#fire value box machine

[kayzero]

in the spaces between not working on zwg and not finishing brother’s burden, i’ve been, uh…

thinking about something new.

[andrevasims]

McLoon's Home for Wayward Cats: CC-Free Home Business

Victorian-ish home based on the design from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends! Of course I shrunk & squished it though, to fit it into my beloved 20x20 lot size. And I only referenced the exterior, I took my own liberties for the interior layout.

The idea is similar to my cat cafe lot, where a sim runs a home business using the Electrono-Ticket Machine (there are 2 directly out front) and serves customers dessert for free (otherwise they won't eat on the lot like you would in real life). The open/close sign is in the entryway/foyer.

Alternatively, as the name might imply, you could run it as an animal shelter type thing in the vein of the lot that @antisocialbunnysims made. This would involve using the "Always Accept Pet" mod by Squinge - However, Insimenator is currently down, and I didn't find anywhere else to download that mod from (the Wayback Machine did not have the file itself archived, only the forum post), so... Hopefully Insimenator comes back? lol

There are gates and/or doors in between most things you'd want to block either pets or customers from going into or out of (bedrooms, yard area, etc.).

On the second floor, there are 2 rooms that have food bowls/cat condos/litterboxes, for more spaces like one would have in an animal shelter. I originally made them as bedrooms, but I had more cats than sims so I changed it. You could easily change it back though, depending what ratio of sims versus pets you have lol

Ground / 1st Floor

2nd Floor

3rd Floor

1-3br/3ba | Value: §97,120 | Size: 20x20 | Zone: Residential

RECOMMENDED MODS:

• No Fires from Fireplaces

• Perfect Plants

• Invisible Pet Pillow (make it more likely that cats sleep in condos)

Aaaaaaand of course, what's a Home for Wayward Cats without the wayward cats?

Inside the same .zip folder as the lot, there are 7 cats (seen above). This image labeled with names is also in the .zip folder, so you can pick & choose from there.

DOWNLOAD: SFS | MF | Box

[lilac-5ky]

TOJI AND VIRGIN READER!

The Favor (officeAU!Toji x virgin!Fem!Reader)

Plot: The first day you met Toji, he told you everything on his CV was a lie. Three years later, he's your beloved work husband, the one you go to when you decide it's time to lose your virginity.

Tags: Office!AU, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), agee gap (reader mid 20s, toji mid 30s), soft!dom toji, dirty talking, praising, pet names (sweetheart, darling, kid, wife, whore, slut, etc), aftercare, toji catches feelings after fucking you, daddy vibes without the word, friends to lovers dynamic, size kink, lube handjob, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Combined your idea with my intense need to write an office!au. Hopefully this turned out to your liking and you forgive me for writing this much filth LMAO

Masterlist | AO3 | Requests

For promotion, for demotion, for raises and for cuts, in overtime and in bureaucracy, until layoff do us part.

In the insufferable reality of Japanese corporate life, a work spouse exists to shoulder the burden of overdue deadlines and never-ending stacks of paperwork. A husband who, in spite of not being bound to you through marriage, has vowed to stick by your side until either one of you breaks free from the shackles of human resources; your work husband.

You met each other on your first day at the company, both of you passing interviews for the same lowly position of staffing coordinator.

Your first impression of candidate number 9 was that his suit wasn’t really his but was likely borrowed from someone whose bicep wasn’t the size of their thigh and calf combined. Your second impression was whispered to your ear as the dark haired man rose from his chair and paraded down the interview room, nonchalantly letting slip that his bachelor’s degree along with every bit of qualification on his CV had been faked.

Whether that was a declaration of war or a testament to his unparalleled confidence, you wouldn’t know until a week later when you were assigned to the same miserable office corner, sharing a desk, a title, and a secret whose value skyrocketed once you became acquainted with your work place’s imposing policies.

One word would get both him and his knowing smile fired, but the moment you shook hands with Fushiguro Toji and promised to get along, you signed yourself up for a long-lasting partnership.

Over the three years you worked together, each grew out of their initial post. Your all-nighters paid off and you got promoted to an HR assistant, meaning you didn’t have to memorize everyone’s coffee order any longer, while Toji flourished as the department’s eye candy.

He’d ceased pretending that his broad shoulders could be boxed in second-hand suit jackets, and instead opted for rolled-up button-ups with the occasional monochromatic tie—a fit that put his sculpted physique into full view and threw the entire female populace out of balance.

He was an objectively good-looking man who bordered on great. The type to be conscious of their effect on others, cutting corners with suggestive glances and smiling his way out of otherwise unforgivable report oversights. Every woman in the office was openly in love with him. Even your supervisor referred to him as the team’s ace and discreetly unbuttoned her cleavage in his presence.

You realized then, they’d sooner let go of you and your hard-earned master’s, than part with the department’s mascot.

Despite the differences in skill and appearance, your sense of kinship survived the passage of time. Perhaps you’d subconsciously fallen victim to his charms, but whenever you saw his thin brows furrow and his right foot threaten the unresponsive copy machine with a killing blow, you couldn’t look away. This is a favor; you’d remind him at every formal email and resume assessment you helped put together.

And favors are repaid.

While Toji couldn’t assist with payroll processing, he always had the scoop on who cheated on their spouse with whom and whose bra was filled with padding—which you didn’t find all that interesting, but turned into a fun game of guess the cheater during dull 9 a.m. meetings.

On mornings when the alarm was hurled at your bedroom wall, he made excuses for your absence, and on work dinners, he saved you a seat away from all the grabby drunks.

Toji was far from a good person. His mere presence in a company you’d broken your back to get into was a mockery of your efforts. He led others on and got into muffled shutouts over his phone behind the water fountain, where he thought no one was listening in.

That’s how you found out about his eight-year-old kid and the custody battle with his allegedly “psychotic” ex-wife. He didn’t know you knew because you never told him. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, and it wasn’t your job to sort his out. As far as your work marriage was concerned, he was a good husband who diligently fulfilled his marital duties—all except one, which you feared the pretext of a favor wouldn’t begin to cover.

“Here’s your poison,” you slid the scalding coffee cup in his direction, mindful of the papers on his desk. “Black Americano with four shots of espresso and no sugar to compliment your wretched dark soul.”

Toji raised an open palm in your face, motioning for you to wait until he was done punching words on the keyboard and pressed save file. Your eyes were drawn to his fingers, threaded with faded scars that followed the expanse of veins down his wrists, dipping deep below the white cotton of his shirt. Another unsolved mystery you hadn’t gotten to the bottom of.

He brought the cup to his equally scarred lips, defying the steam spirals with a long-drawn sip. “Unnecessary intro, but thanks.” He gave a lazy smile. “Aren’t ya a sweetheart?”

You dropped your beverage on your side of the desk and swiveled your chair nearer. “Think you could do said sweetheart a favor?

“A favor, huh?” His breath was laced with caffeine. “Depends. If you’re asking for a buck, ‘fraid I’m all dried up till the end of the month.”

So he isn’t planning on paying for his order.

“I make more than you.”

“Doesn’t mean ya can’t find yourself in a pickle.”

You shook your head, stealing a sip of liquid courage from your mocha. How did people ask those things again?

Your contemplation lasted long enough for him to turn his head back to work, filling his home screen with enough tabs to distract you from his unfinished round of solitaire.

“What are you doing after work?” Your voice cracked into shards of uncertainty.

“Nice try.”He sneered. “You dug your own grave taking on the grievance procedures from the union. Climb out on your own.”

“Not everyone offloads their work load on others, Toji.” You rolled your eyes, scooting even closer to make sure only he’d be the recipient of your next words.

He sensed something was off because he wasn’t pretending to input random lines into the search bar anymore, and while he studied you, you studied him back. You had your doubts about this, and you weren’t sure he was your type either. You liked your men responsible and mature—like Nanami from sales, who would’ve been your first choice if your legs didn’t turn into jelly the minute you saw him.

Toji was the safe option. You talked to him. You joked with him. You were used to him, and more importantly, you trusted him. All the lack of qualifications in his job, he made up for with his experience in that other field you were a stranger to.

“Hey, kid.” His voice mellowed down with a beat of concern, a heavy hand landing on your shoulder. “If you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, I—”

“Please have sex with me.”

“Make yourself at home.” He nudged your back into the apartment, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were following even after he’d pulled away.

Moving forward felt hard—as if you’d forgotten how to. You weren’t sure whether to wipe your shoes on the mat or stash them in the corner. You didn’t know which foot to put forth and what set of slippers to pick. Every decision suddenly mattered a lot more than it should.

You’d never been to Toji’s house before, and up until a few hours ago, you couldn’t fathom standing at his doorstep either. You weren’t that close so as to meet outside work hours, but you were about to get a lot more up close and personal.

The way he accepted your request with a mere, almost offensive, okay still boggled your brain. You’d considered every question he could possibly ask, painstakingly compiling your list of answers like a witness called to the stand, only for him to not speak a word of it—not even when it was just you and him and the solitude that came from enjoying lunch a hundred stories above Tokyo’s bustling streets.

He seemed to have forgotten all about your plans, up until he pulled over at the bus stop where you were waiting and stuffed you in the front seat of his car.

“You coming?”

Kicking your heels off your feet, you skipped straight through the hallway, your head turning left and right as if you were at an art gallery. You didn’t know what to expect, but a high-end apartment in the heart of Minato wasn’t it. Neither your income nor his justified an inox steel kitchen with mahogany wood flooring—let alone a direct view of the illuminated Tokyo Tower.

You were so bedazzled by the city skyline that you nearly missed the hastily buried socks peeking beneath the kotatsu, along with the cobwebs his untouched bookshelf flaunted. Much like his suit, his apartment was handed to him by someone whose love for both their books and spouse had run out.

“Whaddya think?”

Toji stalked behind you, his reflection in the glass becoming more defined with every step he took. He was holding something in each hand—two glasses whose orange liquid sparkled in place of the stars.

You turned around slowly, accepting your share with a small smile on your face.

“Your ex-wife has good taste.”

He blinked, taken aback for a split second. He wondered what gave it out—the pink slippers or the flipped-down picture frames you’d yet to notice—and somewhere down the line, he got the wrong idea, beaming with an unwarranted “Thanks.”

“I meant the house, not you.” Although you couldn’t blame him for his inflated ego when every female practically dropped their panties at his feet. Especially not when you were there to do the same.

Your teeth clicked sharply against the glass as you tilted your head and sipped on what tasted too sweet to be whiskey. Apple Juice?

“That’s not alcohol.” You stated.

“Ever thought of becoming a detective?” Toji padded toward the leather couch, spreading his thighs across the two middle cushions.

“Ever thought of becoming a comedian?” You retorted, squeezing in to his left. The furniture would’ve been big enough to fit you both, had he been considerate. “So what’s the joke? Too young to be drinking, or hard liquor ain’t for pretty girls like me?”

“Nah.” His head dropped on his shoulder, both propped against the headrest. “Need you sober for what’s about to happen.”

You mirrored his stance, your knees touching as you folded them on the smooth leather. “And what’s about to happen?”

“I think we both know, or else ya wouldn’t have followed me here.” He wet his bottom lip, pretty green eyes clouding dark.

A certain dryness gnawed at your throat, the pink color of his tongue appealing to you more than it should. You weren’t interested in Toji, but the strands of black that fell over his forehead painted a cuter image than you were used to seeing at the office. You wondered what he’d look like with his hair pushed back, all slick from beads of sweat rolling down his temples. And when you realized you couldn’t pin any of those thoughts on the alcohol, you took another sip, hurriedly averting your gaze.

“How many have? Women from work, I mean.”

You were surprised to hear him state “None,” and even more surprised that he claimed not to mix business with pleasure. You could think of at least three coworkers you suspected he fooled around with. At least so they bragged in the ladies’ room.

“So why bring me home?”

