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nmimsmbasolvedassignments-7 · 9 months ago

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How do I find customized NMIMS BBA 1st Sem Essentials of IT Solved Assignment

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dreamassignment-20000 · 1 year ago

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Dream Assignment Help: Your Trusted Case Study Assignment Assistance Worldwide

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dwayn · 1 year ago

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peepshow321 · 3 months ago

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TaskRaccoon Premium: Chapter 1

Josh was at a dead end. For years he had put his entire focus and energy on his education and studies, above his social life, his health, and his finances. He came top of his class in History and Classics and so in his head all that hard l work had paid off, but now that he had graduated... what was next? His classmates had swanned off into internships and graduate programmes, but Josh found himself in the summer after graduating with no job, no prospects and, most importantly, no money.

Josh's parents had supported him throughout his further education, but now that he was back home they decided to treat Josh like an adult. And that meant rent. Josh balked at the suggestion, but his parents were adamant and so Josh found himself on the job hunt.

This proved trickier than Josh anticipated. Turns out the local libraries and bookshops didn't care about his top degree; they wanted experience. And as Josh lowered his sights to restaurants, cafes, even the bowling alley, he found himself receiving the same feedback.

Needing to save making cash quick, a sympathetic interviewer told Josh to pick up the odd job on TaskRaccoon - an app where Josh could choose to help people with tasks like moving furniture, watering plants, doing shopping in exchange for a small fee. It wasn't perfect, especially as Josh didn't really have the build or inclination for manual jobs, and Josh often found himself doing jobs he never expected while at school. But over time Josh felt an unexpected satisfaction with earning a buck and paying his parents. So much so that Josh had bigger aspirations - moving out of his parents place.

That, of course, required money. And while Josh worked hard with the TaskRaccoon jobs he was given, he needed something more.

On a random Tuesday afternoon, a solution seemed to land out of nowhere on Josh's TaskRaccoon app: TaskRaccoon Premium. Out of nowhere, Josh's app pop-up with a link to a Premium version of the app. It was an additional service where workers such as Josh would get a boosted fee for the same types of tasks plus, according to the app, receive "all the skills and know-how to complete the task to perfection." Josh figured that last bit was maybe the app providing how-to guides on how to complete the more common tasks, which he took as a nice freebie.

To lure users in, there was even an offer - sign-up to TaskRaccoon Premium, perform a randomly assigned task, and receive double the boosted fee. Josh had done his fair share of the most common tasks on the app already (walk my dog, assemble my shelves, do my groceries) so figured it was well worth his while to take the gamble. And so Josh bit the bullet, sign up for a Premium account, and waited to be given his first random task.

Without any pause and without any fanfare, Josh's first random task appeared: "I need someone to clean my pool". Josh groaned; it wasn't the first time he had seen a pool cleaning request but it was one he always chose to ignore because he felt he didn't have any of the right equipment and would have no idea where to start. And while this new Premium version had offered access to "skills and know-how", there only thing on the app was an address. Josh couldn't even see an option to cancel.

Josh wavered, but as he saw the blue sky outside and remembered the promise of a doubled fee, he decided to go for it. He could rake some leaves out of a pool easily enough. The address was only a 15 minute drive away, so Josh grabbed the keys to his mum's sedan and got going.

It felt good to be outside and Josh enjoyed the sunny drive. So much so that he didn't notice his mum's humble car begin to change. The front section became blockier and more basic, her touchscreen sat nav becoming an older model. The seats and interior decor became faded, and Josh had to readjust his seating position as the car seemed to somehow lift off the ground. The steering wheel grew in size and, to match it, bizarrely, so did Josh's hands. Without warning, Josh's pale hands began to darken in complexion and as they grasped the now-rough wheel Josh didn't notice the veins that ran down with now lean and well-rounded hands.

Josh pulled up to a red light, momentarily confused about how he seemed to sit above the surrounding cars. He also felt cramped in the car and realised that his seat was pushed up way too far. He, a bit embarrassingly, was the same height as his mum so he never normally had to adjust the seat, but as he pushed the seat back he realised just how much he needed to stretch out his legs. As the light turned to green, he was oblivious to his jeans riding up and becoming a loose pair of swimming shorts, revealing his now lengthy and toned legs, feathered with dark hair.

Josh pulled up at the designated address shortly after, a sizeable house in a nice neighbourhood. As he got of the car, he was for a moment confused by his need to climb out of the car and then felt off balance when he landed on the tarmac. Before he could interrogate any further though, he looked in surprise at the pick-up truck boot filled with pool cleaning gear. A voice in the back of Josh's mind told him to panic - why the hell did he suddenly have all this gear - but remembering that he had a job to do Josh collected the gear and approached the house. Josh stopped en route to take his jumper off to enjoy the warm sun, not noticing the way his new well-fitted tank top which hung closely to his chest and showed off his slightly more toned arms or the darker shade of his skin...

Josh carried the gear with surprising ease to the front door, and was warmly welcomed by a middle-aged women who introduced herself as Beth. Beth showed Josh to her garden where a medium-sized pool sat, clearly long overdue a clean. Josh thanked Beth, pausing a little at the vague lilt coming out of his month. Was it just him, or just his voice sound deeper...

Josh got to work. The pool needed much more than just some leaves removed but with every task, Josh found himself instinctively knowing what to do. Which pump to use, when to apply chemicals, how to get the pH levels perfect, it all just flooded into Josh's mind. And he was surprised at how flexible he was at reaching all the right places - Josh didn't love manual jobs but he almost felt like his reach had gotten better. It was hot work though and Josh removed his baseball hat and towelled his brow and face, briefly feeling unfamiliar stubble on his face and thick short locks of hair on his scalp.

It wasn't long before Josh has completed his job, a sense of pride sweeping over him as he stared into the now pristine waters. That pride however quickly morphed into confusion as he gazed at the reflection in the shimmering water. Maybe it was distorted, but there was no way that that tall, dark reflection could be him. He was shirt, slender, pale, wasn't he?

He dropped his net and stared at his hands. His suddenly thick, dark hands. Josh began to breath sharply as he noticed just how high up he was, that he was in an outfit that he had never bought, and that his short, pale self had seemingly been replaced with a tanned, lean body.

As Josh was clutching at his newly stubbled face and grasping at the space where his small paunch should be, Beth came out with a pitcher of cool lemonade. Josh spun around in panic, and before Beth could say anything he muttered "lo siento" and ran back to his car.

Josh stopped sharply outside as he stared at the beaten up pick up truck outside Beth's drive, a truck that sat where he thought his mum's sedan should be. A truck that keys in his pocket unlocked. Breathing deeply, and trying his best not to panic, he clampered into the car and pulled down the mirror, staring at the unfamiliar dark eyes that stared back at him. Dark eyes amongst a handsome face, with a strong chin covered in thick but trimmed stubble and framed by dark, tightly curled locks. "What the fuck" Josh uttered, eyes widening at the accented deep voice that emerged.

Josh explored his tightly muscled body now covered in a light sweat when his phone pinged. He unlocked it - the phone recognised his face even if Josh didn't - and the TaskRaccoon app popped up, showing a task completed and $500 dollars deposited in his account.

But what kept Josh's eye though were the other task options appearing. There were more pool cleaning jobs, but also other tasks ranging from moving furniture, plumbing, and even covering people's work shifts. Josh noted that there was an option to cancel his "Premium" membership, but some of the fees weren't to be sniffed at. His breathing calmed down and Josh sat into his car seat, and pondered his options.

Chapter 2

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Hi all!

Some of you may have seen this story on other sites, but I'm bringing it to Tumblr for the first time and with pics! There will also be some small tweaks as I post over the next few weeks.

As always, welcome any feedback or chats!

#race change #male tf #racial transformation #male transformation #whitetolatino #mywork #TaskRaccoon #poolboy #reality change

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imaginedreamwrite · 3 months ago

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Pretty Little Thing

Part 1: Searching

Congratulations! Your acceptance into the North American omega matchmaking service has been approved!

You will have a week to pack any personal items you would like to bring with you to the secure omega housing headquarters. After you had completed your preliminary check-in process, you will be assigned a housing unit, and then the matchmaking can begin.

Thank you for your cooperation in the official omega matchmaking service and remember that any funds you have collected will not be accessible until you have been chosen, or until the time has come when your contract is over.

The letter was slightly crumpled in your hands and your attempt to smooth the paper was not entirely successful. Either way, crumpled or not, the letter was official and had been stamped by two representatives in the matchmaking service. Your acceptance was now guaranteed and you would be given a place among the omega housing headquarters. Until you were chosen or your contract was over, you would be kept in the secure housing facility and only permitted to the grounds of the facility.

You were unsure if you would even be accepted into the matchmaking service to begin with. You were closing in on your mid-twenties which was pushing the envelope of their accepted ages, however you had another demerit against you. Not only were you on the cusp of being in your mid-twenties but you were also pregnant with an alpha’s baby that wanted nothing to do with you.

