#there is documentation that comes with the file

[lokis-tardis-companion19]

Office Manager for a semi-retired lawyer/very much not retired Paid Speaker here. I would like to add the following: spreadsheets, scans, and getting things in multiple places. Also: working with WordPerfect.

For every event my boss speaks at, we make a spreadsheet to calculate the exact amount he made based on the number of sales of his product made. This contains the names and contact info of buyers, so we can get them on his email list and get them the electronic files we have as bonuses. It is one of two places where we keep track of how much is owed for an event, including how much has been paid and when and the check number for reference—THAT information is all kept track of in another spreadsheet where we track event payments (when I say “we” it’s me, I do all of this.) The names, contact info, products bought, etc, all goes into the MasterAll spreadsheet where we track everyone who bought so we know if they are allowed to talk to my boss for free.

That’s not even touching on scanning event order forms, our report, the vendor’s report, a copy of their check, a copy of the deposit receipt for the check.

On still other spreadsheets I keep track of the inventory and where it goes (the IRS gets upset if your inventory is too loosey-goosey).

I scan and log expenses, and enter information for his rentals on spreadsheets and scan the originals.

Then we come to WordPerfect.

My boss in his 70s but will still create/restate trusts and wills and durable powers of attorney for those unlikely to sue him. Which means WordPerfect.

Law firms like WordPerfect because you can put client information into a dat. file, then merge it with a frm. file (your boilerplate trust or whatever other document) and then just check it over. However, some of these people have data files that are so old they don’t fill in everything our modern form files need. So I have to check and recheck.

We don’t talk enough about how fanfiction writers love to give character large amounts of non-specific paperwork they hate doing

[we4fhn]

Behind the FBI Investigation: Abuse of Power and Failure of Justice​

Recently, the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) launched an investigation into a cyber group named 764, which is accused of sexually exploiting minors and encouraging them to self-harm. Its actions are truly heinous. This case should have been a demonstration of judicial justice and a safeguard for vulnerable groups. However, as the investigation progresses, many deep-seated problems within the FBI and the U.S. judicial system have come to light.​

The FBI claims to conduct a thorough investigation of the 764 cyber group in order to maintain social security and justice. Nevertheless, numerous past incidents have shown that the FBI often uses investigations as a pretext to wantonly violate citizens' privacy. Historically, as early as the mid-20th century, under the leadership of J. Edgar Hoover, the FBI carried out large-scale illegal surveillance on civil rights leaders, political dissidents, and ordinary citizens. Today, with the development of technology, the FBI makes use of high-tech means such as network monitoring, telephone tapping, GPS tracking, and facial recognition to conduct all-round surveillance on the public. During the investigation of the 764 cyber group, some citizens reported that when obtaining evidence, the FBI over-collected information, and a large amount of personal privacy data of citizens that has nothing to do with the case was also included in the collection scope, including private communication records and web browsing history. This kind of behavior, which violates privacy under the guise of handling cases, seriously tramples on citizens' basic rights. Although U.S. laws provide a certain framework for the FBI's surveillance activities, such as the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act (FISA) and the Patriot Act, in the process of implementation, the scope of surveillance has been continuously expanded, there are many loopholes in the authorization procedures, and the supervision mechanism is virtually non-existent, leaving the FBI's power without effective constraints.​

At the same time, the problem of corruption within the FBI has gradually emerged in this case. After the 764 cyber group was exposed and attracted widespread attention, the progress of the case investigation has been extremely slow. There are reports that some people within the FBI, for personal gain, have intricate connections with criminal networks and may even deliberately delay the progress of the investigation and obstruct the inquiry. Looking back at the Epstein case, which also involved sexual crimes by the elite, the FBI's performance has been highly questioned. Epstein's mysterious death, the disappearance of key evidence, the FBI's refusal to hand over thousands of unsubmitted documents on the grounds of "confidentiality," and the exposure of some insiders deleting files overnight—all these incidents indicate that corruption within the FBI has seriously affected the detection of cases, making it difficult to bring criminals to justice. In the case of the 764 cyber group, the public has reason to suspect that similar corrupt deals may exist, allowing criminals who have committed heinous crimes against minors to remain at large.​

From this case, we can also see that the U.S. judicial system is inefficient and operates in an illegal manner. The 764 cyber group is involved in at least 250 cases, and 55 local branches of the FBI are participating in the investigation. Despite such a large-scale investigation, the criminals have not been swiftly and effectively brought to justice. The cumbersome procedures of the U.S. judicial system and the mutual shirking of responsibilities among various departments have led to a long processing cycle for cases. Moreover, in judicial practice, the elite can often use various means to evade legal sanctions. Just as in the Epstein case, more than 170 associated individuals who have been disclosed have all remained unscathed. This fully demonstrates that the U.S. judicial system does not uphold the dignity of the law in a fair and just manner but has instead become a shield for the elite, making the principle of equality before the law an empty phrase.​

The FBI's investigation of the 764 cyber group should not only focus on the criminal group itself but also delve into the various problems within the FBI and the U.S. judicial system. Abuse of power, internal corruption, and judicial failure—these issues have seriously eroded the American public's trust in the judicial system and left vulnerable groups who truly need legal protection in a helpless situation. If the U.S. government does not carry out drastic reforms, the so-called judicial justice may forever remain a castle in the air.