“‘Cause you asked.” Toji said gruffly.

“You fuck every woman who asks you to?”

“Only the cute ones.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you reminded yourself to take his words with a grain of salt. He wasn’t interested in you any more than you were in him. This was simply platonic—almost transactional. He’d do what you asked, and then you’d pay him back with another, mundane favor like sorting mail in his stead.

You finished your drink, your eyes licking up the remaining drops at the bottom of the glass. “This line works?”

Toji shrugged. It probably did. He probably didn’t even have to open his mouth for it to work. While the moment you opened yours—

“Want more?” He motioned to your glass. You nodded, extending your arm, only for his expression to turn sour. “I’m not your fucking maid. Bottle’s on the counter.”

You sighed, getting up so he wouldn’t see your eyes roll at his comment as he shoved his glass in your face. Who’s the maid now?

Aimlessly, you strolled into the kitchen, taking longer than necessary to fill both your glasses. You didn’t mean to start snooping around, but you couldn’t help yourself from seeking a sign of his presence in his picture-perfect apartment. Houses typically reveal something about their residents, and while the display of crystal glasses spoke plenty of his ex-wife, there was no evidence of Toji’s personality.

You weren’t interested in him—just curious. That’s what you kept telling yourself as you picked up a frame stowed away behind an empty cookie jar.

Four smiles greeted you, the brightest belonging to a young girl with elongated bangs, holding a boy who strove to copy his sister’s expression. Their parents stood behind them, a beautiful woman with long brown hair tucked in a ponytail blissfully leaning against the shoulder of a Toji that seemed less happy the longer you processed his strained features.

“She left.” The proximity of his voice startled you. The frame danced between your fingers until he snatched it, his jutted-out chin betraying his annoyance. “Took the kids, left the house and me behind. Ain’t that what ya wanted to hear?”

You shook your head, about to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness on his parquet. However, the hostility that rose faded as soon as he threw the picture in the first open drawer and returned to the living room, leaving you to fetch your drinks. Then you remembered the phone calls. They weren’t on good terms.

“Having kids isn’t bad. Nor being divorced.” You handed him the glass, assuming your previous position on the couch. “Doesn’t ruin your cool guy image whatsoever.”

“Who said I care about that?” Toji snorted.

“Then you wouldn’t care if anything slipped in front of your fan club?”

“Mind your own fucking business.” He hissed. You chuckled. Sharing a couch wasn’t that much different from sharing a desk, and sharing two secrets was the same as sharing one.

“What are your kids’ names?”

“Kid,” he corrected. “Megumi.”

By the name, you assumed it was the girl. You were wrong. You tried to ask something about his son’s mother, but somehow you couldn’t find one right thing to say, since the woman in the photo wasn’t the boy’s biological mom either. You were lost. The more cryptic answers he gave, the more unanswered questions you ended up with.

Your plan took a backseat while Toji trod the sensitive topic of his divorce to that “bitch,” who’d taken his kid from him out of spite. The custody battle was tipped in her favor, courtesy of a legal system that’d rather see a child separated from its biological parent in the face of cold cash.

Megumi only visited every second weekend of the month, which explained his father’s eagerness to leave early on certain Fridays and come late on the following Mondays. He didn’t need to say this, but you understood his reasons for cheating his way into the company. A proper job looked good in court, and whatever earned him those scars was far from proper.

Both your hands emptied as you finished your second round of drinks. Your head would be buzzing if there was alcohol involved, but you didn’t miss it. Toji was hard to engage, and talking to him felt like running into one brick wall after another. However, working out of those dead-ends was preferable to clinking glasses with some guy who wouldn’t quit boasting about his Ivy League diploma or his burning passion for vocaloid singers—both cases reflecting the sad reality of blind dating in your twenties.

“So.” Toji drawled, a burly arm stretching behind your head. “Why you want me to fuck you? Can’t find good dick in the market?”

Your mind went blank in an instant, every excuse and curated version of the story vanishing when you needed them the most.

“I—um,” you cleared your throat, while your eyes scanned over his body.

There was a lot to take in: the fine lines of his pecs, highlighted under the taut white fabric; the black tie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar; the hem of his shirt that dangled out of his fitted pants, exposing the tiniest window to the happy trail on his lower abdomen; his slim waist and his thick thighs; the curve of his bum; and the light touch of his fingers closing around your shoulder. You traced the same route of landmarks, finding yourself returning to his achingly handsome face and the playful curiosity in his eyes that had you shifting in your place.

All the reasons for someone to want to be fucked by this fine specimen of a man were right there, and you picked the most inclusive one. “Because you’re hot.”

The ends of his scar drew apart as Toji smiled a wolfish smile. He inched closer, your back hitting the armrest when his right hand caged your body between his arms and the couch.

“Bullshit.” A tickle from where his nose brushed against yours, and a thud from where your heart dropped inside your chest. “You think I wouldn’t know if ya had the hots for me, kid?”

“N-not everyone throws themselves at others.” You tried to reason.

“Maybe. But attraction comes with signs.” The side of his hand grazed the corner of your eyelid. “Batting your pretty lashes,” he trailed off, rough knuckles softly tracing the apple of your cheek. “Blushing your cheeks red.” The pad of his thumb swiped down your cupid’s bow. “Biting your lip raw.” He continued with his eyes, glancing at the skirt that lay high above your knees suggestively. “Pressing those plushy thighs together.”

“You do none ‘f those things.” Toji accused. “So why the sudden itch? Indulge me, and I’ll pound that pussy till ya scream.”

The promise of his words forced a gulp down your throat as your thighs involuntarily rubbed together. You started to reconsider. You didn’t want to fuck him just because any man would do. You wanted to fuck him because it was him and because every patch of skin he made contact with begged to be touched again.

“I’m a virgin.” You admitted, voice low, and stare even lower—utterly defeated as he flinched away in surprise.

You wondered what he’d say. A virgin at your age? was the most common response, followed by Is something wrong with you? and typically concluded with You sure you’re not a lesbian?

Everyone preaches how precious innocence is, but no one wants the pressure of taking it. What men really want is a woman who is both a saint and a slut—a woman who can suck their dick ten inches deeper than they can provide while simultaneously shying away from every insinuation of sex.

The problem is with the poor souls who belong in either category without adhering to the other, because squeezing your legs shut is just as faulty as spreading them open for the public.

Seeing as Toji remained silent, you realized you wouldn’t get an answer, and maybe it was for the best. You didn’t want to put a strain on your work relationship. It’d take a while to look him in the eye again, but in a month or two, you’d laugh about the incident over a cup of soggy store-bought noodles like nothing happened.

“Sorry for bothering you.” You mumbled as you picked up your last vestige of dignity and stood on your feet, only to be anchored by a set of fingers that tightly gripped your wrist.

“Sit.” His unfaltering gaze confirmed the sincerity of his command.

You thought about breaking free and dashing to the door. You thought about how much it’d actually hurt to let him ridicule you, and the tears started to build up on their own. And when you didn’t do as you were told, he towered over you with a palm that was eager to cup your cheek, tilting your face in position for him to print a rough kiss on your parted lips.

“I said fucking sit.” Toji repeated, while you contemplated how someone who spews words so harshly could have such soft lips.

Sheepishly, you fell back onto the couch, expecting him to follow suit and not kneel on the floor like he did. “What’s the story?” He asked, large hands taking hold of your knees and slowly rubbing them apart.

“What makes you think there’s a story?” You prayed that he couldn’t feel your heartbeat bounce across your body as if it were an empty vessel.

“With you, there always is.” He licked his lips as his eyes settled between your thighs, darkening with lust the second they were met with the damp patch in the middle of your pink lace knickers. “Wanna hear all about it while I feast on your little hole.”

“You’re not gonna fuck—”

“First things first, sweetheart. Gotta make sure y’are all prepped before I stuff you with my cock.” Toji smiled, pushing your skirt until it rolled over your stomach. “If ya gonna scream my ears off, better be from pleasure, mm?”

You nodded, watching as his slender fingers slid your underwear off and temporarily—you hoped—shoved it in his back pocket. You saw him marvel at the sight of your exposed cunt and wished you could peer into his brain to hear him curse himself for not coming up with this idea first.

You looked so pretty down there, your puffy clit safely tucked behind its hood while your lips shimmered with your wetness—the scent so intoxicating his pants tightened into a size too small.

He was already considering his next favor. Now that the door was open, he’d make sure it never closed again. Bending you over the copy machine was the front-runner. Getting a print of your tits squeezed against the scanner while he blows your back, his palm muffling out the pathetic sounds you let slip—he’d be lying if that wasn’t what he fantasized about whenever you refilled the ink cartridges for him.

“Ya ever touch yourself here?”

His thumb swiped over your clit, drawing an incomplete circle that ended with light flicks around the sensitive nub. Left and right. Up and down. Searching for the combination that’d have your body answer in place of your mouth, and when your hips bucked forward, he knew exactly where to press.

“Y-yes!” You whined, more as a reaction than an answer to his question.

“And ya ever push a finger in?” He continued, teasingly dragging his thumb between your lips.

“Just one. Rest hurt.”

“Mhm, bet they do.” He hummed as he tasted you on his finger, exaggerating the suck with a soft pop. “Ever had a guy kiss ya there before?”

Toji gave his own answer as he buried his head in your pussy, the sticky mix of his saliva and your juices trickling down your entrance while he made out with your clit. You struggled to keep your thighs apart, the raspy grunts at the back of his throat vibrating against your mound in joint symphony with your breathy moans. His tongue felt so good soaking on your slick that you felt yourself melting into a pool of pleasure.

“Get talkin’ or I’ll stop.” He warned, slowing down with broad, near-maddening, strokes that occasionally dipped between your folds.

“I wanted to w-wait,” you panted. “Wanted to fall in love first, but then I waited too long, and—ngh, fuck, right there!” Toji pinched your folds apart, his stare lecherous as he sucked the puffy pearl into his warm mouth.

Your body jerked in response, the leather squeaking hard beneath your bared ass. You weren’t sure at what point interest surpassed curiosity, but the signs were all there, manifesting as heat in your cheeks and blood that threatened to drop from your chewed-up lip.

His jade eyes narrowed into a shrewd reminder. Putting your thoughts in order was impossible, but if you stopped, so would he.

“Everyone ‘round me started d-doing it, and I was the only one l-left.” You tried to regulate your breathing through your nose, your throat turning hoarse from all the strain. “Went on a bunch of blind dates, but the guys were t-turned off, and—how the fuck are you so good at this?”

Toji chuckled, the pink tip of his tongue parting your lips in a languid motion that made you shudder. “Let’s just say my marriage didn’t fall apart ‘cause of this.”

He mounted your knees atop his shoulders and neared your entrance, with his middle and ring fingers ghosting over the softness of your pulsing slit. “Gonna use my fingers now. Be a good girl and cum on them, will ya?”

The first digit pushed forward, much thicker than any of your fingers. You felt so full already—nails digging into the cushions, while he thrust in and out of your walls, curling the lone pad to find a spot so sweet it elicited a moan of equal sweetness.

“Ya did well to come to me.” He continued, his raspy voice effortlessly sexy. “Kids these days don’t know shit ‘bout pleasing a woman.”

The veins on his wrist flexed along with his scars as his ring finger joined in the action to defy your previous claim. There was no pain. Only immense waves of pleasure leaking through your squinted eyes as hot tears beaded your eyelashes.

“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’.” He praised, repeatedly hitting the swollen bundle of nerves inside your throbbing cunt, bringing you closer to the edge with each thorough pump.

“Maybe I was wrong, hm? Maybe that’s what ya wanted all along. I know I did. Fucking wanted my hands on this pussy since I first saw ya fidget with your little skirt at that interview.”

“Toji—”

He dived between your legs again, his hand maintaining the same erratic pace even while his tongue hungrily lapped at your clit. Your head lolled back, the tension in your guts rapidly building up until you came undone, your pussy clenching and creaming around his calloused fingers.