You were determined to carry this baby, to raise it even if that meant potentially raising it alone and without much of a support system. The decision to raise this baby when it was born had been the driving factor that made you apply for the omega matchmaking service to begin with. There were incentives to signing up, the agency would give every volunteering omega a sum of money that they would keep upon leaving the facility—whether they were mated or not.

The matchmaking service was tied into international agencies that were coming together for a mutual goal of providing omega’s good and strong alpha’s. After a surge of violence against omega’s had started to have negative connotations, an international solution was proposed.

It was a crisis that was seen across the world, the amount of omega’s willing to mate were steadily decreasing as the number of aggressive alpha’s had increased. It was an epidemic that was being dealt with swiftly and in a manner that protected the omega’s. And as such, the volunteers who signed up for the matchmaking services were rewarded for their participation.

The process itself was grueling, taxing for the alpha’s who had wanted to be matched with an omega. There were physical and mental tests, meetings with psychiatrists and medical doctors, and no small number of financial and emotional obligations.

The alpha’s had to prove they could provide for their omega, give them a stable life outside of the facility. If they had failed, the application to be matched was scrapped and they had one more attempt to be matched. If the alpha failed again to prove they were emotionally, physically and mentally stable enough to provide for an omega, they would be barred from the service.

When you had applied to join the matchmaking service, you were told that the likelihood of you actually receiving a match would be slim. You were going to be the oldest omega in the house and you were pregnant, carrying another man’s baby was likely going to be a detriment. Though they hadn’t said it was impossible, the agency was really just setting you up for the potential of failing, of being denied.

Even if you were, the money you would have for signing up and being accepted, would be enough of a jumpstart for you and your baby. It was beneficial either way, no loss one way or another, and you wanted to do the very best for your baby that you could.

Which is how you found yourself standing on the steps of the omega housing facility, transported from the headquarters to the housing unit you had been assigned. It had been a week since you received the acceptance letter, the one still rumpled in your hand, and now it was too late to turn back. You were, you would, be accepted into the house and this is where your journey would begin.

As you waited for the escort assigned to show you around the housing unit and the property, you took another glance at the letter in your hand. You had been given a week to pack anything you wanted to take with you into the house, of course they would have to be further approved for the safety of the other omega’s. Once they were approved at the headquarters where you received your housing assignment, they were packed away in a special bag with your initials and housing unit on a tag.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” the front door opened and a woman stood on the other side, her hair pulled up and out of her face, “we had two omega’s leave today after being successfully matched. Come in, we have a lot to get through.”

You stepped through the door, listening as it was shut and clocked behind you. Upon stepping into the housing unit, you had taken your first official look at the interior.

There were two floors above the main floor, with a winding staircase that led from the main floor to the upper floors, and hallways that branched out into rooms. From where you were standing, there was a communal kitchen off to the right of the entrance, hidden by a set of swinging double doors. On the left was a series of closed doors with silver engraved plates that explained the purpose of the room: study, library, multipurpose room.

“The kitchen is off to the right, there is a chef that comes in a few days a week, however you are welcome to use the kitchen whenever you want. Off to the left are some rooms that you can use at your leisure, of course there’s the garden at the back and a swimming pool. On the upper levels are the bedrooms, oh and the laundry-” Your escort and tour guide had begun her explanation, first just waving her hand in the direction of the rooms.

Once she had begun walking toward the staircase you were quick to follow her, taking every step with calculated caution. You weren’t so much on edge because of the facility itself or the omega’s that resided here, rather you were on edge because you didn’t know what to expect next. And while you had built up this idea that this would be stress-free, you had pinned your hopes on this matchmaking services. You'd be spending your time in a secure house for omega’s where you could focus on your pregnancy until you were chosen or the contract ended.

You were doing this for your baby, but the possibility of rejection was a reality that you wouldn’t have really wanted to face.

“Your room,” the escort had stopped by a door on the left side of the second floor, your name written in fancy scrawl on the silver nameplate attached to the door, “there is a schedule for breakfast, lunch and dinner. There is a doctor who comes to the house once a month to check on the omega’s here, because you’re pregnant and your appointment will take longer, you will see the doctor last.”

You stepped into the room and set your bag down on the floor in order to take a long look around the room. While it was basic with a double sized bed, a dresser and closet, it felt comfortable and there wasn’t a barrage of scents to overwhelm you. In fact the room was rather lacking in any additional scents, and you had imagined that was to ease the new omega’s. At least until they could get settled and their scents could takeover the room.

“I’ll let you put your things away and get used to the room. I'll come grab you in an hour and introduce you to the other omega’s.” The escort hadn’t given you much more than that before she left you alone, closing the door behind her.

You walked further into the small room and slowly turned, your eyes taking in every inch of this room that you could. This was going to be your new normal for the foreseeable future, until you got chosen or your contract ended.

The computer in front of John was open and the potential matches were sent on a secure file to the head of their pack. He had scoured through the images of the omega’s with the intent of being one of the voices that would choose an omega for the four of them. As he looked through the files that were sent his way, there was a lingering disappointment that had reflected the lackluster interest in these omega’s.

“Haven’t found one yet?” Ghost spoke from the doorway, his face obscured with the balaclava and his voice muffled. “We’ve been looking for weeks, Price.”

He knew that. He knew that their pack felt incomplete without an omega, and his alphas were getting restless without an omega to balance them out. They had all relayed their desire to have an omega between them, to have someone to care for and protect as alpha’s were designed to do. It was well and good having alpha’s that were bonded, mated and marked, but they each felt as if they were missing something in their pack.

Their desire to have an omega had led them to use a matchmaking service within the UK that would hopefully bring them an omega they desired. After weeks of searching, they had agreed to meet two omega’s, one in Scotland and one in London, however nothing panned out. There was always something about the omega’s they had met, or had seen through the agency, that deterred them.

“Thinking too local, Cap. Gotta go international.” Gaz had joined Ghost in Price’s office, taking his place on the couch to relax and enjoy the company of his mates. As he kicked up his feet, he leaned back against the armrest and yanked his hat down to cover his face. He closed his eyes and listened to the grumbling of Captain Price, a sound that had almost become ASMR at this point.

“International,” Johnny was next to join the room, unceremoniously dropping himself upon Gaz, smirking when the other sergeant grunted and then growled, “is the key.”

“I am international, Soap.” Price had looked over the edge of the computer screen toward the two youngest members of the pack.

He watched them with interest as Soap and Gaz had tussled over their positions on the couch. After he had lost interest, Price had looked back at his screen, finding himself once again disillusioned with the omega’s he was shown.

Heard you needed a little help finding an omega, I have a friend who works for an agency in the US. She thought you might like their newest applicant – Kate

The newest encrypted email that lands in his inbox contains information about a single omega—one single woman that had just been accepted to the matchmaking service a week prior. The image that’s embedded in the email isn’t the first detail that draws his attention, rather it’s the note attached to the top of the file.

With emboldened letters, PREGNANT, first draws his attention as it’s attached to the picture of the omega.

“Fuck,” John curses under his breath as he feels the shift in his hindbrain and felt the irrevocable draw to almost immediately offer to meet this omega. And then, as he scrolls down your file to read further details, he comes across additional pictures and your age.

One of the problems with these other omega’s that were in the service were their age. He and the pack had agreed that having a younger omega between the ages of 18-22 were too young for them. They hadn’t wanted an omega who was freshly in their adult years and had no experience dealing with alpha’s--no, they had concluded as a pack that they wanted someone closer to Johnny and Gaz’s age.

And this omega, whose image and details had enraptured him, was fitting every single desire they had.

You were among the oldest of the omega’s in that housing facility, only 6 months away from your mid-twenties, only a year younger than Gaz and Johnny. According to your file, you were pregnant from an ex alpha that didn’t want to be involved. You had applied for the matchmaking service even if you knew there was a possibility that you would not get chosen.

“You good, cap?” Gaz had finally settled himself on the couch, his legs entangled with Johnny’s.

“I think we finally have a potential match.” Price had lifted his head and looked at Ghost first, motioning him over toward the computer to look at this file—this omega that could be theirs.

Ghost leaned over the desk and stared at the same file that Price was looking at, the same picture and the same information that Price couldn’t stop thinking about. There was a subtle acceptance that had passed from Ghost to Price and back again.

“Let’s meet her.”

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papathe5th · 3 months ago

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IN THE SHADOW OF THE NAZARENE, I PUT MY LOVE IN YOU

Pairing: Papa V Perpetua x f!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning(s): power imbalance, D/s undertones, degradation, claw play, spitting, scarring

I started writing this before the release of Chapter 20. The following 4700 words have a sprinkling of my own head canon concerning V's childhood, and, obviously, heavily feature my own dreams of what he'd be like as a lover.

After weeks of retouching his make-up backstage, tonight you get to see Papa V Perpetua’s face for the very first time.

Before Ghost hit the road for the Skeletour, Frater Imperator assigned you to be the make-up artist and hair stylist of the leading man, the newly anointed Papa V Perpetua who had yet to let anyone see him without the stage make-up, or one of several masks, before tonight. He had been applying it all by himself, never allowing you to do anything more than fix the face paint and restyle his hair between sets and costume changes.

