customers' needs.

This demand has encouraged the rise of transport providers who offer tailored solutions, flexible contracts, and 24/7 availability. Kheri Transports Ltd, for instance, delivers highly customisable services designed around the client’s exact timeline, load type, and delivery preferences.

6. Technological Advancements in Fleet Management

As transport technology continues to advance, businesses are using digital solutions to route optimise, enhance vehicle location, and monitor performance. These features enable transport companies to transport faster, more accurately, and more reliably and thus become more appealing to customers who demand efficiency.

Transport businesses that provide live tracking, electronic proof of delivery, and automated scheduling are becoming the norm in West London in the near future. These provide customers with end-to-end visibility for their consignments and put everyone in their place at every delivery stage.

Why Opt for Kheri Transports Ltd for West London Transport Services?

In the midst of increasing demand and greater complexity, Kheri Transports Ltd is a real partner for efficient, dependable, and customer-centric transport services in West London. With modern fleet, professional drivers, and tailored services, the company caters to the varied requirements of companies from various sectors.

From same-day urgent delivery to planned logistics solutions, Kheri Transports Ltd gets it there fast and professional. The organisation's commitment to local know-how, compliance with safety standards, and real-time communication ensures every delivery on time — every single time.

Final Thoughts

The local transportation needs in West London are being fuelled by a fast economy, urban development, and increasing customer expectations. Companies require transport partners who know the local area and can offer flexible, efficient, and innovative solutions.

With extensive local coverage and a reputation for quality, Kheri Transports Ltd remains the best choice for companies looking for reliable transportation solutions for West London.

To learn more or ask about a tailor-made quote, get in touch with the professionals at Kheri Transports Ltd and learn how smarter transport solutions can propel your business forward.

[blueeyedrat]

Steam Next Fest, summer 2025. It's the yearly "everyone announces a bunch of games" season, so there was plenty to try out. Further comments under the cut.

The Gecko Gods has been sitting on my Steam wishlist for years, so it was nice to finally get a demo. The visuals and audio are top-notch. The movement is nice and fluid, and even the small area covered by the demo gives you a big open space to get lost in, for better or worse. If you enjoy exploration for exploration's sake, you'll like this one a lot.

By contrast, Hirogami has only been on the Steam wishlist for about a week. There's some charm to this one, and the origami style is well-realized. I wish the demo had a little more to it, though — unless I missed something, there's only a single level to play. Looking forward to the rest of it, all the same.

And on the subject of demos I wish were longer: hey, Zachtronics is back! Sort of. Kaizen: A Factory Story seems like it'll have that same satisfying mechanical process as Infinifactory and Opus Magnum, but also it feels like the demo ends right before you get into the meat of it.

Assorted puzzle games: PANIK and One More Button have simple core concepts that look like they'll be expanded on in some interesting and/or mind-bending ways. A Little Perspective is Monument Valley sokoban, which works well enough as a selling point.

Puzzle-adjacent miscellany: A Week in the Life of Asocial Giraffe is a charming point-and-click adventure about avoiding conversations (mood), with some clever puzzles therein. The Trolley Solution is a comedic piece about stuff getting run over by trains — one particular segment in the demo runs a bit long for its own good, but otherwise I think its humor lands. Henry Halfhead is a cute sandbox about interacting with anything and everything in your path, Mario Odyssey-style. And as far as Dorfromantik-likes go, Isles & Tiles has a few neat ideas, like resource management and being able to configure your "deck" of tiles between rounds, but beyond that I don't know how much it'd hold my interest.

While we're on the topic, though, the Dorfromantik devs are making a new game and it was one of the highlights of the ones I tried this week: Star Birds is a charming logistics sim about hopping between asteroids and building supply lines. Similarly, ISLANDERS: New Shores is pretty much what you'd expect out of an ISLANDERS sequel, which is fine by me. Both games hit that satisfaction in placing all of your puzzle pieces just right, and are both games that I can see myself losing many hours to optimizing… or building complete nonsense. Either works, really.

MIO: Memories in Orbit is another one I'm torn on. It's another 'vania in the vein of Ori and Hollow Knight. The music and visuals are fantastic, and the movement feels pretty good. It reminds me of those other games at their best… but also at their worst. The combat eventually becomes fun, but in the early segments before you get any tools or upgrades, it's a pain. How the game handles checkpoints is my biggest gripe, particularly when a boss fight could take several attempts — even with all the locked doors and shortcuts opened, the runback gets tedious after the first few times. Even with those complaints, I still think there's a lot of potential here, and I hope it sticks the landing.

I find bullet hells and Vampire Survivor-likes more enjoyable to watch than play — a little overwhelming for my tastes. So I'll probably have to give BALL x PIT a pass myself, but if you do like those sorts of games, this seems like a worthwhile entry to the genre. A bit of base building, a bit of Breakout, and a lot of bullets.

Flick Shot Rogues, on the other hand, is definitely up my alley. We need more carom-likes in games, and this one shows a lot of promise. All three characters in the demo are pretty different, so the five in the full game should be a lot of variety. One more gem from this particular Fest. (…also I should play Beast Breaker again one of these days.)