You’d never finished so hard on your own, the tremors of your orgasm ringing in your ears and jogging your memory.

Your first impression on that day was sadness, right? Sadness over the wedding band the handsome stranger hid in his pocket right before entering the building, thinking no one else caught sight of it, and embarrassment about how your impure thoughts for a married man followed you into the shower every night after work.

“Atta girl.” A present-day and very-much divorced Toji licked his lips into a smile. “Their fucking loss.”

His knee pressed into the gap between your thighs as he stood on his feet and prompted you to open your lips. You took his fingers in your mouth, licking your cum off while your chest heaved with one labored breath after the other.

“See how good ya taste?” Toji cooed, rhythmically fucking his fingers on your tongue before removing them. “Sweeter than honey.”

“Thought you didn’t like sweet things.” His coffee order came in mind.

“How ‘bout we make an exception?”

You weren’t sure what got into you when you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him forward, kissing him with such vigor you’d never experienced. You always thought of losing your virginity as checking an item off your bucket list. You didn’t imagine you could ever lust after someone the way you currently lusted after Toji, your desire escalating into an all-consuming need.

His tongue moved as skillfully in your mouth as it did when it explored your pussy, dancing with your own rather than overpowering it. You liked kissing him. You liked kissing him so much that you wanted to incorporate it into your morning hellos and your evening goodbyes, dragging yourselves into an endless loop of returned favors.

Without breaking the kiss, Toji hoisted you up from the couch and held you in his arms, his palms finding the perfect excuse to grab onto your ass while he carried you across rooms you didn’t care enough to see. A door creaked behind your back, and soon you were tossed onto a large body of endless softness—a bed, you realized as Toji hastily shoved a couple of pillows behind your head.

“Ever heard of that stupid nickname that goes ‘round work?” He whispered in your ear while his fingers worked on undoing your blouse. “How they call ya my work wife?” His palms slid around your ribs and back to unhook your bra. “Guess this makes it our wedding night, heh.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a chuckle. “Don’t you feel any shame calling me your wife when you’re about to fuck me on your ex-wife’s bed?”

“My bed now, and what I say fucking goes.” He stripped your body from every garment, salaciously gawking at your nude figure on his (her) satin sheets.

You didn’t feel too bad about showing your body, but his stare was almost intrusive—especially with how he hadn’t lost a single article of clothing himself.

“Such a gorgeous body, wife.” He dragged out the final syllables, hoping to elicit a reaction separate from the soft pants you let out as he caressed your soft curves—both much softer than the bedding you were splayed across, liquid velvet in his hands. “Such a good little wife, saving herself for her husband to deflower.”

“Why thank you, husband.” You chortled, cupping his face in a deep kiss.

You knew Toji was the right choice. Not because touching him felt like winning the lottery or because he knew exactly what he was doing, but because he could’ve made this situation a lot more awkward and didn’t. He made your first time feel special, granting your wish of doing it with someone you loved, even if it was all an illusion that’d fade come tomorrow morning.

You almost thanked him as he began to unbutton his shirt, the display of corded muscles and pale scars breaking the dam between your legs. Whatever your type might’ve once been, was no more. It was all Toji, with his clenched fists lifting the weight of his brawny, veiny arms, his shoulders so wide you could ride on them, and the self-complacent smirk your stupefied expression brought to his lips.

“This ain’t an exhibit, sweetheart.” He mocked. “You can touch all ya want.”

He didn’t need to say it twice for your palms to roam his body, starting from his neck and slowly gliding down his torso, feeling out the tension in his steeled abdomen. His skin was smooth, except for the few unruly hairs leading down to the bulge in his crotch, whose sight alone made you lick your lips and buck your hips into his. You wanted to see the rest of him.

“You are the hottest divorcee I know.” You smiled earnestly.

“Ya know lots of ‘em?” Toji cocked his head while you shook yours with a giggle. “Don’t be so flattering.”

“I do have a great-aunt…”

“Oh, please.” He groaned, allowing you to laugh it out. He didn’t like how his bottom lip twitched as he struggled to contain a chuckle of his own. He’d long sworn off girls that made his heart skip a beat.

“Think y’are ready?” You nodded. Repeatedly.

Digging his knees into the bed, he stretched an arm toward the nightstand, fishing for a bottle in one of the drawers. Lube, you realized as he settled it beside you to remove his pants, flinging them along with his boxers to the other side of the room.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, an expression that didn’t look too good considering fear was about the last emotion you should be experiencing.

He was packing in every sense of the word. Long, thick, and definitely heavy as it hung above his hefty balls, the reddened tip pointing at your entrance. It wasn’t like you’d never seen a cock before. Porn existed, and so did perverts in trench coats, but comparing either one to him was both disrespectful and a huge understatement.

“Don’t go cold on me now, mm? It will fit.” He read your mind, taking your hand in his and slotting the bottle in your fist. “Prepped you so good for it. You’ll see; you’ll like this more than my fingers.”

“Promise.” He added, squeezing your hand reassuringly. You chose to trust him, and when he brought your other hand to his shaft, you knew what he was asking you to do.

The bottle spurted a thick glob of liquid that your palm smeared all over his cock head. Toji watched with bated breath as you stroked his length, each thorough pump of your delicate hands warming him up.

He deserved a pat on the back for not cumming right then and there—the distinction between the clear lubricant and his creamy precum becoming more prominent while he throbbed and twitched in your tight grasp. He thought about how much tighter your walls would be, milking every drop he had to offer while you writhed beneath him, with little ah-ah-ah’s and Toji please’s complimenting the squelching of your tight virgin cunt.

“That’s enough.”

He pulled your hand away and cracked the bottle open once more, rubbing a small quantity between his fingers and then scissoring them in your walls. You clung onto him, your hips chasing after his touch. Cute.

“Eyes on me, darlin’.” Toji leaned close enough so that your field of view was consumed by his face. “Keep your eyes on me, breath in ‘n’ out, and it won’t hurt one bit. I’ll take good care of ya.”

Your legs were parted as he ran his cock between your folds and pressed down firmly, his hand moving to your hip once he guided the first inches inside.

Toji was the first to react as he sank in deeper, about two-thirds in when he felt your pussy snare around him like a vice, the warmth of your walls making him curse under his breath. His last fuck was less than a weekend ago, and yet he felt like one of those loser kids he scorned earlier. He’d forgotten just how good being inside a virgin was—a one-and-done deal that would cease to amaze him after he fucked you into his shape.

“All good?” He remembered to ask, taking your strained yes at face value.

Small creases formed over your forehead, contorting your expression into a pained wince the further he sheathed himself into your wet cavern—and when his words weren’t enough, his lips took over. He kissed your worries away and cradled your breasts in his palms, doing everything in his power to keep the pain to a minimum as his hips met with your pelvis, bone against bone and skin against skin, until he finally bottomed out.

A whimper cut your kiss short, and for a second he feared tears would stream from your glassy eyes, not considering the possibility of your shaky legs wrapping around his back and your swollen, pretty lips calling out his name with a stuttered moan.

“F-fuck me, Toji. Please—fuck, I need you so badly.” You begged, dropping the pretense of composure.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck your little virgin pussy?”

“Y-yes, Toji, yes!”

“Yes, what, doll?” He teased. “Say it.”

“Please be my first, Toji.”

His grin turned feral in a heartbeat, your words stirring something in him that he could not explain.

He was prepared to spend the entire night fucking you at a snail’s pace, buttering you up with praises, and pampering you as if you were a golden egg goose, but now he didn’t have to. He could fuck you exactly how he pleased—fold your knees onto your stomach and hold down onto your thighs, pussy all exposed to where he could watch his cock pound into your hole and hear each and every strike of his balls against the fat of your ass—and you would take it.

But when he looked down and saw the ring of red that’d formed around his shaft, he had a change of heart. Maybe another time.

Planting his fingers on your hips, he withdrew slightly, purposely aligning his tip with the roof of your cunt. He didn’t have to go hard to make you happy. All he had to do was hit that one spot, and you’d be coming back for more. Having a steady thing wouldn’t hurt either. It was convenient—certainly better than burning gas driving across town just to pick up some random slut he’d tire of five minutes into her over-the-top screams. At least you lived close by.

With lavish strokes, he rolled his hips against your own, dipping forward to grind his pubic bone against your mound. It didn’t take long for the stimulation to get overwhelming, your hair falling from your strict work up-do all over your sweaty forehead while you thrashed around the sheets, huffs escalating into whiny moans.

“Sh-shit, gonna cum, Toji.” You managed, though there was no real need to tell him.

Your body responded perfectly to his, wetness gushing over his cock while your walls tightened impossibly around him. He fucked you through your high, wrapping his arms below your shoulders and muting your blissful sobs to chase after his own release. Your breasts were squeezed against his pecs, pebbled nipples making him regret not giving them the proper attention.

This wouldn’t be the last time. Your body was like a playground to him, and he sure as hell wasn’t done playing.

“My fucking work wife.” Toji grunted possessively in your ear, nipping at the lobe. Only his lower half moved, a constant snap of hips bouncing through the room as the second lewdest sound after the ones you traded. “Wanna send your ass crawling to work on all fours. That’ll show them, mm? Show them who fucked you so good. What a—fuck, what a good slut y’are f’me. From a virgin to my whore—hah, make ‘em all so jealous.

“Shhhhit, ya like that?” He interpreted your clenching as he willed. “Wanna start a rumor? Fuck on every desk, in every stall, and have everyone know?”

“Yes, Toji! Yesyesyes, want everyone to know you f-fucked me.”

You went back and forth between panting out his name and chanting yes, as those were the only two words you could mindlessly repeat. He wasn’t joking about making you scream. You were on the verge of passing out, so engrossed in ecstasy that you’d lost track of how many times you’d climaxed.

“‘s too much, T-Toji!” You begged, burying your head in the curve of his neck and breathing in his musk. You were both so sweaty, glued together like two puzzle pieces.

“One more, sweetheart. ‘m so close—wanna feel ya cum with me.”

He toyed with your clit until he started to fall out of pace, drawing his cock out before it was caught in the spasms of your pussy. A hefty load burst in his fist as he jerked himself off to your fucked-out form, hot drops of cum spraying your stomach like creamy droplets of rain.

Neither of you realized how soaked the sheets were until Toji left the bed, his eyes not faking their surprise. You didn’t seem to be in that much pain, and yet the amount of blood and wetness was at least equal to carnage.

Would it be a dick move to task you with his laundry?

He spared you a glance, not bothering to hide his smugness. Your legs were still trembling, your breasts puffing up in your struggle to breathe through your agape lips. He was tempted to tell you off—something cheesy like, “Want somethin’ in your mouth that badly?”

“Hey, kid. You are not dead—are you?” He asked jokingly, laughing through his nose as you found the strength to flip him off. Now that the effects of your orgasm were wearing off, so was your obedience.

“How’d ya like your first time?” A thumbs-up this time. “A’right. C’mere.”

The longer he let the stain settle, the more of a bitch it’d be to remove it. That’s what Toji told himself as he picked you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom, returning to the bedroom only to roll the sheets into a ball he’d later discard in the washing machine. He wasn’t avoiding looking at your cute face, and he definitely didn’t think of your weakened infant-like state as cute when he scrubbed your thighs clean with a wet towel either.

A weird image sparked in his memory, one from the many nights you’d spent working side by side at a dimly lit office. He remembered you ordering him takeout and looming over his head like a vulture while he went neck-to-neck with the vicious spreadsheet program. You insisted on tutoring him, claiming your dressy outfit was a result of canceled plans—even though you kept stealing glances at the clock—and staying with him until the wee hours when you didn’t have to.

You really were a sweetheart, an angel, and all the other terms of endearment he used on you knowing they made your lips stretch and your eyes sparkle. But that wasn’t for you to know.