Tonight is the first time he requests your services after a ritual has already ended. It was the first night he got to sleep in a real bed instead of the bunks in the tour bus. It is also the first night you were alone with him between four walls.

“What do they put in these products?” He greets you, voice raspy from not just one, but two encores.

His mask is off, but the paint is smeared all over his face in a gray gradient. Between the thick strokes of the make-up removing cotton pads, you spot his irritated, blushing, bare skin. The blush spreads to his ears, down his neck and past his collar bone where you see the sliver of pale skin uncovered by his unbuttoned purple shirt.

It feels forbidden to glance at him in this state, but he commands you to raise your head and look at him.

“You see this? My face is burning off!”

“May I speak freely, Your Unholiness?” You finally find your voice.

“You may,” his voice cracks, and it tugs at your heartstrings like an out of tune guitar riff.

“You must be exhausted after the ritual, so you must’ve forgotten the moisturising gel I packed in your make-up kit,” you cover your presumptuous mouth, your cheeks burning as brightly as the Papa’s appears to be. You bow your head, staring at the carpet again. “Forgive me, Papa.”

He sighs, drained and - dare you think it? - defeated. “I did forget about the fucking gel.”

You hear the sound of glass knocking against glass. He must be pouring himself a drink; you never knew he drank, and you bite your tongue instead of advising him against putting ice in his whiskey. The Clergy would hate for him to ruin his voice. And you’d hate not having to hear him speak, even if it is to give you a verbal lashing.

The lashing never came. Now, relaxing your shoulders and inhaling a breath, you wait to be dismissed for the rest of the night and the morning he’ll most likely be sleeping through. Instead, you hear Papa’s irritation as he ransacks the make-up bag. “What does it even look like?”

He gives up his search. Pouring another glass, he invited you to sit. However, he didn’t mean the armchair across from him and on the other side of the coffee table filled with beauty products and hard liquor. “Come on,” he says, not raising his voice, but rather his entire body, then resting it on a pillow that was tossed on the feet of the chair. “Let’s get this shit off my face.

“Forgive me,” you clear your voice, remembering you had one. When you remember you also have a pair of legs, you walk to the armchair that Papa freed, and warmed, for you.

“No more apologies,” he sighs again and you feel his breath blowing between your weakened knees. He places the make-up kit on your thighs and it covers up the trembling.

You have no choice but to look at him, the damage he had done to his face with the paint removal solution, the strokes of gray and his two-coloured eyes. There was a third color you found inside both of them: blood-shot red.

You warn him the cream is aloe vera and that it will feel like ice on his burning skin.

“Sounds like the Ninth Circle.” He closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and lets his lips twitch into a smirk.

Papa V Perpetua is bare faced and open hearted at your feet and you don’t know what to do with all this power. Having the public-facing image of the Clergy in your care is too much responsibility, but it was also your destiny. You can’t have doubt. Not now.

Your hands are shaking as you apply the ale, not making direct contact with his skin, but still feeling his stubble through the gen-filled cotton pad. His is pale under all that pink blush and red rash, and you notice healed, white, raised scars around his cheek bones and on his forehead. There must've been a real fire that actually burned his skin a lifetime ago. Your heart breaks for him, but you have to put yourself together again in silence.

Papa sighs once more and it’s a relief. “Thank Satan.” He opens his eyes and looks up at you with heavy lids, licking his lips. “And my mouth?”

The paint is all but gone from his lips, most of it on the whiskey glass he is still holding. Still, you wet them with the gel and made them shimmering, swollen and kissable.

No. You mustn’t think of him as you would a mortal man. He stands above you and your kind. The Ministry saved you from the cruelty of God and gave you a home in the new world Satan will burn to ashes and build anew with his infernal devices. And He has given you His Son to serve.

“Thank you,” he sighs, this time over your fidgeting fingers. You are thankful he closed his eyes again and blindly took a swing out of his glass. “It’s all over my mouth, isn’t it?” He smacks his lips and allows another smirk to cross them.

The paint he smeared on the glass was stamped back onto his mouth. It was nothing more than a spot of black, but you laughed like he was wearing a clown’s smile.

It takes him opening his eyes wide like he is awaking from a deep slumber for you to cover your face in shame. Again. You are reminded that you are seeing his face. And he looks as if he realized it for the first time tonight.

“Forgive m—”

“For Satan’s sake,” he slammed the glass back onto the coffee table. “I’ve already forgiven you”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Your Unholiness,” you bow your head, but you are at eye level with him now. You can’t hide from Papa V Perpetua.

“You speak so lowly of yourself,” he whispers, and you feel the warmth radiating from his mouth into the crown of your hair like a kiss. “My brother speaks highly of you. He said you were a true believer, a natural-born follower, and a pretty face I can look at while in the make-up chair.”

You snap your eyes open in shock. This is the longest he’s ever spoken to you, the longest you’ve shared the same space, and you feel like this might be the last time. Yet, here you both are, sharing a single breath.

“I didn’t want a distraction, no matter how pretty. He said that I’ll be thanking him after the fifth or sixth night spent alone with nothing but the echoes of my adoring followers to keep me company. As I look at you, they’re still ringing in my ears, vibrating in my veins. I’ve never suffered this…affliction. My heart…it’s about to burst.”

You want to relieve him of this torture, to lift the burden from his shoulders. After all, Frater Imperator entrusted you to get him back into shape in every meaning of the word.

“It’s Copia who should be seeking my forgiveness. You are a distraction,” he searches your eyes and you have nothing more to hide from him. One eye chilled you and the other melted you.

“Is this my punishment?” You hear yourself ask, but you aren’t sure what answer you are expecting. “Am I being sent back to Frater Imperator?”

“And admit defeat?” His Unholiness sounds petulant, like a child. You hear the depth of a man in the voice, and the shallowness of a little boy. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You are almost out of the breath he shared with you before he blew more air out his nose over your forehead. He is kneeling before you, yet you felt the tilt in the balance of power. It was once again in its rightful position: Papa V Perpetua’s.

“You want punishment?” He raises to his feet so fast, your entire body jumps back into the armchair. The bag in your lap falling and your knees hitting your chest. “I’ll give you your punishment!”

Your eyes are wide as you follow him around the room, He slams the glass back down next to you, on the coffee table before rushing to the suitcase. He searches through it, turning it upside down when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. “Where the fuck did I put them?”

“On the bed,” you speak, your voice small. He turns around in one quick twirl and his curls follow, a few fall on his still sticky forehead and you’ve never seen anything more radiant. You had only touched his hair with a brush, an extension of your fingers.

“I knew it,” he snaps you out of your reverie. “I knew you wanted me to get my claws on you!” When he moves again, it’s to leap atop the bed and grab the gloves.

You watch him put his claws on, freezing and melting all at once. It takes him longer than usual, or maybe your perception of time is distorted by the anticipation. Your sense of space is just as warped, feeling like you want to bury yourself in the armchair and jump in bed next to him at the same time. Unable to decide for yourself, you await his command which couldn’t come any sooner.

“Come here, carrisima,” he pants, tired from the struggle of slipping the gloves back on, the rituals, the road, and all the alcohol he drank to make him even more of a somnambulist. “Come get your punishment!”

With him making the decision for you, your feet meet the floor, and you leap onto the mattress. Because he is sitting up on his knees, you lay yourself under him, on your back. He wasn’t hiding from you anymore and you couldn’t hide from him;

“You do have a pretty face,” Papa licks his lips that are still shining from the gel. “Copia must’ve been staring at it for years.” He rams the tips of his claws through the tassels on his forehead, but to no avail. The curls bounce back, forcing him to lower his face to get a better look at yours;

“How many years have you been with the Clergy? Six? That’s more than I have.” His breath is warm and you taste whiskey in the air. And, once again, you melt and freeze up as he traces the lengh your jaw with a single claw.

“I wish I were the one who delivered you from God, rescued you from the monastery. I had to save myself from the Church, did you know that? The Ministry didn’t even know I existed before Satan guided me to their doorstep like a Morning Star.”

His voice overpowers your thoughts and his touch governs your every nerve.

“I know all about divine punishment. And I know you do, too,” The slow stroke of his claw finally reaches your chin. “Open up,” he orders, his breath kissing your parted lips;

At last, you let your mouth fall open and release a relieved sigh. It was freeing, leaving your fate in his hands. And his claws.

“Tongue out.” You roll it like a red carpet and welcome the tip of the index as he dips in the pool of drool. He reaches the back of your mouth and you involuntarily gag. “Suck,” he looks deep into your eyes, water now filling them like wells. You scrunch them shut and suck it in deeper, fighting the feeling of your stomach leaping into your throat.

Papa pulls out, and you see a smile through the tears; “It’s true then? You’re a natural-born submissive?”