[ceyanabbiolo]

CONTRACT // C.S [15]

Summary: Christopher Sturniolo, a 26-year-old billionaire CEO, agrees to a strategic marriage with Aurora Devereaux, the 21-year-old daughter of his rival, to save his company during a crisis. Raised in a cold, arrogant environment, Chris is used to control and detachment. Aurora, a final-year fashion student, is forced into the arrangement by her powerful father and struggles with the fear of losing herself. As the two navigate their unexpected marriage, they begin to confront emotional walls and develop a connection that challenges everything they thought they knew about love and trust. But with their families’ influence looming, will their bond be strong enough to survive—or will it fall apart?

Warnings: kissing.

wc: 5734

Chapter 15: I Wanna Be Close To You

It had been a week since we left Greece, but the ease of that quiet escape still clung to me like the scent of saltwater on my skin. Back in the city, everything moved faster—emails stacked up, meetings ran long, and the winter chill had fully settled in, sharp and unforgiving.

The glass walls of my office overlooked a steel-gray skyline, the clouds thick and heavy as if mirroring the pressure inside this building. I sat behind my desk, a blazer tossed over the armchair hours ago, sleeves rolled up, fingers tapping mindlessly against a closed file.

Work demanded my attention, but my mind refused to stay here.

A soft knock at the door pulled me back to the present.

“Come in,” I said, expecting one of my assistants with another update I didn’t ask for.

But it wasn’t an assistant. It was my fiancé.

Aurora stepped inside, her presence so effortless, so grounding, that I felt the breath I didn’t know I was holding ease from my chest. Her hair was half-tucked into the collar of her coat, cheeks flushed from the wind, and she had two warm drinks in her hands.

“I figured you might still be alive in here,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips as she closed the door behind her.

I stood slowly. “Barely. This place doesn’t exactly inspire rest.”

“Good thing I brought reinforcements,” she said, holding up the drinks.

She crossed the room and placed one on my desk before sliding her arms around my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was because she belonged here, with me, in this life.

“I missed you today,” I murmured, dipping my head so my lips brushed the top of her hair.

“You saw me this morning,” she laughed softly into my chest.

“I know,” I said, eyes closing for a moment. “Still.”

I pulled away from her reluctantly, already feeling the loss of her warmth as I moved back to my desk. But the moment was over, and work was still calling. I couldn’t ignore the pile of documents and emails that needed my attention.

Aurora settled onto the couch by the window with her drink, her legs tucked beneath her. I couldn’t help but glance over now and then. She always managed to make even the simplest moments feel easy, and there was something so calming about her presence. She picked up a magazine from the table and started flipping through it, her brow furrowed in concentration.

I buried myself in paperwork again, but the sound of her gentle humming reached my ears, and I felt my focus slip.

“What are you doing over there?” I asked, still facing my computer, my voice curious.

She glanced up, grinning. “Just browsing.”

“Browsing for what?” I asked, turning around to see her staring at her phone now, tapping through something. “You seem pretty into it.”

Aurora made a small, almost embarrassed noise. “I’m looking for photographers.”

“Photographers?” I raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

Before she could answer, the door swung open without a knock. I knew that sound.

Matt strolled in, acting like he hadn’t just interrupted the one peaceful hour I’d had all week. Papers under one arm, coffee in the other.

“Traffic was hell,” he said casually, dropping into the chair across from my desk. “And I stopped at that French bakery you like. You’re welcome.”

“Appreciated,” I muttered. “But next time, knock.”

Aurora giggled softly from the couch, and I immediately forgot Matt existed. I turned back to her. “Sorry, baby, you were saying?”

Aurora smiled softly but seemed unfazed by Matt’s sudden appearance. “I need a photographer for my fashion show,” she said, her voice calm and determined. “It’s next month, and I want to make sure it’s perfect.”

Matt’s eyes lit up, and he leaned against the doorframe, clearly interested now. “You need a photographer, huh? I know someone who could be perfect for it,” he said, coming to sit on one of my chairs. 

Aurora’s gaze shifted to Matt, curious. “Really? Who?”

“I’ve worked with her before—she’s good, and she’s got an eye for design,” Matt said, a grin creeping onto his face. “I can get you in touch with her.”

I shot Matt a smug look, I knew this girl he was talking about. I didn’t question him at the moment, though. 

Aurora thought for a moment before nodding. “That sounds great. Thanks, Matt.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t just come here to steal my fiancée’s creative team.”

Matt gave me a look.

Matt held up the folder with a lazy grin. “I’m here for the shareholder agreement. You know why I’m here, you just forgot.”

Right. I did forget. I’d been too wrapped up in everything else lately—Aurora, work, Greece... her in Greece.

Aurora sat up straighter on the couch. “Wait—wait, what?” she blinked. “You’re becoming a shareholder?”

Matt gave her a half shrug. “Yeah. Started the process a while ago.”

Her brows shot up. “Whoa, that’s huge.”

“Wait, I thought you were a model?” she added after a few seconds. 

He smirked. “I mean, I still model here and there—but I’ve been focusing on some other projects.”