“Toji?” Your voice jolted him out of his reverie—frail, but not as frail as the hands that wrapped around his own to snatch the towel.

What could he say to make you leave without any harsh feelings coming back to bite him in the ass?

He pondered his options while you bent forward from where he’d seated you on the counter by the sink. You held his limp dick in your palm, gently wiping the dried blood and cum that clung to his girth.

It was sickening how quickly he stiffened, all ready to ram it in your pussy and fuck you with the mirrored view of your ass in the backdrop, but what truly made his guts churn was the little cheeky smile you beamed with. He stood by his words. Virgins were the biggest sluts.

The towel dropped to the floor as you pointed his cock at your entrance, and that was all the convincing he needed.

“Fine.” Toji sighed, pinning your wrists on the cold quartz counter top. “You can stay the night, but mention work and I’m kicking ya out.”

This is definitely not how you say it.

You made it to the office the next day after a brief raid on your apartment. Going to work in your previous day’s clothes screamed, “Look at me! I got laid!” And as fun as creating all those fantasies with Toji was, you could do without earning “Hated Employee of the Month.” Everyone hated you for being friends with him as is.

He waited until you’d changed into a presentable outfit and dropped you off a block further away for precaution. You shared your final kiss in the car, wasting a whole fifteen minutes sucking each other’s faces off like teenagers at a drive-in. Dating a colleague was against the rules, and you didn’t want to date Toji either. Not that he’d asked. Not that you expected him to ask.

Losing your virginity was a lot more complicated than you thought.

He counted on you to bring coffee, and you would have if an intense craving for spicy tuna onigiri didn’t win you over. The convenience store was right around the corner, and its coffee was honestly not that bad if you squinted your eyes and fooled your senses a bit.

You grabbed two onigiri from the stand—in case Toji felt like stealing yours—along with an apple juicebox, both as a means of thanking and poking fun at him. You paid for the items and walked to the office, nauseated by the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach. You should’ve really eaten something instead of having your final hookup at the breakfast table.

A few people greeted you in and out of the elevator to the forty-seventh floor, some commenting on your looking less gloomy than usual, but that was about it. The world spun the same way it did even before you had sex. No big change or mind-blowing epiphany; just a euphoric feeling of accomplishment that dissipated the moment you saw the stack of documents waiting on your desk.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Toji magically sprouted from behind, loaded binders balanced on his arms—the same arms that’d lavished you with affection all night long. “They had a fall out at one of the subsidiaries, and now we gotta clean up their shit.”

And back to reality we go.

“Where’s my coffee?” He searched for a cup on his desk.

You pushed your desperation aside and held the juice to his face with a smile that turned awkward the longer he took to accept it.

“It’s um, you know.” You stepped closer, placing the box atop his mountain of files. “Thank you.”

“Also, got you this, so don’t even think of taking mine.” You balanced the onigiri beside the juice and plopped down on your chair, an antsy, blushing mess that refused to meet his stare until he looped an arm around your headrest and attached his mouth to your ear.

“Care to do me a favor?”

[tendermiasma]

Anonymous asked: What are some of your favorite antique things to collect? Do you have any especially favorite finds?

Strawpage/tendermiasma

That's hard... I love furniture, it's so neat to see how they shaped and reflected trends and values and just the pure craftsmanship is so wonderful. My favorite styles hover around the 17th and 18th centuries-- Jacobean, George III, Federal/Hepplewhite/Sheridan. There's something about the crispness of the detailing of the last four that makes an ornamented piece feel so light and airy. I love Jacobean because every piece looks like it was hauled out of a fire, the dark patina is so rich. I don't actually own any originals from these periods (yet!!!) but fashion is a flat circle and Jacobean had a revival in the late 19th and a couple decades into the 20th century. I have a court cabinet from probably around the 1930s that I found here in Austin that was a part of this revival and you can see the Jacobean influence also carries a secondary Arts and Crafts influence that the US was on the tail end of. The engraving on the panels are a little bit flatter than the traditionally extremely 3D Jacobean carving, and that's what Arts and Crafts brought. They kept the dark patina look and I think it's interesting to think about how much lighter actual Jacobean furniture might have been during its time, and that we're choosing to imitate its aged look as part of its original intent-- sort of like how we thought Roman statues started out white when they were actually originally brightly painted, but we choose to make them white in most of our casual references. Regardless the charred finish looks amazing against light colored walls. It feels contemplative. Welsh 18th century design also has that quality although more pared-down but still warm and welcoming somehow. I love it.

Back to Georgian/Sheridan/Hepplewhite/Federal though, also don't actually own any from that time either, although I have been heavilyyyyyyy eyeing a credenza from one of my favorite antique dealers in Austin who randomly has some incredible pieces. I could't buy it responsibly but they're all free right there for me to study and admire. Sheridan and Hepplewhite are super similar and a good way to tell them apart is the feet. If they're tapered little unadorned pegs, it's probably Hepplewhite, and if they have a ball or box on the end or have some other angular detailing, it's probably Sheridan. THOSE styles came back around almost 200 years later in the woodwork of midcentury modern which I think is so neat. You can also help yourself date a piece with other little things, like screws. There was a period in the early-mid 1800s where screws had machine-made threads while their heads were still cut by hand with a hacksaw; the machinery for cutting screwheads came later. Philips screws weren't widely used until the 1940s so that's another possible way to tell. However you have to be careful because a lot of furniture gets repaired and modern hardware is usually used, so it's good to hunt around on it for signs of the original hardware. You can also tell whether hardware is new or possibly original by the amount of patina built up around the hardware. That's hard to fake. 

I got lost again. I also love looking at pottery and dishware because there's so much information and history in its marks. It's always such a fun little forensics game to look at its stamps and writings and symbols on the bottom to track where it's been, who made it, is it a forgery of a well-known artisan? That happened to me really recently when I found a Meissen tea set at a thrift store and it turns out I believe I have one actual Meissen cup in there from mid 1800s. The only way I could figure it out it was genuine and also its general date was because of its imperfections, which is pretty cool. Meissen had a specific way of marking B-grade dishware that they only used during certain time periods, and thankfully there's document of it, and my piece carried it. I don't care if she's not A-grade, she's beautiful and I'm a sucker for blue and white china.

I could talk a lot more but I'm just rambling at this point so feel free to ask more. I love it all so much. I've had a great time learning so much more than I bargained for with every new piece I find. I'm still mourning the Austin Antique Mall closure that happened last May but thankfully there's another great one in Round Rock and I should go back next month.

The smoking-gun wheel marks for the date and authenticity of the Meissen cup

My Jacobean-revival court cabinet from probably the 1930s

In her natural habitat. I built the fake fireplace! None of the existing ones were Georgian enough for me lol

The coffee table is I believe late 1930s and the chair is a 1960s wingback that got recovered in probably the 90s and I want to get it recovered again when I can. I'm at capacity since I'm in a 1-bedroom apartment and my primary goal is a well-designed space but when I can get an office it's going to be so over

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt34

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Marvin sat on the floor in the basement, claiming the open space used for practice to work on chaos magic. The books he borrowed from Mare were sprawled across the floor as well. He had decided to get work done while the other Septiceyes were busy, wanting as much peace as possible if Mare’s comment about ‘emotional control’ was to be put at face value. 

Deep breath after deep breath allowed Marvin’s mind to focus solely on that feeling of magic he felt when Night caused the change in their eyes, digging into it and slowly restringing it to be able to use and not just feel. His hands became warm with magic, and he could see the glow even through closed eyes. 

Marvin was getting closer and closer to understanding those strings, untangling them, and grasping the way they-

“Marvin!” Anti called as he reached the bottom of the steps. 

“Shit!” Marvin cursed when a sharp surge of energy went through him, and it was like he dunked his hands into hot water. “Damn it, Anti!” He continued cursing as he waved his hands, hoping it would cool them off. Apparently, annoyance was enough of an emotional shift. “What do you want?” 

“Doughnut?” Anti opened the box he held, showing the collection of sugary treats.

“You came down here to offer me a doughnut?” Marvin grunted as he stood up. He glanced at his hands and saw they were red, like a sunburn on his palms. 

“That and to see what you’re up to,” Anti revealed his true motive as he sat the box on top of one of the workout machines. 

“Work.” Marvin flexed his hands and was thankful that what looked like burns didn’t feel like it. 

“Work on what?” Anti leaned over to look at one of the open books, skimming the upside-down letters and humming. “This is the stuff Mare and Phantom play with.”

“Maybe.” Marvin helped himself to one of the doughnuts. 

“It’s emotion-based stuff. Don’t know if you should try getting into it just yet.”

“Why not?” 

“Denial is one hell of an emotion.” Anti clicked his tongue. 

“I’m not in denial about anything.” Marvin bit into the doughnut.

“Yeah. Sure.” Anti picked up the box and started leaving.

“I’m not in denial!” Marvin called after him.

x~x~x

“How the hell did he get a hotel room without any money?” Marvin was more irritated that this Iplier figured it out when he ended up sleeping on park benches. 

“Maybe he did some odd jobs and saved up?” Jackie suggested, hoisting himself up the fire escape and lowering the ladder for Marvin to use. 

“He doesn’t seem to be the kind to rake up some leaves.” Marvin climbed up the ladder, looking into the room. They were beyond sure it was the one that the Iplier had booked. Anti had done some…research as he had put it, and Chase passed the information to Marvin and Jackie. 

“Maybe he did some like magic stuff or something?” Jackie pried open the window enough for them to slip through. 

“Maybe.” Marvin hummed as he immediately started digging around to see what he could find. 

“I thought we were just waiting for him?” Jackie sat himself on the edge of the bed. 

“We are. I’m just doing a bit of my own research.” Marvin saw the name on the booking card, and for some reason, he didn’t believe that was the Iplier’s name. “I think he stole someone’s credit card.” He muttered to himself. “Oh! I got a diary~” Marvin sang as he pulled out a notepad from the bedside table’s drawer. “And, of course, he has fancy handwriting.” 

“I don’t know if we should read his private stuff,” Jackie said as Marvin sat on the bed next to him. “What if he’s got some super secrets written in there?”

“Then we can use it to help convince him to go to the Manor.” Marvin skimmed through the writings. “God of Night.” 

“God of Night?” 

“I think that’s his name. That’s how he’s been signing off these letters to someone he’s calling Day.” Marvin pointed to the signature at the bottom. “And I think the memory loss is starting to kick in. He’s questioning things he mentioned in earlier letters.” 

“God of Night,” Jackie repeated as he leaned closer to Marvin to start reading what he could of the writings. 

“It’ll be nice to finally call him something other than ‘The Iplier’ or ‘New Ego’.” 

“I hope we can get Night to come to the Manor before the rest of his memories go. I don’t want to sound mean, but I think he might…um…”

“Throw a tantrum?”

“Yeah.”

“We won’t know until-” Marvin stopped and went stiff when he could feel a shift of energy in the air. “He’s-” This time, Marvin was forced to stop when the bed suddenly started glowing red and jerked up. The bed launched Marvin and Jackie into the open closet that wasn’t open moments ago, and the door slammed shut. “Damn it!” 

“Were we just catapulted!?” Jackie fumbled around in the small, dark space. 

“I was hoping for some privacy.” Night’s voice came from behind the door. 

“You’d get plenty of that with your own room at the Manor.” Marvin figured he could at least try while trying to get some space from Jackie, but the closet was so small they were practically on top of each other. 

“Leave me alone. You’re running out of warnings. You’d think you two would have learned by now.” Night huffed, and the echoing of footsteps softened, meaning he had left. 

“I hate him,” Marvin grunted. “Can you reach the doorknob?” 

“Uh-yeah. Yeah, let me just…uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh? What do you mean, uh-oh?” 

“It’s locked.”

“Locked? Closets don’t lock.” 