Because you can’t speak through the coughs, you nod. You probably don’t look as pretty now, all red and puffy, but both of his eyes appear to shine down on you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“And you’re my brother’s offering to me.” He blows air through his nose, apparently in amusement. “He knows me better than I thought. Which is not at all.” He wraps his own lips around the claw to taste you. “Sweet. Like I knew you’d be.”

You stop coughing, but you also stop breathing. Seeing that your throat is cleared now, he returns his claws to your lips and you open it without a single word from him. And he slides two of them on your tongue.

“You’re a fast learner,” Papa purses his lips, his red, bare face scrunched in concentration as he makes you choke again.

You moan louder than you choke this time and have the privilege of seeing Papa V Perpetua swallow a big lump that makes his Adam’s apple bob. You are not the only one whose mouth is watering. And when he pulls out again, you mourn the feeling of being filled.

“Does it hurt as good as you wanted it to?” He speaks, and his breath is hot and humid.

“Yes, Papa,” you struggle to clear your throat. “T-thank you, Papa.” You squeeze your thighs together and keep your hands on either side of them. Your mouth is not the only one being flooded.

“Oh, but we’re not done here,” Papa licks you off of his talons, tonguing them to the tip. With the other, dry pair, he snatches the side of your face and sinks the sharp ends of them into your burning cheeks. “Open.”

He watches intently as you open your mouth even wider than before. His own mouth closes in on yours, but they don’t make contact. He spits into the back of your throat instead. “Swallow.”

This time, your moan is not restricted and it flies freely out of you. NO longer could you control it, like you could no longer hold your hands at your sides. So you slip your fingers between your thighs.

“No,” he snarls, scratching your cheek as he moves his hand towards yours. He grabs your wrists and wrangles them away from your crotch and above your head. “Your pain is mine. And so is your pleasure.”

“Yes, Papa,” you swallow, tasting him like a load of lead that splashes in your aching stomach. Or, maybe, it’s your heart that aches so. And you pray that the feeling will not subside.

The second “no,” is softer and feels as cooling as aloe vera on your now stinging cheek. “Your pretty face.” He strokes the sensitive skin with the pads of the glove. “You’ll need to moisturise that.” His other hand squeezes your wrists when he feels you flexing underneath him.

You can hardly hear him from your heart beating in your eardrums, but you guess he groans out “Sit still.” Releasing your cheek, he rakes his claws down your shirt until it catches and rips. And that sound you do hear. Loud and clear.

When he traces the talons up your torso and between your breasts, it tickles and his smirk returns as you twitch under his touch. You focus on his face, drinking it in like he emptied that whiskey bottle. Without the make-up and mask, he looks like he knows all about punishment. The healed scars are not from shaving blades.

You’re snapped back into the present by him pulling on the bra and pushing it up to your neck. You follow his movement with your back, arching it and lifting your chest.

He inhales deeply like he’s trying to inhale the sweat forming on your chest. “What did I say about sitting still?” He exhales all over your hot, wet skin and chills you. And, before you could beg him from forgiveness again, he traps your torso between his thighs as he straddles it.

He knocks the wind out of you, putting more power into the fist around your wrists and more punishment into the hold he now has on your face. After basking in your watery eyes and wet lips for a few more breaths, Papa releases your hands and combs the hair out of your face with his claws.

Now, with a tenderness only you have shown him tonight, he cups your face in both hands and speaks as softly as his sore throat allows: “Won’t you unzip me, carissima? I’m…incapacitated at the moment.” As if to reinforce the idea, he taps the thumb talons against your cheekbones.

“Oh, yes, Papa,” You nod, an excited gesture that was constrained by the hands cupping your face. Your own hands are sweating, shaking as they unfasten the belt, unbutton and then pull down the zipper that is straining over his bulge.

He watches you, chin resting against his chest, hair a halo around his face. And you look up at him in all his bare-faced glory.

His cock is hot and heavy as it weighs between your breasts. You hold your breath as you behold it, how its head shines and its veins swell and it seems to you both soft and hard.

And he must have trouble breathing even without the weight of an erection on his chest, because he pops a few buttons as he pulls his shirt open. “You’ll take it all, won’t you?”

You open your mouth, wider than the last two times he ordered it of you. He looks big from where you are and you will at the very least try to take all of him inside.

He cocks his head to the side, admiring you in all your sweet submissiveness. His hands move to the back of your head and he raises it so your soft tongue meets his hardness.

“Take a deep breath,” he says between his gritted teeth, holding himself back for one more agonising moment. After you inhale, he slides down on your tongue like his clawed fingers have done before.

You are gagging as soon as he meets the back of your throat, but that doesn’t slow him down. It urges him on instead. So you focus on the claws combing through your hair, the sweet sting of the scratches on your face as your tears roll over them. And you let the world disappear until all you can hear is Papa V Perpetua moaning above you.

There is power even in this lowly position. You’ve given him release from the pain with your expertise and now, even without the proper experience, you are giving him pleasure. With a surge of confidence that could be confused with madness, you make up for your gag reflex by wrapping your hands around the rest of him.

Papa gasps, surprised to feel your smooth hands around him. He stops to straighten his back and hold himself still for long enough to pull a hand out of your hair and pluck out one of yours. Bringing your hand up to his mouth, he kisses the back of it first before turning it over and spitting in the palm.

You make a surprised sound that sends shock waves through him and he can’t control his hips as they roll and the head reaches the back of your throat again.

“Do it again!” He commands you, but it sounds more like a prayer. Whatever it is, you listen and you fasten your fingers around his hardness again and make another sweet sound to surround the rest of him. “That’s it! That’s a good girl!”

His spit on your fingers makes the glide much smoother and you welcome him in as he slides in and out of your mouth with more of your moans.

“Are you ready for me? Are you ready to take it all? Like a good girl?”

It’s urgent and his voice cracks, making your heart swell instead of breaking this time around. So you make your best attempt at sucking him even deeper than your body allows. And your effort pays off when he keels over you for the last time.

If you taste sweet to him, he tastes salty to you. His flavour is most like your own tear which you haven’t stopped leaking since you took him inside your mouth and down your throat. And salty might just become your favorite flavour after tonight.

As he pulls out, you are free to inhale again and taste him on your full pallet, not just the back of it. And your Papa sounds about as winded as you do as he pants above you, one hand next to your head, holding him up, and another around yours. He is guiding it along his girth as he spills the last of his seed on your face.

“Carissima,” he exhales, and you allow yourself to do the same. “Carrisima mea,” he smirks again, but you can’t see it through the tears or the shadows on his face. All you know is that he glides his glove across your face and snowballs the semen into your mouth so that you can take all of him inside.

Papa lifts himself off your chest and falls on his back next to you. Your head is still spinning and your saliva is still salty as you inhale deeply, free of the punishing pressure he put on you. You miss it already.

You didn’t hear him zip up his fly, but you do see his cheeks are the reddest you’ve ever seen all night. Or ever, for that matter. His lips are also swollen, like blood is rushing to them.

You’re so captivated by him, you don’t catch the dark shadow looking over you before it falls on your face and strokes your scratched cheek. “You took your punishment well,” he moves his lips. “But how well can you handle pleasure?” He stretches them into a smile. “Take them off.”

Seeing as you were still floating, still high from the lack of oxygen and his intoxicating words of praise, he gets back on his knees and pushes your torn shirt and bra over your head before pulling them off of your arms. You are slow to respond, but you do make it to your bottoms and wriggle out of them under his scrutiny.

Perpetua sniffs the air and closes his eyes. Everything else seems to disappear and all that he now knows is that you’re ready for the pleasures he threatened you with. When he opens his eyes again, both are blown out and black as they are zoomed in on what you are trying to hide from him between your thighs.

“Show me,” he demands, his voice deep like it has sunk into his chest. You think you hear a rumbling there as you slowly separate your legs. And, since you are not moving fast enough for him, he sinks his claws into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and spreads them on either side of his hips. “No,” he says, still staring at your wet, swollen lips. He must’ve felt your fingers twitching, itching to slide inside all that slickness. “This is all mine.”

With the leather pads of his thumbs, he spreads your lips apart, and fills the gap he made with his own wet, warm spit.

You throw your head back, and your back lifts off of the sheets as you struggle against his strong hold. Your mind has no hold on your body anymore. It’s all his now.

“Pleasure can be more punishing than pain,” he says and it sounds like a smile. “But you want to be punished, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you answer it with a nod and your hands join in prayer between your breasts.

He throws his head back and his hair out of his face as he straightens his back and stands back on his hind legs. He brings you with him, lifting your ass on his folded legs and fastening yours around his waist. When you squeak in surprise to have your mound meet the silver buckle of his belt, he sinks his claws into your hips to keep you from moving a muscle.

“No hands, no claws, no cock.” Papa rolls his hips and the filigree rubs against you. “This is your punishment.”

He watches your wanton movements, your hips struggling against his sharp grip and your legs squeezing his waist. He listens to you recite his title like a pslam, peppering the sweetest of sounds in-between syllables. The friction sets a fire between the cool silver and your wet lips. And inside your belly.