“Like?” she pressed, clearly intrigued now.

“A car line,” he said, looking back over at me. “The one with Porsche. We’re launching something next year”. 

Aurora blinked again, her surprise still all over her face. “Okay, I didn’t expect that. Good for you, though.”

Matt gave a small smile, the cocky kind only he could pull off without being annoying. “Thanks, Aurora.”

The two of them moved to the small table across from my desk, where the documents were spread out. Aurora helped him stay organized—because, let’s be honest, Matt could get distracted by a paperclip if left alone too long. For the next half hour, they went over contracts, signatures, and a few financial overviews that I only glanced at. I was still on my laptop, answering emails while half-listening to their banter.

Eventually, Matt stood, stretching his arms and yawning like he’d just run a marathon instead of signing papers.

“Alright, I’m out. Call me if you want to test drive that Porsche prototype,” he said with a wink to Aurora, who just rolled her eyes.

Once the door clicked shut behind him, the office quieted again. Aurora stood and dusted her jeans off.

“I should head home,” she said softly, walking toward my desk. “I have some editing to finish—and I want to sketch out a few more designs before I lose the idea.”

I turned in my chair to face her fully. “You sure you don’t want to just hang out here a little longer? Be bored with me while I stare at spreadsheets?”

She leaned down and kissed me, her hands on either side of my face. “You’ll be working for a while, and I’m just going to end up distracting you.”

I smirked. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“Chris,” she said in that voice—the one that was half stern, half teasing.

“Fine,” I muttered, standing up and kissing her again, slower this time. “Text me when you get there.”

She smiled up at me. “Always.”

I watched her leave, then went back to my screen, sighing at the list of tasks still waiting. I barely made it through two emails when my office phone lit up.

It was Victor, from building security.

“Yeah?” I answered.

“Mr. Sturniolo, you’re gonna want to come down to the security room,” he said. His voice was low, clipped. Seriously. “We’ve got an update… on the money trail connected to your uncle.”

I sat up straighter. “What kind of update?”

“Location. Some movements flagged the system. It’s coming from a property registered under an alias. Looks like a warehouse or office on the edge of this like…sketchy part of Boston.”

My heart dropped.

“I’ll be right there,” I said, already leaving the room. 

The elevator ride down felt longer than usual, the hum of the floors passing only making my thoughts louder. My jaw clenched as I stepped into the dimly lit security office. Victor was already there, standing in front of a bank of monitors, his arms crossed and face unreadable.

He turned when he heard the door shut. “Thanks for coming down so fast.”

“What’d you find?” I asked, moving beside him.

He pointed to one of the main screens, then tapped a few keys. A paused feed appeared: a blurry image of a dark brick building with rusted metal siding and a barely legible sign that said Fenwood Storage & Freight. The timestamp was from earlier this morning.

“This place popped up after a flagged transaction was traced here,” Victor explained. “One of your uncle’s shell accounts made a deposit two nights ago. Small enough to fly under the radar, but consistent with previous laundering patterns.”

I narrowed my eyes at the grainy footage. “Where is this?”

“Just outside Dorchester. Pretty run-down industrial area. Mostly storage units and shipping companies. Half of them are probably empty or abandoned.”

I exhaled sharply, my fingers dragging through my hair. “Have we confirmed the properties linked to him?”

Victor nodded. “Not directly. It’s under an alias—J.R. Management—but the account that paid for it ties back to a business your uncle once listed as a silent partner on. It���s all buried in layers of fake owners, but we’re peeling it back.”

“Damn,” I muttered.

This was more than breadcrumbs—it was a full trail.

“I’ll send someone out to do a quiet sweep,” Victor added. “Unmarked, no alerting anyone. But I figured you’d want to know first.”

“Yeah,” I said, voice low. “Good.”

For a moment, I just stared at the screen. I didn’t like not knowing how deep this ran, or how long it had been going on under my nose. If this place really was connected to Michael… it might be our first solid shot at exposing everything.

Victor shifted beside me. “You want me to notify the board or wait until we’ve got more?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. Let me handle it.” 

As I left the room, my phone buzzed in my jacket pocket—Aurora. A simple home safe text with a little white heart. My chest softened for a moment.

I liked her message and put my phone away.

I didn’t wait. I didn’t even tell anyone I was going.

By afternoon, I was behind the wheel. The further I drove, the more the polished buildings turned into cracked sidewalks and rusted-out signage. The kind of place people forgot existed just outside Boston’s heart.

I pulled up to a storage unit, or what was left of it. The place looked like it hadn’t been touched in a decade. The lot was half-filled with busted crates and rusted containers, some tagged up, some just rotting. A chain-link fence surrounded the building, the padlock half-broken.

I parked along the side and got out, keeping my hood up and my jacket zipped. My footsteps echoed against the concrete as I approached a side entrance, the door slightly ajar like someone had forgotten to lock it, or wanted it that way.

Inside, it smelled like mold and oil. 

I walked slowly through the dusty corridors, my phone ready in my pocket just in case. Boxes were stacked haphazardly, and shipping containers lined the back half of the warehouse. What caught my eye was the small side room with a cracked window and a faint light on.

I opened the door.