“Either locked or stuck, it’s not turning.” Jackie messed with the doorknob more, but it wasn’t budging. 

“Can you just break the thing?” Marvin could feel the air getting warmer the longer they were in there.

“I mean, like, I can, but then the hotel people have a broken closet.” Jackie started squirming as he tried to get to his phone. “I can call-”

“Don’t you dare.” Marvin wrapped his arms around Jackie in an awkward hug. “The last thing we need is Anti making jokes about us being in the closet.”

“But we are in a closet.”

“Not that kind of closet.”

“What-oh!” Jackie held out the word, finally catching on. “I still don’t wanna break the knob.”

“Fine, fine, let me get to the door, and I’ll see what I can do.” Marvin dropped his arms and tried to squeeze around Jackie. 

“Lemme just-”

“Move your elbow-”

“Toes, toes!”

“You’re going to fall.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Made it!” Marvin found the doorknob. “Just a bit of magic.” He took in a deep breath, and his hand began to glow, giving them some light in the space until whatever was holding the doorknob snapped, and the door flew open. Marvin went flying toward the ground, but Jackie caught him from behind, wrapping an arm around his chest. 

“You okay?” Jackie asked.

“Have I mentioned that I hate that guy?” 

x~x~x

Marvin dragged himself into the living room, plopping down on the couch and letting out an exhausted grunt. He’s lost track of how many hours he’s spent down in the basement working on chaos magic. This was the eighth day in a row of endless work, and Marvin was finally beginning to feel like he was grasping an understanding of the magic. Thankfully, he was already proficient in his own magic, or this adaptation would be taking even longer than it already was.

It didn’t help that Marvin wasn’t the most patient, but he was getting there.

Jackie had already been in the room, sitting on the couch and reading a comic. He first made sure Marvin was okay and then asked if he wanted to watch their show for a bit. Marvin agreed since that meant he didn’t have to get up for a bit. 

Several episodes later, Marvin was curled up against one side of the couch and nearly falling asleep, humming when Jackie turned the TV off. He really didn’t want to get up, and the idea of using his legs sounded so gross. Marvin looked at Jackie and sighed, deciding to admit defeat. 

“Hey, Jackie?”

“Yeah?” Jackie was tucking his phone into his back pocket, tilting his head when Marvin held his arms out toward him.

“Up-up?” 

“Up-up!?” Jackie echoed with an excited bounce, getting Marvin to smile and roll his eyes. 

“I’ll change my-” Before Marvin could finish his threat, Jackie turned and hoisted him on his back. He chuckled as he adjusted to a more comfortable spot and then rested his head on Jackie’s shoulder. 

“And we have arrived!” Jackie announced after opening Marvin’s bedroom door. “Marv? Hello?” He sang when he didn’t get any response. “Did you fall asleep on me?” Still no response. “That’s a yes.” Jackie chuckled and went to the bed, shifting his body to lay Marvin down on it. “You must be working really hard to be this tired.” He wasn’t fully sure if Marvin could hear him, but he spoke regardless. “Might need a break soon.” Jackie slipped off Marvin’s shoes and sat them down with the others. “Let's at least get something on you.” He grabbed one of the spare blankets and laid it across the other’s body. “There we go, and-oh, let’s fix that.” Jackie brushed Marvin’s hair out of his face. “Don’t want you eating that in your sleep.” His hand lingered at the side of Marvin’s face, thumb feeling like it was moving on its own and gently rubbing small circles on his cheek. 

Marvin looked so…soft in his sleep. Calm, relaxed, peaceful, not worried about a thing or working himself to exhaustion. It was a lot easier to see the gentler side of him. A side he’d probably scoff at you if you brought it up, and that made him even cute-

Jackie quickly pulled his hand away when he realized what he was doing. 

“G’night.” He squeaked and rushed out of the room, not even remembering to close Marivn’s door but closing his own to lean back against it and slowly slide down it until he sat on the floor, hands holding his head. 

What was that?

What was that?

What was that feeling? Those thoughts? Why was he thinking about Marvin being cute? And like not in the totally platonic friend way. But in the not platonic way. 

Was he…was he crushing on Marvin?

Holy shit.

No way.

He can’t.

Maybe he should actually listen to Illinois’ advice and talk to Chase about this.

He might end up imploding and exploding at the same time if he doesn’t. 

[seat-safety-switch]

Everyone knows me at the dump. I don’t mean this in a bragging sort of way. In fact, I hate this fact. The reason why everyone knows me at the dump is that Mr. Jones, the dump operator, has posted the CCTV footage and blurry cell-phone camera pictures of my face on the break room wall. Even the youngest probie at the dump will look at me, every morning, while they wait for the coffee machine to dispense their mandatory cup of black joy.

You can probably guess why this has happened to me. I love junk, and the dump has a lot of that junk. To me, it is offensive that the dump hoards that junk. They keep it from me, using excuses like “sanitation” and “safety,” but safety is my middle name. If they would just give me a chance, then I would be the best they’ve ever seen. I’d even remove and sort the little lithium-ion vape batteries that haven’t exploded yet, out of gratitude.

Of course, we both know why I’m digging through trash at the dump. I don’t want old Betamax VCRs, or mouldy cardboard boxes heralding products from a bygone era. Well, I do, but I don’t want them more than I want a two-stroke dirt bike, and I’ve seen tons of those over the years get callously tossed into the debris pile by the great unwashed. They’re always getting thrown out for little reasons, like “carb jet plugged,” or “caught on fire,” or “couldn’t get anyone to buy it on Craigslist for septuple the market value so I threw it away out of spite.” I could save these bikes, and to be not allowed to save them is literal torture.

Just like anyone else would in my shoes, I started wearing elaborate disguises to the dump. Sometimes I could loot one, and throw it into the back of my car, and be gone before the dump operators (there weren’t even security guards yet, back then) could catch up to me. I had enough disguises – and enough cars – that I could pull this off for a little while. Then, used cars got really expensive, and the folks in my neighbourhood started using security fasteners to hold on their license plates. I started to escape by tighter and tighter scrapes, until one fateful day.

That bastard Jones figured me out. He came from Chicago, of all places, a city which I’m pretty sure doesn’t even have a dump. And he knew my kind. He set a trap: an agonizingly pristine, 1989 Yamaha XT225. Sure, it was a four-stroke, but it was still love at first sight. It was planted right on top of one of the big piles of disposable diapers, visible even from the highway. Even knowing it was a trap, I made plans for months to grab it.

The joke’s on him, though. I’ve started my own private dump, and I’ve paid the government to start outsourcing dump operations to me. We’re an extremely efficient operation, much more affordable for the taxpayer than the wasteful public dump. How so, you ask? Well, we are much more selective with what waste we accept, and we wrote one helluva contract, which had a bunch of big words that confused the gin-addled politicos that signed it out of desperation to meet their “lower taxes” pledge.

Here’s how it works. We charge the city hundreds of thousands of dollars a month, and we get first pick of any internal combustion engines that are in the back of the garbage trucks. Everything else goes down the road to the regular dump. We’re making a fortune. If we keep putting out numbers like this, I’m sure there will soon be layoffs over at Jones’ shithole. Hell, maybe I’ll even hire him to manage security around these parts. Can’t have anyone walking off with my good trash.

[thatrandomghostfan]

A job in a shady business PT.5

After an hour of working, Trevor got to another room. It was a bit less bloody, but still with a few bodies around.

He noticed there were some vending machines. Thought he could check them out! Maybe he could grab a tea or coffee with chance.

Unfortunately, none of those, and all of the perishables were long past gone.

"Damn... Gonna have to report that... Even if people come to die here, could at least enjoy something!"

The man lets out a sigh and went back to collect the bodies. As there was a higher floor in the room, he started from there, until he came to the last one, laid down on a bench.

"Alright buddy, you're the last one! Hm... Doesn't look too teared up... Guess you're one of the few lucky ones that didn't get that brutalized"

Trevor had the habit to talking to the corpses he took care of. Humanised the task a bit.

As usual, he grabbed on an arm to properly place the body so he could carry it better... But the other arm grabbed him back.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Claire had finished with Frankie, having changed the camera in one of the eyes and the voice box.

She still had to work on the other robots, but noticed one was missing from the list.

"Err... There's supposed to be a duck... Deputy duck"

"Oh! I think our Lucky contestant kept him! I forgot to ask him to give him back!"

"Lucky contestant?"

"Why yes! The very first winner of our gameshow!"

Claire was a bit taken aback by this new information.

"And where is this lucky contestant? Because if I leave this place without at least fixing all the robots here, I'll get my ass handed to me with my 'you're fired' note"

She said a bit panicked by the idea. The giant bunny waved it off.

"Nonsense! Plus! He is still here!"

"What?"

"Why yes! We offered him a contract for the next season of our game show! We could just check on the cameras where he is right now!"

"Okay... So surveillance room..."

As Claire started to head out, she stopped in her track. She completely forgot where it was supposed to be.

With the time she passed to fix this grey giant she got to forget what the map looked like.

Frankie got up and had plugged his charging cable out.

"Need a guide?"

As she turned around to answer him, she noticed how big he actually is. As he was towering her, with his giant unmoving smile.

"Er.... S-sure... Please"

"Wonderful! Just follow me!"

Frankie beamed, heading over, ready to guide her.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

As the two got closer to the surveillance room, a loud scream could be heard.

Claire jolted, yelping by how it surprised her, Frankie seems to have been surprised but instead he got faster to check on the cameras. Claire followed short after, worried.

On one of the screens, Trevor was seen in a room next to one of the body, fists up. The body on the other hand was curled up on the ground ... Very alive.

"F*ck! That hurt you bastard!"

"HOW ARE YOU NOT F*CKING DEAD?!"

As the two men were very much not in discussion terms. Until they got cut by a voice.

"Sires! Do not engage in conflict! We very much value you two to stay alive for the proper fonction of your contracts!"

Frankie had taken the chance to stop the foreseeing argument quickly.

"What?"

Trevor was still on his guard, while the contestant got up, rubbing on his jaw behind the mask.

"F*ck... Frankie! You could have told me there would be someone coming! You dipsh*t! I would have chosen another place to rest!"

On the other side of the screens, Claire felt bad for them both to not have known about eachother. Could have probably dodged this altercation.

She would have tried to say something if not cut by a laughter, she noticed one of the screens in the room the two men were in lit up.

"Oh that is so good! I'm so glad the security cameras registered it!"

The cartoony rabbit that Trevor has been seeing around for a few times was actually talking as if he knew what just happened.

"The heck?"

Lucky contestant on the other hand just groaned.

"Such a scream! Never thought a big guy like this could go this high! And what a punch! Hahahaaaa! Hey! Lucky! How does it feel to be put back to your place?"

"F*ck off you waste of pixels"

Lucky flipped him off, while the cartoon was against the screen, just to see even a glimpse of what kind of sour expression the contestant could have, with a devious grin.

"To repeat my self... The heck?"

Trevor was even more confused, until his train of thought got back in place when he heard Claire's voice.

"It's an AI! This mascot you see on the screen is a developed artificial intelligence! As for the guy with you... Erm... Lucky, right? He is the first winner of the show... By the way hi! Sorry for the late introduction! It seems we weren't aware of your presence while we came to work here... I'm Claire! And ... I guess the guy who punched you, is Trevor"

The two evaluated eachother, until Trevor finally lowered his fists.

" I guess I owe an apology... I'm not really used to corpses moving"

Lucky was about to answer but 'Toony' cut him in the track.

"Oh! Do not apologise! He deserved it! Besides, it was quite entertaining to watch!"

Lucky got closer to she screen and broke it, a quick yelp could be heard right before the screen shot down, only for another to light up.

"Hey! Watch out on your temper! You know how much that cost to repair?!"

"Screw you! Even if I accepted to stay, I ain't letting you being a d*ck to me!"