“Come,” he commands. “Come for me,” he repeats himself with the same urgency your body is moving while you're climbing the high. But you don’t stop sorring until Papa takes pity on you and spits on the bud that’s been burning for a warm touch.

Your orgasm is loud, your pleasure now a public offering because you can’t even pretend the other people on this hotel floor didn’t hear you call for your Papa’s cock. And you keep your hands to yourself through it all, for the entire trip you take back to earth and the journey back to the sheets beneath you. The pleasure was blinding, deafening and even paralyzing. You barely feel the claws that are carving into the patch of skin above your pelvis.

“Your pain, your pleasure,” he looks at his work with pride, licking the little blood that got on his claws. “Your everything,” he looks at you, eyes half-lidded and face half-obscured by shade. “You’re mine.”

You’re so focused on the movements of his mouth that you don’t hear the knocking on the door. But he does. So you watch him slide off the bed and stumble towards his suitcase. He removes his gloves by pulling on the sharp claws with his teeth and then gets his hands on the silver mask. On his way to the door, he slips it onto the upper part of his face. And, as if casting a glamour, he is once again the Clergy’s public image.

With him out of sight and out of your hearing range, you fight the tears of relief and the ringing in your ear to lift yourself into a sitting position. And, since your abdomen is in range, you blink the tears away to see the attempt at a signature Papa had made on the soft flesh of your abdomen, just above your pubic area: V

When he returns at the edge of the bed he is holding up the sign he forgot to hang on the door. Blinking, you read the words DO NOT DISTURB on it.

“Was I that loud?” You try moving to the edge of the bed, but he insists on giving you a hand.

Holding onto both of your hands. “You were as loud as I allowed, so don’t let me hear you apologize.” His voice is raspy and it brings you back to the moment you entered the room and he was dehydrated.

“You need a drink,” you clear your own voice. “Water. Tea, even.” You’re still trembling, tenderized from the punishing pleasure he bestowed upon you. Even so, there is a surge of strength running through your veins, and you reach out your hand to wipe the little bit of paint that was stuck to his chapped lips. “And you need to skip directly to the moisturizing gel next time.”

“You’re gonna have to remind me again,” he sighs, his shoulders slacking, and keep your hand next to his lips long enough for him to kiss each finger.

There is indeed power in this lowly position and you stand a little straighter, a little prouder in all your nakedness.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His eyes shoot into yours from inside the skull shaped mask. It is another order, the last of the night. “I’m making use of this.” Papa V Perpetua returns to the door where he now hangs the sign. “I need to sleep and you need to apply my make-up as soon as I wake up.”

#the band ghost #papa v perpetua x reader #papa v perpetua #fan fic #fan fiction #ghost #ghost bc #papa v #papa 5

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ms-demeanor · 3 months ago

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More workmusing incoming.

(updated with more info)

I'm trying to figure out whether a problem that I'm stumbling across is incompetence or embezzling.

I don't *think* it's embezzling, and there's enough general incompetence floating around that it's totally possible that people just straight-up don't know about this problem.

The issue that I'm having here is with the escalation chain. My direct manager is the previous person who oversaw the current pile of dogshit that I'm poking at, and I have no idea what's going to happen if I present my findings to him alone.

I'm wondering if it's worthwhile to ambush him and his manager in a meeting we're all in together instead of just sending the info to only my manager.

I'm wondering how exceptionally shitty it would be for me to BCC my grandboss if I send this as an email.

I've already asked my direct manger for permission to throw a ton of time into investigating this because I think this is probably something that the exec team would want to have as priority 1, but if he says "no, that's not a big deal" do I just trust him that there's a solution in the works or do I go around him?

I am also not poking at this dogshit under anyone's orders, it is dogshit that is peripheral to a recurring process that I'm now overseeing.

But long story short, on a monthly basis we're charging clients $600 for something that costs us $800. Not total; per client. It's costing us thousands of dollars each month.

It is very weird to me that I have found something that seems that egregious and I'm waffling about telling my manager and am worried about being reprimanded if I tell somebody else.

There is another manager who is not actually my manager, and I know this, but it would be nice to get advice from someone who is not in the direct chain of command so in a private conversation I basically asked him what he would do in this situation and his comment was "I'm not your manager so that's not my problem" and. Yeah. I know that. I get that, my guy. I'm asking for advice or some guidance or some shit; you've been here longer than I have, you get paid more than I do, and you've known my manager for twelve years.

The second guy is very raw that he wasn't picked to be a manager and he got put on the management team only after someone quit very suddenly and we needed to fill a gap. He says he wants to be a manager, he wants responsibility, but if anybody asks him for help or advice he's just like "not my problem, figure it out" or (literally his favorite answer) "I don't care." He's salty that people aren't describing him as part of the leadership team and that the execs aren't putting any faith in him as a manager but. MY GUY. MY DUDE. BUD.

Like, I get that if I drop these problems and just let whatever happens happen that's kind of shitty, but it literally isn't my job. I'm very much a cog in the machine and I can get away with "well nobody told me to do that/it wasn't assigned to me/that's not my department" if I want to. But I didn't ask to be made a manager, and I certainly didn't get that pay bump. I am so deeply annoyed at this guy whining that he's not being respected as a manager while I'm watching him refuse to do anything outside of what he's been explicitly instructed to do.

___________________________

Basically we know what we're charging customers, but we don't know what we're paying for the services we're charging them for.

Let's say that someone has the Teapot Polishing Bundle, which includes teapot polish, paint touchups, ceramic wax, stain remover, and we've recently added a handle shine and spout grouting.

An example client has signed up for 100 of the polishing bundles each month, and I'm looking at what services they're actually getting.

They've got 100 bundles, but they're using 130 pot polishes, 70 paint touchups, 60 bottles of ceramic wax, and 100 stain removers. They're also using 115 handle shines and 200 cases of spout grout, but we never added the cost of the latter two services to the package.

There are two massive problems with this bundle:

I can't adjust the individual service counts to get an accurate picture of how much the client is actually using (and therefore how much they are actually costing us) (basically I have to do license counts every month and the only accurate count of all services is in my excel document from month to month and TODAY I realized we're not billing for two of these services)

We need to be charging for the two added services.

So the assumed cost of the bundle is $8 per teapot, but the services they're actually using when broken down are costing us $12 per teapot, and the client has a big discount for the bundle overall (60% off the normal price, which is true for a couple dozen of our clients) so we're only charging them $10 per teapot for the bundle.

for THIS customer, and customers with the same discount, we're losing money. It's totally possible that we have a different subset of customers who are being overcharged for services that are no longer included in their bundles.

________________________________

Also the first time I did this count was February, I did it with supervision in March, and this is my first time doing it all alone, and both the previous months I got told "we'll worry about the miscounts later" by my boss and the exec who used to do the count. There is a vague awareness that the counts are wrong, but this is the first time I've done math on it and I'm not sure if I'm going to have clearance/approval to do the same level of detailed analysis for the bundles for people outside the group of 15 clients (we have about 300 clients)

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nmimsmbasolvedassignments-7 · 9 months ago

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scarfacemarston · 8 months ago

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Natasha Romanoff A-Z Fluff Alphabet

As requested! Please think about "liking" and reblogging! These posts take time. Feel free to request anything else.

A - Affection (how do they show affection to their s/o)

Natasha is more subtle in her affection - but not always! She tends to be more jovial and more likely to grin, one that reaches her eyes, when she's with you. She might playfully punch you on the shoulder, lean on you, or pull on your wrist. Sometimes, it's whispering sweet things in your ear, showing up with your favorite takeout after a long day, or a snuggle session, but in general, she gives love through acts of service for you.

B - Best Friend (what are they like as a best friend?)

She doesn't have many friends, which is by choice. However, she doesn't expect people to give her a chance to be a friend. It's why she's so touched that Steve reveals he trusts her in Winter Soldier. She has proven to be ride or die. Even when she disagrees, she would rather value the person and their relationship over being right, as seen with Clint in Civil War. She's the type that you can vent to at any hour of the day, or if you're hurt, she'll ask who she has to kill. She has contingency plans upon contingency plans, so if you need help with an issue, she is almost guaranteed to have a solution.

C - Cuddling (do they like to cuddle? And how would they do it?)

Cuddling is unusual for her because it rarely happened to her growing up, but also, as an adult, she was always "taught" that cuddling could lead to sex with a target. Cuddling for the sake of intimacy and comfort wasn't on her radar. She's not exactly touch-starved, but she does enjoy cuddling once she gets used to it. She loves to spoon, with her being the big spoon, regardless of your height.

D - Domestic (do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning)

I will go into this in more detail later, but commitment is new to her. The idea of someone wanting her for HER despite everything she has done is new to her, but she does find herself craving stability and domesticity. Her time in Ohio was the best time of her life, and she'd love to have that again. Nat can do the "stereotypical" cleaning and cooking. She was taught it in the Red Room as it was part of the perfect housewife image. However, she does not like that this role is always assigned to her. She thinks it's entirely sexist for people to assume she's going to do all the domestic tasks because she's a woman. In a relationship, this is very much so different. She doesn't make special meals on her own unless it's her choice to share with the Avengers. For her, it's usually something quick and easy. She doesn't care other than that, but she does try with you. She is also very tidy; again, things are utilitarian in her apartment, but she appreciates that you are livening up the place.

E - Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

This….is not Natasha's best moment; honestly, it would likely hurt quite a bit.

She is the most likely to be very businesslike and more like speaking to a co-worker than a former lover. However, it is also possible that she simply disappears or leaves a note. It is not a happy headcanon but a possible and realistic one. Now, if you were dating her later in her life, like around the time of Infinity War, she is far less likely to do this.

F - Fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Natasha is very much a novice to love. She knows how it works and how to get people to fall in love with her, and she believes she's been in love before. However, putting this all into practice in a "normal" relationship is difficult for her, but once you've earned her trust, she is a very committed partner, and she would put her entire heart into it. She doesn't think she'll ever be married, even if she dreams of it. She thinks it's a pipe dream, but the more you talk about it with her, the more likely she is to hope.

G - Gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Natasha is capable of great gentleness, but the problem is feeling secure enough to show this as she tends to spook. She struggles greatly with emotional availability. Her gentleness is very subtle and more likely reserved for privacy with you. This is for both emotional and physical gentleness.

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

She's not really a hugger, no. Physical affection was deeply discouraged for her growing up, and even being undercover in Ohio, she struggled with hugs and "normal" affection. (Of course, that never stopped Yelena from giving her tackle hugs.) She is the type to give a hug when she believes it's truly needed and will be useful. It is a very thoughtful and deliberate gesture from her. Ex: Hugging Steve after Peggy's funeral or hugging Clint in I.W. With a romantic partner, her first inclination is not to give a hug, but she would try to anticipate your needs and affection style. She's likely to hold you from behind or something similar rather than give you a hug. Her hugs are very tender and gentle but almost protective.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It would take months, but more likely a year or more before she says it. She will show it in other ways, but to say it would take a long time. She's had very few actual relationships, so she is admittedly new to love.

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

Natasha would appear completely neutral. You wouldn't be able to tell unless you really were looking for a sign, and even then? Good luck with that. However, she may make a teasing comment or two, but she's not the type to actually entertain jealousy. She's very secure that way because she knows what she's worth and the work the two of you put into your relationship. However, she might still sneak an arm around the waist or give a "reminder" kiss.

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

Kissing the Black Widow is as magical and enigmatic as you can imagine. She knows what she's doing, but the difference is she cares whereas before, they were all marks. The cheek and lips are her main targets, but she knows about all your secret sensitive areas and is not afraid to use those against you in public.

L: Little Ones (How are they with kids?)

Natasha loves children and is lovely with them, as seen with the Bartons, but she still feels as though she's too cold and too robotic. She would love to have a family of her own to give them the life she never experienced. She's happy to be an aunt, but having her own children would be extremely meaningful.

M: Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

Natasha is up early as hell. She has always been this way, thanks to the Red Room. She gets up early, grabs a coffee, trains, and reads reports for the day. She's usually up at 6:00 am. However, she will often make you breakfast and place leftovers in the fridge for you to enjoy later. Occasionally, she'll pack a snack to help you through your day. Expect a sticky note with a good morning message if you aren't awake for her to give you a proper goodbye. When dating you, she doesn't exactly sleep in more, but she will stay in bed to cuddle a bit later while working on her phone.

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nat tends to struggle with insomnia, most of it stems from an overactive mind. It's not anxiety, per se, but her mind is always in overdrive, thinking of contingency plans, other Avengers business, her 'real family,' or her life with you. She will usually settle down with tea and a book before sleeping. Sometimes, you have to take the book from her and turn off the lights for her to get the hint. She swings between preferring her space to sleep or cuddling. It depends on her mood.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

This is Natasha Romanoff we're talking about. She is incredibly slow to reveal anything about herself. She doesn't lie about her past, per se, but she gives half-truths or very vague answers before eventually letting you in to reveal more about her life. She will never tell you everything; you must be okay with that. That's simply part of her rules. To pry would be disrespectful and would be a turn-off for her. She can be encouraged to share things but not be pried.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Nat has the patience of a saint in most areas. Yes, she has things she won't tolerate, but for someone to actually anger her would be quite difficult. Someone would have to be blatantly cruel or foolish for her to get angry, and even then, her anger is biting and cold, not raging. This woman handled the downfall of SHIELD, the Accords, and Thanos' snap fall out and held herself together quite well for all of it, even when there were times she would be in the right to be beyond angry.

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget? )

Natasha was trained to remember things. Her memory might as well be photographic. It doesn't matter if it's a band you mentioned liking once or off-handedly mentioned disliking cilantro in passing; she will remember. That can be a negative, though, if there is an argument because she will remember exactly what you said. HOWEVER, she hates to fight, so she will put conflict resolution above all else.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you accepted Natasha for who she was after telling you some of her darkest stories one night after suffering nightmares. She had told you about Budapest and some of the early missions she completed for Russia - memories that still haunted her with events that she wasn't proud of. Instead of spurning her, you had soothed her instead. You didn't pity her or try to say that "everything was going to be fine." You acknowledged her and told her she was worthy anyhow. That meant everything to her, as she had expected the worst.

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Nat's protectiveness can be almost startling. She is practically paranoid about your safety. In fact, you might have to talk to her about toning it down if you can ever find out the extent of her protection, which is unlikely. She is more likely to be overprotective when she's out of town.

Natasha doesn't need protection, and she would prefer that you don't think that way toward her, either. However, she does appreciate that you look out for her by reminding her to eat, get enough sleep, slow down on work, etc.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, and gifts?)

Natsha's thoughtfulness is off the charts. It's one thing that makes her such a good friend and partner. She will spend weeks planning something for you, whether it's getting the highest-quality ingredients to cook you something or finding the best way to whisk you away to a nice weekend away somewhere. If you collect something, you know she's been on eBay or using other channels to get you something nice to add to the collection.

U: Ugly (What would be a bad habit of theirs?)

Nat sits or lays down in horrible positions, which causes her bone and joint pain later on in the evening. Her flexibility is her friend and foe.

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Natasha is well aware that she's stunning. She knows she doesn't have to do anything to have people admire her or envy her. However, on average, she spends far less on her looks than Yelena. She knows what she likes to wear, and that is usually a mix of sleek and utilitarian. She doesn't spend a lot of time on fashion, but she understands trends. She tends to wear what she wants and applies light makeup, but this is not a priority for her.

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, but she would acknowledge that something would be missing without your presence. However, she's been alone for longer.She is used to being alone or playing second fiddle to someone else. That doesn't mean she enjoys it, but she is used to it.

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Nat is a secret, cozy game fanatic. She loves Animal Crossing the most and will play it with Yelena and a few of the other Avengers who have it. (Steve, Bucky, and the Bartons, mainly.) Scott Lang tried to friend her, and she left him on read.

She's not as interested in the farming games, but she'll play them. She likes the ones with a unique premise.

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

She tends to wear a T-shirt or tank top and shorts to bed, but she does have the occasional weakness for silk pajamas.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanova #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natsha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x you

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zsupika · 1 year ago

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Love and Deepspace x Reader

> general relationship headcanons

A/N: I've been in the lnd fandom for a few weeks now and I'm so obsessed of this game. Keep in mind these are just some random things that I have in mind when I think of them in a relationship.

>> My requests are open if you have any ideas!

Characters: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel

Xavier

I imagine him as a very caring boyfriend

He'd listen to what you have to say and whenever you have something that troubles you, try and find a solution

His favorite sleeping position has got to be spooning you with him being the big spoon

He just loves to embrace you and know that you're safe in his arms

While laying like that he loves to breath in your scent

And while you're asleep, he plays with your hair and softly glides his fingers along your skin

It calms him down, especially after aonh day of fighting wanderers

He also likes to go on missions together with he

He won't admit it but whenever you get assigned with a different partner than him, he gets so jealous

He just loves to spend time with you

He's more a listener than a talker

Through the entire year he takes notes on the things that you mentioned you wanted to have

When your birthday comes up he buys all those things for you!!

Although he loves to spoil you on valentines day with flowers, chocolate and lots of kisses, he doesn't really see a point in the day specifically

He buys you flowers every once in a while and doesn't understand why there would have to be a whole day dedicated for it

But if you see it as important, he definitely puts up an effort to make you happy and see a smile on your face

He always blushes when you get him something in return!

He prefers to give, more that receive

He also makes sure that you're nicely relaxed after a mission

While you sit on your chair he might come up from behind and give you a soft shoulder massage and some neck kisses to ease your mind and body

I imagine him to smell like lavender and fresh laundry

His favorite drink has to be iced coffee and water

In winter he'll also drink a hit chocolate with you

He loves to add cute toppings and make it delicious

Zayne

As we all know he's a doctor and always very busy

You see him a lot less than you would the other two boys

He appreciates it when you come to the hospital and visit him on his breaks

You'd remind him to relax and take it easy every once in a while

It makes him smile to know that you care for him so much

Him not being able to see you as much makes him sad, so he tries to make the few dates that you go on extra special

He always consideres your wishes and does whatever you desire

You want to stay home with him and watch a movie? Sure, he'd love to. You want to go out to a fancy restaurant? Yeah, he's down.