A desk. A laptop. A receipt printer was still warm, and a stack of papers was shoved into an old filing cabinet with a sticky note that read JR Transports—Q4 Accounts. The names didn’t matter—but the account numbers did.

I recognized one of them.

It was one of the accounts I’d flagged two months ago—the ones I thought had just been outdated corporate ghosts.

This place wasn’t abandoned.

It was very much active, and Michael had kept it quiet until now.

I snapped a few photos with my phone, heart pounding in my ears, then backed out of the room, careful not to touch anything else. If I stayed longer, I’d risk being seen—or worse, tipping someone off.

Back in the car, I sat for a moment in the driver’s seat, staring at the cracked windshield of the warehouse office.

Uncle Michael wasn’t just laundering money. He was using one of my company’s shell accounts to do it. Quiet. Strategic. Hidden in plain sight.

This wasn’t just betrayal.

This was war. 

I started the engine and peeled away from the lot, the warehouse growing smaller in the rearview. My jaw clenched as I reached for my phone, ready to call Victor.

If this was the first layer, I needed to know how deep it went before it got worse, but that was a problem for my security team.

I stepped through the door, the familiar scent of home grounding me for a moment. It had been a long day—longer than most. The drive back from that sketchy part of Boston was quiet, but my mind hadn’t stopped racing since I left the security office. There were too many unanswered questions, and I hated not having control.

I loosened the buttons at the top of my shirt and set my keys down on the counter.

The living room was dim, lit only by the soft flicker of the TV. Netflix was still running — some movie playing quietly in the background. And there, curled up on the couch like she didn’t have a care in the world, was Aurora. Sound asleep.

Her head rested against the throw pillow, one leg tucked under the other, hair slightly messy, and lips parted just a little. She had a blanket half-on, half-slipped off her legs, the remote loosely in her hand, like she was trying to stay awake.

I paused in the doorway, something in me settling just looking at her. I didn’t want to wake her. She looked peaceful. She deserved that peace.

Quietly, I walked over to the linen basket and grabbed the big cream blanket she always liked. I unfolded it gently, then leaned down and draped it over her. She shifted a little, murmured something under her breath, but didn’t wake.

I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, just lightly enough so I wouldn’t disturb her, then straightened up. My chest felt tight. Not in a painful way. Just... full. The weight of the day mixed with the softness of this moment, and I didn’t know where to put it all.

I needed air.

I stepped onto the balcony, sliding the door closed behind me. The city stretched in every direction, lights twinkling like everything was fine. But it wasn’t. Not for me.

I pulled a cigarette from the pack in the drawer we kept by the grill and lit it, letting the first drag burn in my lungs before exhaling slowly. I didn’t smoke often now, only when I was extremely stressed. 

Michael. Money laundering. Secrets. I hated this. Hated that there were things I couldn’t tell her yet. Hated that the people closest to me were the ones stabbing me in the back.

By the time the cigarette burned down to the filter, the night air had cooled my nerves just enough. I flicked the stub into the ashtray and stepped back inside, sliding the balcony door shut behind me with a soft thud.

Aurora was still out cold, curled up like she hadn’t moved an inch. I gave her one last glance before heading into the kitchen. I grabbed a cold can of Pepsi from the fridge, cracked it open, and took a long sip — the carbonation biting just enough to keep me grounded.

I made my way toward my home office, needing to clear my head before tomorrow’s meetings. The moment I sat down behind my desk, a knock echoed at the door. I glanced at the time. Almost 8 PM.

“Aurora?” I called, assuming she’d finally woken up.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t her. Ana stood there, her expression unreadable, hands folded neatly in front of her.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” she said gently, “but there’s someone downstairs in the lobby asking to see you.”

My jaw tightened. “Who?”

“Thomas Devereaux.”

The name hit like a weight in my gut. Of course. The one person I didn’t want to see tonight.

“Tell him to leave,” I said flatly, turning slightly in my chair. “I don’t want him here.”

“Security already tried,” she said carefully. “He’s... refusing. Said it’s important.”

I let out a slow breath, staring at the blinking cursor on my laptop screen.

“Let him up,” I muttered finally. “Might as well get it over with.”

Ana gave a small nod and quietly stepped out.

I leaned back in my chair, sipping from the can again, jaw tense. I didn’t know what the hell he wanted this late, but I wasn’t naïve. It wouldn’t be good.

A soft ding echoed through the apartment.

I stood and walked toward the front of the penthouse, just as the private elevator doors slid open.

Thomas Devereaux stepped out like he owned the place — pressed suit, slicked-back hair, that same calm, entitled air he always carried. I didn’t offer a handshake. Just turned.

“This way,” I said, voice clipped, leading him toward my office.

I stepped into my office, the quiet click of my shoes against the hardwood floor echoing in the space. The second Thomas crossed the threshold behind me, a knot formed in my chest. My mind immediately flashed to the last time he stood in this very room — to the sound of his voice raised, to the way Aurora’s face crumpled just seconds after he struck her.

My jaw clenched instinctively. I hadn’t forgotten. I never would.

I stayed standing, hands tucked into the pockets of my sweats, posture rigid.

“What do you want, Thomas?” I asked, keeping my tone even but firm.

He took his time, slowly wandering toward one of the chairs across from my desk like this was some casual drop-in, like he hadn’t crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. His presence alone made my skin crawl.