"Tsk... You're the one who ruined my gameshow! It's only payback!"

The screen turned off, leaving a frustrated Lucky with a still very confused Trevor.

[cameoappearance]

As someone who still plays Among Us but has also been getting really into Lethal Company, I've been thinking about what tasks on a Lethal Company map would translate well to Among Us tasks (go to a specific spot or one of a set of specific spots, do a minigame, sometimes you're done after that and sometimes you have to go do something somewhere else to finish). The map's probably Vow because it fits all the ideas I had but could also be March, Experimentation, or Assurance.

Common Tasks:

Storage/Conveyor Room/Apparatus Room/etc -> Main Entrance/Fire Exit: Collect Scrap. Like MIRA HQ's Water Plants task, you go to the right room and pick the scrap item up from a picture of the shelf, then you go drop it off at one of the entrances.

Main Entrance/Fire Exit -> Ship: Ferry Scrap

...and more! Under the readmore for your dashboard's sake!

Long Tasks:

Outside -> Ship: Retrieve Beehive. The minigame would probably involve dragging the beehive from checkpoint to checkpoint like Chart Course or through a maze like Fix Weather Node; if there was also a swarm of bees following you that could make you fail the task and have to start over if you got the timing wrong, it would be more accurate but could turn this into everyone's least favourite task on the map, so I'm not sure about that one.

Terminal -> Dropship: Order Equipment. You'd have a list of items to order from the store, like with the burger or vending machine tasks, and then you'd go pick them up. A visual task probably.

Outside -> Terminal: Download Data. Gotta have a Download Data. It's a Sigurd log.

Ship -> Corridors: Paint Markings. Take your spraypaint, go paint some 'exit this way' or 'room clear' or other symbols like that inside the building. This would be a visual task, of course.

If you wanted to have them you could stick the reactor tasks onto the apparatus, but this is kind of drifting away from the idea that you're there to collect salvage.

Short Tasks:

Corridors: Shut Steam Valve. This would be a visual task.

Ship: Charge Flashlights. Could have a Charge Walkie-Talkies as well like how the Airship has both pistols and rifles to put away.

Terminal: Deactivate Turrets

Terminal: Teleport Corpses

Ship: Tally Scrap Value

Ship or Outside: Start Cruiser. You probably wouldn't be able to drive anywhere in the cruiser but it might have a fixed track like the Fungle's zipline or the Airship's moving platform, in which case the track would probably be a ridiculous jump from the ship to the main entrance.

Taking the apparatus could be a task unto itself.

I'm on the fence on whether I want to have something like Soothe Maneater or Placate Lootbug situated inside the building because usually there's not much in the way of creatures on Among Us maps except the ones you bring with you.

If you want to have my removed-from-the-game nemesis in there you could have Spray Weeds as a task in the outdoor area where you spray weed killer on Vain Shrouds until they all go away.

Sabotages:

Lights would be fixed at the breaker box inside.

Communications would logically be on the ship, and since I've made Ship and Terminal two different locations (though they'd be right next to each other) it'd probably be in the terminal area.

Lockable doors like the ones on Polus, based on the secure doors.

Make the ship take off early, named something like Hijack Autopilot.

If it's Vow then destabilising the dam is an option for a sabotage that just destroys everything if it's not stopped, like the reactor/seismic/crash course ones. Considering that that thing has been fine with no maintenance for like 600 years I assume this would involve defusing a bomb the impostors planted.

The admin display would be in the terminal area as well. And probably so would the security cameras. It's getting very crowded in there but I don't have any better ideas. This map likely wouldn't have a vitals monitor, at least.

[shadrell]

For the Rogue Trader ask: 4,9,19,25

Thank u so much for asks!!!💖💖💖

4. What does their name mean? Is it significant?

I chose the name Pandora from the start because I like the vibes of the ancient Greek legend. It just so happens that it resonates with her story in some way. "Gifted with everything" - that she had a very promising future in the beginning. "Opening Pandora's box" - awakening the psykana seemed to release all the troubles she could imagine. "But she slammed the lid of the box, leaving only Hope" - Pandora now, and this motif remains with her for the rest of her life, along with the burden of the rest of the story.

9. What was their Darkest Hour? How does it affect them today?

Shadow of Torment. Pandora's psyche is quite stable, but even such people were broken by the inquisitors. Guilt, self-hatred and cruel torture - she was broken by the sanctioning procedure. Psi-forces got out of control and burned her arms and legs so much that they had to be restored with implants. Bad implants that killed fine motor skills, depriving Pandora of the ability to take care of machine spirits carefully enough. Even after becoming a Rogue Trader, she did not immediately understand that she could replace her arms with high-quality cybernetics. And nothing can eradicate the disdainful attitude towards herself.

19. Which three skills are of the most value to them?

Communication with machine spirits. Pandora does not have access to knowledge beyond what a layman can know, but she knows much more than the average person. Even though bad implants have limited her ability to work with technology, she has not forgotten anything, and she can generally remember prayers all at once in one breath.

Pyromancy. The ability to manipulate fire is what makes her useful to the Imperium, despite her mutation. At least she has convinced herself that as long as this skill is useful, she can consider herself a more valuable unit.

Commerce. She's not exactly a genius at commerce, but she's learned to do business fairly well - and that's important to the well-being of the Protectorate. She takes her new responsibilities seriously.

25. Wildcard: Share a fun fact, random thought, or headcanon about them!

Pandora cannot sleep in silence. Loud noise is associated with the manufactorum where she spent her childhood. Silence is associated with the Black Ship. In her chambers she can only sleep at the desk on workplace, next to her personal cogiator, and it will still be a bad sleep due to the good soundproofing. Therefore, she mostly sleeps right on the captain's bridge.

[unveilandresist]

I don't believe in individual problems for the most part. while our struggles may look different the dehumanization of systems that harm affect us all. I'm very disabled/chronically ill and neurodivergent; sometimes I wonder what's wrong with me that I struggle with this or that and then I see other people struggling too and I remember, oh, we are punishing ourselves for not behaving predictably, producing effectively, machinelike in the way capitalism wants us to be.

there are so many ways we are hard on ourselves and so much of it is externally imposed. you are not a machine, you are a living creature. you are alive and there are so many ways of being a person that don't fit into the tiny box that makes you most compliant, most machinelike and efficient and agreeable and nonthreatening. what do you really value? if you feel defiance, kindle that fire within you. it has so much to teach about being alive and human. life is not about working till you die. all the tiny moments of defiance and pleasure you can get are vital. holding the grief and the joy together.

[over-the-time-flow]

The Hows & Whys of Super Robot Wars

Machine Specs

As Char Aznable once said, a difference in pilot skill can make up for a gap in machine performance… but he lost the fight in which he said that quote anyway, so why listen to him? Let’s talk about machine performance in SRW R! As our example, we'll use the Argent Fighter jet!

At the very top, we can see the unit’s Size (サイズ) rank, which for the AF, is S (for Small!). This may seem like a simple cosmetic touch, but don’t be mistaken! Size matters in SRW!

In SRW R,  Size accuracy multipliers (pictured above) only take into account the defending unit’s size; since it’s a Size S unit, regardless of whether our little jet friend here is attacked by another jet or by a gigantic mothership, the attacker’s accuracy will only be 80% of its usual performance. Simply put, the smaller a unit is, the harder it is to hit.

Damage multipliers (pictured above), however, work differently! They take into the account both the attacker and the defender’s sizes. On the graph above, the vertical axis is for the attacker, and the horizontal is for the defender. Therefore, if our little jet friend were to attack a Mobile Suit (traditionally all Size M), it’d have to contend with a 0.95 damage multiplier, making it deal 5% less damage than it would if it attacked another S-sized unit. In short, the larger a unit is in comparison to its target, the more damage it'll deal, and vice-versa.

To the right of the Size, we have the Repair Cost for this unit. If this Fighter were to get deployed and then shot down on the same stage, we wouldn’t lose it permanently like a Fire Emblem character (after all, you wouldn’t want your favorite little guys from your favorite show to be permanently gone all because an enemy lucked out on a 12% hit rate), but in turn, at the end of the stage we’d have to fork over 6k of our hard-earned funds that could have gone towards upgrades.

To the top left of its little sprite, we have the unit’s name, and below it its Max HP and EN. Below those, we have its Movement Range, Mobility, and Armor. HP, EN, Mobility and Armor are arguably the most important stats to keep in mind, as these are upgradeable with funds in between missions.

From my experiences with R, 6 is basically the bare minimum for a mech’s Movement Range to be considered convenient, and even then, if it doesn’t have something to smooth things over (like flight capability, the ability to transform into a more mobile form, or a spirit command that improves its movement range), it’ll still feel glacial. Movement Ranges of 5 and below are outright torturous. What i'd consider to be standard base Mobility for a Real Robot in SRW R is usually 90, with 85 being the bare minimum to be at all workable as a dodgy machine, and 100 being exceptional. For Super Robots' armor values, the standard would probably be 1100, with the bare minimum being 1000 and an exceptional amount being 1200 or more.

Below the machine’s sprite, you have its Terrain Aptitude ranks. 空 is sky, 陸 is ground, 海 is water, and 宇 is space. Don’t be fooled, B is absolutely not a passing grade. With a B or lower rank in a terrain, you’ll get debuffs to just about everything; lower damage dealt, higher damage received, worse hit/evade rates… the effect can catch you by surprise if you're not paying attention to it!

On page 2, we can see the machine’s abilities under the HP and EN. The Argent Fighter has “EN Recovery (Small)”, which means at the start of each player turn it regains 10% of its max EN. If it was (somehow) equipped with a sword, gun or shield, those would be displayed as little icons at the top of the machine abilities box. More on the significance of swords, guns and shields at a later date!

To the top right, we can see its Parts slots; as the game progresses, we will gain various types of optional Parts we can equip on our machines for various benefits. Generally speaking, the worse a unit is, the more parts slots it has, perhaps so that it can attempt to make up for its shortcomings. Battleships go against this rule, however, and tend to gain more parts slots as they upgrade to better versions of themselves.

Finally, the weapons! This machine has three attacks, all of which are Ranged-attribute, as denoted by the little crosshair icon to the left of their names. Were one of them Melee-attribute, it’d have a tiny fist icon in its place. To the right of their names, all three of them have little icons. The P icon means an attack is Post-Movement, meaning you can use it even after you've moved the unit for the turn; in a perfect world, you’ll want your mecha to have at least one decently strong P attack with no Will requirements and ideally at least 4 range. The second attack here, Grenade Attacker, is post-movement with 5 range, which is pretty handy (though not super impressive or anything). The B icon on Beam Shot, the third attack, represents that it’s a Beam weapon. This means that certain mech abilities can mitigate or outright avoid its damage, and that it can’t be used underwater.

To the right of their names and icons, we have the attack’s base Power. I tend to judge weapons' base Power more by their values after upgrading (coupled with how expensive they are to upgrade) rather than before, as early units tend to have a better upgrade curve so that they’re both balanced early on and usable later. For the early game of SRW R, post-movement weapons for getting rid of generic enemies are okay at around the 1800-2200 Power mark, and by the end-game, you’ll want them at around the 2500-3000 mark (obviously you’ll need to upgrade them to get to that point). Finishing moves are usually around the 3000-3600 Power mark at the beginning of the game, and by the end you’ll want them above the 4k mark, though with a properly leveled up character with good stats, the 3600-4000 range can still put in work thanks to various ways to boost your damage besides weapon upgrades. 

To the right of the base Power we have the move's Range. Ideally, you want your robot to have at least one move with a range of 6 or higher, even if it’s not post-movement, so that you can counterattack particularly long-range enemies during the enemy phase instead of being forced to defend or avoid. To the right of that is the move’s Accuracy modifier.