He has a hard time expressing his emotions with his words, so he's definitely more of a "actions over words" kinda guy

His love language would equal to "acts of service" and "quality time"

His hugs and kisses feel very intimate, because it's his way of expressing his emotions to you

He adores the fact that you understand him so well and that you respect his boundaries

He's a morning person for sure

He likes black coffee

For you he always makes sure that you're healthy

Whenever you get a little sick, he's always worried about you and tries to prevent it with all that he can

It makes you chuckle how much he can get worked up over a little cold

Once you get better he makes sure that you stay healthy and happy

Rafayel

Starting of with a very basic headcanon but I think he'd paint you

But not in the way in which you might think

He wouldn't only paint full on portraits of you but he'd incorporate you into his art in a very different way

He'd draw the landscape of your favorite places

He would use your eye color as the background color of a beautiful still-life

You being around him would inspire him to draw freely without any restrictions

Your laugh would make him move his brush in the same rhythm

Sometimes he'd let you help him with a painting

He also loves to go and search for different ways to create paint with you and look for ingredients

I think even though he's very sassy and bold most of the time, when it comes to intimate moments he'd be rather shy

He blushes a lot!

And definitely has a hard time keeping eye contact with you in those moments

His kisses are more soft and caring than you might think at first

In my eyes he'd be the furthest thing from rough in any intimate situations

He holds you as if you were a fragile piece of glass that could break at any second

He feels like you're the only one who he can let his emotions out on, without feeling judged

Loves sleeping on top of you like a weighted blanket

Slightly snores but not very loud

It's more of a heavier breathing

As we know he's very ticklish

When you two are playfighting you can definitely take advantage of that

He'll be a whining and whimpering mess

Do with that what you want

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yoongihan · 4 months ago

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Services Rendered (Teaser) - BC

pairing: escort chan x femreader

genre: smut, with some plot, a lot of talking

teaser word count: 206

word count: approx 10k (who knows?)

warnings: sex work, smut (nothing in the teaser other than talking about it), older reader, chan goes by chris in this

rating: 18+/M

summary: seeking a solution to your lack of experience, you assume the process will be business-like. you're entirely wrong.

a/n: putting out a teaser so I finish this one. vaguely based on the film Good Luck to You, Leo Grande. snippet below the cut

There is no natural segue into this, but you have to know. Even if he lies to you, you have to know. “Do you have a choice? I mean, do they assign you clients who fall under certain types, or do you have a quota?”

“You want to talk about my work?”

You take a breath, setting down the bottle on the table. “No? Yes? I hope this isn’t horribly unwanted. I know it’s work for you, but I hope you–”

He shakes his head, immediately straightening up from his relaxed position, hand falling to your knee, not bare because you couldn’t see meeting him in a dress, even if that was encouraged for ‘heightened romance’ and ‘efficient disrobing’. Despite that you’re wearing a blue jumpsuit, his hand is so warm through the fabric.

“This okay?” He nods to his hand placement.

“You have carte blanche to touch me, Chris. I’ll tell you if I’m not okay with it.” That’s something you feel sure about at least.

His eyes widen and his smile grows. “Okay then. Same, by the way.”

There goes your confidence running out the door; that you can touch him in any way you want.

“Back to your question. I chose you.”

© yoongihan 2025. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

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hyperlexichypatia · 3 months ago

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So you want to support your local public library

You’ve been following the news about book bans, funding cuts, Moms for Liberty, censorship, and you’re outraged! You want to Do Something! What should you do?

Here are some tips from a small-town public library worker. Some of this is stuff I’ve seen a lot of other people saying, but some isn’t.

DISCLAIMER: Every library has different needs, policies, funding situations, etc. What I’m saying may not apply to your local branch. Ask your local library staff.

THINGS THAT HELP A LOT:

Use your library. Really, just using it helps a lot. Check out books. Download ebooks on Libby. Listen to audiobooks. Come to programs. Stream movies on Kanopy. Join the book club. Bring your kids to storytime. Help spread the word about library services and events (we don’t have an advertising budget). Not only do we rely on usage statistics to justify our funding, but also, robust attendance makes the library feel more like part of the community.

Check out controversial/challenged books. Popularity affects whether it stays on the shelves. Ask the staff to order certain titles. Show demand for these books!

Give us some money. Just fork over some cash. Go to the online donation portal. Write a check if you’re feeling fancy. We rely on donation money for everything from cleaning supplies to prizes. Participate in library fundraisers. If there’s a friends of the library group, join that. If your library posts a wishlist, go shopping.

Contact your local elected people and tell them you want libraries uncensored and well-funded. Invoke your identities that politicians care about. “As a constituent,” “as a voter,” “as a taxpayer.” Be specific about what you want the remedy to be. If the issue is censorship, say you want libraries to have free and uncensored material for all. If the issue is resources, say you want to increase library funding. If you say “The library should be open longer hours,” you and I might interpret that to mean that the solution is to fund the library to be open more hours. But politicians and their staff do not think like you and I do. To them, “The library should be open longer hours” may mean “The library is unpopular and not meeting people’s needs, so let’s defund it.”

EXTRA CREDIT IF YOU WANT TO GO ABOVE AND BEYOND: Apply to serve on your local library board.

THINGS THAT MIGHT HELP, BUT NOT AS MUCH AS PEOPLE THINK. Again, this is going to vary wildly based on your particular public library branch. At some libraries, these things might help a whole lot! At other libraries, not so much.

Donating books. Some libraries don’t even take donated books. Most libraries put donated books in their book sale, or put them out for swaps. Very few donated books end up catalogued for circulation. Donating banned books really does nothing – if a library is ordered to remove a book from their shelves, they won’t be allowed to re-add a donated copy, either. Our library sometimes catalogues donated books if they are new (published within the past ~5 years) and in like-new condition. Your childhood favorites are not “in good condition,” I’m sorry.

Volunteering. Again, this is going to vary widely from library to library. Some libraries rely heavily on volunteers. Some libraries don’t let anyone volunteer at all. My library requires volunteers to go through a criminal background check first (I loathe this policy with the fire of a thousand suns, but have been unable to persuade my boss to change it). Even if you are allowed to volunteer, don’t be surprised if the tasks you’re assigned look more like “clean the bathrooms” than like “read aloud to a roomful of rapt children” or “comb through archives.” Most libraries don’t let volunteers do circulation tasks, and there are very good reasons for that. And for Pete’s sake, don’t offer to “volunteer” to do someone’s actual paid job.

I’m not saying “Don’t donate used books and don’t volunteer”; I’m saying “The well-meaning viral posts about how you can save your local library by donating used books and volunteering are missing a lot.”

BONUS EXERCISE: Kill the Mom for Liberty inside your head. The right-wing anti-library movement feeds on the same censorship, bigotry, and “think of the children” moral panic that runs rampant in progressive spaces. If you want to support public libraries, you’ve got to snap out of the idea that books, media, and truly public space are “dangerous.” Here, imagine this scenario: At a public library, a 10-year-old girl, who’s walked to the library by herself after school, is sitting at the table with her books. She’s been reading Warrior Cats, but today she’s branched into the adult section and grabbed the newest T.M. Frazier book. Across the table, a 31-year-old man is working on his laptop, but he looks up to mention that he also loves Warrior Cats, and they have a brief conversation about Bramblestar’s character development. In the lounge chair across the room, a 62-year-old woman with a huge backpack who looks like she might be unhoused is dozing and slightly snoring. At the lego table, a couple of kids are collaborating on a tower, while a 47-year-old man is twitching and talking to someone other people can’t see. A 15-year-old is checking out [most offensive book by most hateful author – I’m not even going to give an example, it’s whatever is the worst option in YOUR mind]. At a public computer, a 9-year-old with headphones is watching a video of Pokemon farting. A 25 year old woman with Down Syndrome is checking out The Joy of Sex and Because of Winn Dixie. If you want to regulate or ban anything in this scenario, fix your mindset. If you think the library “shouldn’t have to deal with homeless people because that’s mission creep,” or that there needs to be some kind of protection against the “danger” of “adults interacting with minors,” or that people should only read “age-appropriate” or “reading-level-appropriate” books, or that someone should “get help” for voice hearers in public, you are part of the problem. If you don’t support the ideal of public libraries as places where any-yes-any member of the public can hang out and read whatever they want, you don’t actually support the anyone-can-hang-out-and-read-whatever-they-want place.

#library stuff #public libraries #freedom to read #kill the cop in your head #moral panic #censorship

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osmanthusoolong · 8 months ago

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“The Quebec government is considering the possibility of changing how family doctors are assigned based on Quebecers' health to ensure that the most vulnerable have access.