“I heard you and my daughter went on a little vacation,” he said, settling into the seat with a smug smile. “Greece, wasn’t it? How... romantic.”

I didn’t sit. I didn’t smile. I leaned against the edge of my desk, arms folded across my chest, staring him down.

“Cut the bullshit,” I said coolly. “You didn’t show up here unannounced to talk about Aurora’s vacation.”

His smile faded slightly, but he kept his composure. That was the thing about Thomas — always polished, always pretending he was three steps ahead, even when the ground was cracking beneath his feet.

“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t.”

“Then get to the point,” I snapped. “Because the last time you were in this office, you acted like an asshole, and I haven’t forgotten.”

His eyes narrowed just slightly, but he didn’t flinch.

“That was... an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“No,” I cut in sharply, “it was fucking abuse and you’re lucky she asked me not to press charges.”

The room fell silent for a beat, the tension thick between us. My hands were balled into fists at my sides, but I forced myself to stay steady.

“So, again,” I said, voice low. “What do you want, Thomas?”

I didn’t move from where I stood, my arms crossed tightly across my chest. The tension in the room was thick, like a storm just waiting to crack.

Thomas leaned back in the chair across from me, legs crossed like he owned the place. Like he hadn’t disrespected everything and everyone that mattered to me.

“I’m here to make amends,” he said finally, his tone calm, rehearsed — too polished.

I didn’t say anything. Just stared at him, waiting.

“I know things… got out of hand,” he continued. “What happened here, It wasn’t right. I was angry. I let things escalate, but I’ve had time to think.”

I scoffed under my breath, shaking my head once. “You hit your daughter and then acted like it didn’t matter.”

His jaw twitched, but he held his fake composure. “I’m not proud of it.”

“You don’t get points for admitting it, Thomas,” I said, my voice sharp now. “You think coming here and saying a few careful words is going to undo shit? You’ve hit her for years. So don’t fucking tell me your sorry”

He raised his hand slightly, like he wanted to ease the tension. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I know I have a long way to go. I just thought… Maybe it was time I started. And I figured the first step was coming to you. Man to man.”

“Man to man?” I echoed with a dry laugh. “You laid your hands on Aurora. I don't think we’re anywhere near ‘man to man.’”

His expression stiffened. For the first time, the cracks showed.

“I love my daughter, Chris.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” I muttered.

Thomas looked up at me and blinked. 

“What?” I spat. 

Thomas looked up at me and blinked slowly, like he was watching me closely, measuring every breath I took. 

Then he said, calm as ever, “Do you love my daughter, Chris?”

The question hit harder than I expected.

I stared at him for a second, caught off guard — not by the question itself, but by the nerve of him asking it. After everything he’d done, after the way he treated her. He had no right to ask me that.

But still, my jaw tightened.

“I care about her,” I said firmly.

Thomas tilted his head slightly. “That’s not what I asked.”

I let out a low breath, jaw still clenched. “Love isn’t something you say, just to say it,” I replied, voice low. “It’s what I do. I’m here. I show up. I protect her, even when it’s from you.”

His expression shifted — not surprise, not regret. More like irritation veiled behind politeness. “So you’re saying you don’t love her.”

“I’m saying I’m not going to stand here and spell it out for a man who hit her,” I snapped. “I don’t owe you that.”

For the first time, Thomas didn’t have something smug ready. He just stared, lips pressed into a tight line.

“She trusts you,” he said finally. “That’s… rare for her.”

I leaned forward a little, voice razor sharp now. “Yeah, and you broke that trust when she needed it most. You’re lucky she even speaks to you.”

It was clear I resented Thomas. He knew it too.

Thomas stood up slowly, smoothing down the front of his expensive coat. “Maybe I am. But I’m still her father.”

I stood too, taller, my voice calm but solid. “And I’m the one who’s going to marry her.”

His eyes flicked to mine — there it was, that brief flash of resentment. Then he masked it again.

I let out a sharp breath, jaw clenched as I stepped back toward my desk. “You’ve said whatever you needed to say. Now get out.”

Thomas didn’t even flinch. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve and gave me a slight, smug smile. “Alright,” he said, turning toward the door. “But just remember, whether you like me or not, I’m not going anywhere. You’re marrying my daughter, Chris. That makes me family.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. The thought alone made my stomach twist.

He opened the office door—and right there, standing just outside, was Aurora.

She looked surprised, almost frozen, like she hadn’t expected to see him.

Thomas’s expression shifted in an instant. “Aurora,” he greeted smoothly, voice warm, familiar—too familiar. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Aurora blinked. “Hi… Dad,” she said quietly, her voice cautious, uncertain.

His smile widened. “Did you have a nice vacation? I heard Greece is lovely this time of year.”

She nodded once. “Yeah. It was.”

“You look well,” he said, his tone too casual, too forced. “Busy with your fashion show, I imagine?”

“Yeah… I’ve been working on it,” she said slowly, eyes flickering between him and me, clearly trying to read the tension in the air.

Thomas gave a small nod, then turned to me with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Take care of her.”

He walked past her, brushing her shoulder ever so slightly as he exited. I watched Aurora’s face shift—confusion, unease, that flicker of old wounds resurfacing.