At the bottom, you can see various other information about the move: if it uses Ammo, how many shots it has (the AF’s Solid Vulcans, for example, have 20 shots); to the right of it, its Terrain Adaptation ranks. (separate from the machine’s Terrain Adaptation, this takes into account the target enemy’s current terrain, and only affects damage dealt and not accuracy), and to the bottom of both, you have the required Willpower (if applicable) and required EN (if applicable). Moves that require Willpower don’t consume any, and are merely gated behind having your pilot’s Willpower that high, but moves that require EN will consume it as usual.

Finally, at the very bottom right is the Critical rate modifier, and above it, when applicable, is miscellaneous information about the move (for example, if it requires a specific Pilot Skill to function).

Aaaaaand that covers just about everything, I think! These two posts were really intensive to write out, but also very fun, since I love explaining stuff like this. It will also definitely come in handy for anyone trying to play along at home, and serve as quick reference for anyone who doesn’t know the ins and outs of SRW’s systems.

As my sources, i used the japanese SRW wiki, the Akurasu wiki, and my own experiences and testing with the game!

[sutraai-driventransformation]

Turning Compliance Into Confidence: Why Human‑Centric AML and Fraud Risk Management Matters

Every headline about money‑laundering fines or sophisticated payment fraud is a reminder: the threat is real, and the cost of inaction keeps rising. Yet most teams still experience AML compliance as a maze of spreadsheets, alerts, and last‑minute fire drills. At Sutra Management, we believe it doesn’t have to be that way. Done right, AML and fraud risk management becomes a source of strength—protecting your reputation while giving you the freedom to focus on growth.

The Compliance Catch‑22

Regulators demand rigour, regulators demand speed—and they rarely give you more people or budget to achieve both. Meanwhile, customers expect a seamless experience with zero friction. Somewhere in the middle sits your compliance team, juggling:

Ever‑shifting global regulations

Mountains of transactional data that never stop growing

Pressing questions from the business: “Can we launch this product tomorrow?”

The result can feel like a constant game of whack‑a‑mole, where each solved alert spawns three new ones.

Our Philosophy: Technology + Empathy

Behind every suspicious transaction is a story—sometimes an innocent one, sometimes a red flag. Behind every keyboard is a human being balancing deadlines, risk appetite, and brand promise. That’s why our approach pairs advanced analytics with a human touch:

Unified View of Risk – We knit fraud detection and AML monitoring into a single FRAML‑style workflow, so you never chase the same problem twice.

Risk‑Based Prioritisation – One‑size‑fits‑all rules create alert fatigue. We fine‑tune thresholds to your products, geographies, and customer segments—surfacing what truly matters.

Explainable AI – Black‑box decisions erode trust. Our models highlight the exact patterns that triggered an alert, helping analysts close cases faster and auditors sleep easier.

Continuous Coaching – Tools only succeed when people believe in them. We run hands‑on training that turns “extra work” into “easier work,” building a culture where compliance feels empowering.

What “Good” Looks Like

🔹 Fewer False Positives Targeted rules and machine‑learning models cut noise, freeing analysts to investigate genuine risk.

🔹 Faster Investigations A single dashboard pulls KYC data, network links, and sanction hits into one place—no more tab‑hopping.

🔹 Stronger Governance Real‑time MI dashboards give leadership instant insight into exposure, trends, and staffing needs.

🔹 Happier Customers Smarter screening means fewer onboarding delays and smoother transaction flows.

A Day in the Life With Sutra’s Platform

09:05 – An unusually large wire transfer pings the system. AI cross‑references device location, historical behaviour, and watch‑list data in seconds. 09:06 – The risk score is high, but the analyst sees exactly why—an address match to a newly sanctioned entity. No guesswork, no dead‑end digging. 09:20 – Analyst files an STR directly from the case screen, automatically attaching evidence and narrative. 09:30 – Case closed, coffee still hot.

Multiply that efficiency across hundreds of daily alerts, and the ROI speaks for itself.

Built to Scale With You

Whether you’re a fintech racing toward Series C or a multinational bank modernizing legacy system, our modular architecture grows as you do—new markets, new products, no problem. And because regulations never stand still, our policy library and rule sets update continuously, keeping you ahead of tomorrow’s headlines.

Ready to Make Compliance Your Competitive Edge?

Financial crime isn’t slowing down, but neither are we. If you’re tired of compliance that drains resources instead of adding value, let’s talk about a partnership where AML and fraud risk management fuel your confidence—not your anxiety.

🔗 Explore Sutra Management’s AML compliance solutions: https://sutra-management.com

[nordicminesteeltechnologies]

How Can Conveyor Upgrades Enhance Productivity And Reduce Risk In Mining?

Mining is fast, and requires efficiency but first and foremost, safety. The belt conveyor is a necessary equipment in the mining industry. These machines displace enormous quantities of material every hour, and are essential to maintaining operations at a productive pace. 

But, as they age, the older systems go from outmoded to decrepit, dangerous and slow operations. These problems can be removed with the use of new conveyor systems. 

Better technology also lets mining companies mine with higher output and fewer safety incidents. This is an article discussing how conveying solutions for mining upgrades can improve on-site efficiency for your mining business.

Longer Systems Life, Fewer Breakdowns

New conveyors can be expected to last at least three times longer than older conveyors. New materials and parts are sturdier. That puts less breakdown in their daily work. 

Modern designs can even have smart features like self-cleaning belts and auto-alignment facilitators. These reduce the mechanical stress of moving parts. 

But crucially, the entire system gets much better-oiled in the process. The engine will have less mechanical issues and will need to be maintained less. That also means more uptime and more productivity.

Older conveyors, in contrast, demand a great deal of attention and tending to. They break more often and slow production. You waste money and time with such delays. 

Newer systems have new motors and improved control boxes. These produce higher speeds and less energy use. And when you’re up and running, the system must remain up and running, period. 

Lowered Risk With Advanced Safety Tech

Mining safety has always been a top priority. Conveyor belts have been responsible for many injuries when they fail. Most new conveyors come equipped with safety features. 

These kinds of tools stop the whole system as soon as they notice a problem. It works toward preventing accidents in the first place. Some upgraded systems, for instance, include belts that are fire-resistant and parts that help dampen the noise. 

It protects workers from hazards that are not necessarily apparent at all times. Better lighting and better signage on conveyors Built in the last few years mean that people can operate them more safely. Automatic shutoff systems react faster than human hands. That on its own can prevent major injuries.

Boost Output Without A Larger Workforce

Increased production rate is the best benefit of a conveyor retrofit. The new systems are designed to move more material much more quickly and precisely. 

It also means that companies can ramp up larger volumes without hiring more workers. And the value added increases as your through-put goes up and your labor goes down or stays the same.

More powerful belts and motors are able to support heavier loads for longer periods. Automation Status: It requires minimal or no direct human intervention for the automation system to function. 

Remote Monitoring & Predictive Maintenance

Modern mining conveyor systems feature smart tech. Those in charge can track the system from a safe distance." Sensors give the real time health of the motors, belt tension and load weight. 

That makes it a cinch to spot problems while there’s still time. You no longer wait for something to break; you can schedule maintenance. That’s what is known as predictive maintenance. 

You’ll also save yourself time and be less caught off guard by random bouts of downtime. The thing tells you when a belt is about to chunk the bone or a motor needs fine-tuning. Teams can solve problems before they become a production stoppage.

More Savings In Energy For Less Running Costs

One thing about mining: the price of energy is a big factor. Outdated conveyor technology uses more power than is required. They don’t even include modern drives or power-saving settings. 

Far more efficient are the new conveyor-systems. They use power-scaling motors. This makes it impossible to be abused and it saves energy. Inverters and variable speed drives adjust belt speeds to match materials flow. It reduces friction and rubbing. 

Some modern systems even steal energy as a weapon by way of braking movements in some instances. The magic of compound returns Compounds Over time, those small savings add up. Bills for energy drop, and performance level remains high.

Conclusion

Mining, Conveyor Upgrade. They extend equipment life, reduce potential hazards, and facilitate material flow. Ease of predictive maintenance with Smart monitoring. 

This transformation achieves superior uptime and lower costs of operation. Most crucially, they protect workers and bolster long-term growth. 

When it's time to take your mining to the next level, it's time to use some conveyor systems, there isn't another option. Don’t let breakdowns or safety problems push you into it — act before it gets that expensive.

[natureadhaar]

A2 Gir Cow Ghee By Nature’s Adhaar: The Purest Bilona Ghee From The Heart Of India

In the crowded world of wellness products and dairy supplements, A2 Gir Cow Ghee stands out as a nutritional powerhouse, rooted in the ancient traditions of Ayurveda. But not all A2 ghee is created equal. At Nature’s Adhaar, we bring you authentic A2 Gir Cow Ghee, made using the traditional Bilona method, sourced from jungle-grazing Gir cows that live naturally and eat organically.

Whether you’re a health enthusiast, a fitness seeker, or a family looking for purity in your kitchen — Nature’s Adhaar A2 Gir Cow Ghee is the gold standard you’ve been searching for.

What is A2 Gir Cow Ghee?

A2 Ghee is made using milk from indigenous Gir cows, a native Indian breed that naturally produces A2 beta-casein protein — a superior alternative to the more commonly available A1 protein found in hybrid or crossbred cows. The A2 protein is easier to digest, rich in nutrients, and supports brain, heart, and joint health.

Unlike commercial ghee that may come from factory-farmed cows or through mechanical processes, Ayurvedic A2 Ghee Benefits by Nature’s Adhaar is crafted through a Vedic Bilona process — ensuring purity, potency, and nutritional superiority.

The Bilona Method: Ancient Wisdom, Modern Benefits

Most commercial brands use machines to extract ghee quickly and in bulk. At Nature’s Adhaar, we don’t believe in shortcuts. We follow the ancient Bilona method:

Boiling fresh A2 milk to remove impurities.

Curdling the milk naturally using a desi culture.

Hand-churning the curd bi-directionally to extract butter.

Slow-heating the butter on a wood-fired stove to yield golden, aromatic ghee.

This traditional process not only preserves vital nutrients but also enhances the digestibility, aroma, and shelf life of the ghee.

Why Nature’s Adhaar A2 Ghee is the Best in the Market

Jungle-Grazing Gir Cows

Our Gir cows are not confined to sheds. They roam freely in forest-like environments, walking 7-8 km daily and feeding on over 100+ varieties of herbs, shrubs, and grasses. This natural, stress-free lifestyle results in highly potent, nutrient-rich milk — a major reason why our ghee is superior in taste, texture, and therapeutic value.

100% Organic & Chemical-Free

From the feed of our cows to the final packaging, every step is chemical-free and organic. No growth hormones, no antibiotics, and no preservatives. Just pure, unadulterated Buy A2 Ghee Online, made with love and intention.

Ayurvedic & Medicinal Benefits

Nature’s Adhaar Ghee is not just a cooking medium — it’s a superfood with Ayurvedic roots:

Boosts immunity and digestion

Lubricates joints and supports flexibility

Enhances memory and brain health

Promotes detoxification and gut balance

Aids in skin glow and hair health

Health Benefits of Nature’s Adhaar A2 Gir Cow Ghee

Health Area

Benefit from A2 Ghee

Digestion

Stimulates Agni (digestive fire), supports better metabolism

Heart Health

Rich in Omega-3 & CLA, reduces bad cholesterol

Joint Lubrication

Acts as a natural lubricant, eases stiffness

Brain Function

Supports memory and cognitive clarity

Skin & Hair

Nourishes from within, promotes natural glow

Weight Loss

Improves fat metabolism and energy production

How to Use A2 Gir Cow Ghee in Daily Life

Cook With It: Use it for tadkas, sautéing, or frying — it has a high smoke point.

Consume Raw: Add a spoonful to warm water or milk in the morning.

Apply Topically: Use it on dry skin or scalp for nourishment.

Ayurvedic Cleansing: Ideal for nasya (nasal drops) or ghee pulling for oral health.