Sources who are aware of the discussions told Radio-Canada about a scenario that has been studied for several months.

According to this scenario, Quebec patients in good health or with minor health problems would be referred to a modified Guichet d'accès à la première ligne (GAP), the service that is currently meant to give Quebecers without a family doctor access to medical appointments.”

Good thing we’re not in the midst of an ongoing mass disabling event, and nobody develops new illnesses ever?

“This GAP would include all Quebec patients with no major or moderate health issues, including those who currently have a family doctor.

Only patients deemed more vulnerable, such as those with complex or chronic conditions such as cancer, mental health issues, cardiovascular disease or diabetes, would be assigned a family doctor.”

…

“Of the 2.1 million Quebecers who were not registered with a family doctor in 2022-23, INESSS estimates that nearly half a million have major or moderate health problems. These patients are classified in the red and orange categories by INESSS.

These categories include, among others, people with depressive disorders, anxiety disorders, cancer, dementia, eating disorders and acute palliative conditions.”

…

“"We went from 'a family doctor for everyone' to 'if you're healthy you won't have one.' I think the CAQ government owes a serious explanation to Quebecers," Fortin told Radio-Canada referring to a key election promise the party made in 2018.

He said he's worried that taking family doctors away from people who are in good health will further congest emergency rooms.

"It's an additional step that goes against nearly every basic principle in medicine — work on prevention, make sure that people have easy access [to health care]," said Fortin.”

I’m not an expert, but I don’t really think the solution to a doctor shortage is to make getting medical care impossible for most people until it becomes an emergency? (Also, this seems bad for things like cancer screenings, routine bloodwork, etc)

@allthecanadianpolitics

#cdnpoli

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fickleminder · 1 month ago

Text

the intern

Office!AU. There’s a charming new intern at your office.

Written for the Blacjak’s Prompt Roulette event organized by @obeymevents! My prompt was Office!AU 😬

"Hi! How's it going?"

You nearly jumped out of your seat. The handsome face beaming at you was unfamiliar, a stranger and an enigma. Who the hell was this cheery on a Monday morning?

"Um, I'm doing alright, I guess." You glanced around, but nobody seemed to be paying the two of you any attention. "Can I help you?"

"It's my first day here! Figured I'd take the office tour and get to know some people along the way!"

"Oh, I didn't see your introduction email…"

The man's grin dropped a few megawatts. "Introduction email?"

"I'm not sure if your boss mentioned this yet, but it's common practice for new hires to send out an email to the entire department on their first day," you explained. "Just a simple icebreaker, nothing fancy: a little bit about your background, your hobbies, which team you've been assigned to…"

"I'm uh— I'm just an intern! Interns don't have to do that, do they?"

"No, they don't. I guess you're good then."

Being an intern made more sense. No full time hire would be this enthusiastic about working a desk job forty hours a week. Interns could at least afford to count the days until they had to return their badges and never look back.

That being said, this man definitely seemed much older than most interns your company usually hired. A mid-career switch, perhaps? Either way, you were in no position to judge, and the least you could do was make him feel more welcomed here. Deciding to take a break from staring at your monitor all day, you introduced yourself. "Where are you seated? Who's your mentor?"

"Call me Yamamoto! My cubicle is right outside the printer room, and I'll be working under Lucifer!" Yamamoto adjusted his glasses, his eyes glinting with excitement as he leaned in. His cologne tickled your nose pleasantly. "Is it true that he'll fire you if you don't hand in your paperwork?"

You shook your head with a laugh, wondering if Mephisto had already gotten to the poor guy. "Lucifer is strict and has high standards, but he's also fair. I'll let you in on a secret: so long as you get your work done on time and show up for meetings, he won't mind if you come in a little late or leave a little earlier."

"Thank you, that's good to know!" Yamamoto checked his watch and pouted. "I have to go now, but it was nice meeting you! I hope you won't mind if I stop by to chat again?"

"Not at all," you smiled. Yamamoto was a breath of fresh air you didn't know you needed. Easy on the eyes too, especially with that slicked-back hair and sharp jawline. "I'll see you around."

"—never did ask, what do you do here?"

"I'm part of IT, but not front line support. Basically I'm supposed to step in only if there's anything the service desk needs to escalate or can't handle."

"Sounds like they call on you often."

"That obvious, huh? Those guys are supposed to be tech trained, and yet they come to me even for stuff they can find solutions to on the internet. It's really frustrating sometimes."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You must be pretty busy then. I'm not imposing, am I? It's halfway through lunchtime and you're still at your desk…"

"Nah, I usually pack my own meals since it gets pretty crowded in the staff canteen. Speaking of, do you know where to go for food? I can recommend a few places if you want."

"Do tell!"

After the printer finally finished spitting out all of your documents, you put your phone away and gathered them up. The warmth from the papers was a soothing contrast to the chill of the air-conditioner, especially on this side of the floor. You clutched the stack close to your chest as you sighed and started making your way back to your desk.

"Are you okay?" Yamamoto's head popped up from behind the dividers of his cubicle. You'd forgotten this was where he sat. "That was a pretty loud sigh."

"I'm good. Nothing like freshly printed paper to make you feel like you're getting a warm hug," you joked.

Yamamoto was already halfway out of his chair with open arms before he caught himself. He cleared his throat with an awkward laugh. "Oh, sorry, I don't know what came over me. Haha…"

It was your turn to look concerned. "You doing alright there?"

"Yes, yes," he coughed into his fist before straightening with a smile. "If you have some time for a break, how about a coffee? I haven't tried all the capsule flavors yet."

"Sounds good to me!" You were ahead of schedule anyway. A third cup wouldn't hurt. "Let me put these away first and I'll meet you at the pantry."

"—heard he's ex-military, but he really doesn't seem like the type. He's bad at saying no, so more often than not we end up taking the shit other teams throw at us."

"Yikes, that's rough. I'll have to talk to Levi about that."

"Huh?"

"Uh, I mean, Lucifer wanted me to meet the different team leads as part of my program, for exposure! I could bring up your issue with him, if you like."

"That's really sweet of you, but unless you can convince him to give me a raise, don't worry about it. Just focus on your internship and learn all that you can, okay? I'll be fine; I've been doing this for years now."

"If you insist…"

"Four hot chocolates."

"Three, but I'll throw in one of the Christmas capsules."

"Deal." Yamamoto rummaged in his bag for sachets of caffeine-free tea. "I can't believe we have to resort to bartering for these things."

"Hey, when an unmentionable colleague constantly cleans out the pantry, you do what you gotta do: hoard and trade." You dug through your own stash hidden in a drawer. "At least the weekly refills are always on schedule."

"Is that code?" Yamamoto peered at the colorful text on your monitor as he handed you the tea. "I didn't realize you were a programmer too."

"Just a side project I'm working on when I have some time. It's supposed to help the service desk track cases better, and manage our hardware and software lifecycles," you explained. "Technically out of my job scope, but Levi's been pretty supportive since he thinks this could be a useful initiative with the enough manpower and resources. I just need to get a proof-of-concept working first…"

"Half of what you said flew over my head, but I'm rooting for you!" Yamamoto gave you a thumbs up before arching an eyebrow at the goods you handed him. "Wait, four hot chocolates?"

"Intern special." You winked and tossed the Christmas capsule towards him. "And because you're cute."

"I need you to drop whatever you're doing and head to management's floor."

"What— now? But Levi, we have that meeting in ten minutes…"

"Lucifer's orders. He wants to talk to you about an assessment or something. Don't worry about the meeting, I can tank it."

"You're my boss; shouldn't you be there too?"

"I would, but he asked for you only. Better not make him wait."

You knew — you just knew — it had to do with Yamamoto somehow. The guy had just wrapped up his internship and left last week, and now you were being called into the head honcho's office.

Did he leave negative feedback during his exit interview? Had you behaved unprofessionally? You did interact with him more than strictly necessary, especially since both of you were in different teams, but he never seemed to mind your company. In fact, Yamamoto was always friendly, inviting and—

—sitting in the CEO's chair, glasses off and hair slightly tousled and a freshly pressed suit fitting him in all the right ways.

His eyes were up there, you had to remind yourself.

"—above and beyond the call of duty, don't you agree, Lucifer?"

"Yes, Diavolo." The lines on Lucifer's forehead said otherwise, but he was in no position to argue with the man who literally owned the entire building they were in. "Though, to conduct a staff evaluation in the middle of the financial year—"

"I saw it on a show once and had to try it! It was a very enlightening experience." He shot you the same wide smile you'd seen countless times over the past few months, one that never failed to send your stomach on a rollercoaster. For entirely different reasons this time, however. "Apologies for the deception, but I called you here to share some of my findings since you were instrumental in assisting my evaluation."

Shit, you couldn't remember anything he'd said before this. "Uh, you're welcome sir?"

"No need to be so formal, haha!" His boisterous laughter drowned out Lucifer's groan. "You'll be happy to hear about the new innovation fund I'm proposing. But before that, regarding that raise you mentioned…"

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me diavolo #blacjak’s roulette

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