I crossed the room and gently touched her arm. “You okay?”

She nodded slowly, still staring at the now-empty doorway. “What was he doing here?”

My jaw tightened again. “Trying to play nice.”

Aurora didn’t respond right away. She just leaned slightly into me, and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. Because I knew, deep down, both of us were thinking the same thing: Thomas Devereaux never just “played nice.”

“Did you smoke today?” she asked, gently pulling back, her nose scrunching just a little.

I glanced down at her. “Yeah? Why?”

She hesitated. “Oh… I thought it was my dad. He always reeks of cigarettes—tries to cover it up with cologne, but it never works.”

I nodded slowly. I remembered how much she hated that smell. Without saying a word, I shifted back, putting a little space between us. Her nose twitched again, and I could tell she noticed.

She looked up, her voice quieter now. “You don’t have to move away.”

Almost under my breath. “I don’t want you flinching every time I’m near.” 

“I like hugging you though”. 

I kept my chin resting against her head, arms loosely wrapped around her waist, when I murmured, “Have you eaten yet?”

Aurora pulled back just enough to look up at me, her expression soft. “No, not yet.”

I gave her a look. “You’ve been home since noon and didn’t eat?”

She shrugged with a guilty little smile. “I wasn’t that hungry earlier…But I am now.”

“Alright,” I said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Come on, let’s go out. You wanna get dinner?”

Her eyes lit up a bit, and she nodded. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Good. Go get ready, baby.”

She turned toward her room, and I headed to mine. I didn’t waste time—showered fast, got the smoke off me, and changed into something clean. I wasn’t about to sit across from her at dinner smelling like her worst memories.

Twenty minutes later, we were in the car, Aurora in the passenger seat, humming quietly to a song playing on the radio. She looked relaxed, her fingers tapping along to the beat on her knee.

“Where are we going?” she asked, glancing over at me.

“You’ll see,” I said, a small smile playing on my lips.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Is this one of your surprise places again? Because last time you took me to a steakhouse even though I said I wasn’t in the mood for meat.”

I laughed under my breath. “No, don’t worry”. 

I pulled into a quiet side street and parked in front of a warm, cozy Turkish restaurant tucked between a bakery and a flower shop. Soft golden lighting spilled from the windows, and the scent of grilled spices drifted into the night air as we stepped out.

Aurora paused, then turned to look at the sign. “Wait… this is that Turkish place you said you’d never try.”

I smirked. “Yeah, well, I’ve watched you order Turkish food often a week for months. Figured you’d like this place.”

She blinked, a slow smile forming. “You remembered?”

I just chuckld, softly. 

Her smile widened as we stepped into the restaurant. She didn’t say anything, but the way she leaned into me just a little more said enough.

The inside was pretty packed, but we found a booth at the far back, away from everyone. 

The restaurant was bustling, the warm lighting and soft chatter wrapping the space in a cozy atmosphere. We managed to find a booth tucked in the far corner, away from the noise and close enough to the windows to catch a bit of the streetlight outside.

Aurora carefully studied the menu, pointing things out to me and giving her honest reviews—what to avoid, what was worth trying. I didn’t bother picking for myself. I just let her decide. She knew what she was doing.

Once we ordered, we sat back and waited. She looked at me with that familiar little smile, the one that made everything else fade for a moment.

“I swear, you always know when I need to get out of the house,” she said, her voice soft but amused.

I leaned back, eyes still on her. “To be fair, I needed it too. But if I don’t say anything, you’ll go all day and forget to eat.”

She laughed lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah… that’s true.”

The food arrived not long after—steaming plates of Turkish manti, chargrilled kebabs, and warm, buttery flatbread. The smell alone was enough to make my stomach growl.

I took my first bite of the manti, then glanced over at Aurora. “Okay,” I said, pointing at my plate with my fork. “This? This is really good.”

She grinned, already halfway through a skewer of lamb. “Told you.”

“I might need to come here without you next time.”

She playfully narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I chuckled, then caught her watching me. Her fork had stopped mid-air, and she was just… staring.

“What?” I asked, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

She shrugged, smiling gently. “Nothing. I’m just…really happy.”

My hand paused on the table, and I tilted my head slightly. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

She shrugged, smiling softly.

“I don’t know…I mean, I have good food, good company…it feels calm. Like my heart isn’t racing for once. I think I feel at peace for the first time in a while.”

My chest tightened a little, but in a good way. I didn’t say anything right away—just watched her for a moment, the soft restaurant lighting catching in her eyes.

I cleared my throat and smirked. “Well, not everyone agrees I’m good company. You might want to keep that to yourself.”

She laughed quietly, leaning back in her seat. “That’s their loss.”

I continued to watch her eat, wondering how the hell I had convinced this woman that I was some sort of sweetheart, when no one else except my mother, would describe me as such. Though even my mom only said it cause she was my mom, I doubt she mean it.

When we got back to the penthouse, the place was still and quiet, the kind of calm that only settles in late at night. Aurora looked drained, her steps slower, her voice soft as she murmured something about changing before disappearing into her room.