Baby Massage: A safe, natural alternative to synthetic oils for infant massage.

How to Identify Genuine A2 Ghee?

There are many brands claiming to sell A2 ghee, but here’s how you can spot the original:

✅ Made only from A2 Gir Cow Milk ✅ Prepared using Bilona Method ✅ Golden-yellow hue, granular texture, rich aroma ✅ No chemicals, no preservatives ✅ Clear lab test reports and traceability

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[marillooo]

Had a dream where there was a generation zero 2 / generation 1 it was so cool

If only

It'd be like

On this foggy island,

You see, Gz had cool robots yes, but they didn't feel authentic, they felt cartoonish even, it was more of an action game

I'd want this one to feel real, I'd want it to be more of a horror survival game

You can see the weight in each footstep of these machines, the grinding and clunkiness of their mechanical parts and the recoil from the huge guns they carry

I'd also want them to have MUCH better ai lol

Instead of the brain dead runners, we have these hounds that stalk like wolves before pouncing on you, they actively try to stay in "packs" they use suppressive fire and communicate with another

I'd want the game to be brutally hard in a way tbh

Something more like forever winter

Like actually fuck it im going fill in

If i made gz 2 this is how it would be

The game still takes place is sweden, but simply a stray island now, the ocean often causes the land to be foggy, and the sounds of what little left of military resistance their is

The survivor, a young kid, has to sneak or battle through the open world to find food, ammunition or simply a safe, warm place to sleep

The streets are a death wish with the hunters hiding among the trees, and tanks search the open plains, the most effective way of travel is sneaking between houses or ambushing the machines in the way, you have to be fast and effective, their armoured parts won't give in to no less than high calibre weapons

Your rusty hunting rifle can only pierce their soft parts, like fuel canisters and ammunition boxes

machines

The hound- similar to runners

The hounds are dog like quadrupedal machines, their box like design makes them very versatile for a multitude of weapons, however the basic is an hmg 12.7 x 99mm

Or mounted smg with a grenade launcher

They specialise in clearing buildings or assassination missions, for their light weight builds make them surprisingly stealthy when they move slow, and their unique "eye" giving them superior vision

Hounds are programmed to be expendable, they hold points until death

Hounds were originally made for crowd control

Stalkers-

Hunters are a million times more terrifying now

Stakers are "high value target elimination and siege ready" machines they also adopt the lightweight build to keep a more stealthy style with versatile loadouts

However they're much smarter now, stalkers, well, stalk

Once they find a survivor, they do not attack immediately, they watch from afar- in the tress or peeking around buildings- to analyse the players behaviours. And wait for when they're most vulnerable to strike, often revealing themselves around corners and stabbing the victim

If they even escape the hemorrhaging will take them soon after. And the stalker will be there, behind a light post or treeline, making sure this day is your last

They are highly intelligent and capable of planning far ahead

Originally made for bodyguard services or assassinations

Walkers

Harvester redo

These giant spider like machines are less combat efficient, they prefer to be escorted through major routes, where they go around resupplying machines and carrying resources to builder machines

They are by far the heaviest of the latter, and quite slow and their legs whine to keep them standing

These harvesters have a more crab like design and look alot more bulky and industrial appearance

Originally used in mines for transportation

I'll do the rest another time

[sethshead]

It’s so odd to see, but this is the moment the neocons waited their whole lives for: that manichaean, binary, black-and-white battle of democracy vs. totalitarianism, of good vs. evil, when those who stood for American values would have to join unflinchingly in a showdown with a civilizational, existential threat. They thought it was Islamic fundamentalism - “Islamofascism was their misnomer - and sacrificed our blood, fortune, reputation, and unity on misadventures to remake the Middle East in an American mold. That was pure folly, deadly folly that undermined human rights, civil rights, and due process, that politicized the bureaucracy and promoted zero-sum absolutist brinksmanship in government, but they were right to see fascism as the enemy. “Islamofascism” was not just a cynical neologism meant to appropriate their left-wing opponents’ epithet of choice; strong believers in Leo Strauss’s sense of American purpose and critique of moral relativism, they did not see their actions as partisan power grabs domestically or neoimperialist overreach abroad. They sincerely thought they were working towards the interests of liberal democracy.

Well, now we see that the threat to liberal democracy has emerged, and it was our own right-wing populism and isolationist paleoconservatism, abetted by disinformation and manipulation campaigns from our autocratic rivals. Many neoconservatives have yet to own up to the fact that they themselves empowered those disreputable domestic forces in order to expand their coalition. Other Fankensteins among them have acknowledged their part in creating the monster that has now torn our Constitution and system of governance to shreds. But nearly all have been among the loudest and most courageous voices against Trumpism, and have willingly sacrificed their jobs, relationships, and political affiliation to their integrity. We should take their advice. We need them on that wall. Now is the time for democracy’s hardliners. Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice. We must all be extremists now. NB: this is not actually by Liz Cheney. She would have the sense to not consider Al Jazeera an ally.

"From Liz Cheney Dear Democratic Party, I need more from you. You keep sending emails begging for $15, while we’re watching fascism consolidate power in real time. This administration is not simply “a different ideology.” It is a coordinated, authoritarian machine — with the Supreme Court, the House, the Senate, and the executive pen all under its control. And you? You’re still asking for decorum and donations. WTF. That won’t save us. I don’t want to hear another polite floor speech. I want strategy. I want fire. I want action so bold it shifts the damn news cycle — not fits inside one. Every time I see something from the DNC, it’s asking me for funds. Surprise. Those of us who donate don’t want to keep sending money just to watch you stand frozen as the Constitution goes up in flames — shaking your heads and saying, “Well, there’s not much we can do. He has the majority.” I call bullshit. If you don’t know how to think outside the box… If you don’t know how to strategize… If you don’t know how to fight fire with fire… what the hell are we giving you money for? Some of us have two or three advanced degrees. Some of us have military training. Some of us know what coordinated resistance looks like — and this ain’t it. Yes, the tours around the country? Nice. The speeches? Nice. The clever congressional clapbacks? Nice. That was great for giving hope. Now we need action. You have to stop acting like this is a normal presidency that will just time out in four years. We’re not even at Day 90, and look at the chaos. Look at the disappearances. Look at the erosion of the judiciary, the press, and our rights. If you do not stop this, we will not make it 1,460 days. So here’s what I need from you — right now:

⸻

"1. Form an independent, civilian-powered investigative coalition. I’m talking experts. Veterans. Whistleblowers. Journalists. Watchdog orgs. Deputize the resistance. Build a real-time archive of corruption, overreach, and executive abuse. Make it public. Make it unshakable. Let the people drag the rot into the light. If you can’t hold formal hearings, hold public ones. If Congress won’t act, let the country act. This isn’t about optics — it’s about receipts. Because at some point, these people will be held accountable. And when that day comes, we’ll need every name, every signature, every illegal order, every act of silence—documented. You’re not just preserving truth — you’re preparing evidence for prosecution. The more they vanish people and weaponize data, the more we need truth in the sunlight.

⸻

"2. Join the International Criminal Court. Yes, I said it. Call their bluff. You cannot control what the other side does. But you can control your own integrity. So prove it. Prove that your party is still grounded in law, human rights, and ethical leadership. Join. If you’ve got nothing to hide — join. Show the world who’s hiding bodies, bribes, and buried bank accounts. Force the GOP to explain why they’d rather protect a war criminal than sign a treaty. And while you’re at it, publicly invite ICC observers into U.S. borders. Make this administration explain — on camera — why they’re terrified of international oversight.

⸻

"3. Fund state-level resistance infrastructure. Don’t just send postcards. Send resources. Channel DNC funds into rapid-response teams, legal defense coalitions, sanctuary networks, and digital security training. If the federal government is hijacked, build power underneath it. If the laws become tools of oppression, help people resist them legally, locally, and boldly. This is not campaign season — this is an authoritarian purge. Stop campaigning. Act like this is the end of democracy, because it is. We WILL REMEMBER the warriors come primaries. Fighting this regime should be your marketing strategy. And let’s be clear: The reason the other side always seems three steps ahead is because they ARE. They prepared for this. They infiltrated school boards, courts, local legislatures, and police unions. They built a machine while you wrote press releases. We’re reacting — they’ve been executing a plan for years. It’s time to shift from panic to blueprint. You should already be working with strategists and military minds on PROJECT 2029 — a coordinated, long-term plan to rebuild this country when the smoke clears. You should be publicly laying out: • The laws and amendments you’ll pass to ensure this never happens again • The systems you’ll tear down and the safeguards you’ll enshrine • The plan to hold perpetrators of human atrocities accountable • The urgent commitment to immediately bring home those sold into slavery in El Salvador You say you’re the party of the people? Then show the people the plan.

⸻

"4. Use your platform to educate the public on rights and resistance tactics. If they’re going to strip us of rights and lie about it — arm the people with truth. Text campaigns. Mass trainings. Downloadable “Know Your Rights” kits. Multilingual legal guides. Encrypted phone trees. Give people tools, not soundbites. We don’t need more slogans. We need survival manuals.

⸻

"5. Leverage international media and watchdogs. Stop hoping U.S. cable news will wake up. They’re too busy playing both sides of fascism. Feed the real stories to BBC, Al Jazeera, The Guardian, Reuters, Der Spiegel — hell, leak them to anonymous dropboxes if you have to. Make what’s happening in America a global scandal. And stop relying on platforms that are actively suppressing truth. Start leveraging Substack. Use Bluesky. That’s where the resistance is migrating. That’s where censorship hasn’t caught up. If the mainstream won’t carry the truth — outflank them. Get creative. Go underground. Go global. If our democracy is being dismantled in broad daylight, make sure the whole world sees it — and make sure we’re still able to say it.

⸻

"6. Create a digital safe haven for whistleblowers and defectors. Not everyone inside this regime is loyal. Some are scared. Some want out. Build the channels. Encrypted. Anonymous. Protected. Make it easy for the cracks in the system to become gaping holes. And while you’re at it? Stop ostracizing MAGA defectors. Everyone makes mistakes — even glaring, critical ones. We are not the bullies. We are not the ones filled with hate. And it is not your job to shame people who finally saw the fire and chose to step out of it. They will have to deal with that internal struggle — the guilt of putting a very dangerous and callous regime in power. But they’re already outnumbered. Don’t push them back into the crowd. We don’t need purity. We need numbers. We need people willing to burn their red hats and testify against the machine they helped build.

⸻

"7. Study the collapse—and the comeback. You should be learning from South Korea and how they managed their brief rule under dictatorship. They didn’t waste time chasing the one man with absolute immunity. They went after the structure. The aides. The enforcers. The loyalists. The architects. They knocked out the foundation one pillar at a time — until the “strongman” had no one left to stand on. And his power crumbled beneath him. You should be independently investigating every author of Project 2025, every aide who defies court orders, every communications director repeating lies, every policy writer enabling cruelty, every water boy who keeps this engine running. You can’t stop a regime by asking the king to sit down. You dismantle the throne he’s standing on — one coward at a time.

⸻

"Stop being scared to fight dirty when the other side is fighting to erase the damn Constitution. They are threatening to disappear AMERICANS. A M E R I C A N S. And your biggest move can’t be another strongly worded email. We don’t want your urgently fundraising subject lines. We want backbone. We want action. We want to know you’ll stand up before we’re all ordered to sit down — permanently. We are watching. And I don’t just mean your base. I mean millions of us who see exactly what’s happening. I’ve only got 6,000 followers — but the groups I’m in? The networks I touch? Over a quarter million. Often when I speak, it echoes. But when we ALL speak, it ROARS with pressure that will cause change. We need to be deafening. You still have a chance to do something historic. To be remembered for courage, not caution. To go down as the party that didn’t just watch the fall — but fought the hell back with everything they had. But the clock is ticking. And the deportation buses are idling."