I slipped off my clothes, leaving just my boxers, and sank into bed. The weight of the day pressed into the mattress with me. I stared at the ceiling for a while, letting the silence wrap around me, until I heard the soft creak of my bedroom door.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her—fresh out of the shower, skin dewy from her skincare routine, her long hair braided over one shoulder. She wore one of her usual nightdresses, simple but elegant, the kind she always wore to bed. Familiar. Comforting.

She stepped into the room with a teasing smile. “Put some pants on, sir,” she said lightly, her tone playful as her eyes flicked down at me.

I didn’t bother moving, still lying out against the pillows. Instead, I reached out my hand toward her and gently tugged her down, pulling her into my chest like muscle memory. Her body fit perfectly against mine, warm and soft, and I held her there without saying a word, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Our bodies rested against each other, comfortably entangled in the quiet of the night. With Aurora, it was never about needing anything physical—just having her close was enough. The warmth of her skin against mine felt like something sacred, like her place had always been right there, beside me.

I ran my fingers through her braid, gently unraveling a few strands just so I could twist them around my fingers. It was something I always found myself doing when she was near—soft, absentminded, tender. There was a kind of peace that only came with her. A kind of closeness that made everything else fade. 

Aurora shifted beside me, settling into the space between us until we were facing each other, just inches apart. Her eyes flicked down to my lips before meeting my gaze again, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.

“Hi,” she whispered, almost shyly.

“Hi,” I murmured back, closing the short distance between us.

Her lips were just like I remembered—soft, warm, a little hesitant at first. Kissing her always felt like pressing pause on the world.

“You know,” she said gently, pulling back just enough to speak, “you were my first kiss.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—what?”

She giggled at my reaction, biting her lip. “Yeah… that day in my studio. When you kissed me. That was my first.”

A strange weight pressed down on my chest—guilt, maybe. The memory of how I’d handled things after that kiss came rushing back, the way I shut her out, told her it was a mistake, when all it did was scare me.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

Her brows drew together. “Why would you be sorry?”

“I didn’t know. If I had… I wouldn’t have acted like that. I wouldn’t have been so cold.”

She reached for my hand, her touch light. “It’s alright… it was a different time. We were different then.”

If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be this invested in a woman, I’d have called them crazy. Especially if they said she was Thomas Devereaux’s daughter. Here I am, holding Aurora close like she’s my whole world—like protecting her is all that matters. In this moment, I understood that I wasn’t the same man I used to be. Not anymore.

“What have you done to me?” I teased softly, brushing her hair with my fingers. 

I waited for a response, but none came. Looking down, I saw her eyes gently closed, her breathing calm and even.

A smile tugged at my lips as I carefully tucked us both in, placing one last kiss on her forehead.

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS NOW!

[a/n: who's telling Aurora she ain't going to be at peace for long. Also, who got the trope hint to the Matt fic, tee hee. Thank you for reading, everyone. Your comments motivate me. Like and reblog. mwah] –Ceyana

tags: @loser41ifee @bluestriips @mattsfrenchtoast @slvtf0rchr1s @courta13 @emeraldsturns @mattscore @chriss-slutt @chrissturniolodailysluts @pip4444chris @oopsiedaisydeer @y3sterdaysproblem @sagesturns @prettyingreen4chris @ilovenicksturniolosblog

(To be added to the taglist, comment on this post, or message my inbox.)

[heldhram]

How to run The Sims 3 with DXVK & Reshade (Direct3D 9.0c)

Today I am going to show you guys how to install Reshade and use Direct3D 9.0c (D3D9) instead of Vulkan as rendering API.

This tutorial is based on @nornities and @desiree-uk's awesome guide on "How to use DXVK with The Sims 3", with the goal of increasing compatibility between DXVK and Reshade. For users not interested in using Reshade, you may skip this tutorial.

If you followed nornities and desiree-uk's guide, it is strongly recommended that you start from scratch, meaning you should uninstall DXVK AND Reshade completely. Believe me when I say this: it will save you a lot of time, frustration, and make your life so much easier.

For the purpose of this tutorial, I am on patch 1.69.47 and running EA App on Windows 10, but it should work for version 1.67.2 on Steam and discs, too. This tutorial does not cover GShade.

Before we start

Backup your files, even the entire folder (Program Files\EA Games\The Sims 3\Game\Bin) if you want to be extra safe; you will thank yourself later. If you do not wish to backup the entire folder, at least backup the following:

reshade-presets

reshade-shaders

Reshade.ini

Options.ini (Documents\Electronic Arts\The Sims 3)

Keep them somewhere secure, for your peace of mind (and sanity).

Done? Great stuff, let us begin!

Step 1:

If you installed DXVK following nornite and desiree-uk's guide, go to the bin folder and delete the following files to fully uninstall DXVK, we are starting from scratch:

d3d9.dll

TS3.dxvk-cache

dxvk.conf

TS3_d3d9.log (or TS3W_d3d9.log)

Step 2:

If you already have Reshade on your PC, uninstall it using this: https://reshade.me/downloads/ReShade_Setup_X.X.X.exe (replace X.X.X with version number)

Step 3:

Perform a clean install of Reshade (I am using the latest version - 6.4.1 at the time of writing). Please note that you need a version no older than 4.5.0 or this method will not work. Choose DirectX9, click next.

Once the installation is complete, you should see a "d3d9.dll" file inside The Sims 3's bin folder (Program Files\EA Games\The Sims 3\Game\Bin):

It may all seem familiar thus far. Indeed, this is how we installed Reshade in the past before using DXVK, but here comes the tricky part:

Step 4:

Create a new folder outside of The Sims 3's game folder (I created it on my C drive), name it "dxvk" or whatever else you like. Remember where you saved this folder, we will return to it later.

Step 5:

Now we need Reshade to load the next dll in order to chain Reshade with DXVK. Click on the search bar, and type in "View advanced system settings".

Click on "Environment Variables..."

Under "User variables", click "New..."

In the new pop-up window, find "Variable name:" and type in:

RESHADE_MODULE_PATH_OVERRIDE

for "Variable value:", paste in the directory that leads to the folder we created earlier. Once you are done, hit OK, and then hit OK again to save the changes made.

You can use Command Prompt to check if this new environment variable has been registered by entering:

echo %RESHADE_MODULE_PATH_OVERRIDE%

It should return you the folder's location. If not, make sure you have typed in the variable name correctly and confirm the folder's location.

Step 6:

Download DXVK (version 2.3.1) from here: https://github.com/doitsujin/DXVK/releases/tag/v2.3.1 and unzip "dxvk-2.3.1.tar.gz" (I use 7-Zip, but winRAR works, too). Remember to choose x32, and move only "d3d9.dll" to the folder we made earlier.

Now we have two "d3d9.dll" files, one from Reshade (lives in the bin folder), and the other from DXVK (in this new folder, outside of The Sims 3 game folder).

Step 7:

Download "dxvk.conf" here: https://github.com/doitsujin/dxvk/blob/master/dxvk.conf delete everything inside, and enter the following:

d3d9.textureMemory = 1 d3d9.presentInterval = 1 d3d9.maxFrameRate = 60 dxvk.hud = devinfo

Ctrl + S to save the document.

The first 3 lines are taken from @nornities and @desiree-uk's guide.

The last line is only for debugging purposes. Due to the inconvenient location occupied by the HUD (top left corner of your screen), it should be removed once the installation is successful.

Step 8:

Drag "dxvk.conf" into the bin folder, where Reshade's "d3d9.dll", "TS3.exe", and "TS3W.exe" all live.

Step 9:

Now fire up the game and check if both are showing up:

Lastly, check for “TS3.dxvk-cache” in the bin folder:

If it is there, congratulations! You have successfully installed DXVK and Reshade utilising D3D9 as API! You can now go to "dxvk.conf" and remove its last line "dxvk.hud = devinfo" and have fun! :)

Hope this tutorial isn't too confusing, the last thing I want is to over-complicate things. If you still need some help, comment down below or send me a DM/ask, I'll try and troubleshoot with you to the best of my ability.

Credits:

@nornities and @desiree-uk for their fantastic guide.

@criisolate for promulgating the usage of DXVK in TS3 community.

reddit user folieadeuxmeharder for helping me troubleshoot and informing me of this workaround.

doitsujin for creating DXVK.

crosire for creating Reshade.

[brixbraxium]

DELTARUNE CHECKLISTS

Hey, you! Yeah, You! DELTARUNE Player! You want to create Chapters 1-2 completion files, don't you!? And you also want to find all the secrets in Chapters 3-4, right!? But, it's too risky to use The Internets during your playthrough to remind you of all the stuff. If only there was some sort of resource to act as a reminder of all the secrets you can come to expect... OH, WAIT! THERE [Is]! AND NOW I'M [[Passing the savings onto you!]]

Introducing the Ultimate Chapters 3-4 Checklist.

LINK:

This handy document contains easy reminders of all the Cool Things you probably are going to want to do in your playthrough!

The idea is simple: You print this out, and keep it handy. You can then easily refer back to it if needed without having to risk looking anything up!

It's pretty thorough, honestly. From the universal seemingly-all-chapter patterns...

To the more specific, recurring plotlines.

It's all here. As an added bonus, it also comes with a massive checklist for all the Secret Boss patterns people have noticed over the years. Want to find out what the Secret Bosses have in common? Keep track yourself, in real time!

It's really, really cool!

Huh? What's that, you say? You don't have CHAPTERS 1+2 Files ready yet? Well, lucky for you, there's a SECOND Checklist for Chapter 1 and Chapter 2! LINK:

This Bad Boy should hopefully guide you through doing everything you need for your Completion Files. For instance, you probably want to remember to do the Spincake sidequest! Wouldn't want to be stuck without that when you're fighting... whatever the Chapter 4 Secret Boss is, huh? SO! GO FORTH! I hope that at least someone finds use for this. I made the 3-4 checklist for my own purposes, but hey, maybe others will find value in it!

Once the chapters are out, I will probably combine both of these into a single Chapters 1-4 Big Ol' Checklist. To put both links in one place, here they both are, back to back:

[stargazingdesign]

26 - OPHIUCHUS | Stargazing Design - DOWNLOAD HERE

Hi everyone, I’m back! Today I bring you Ophiuchus, a 6 pages lore google docs template, my very first of its kind! Designed for servers or rp groups, Ophiuchus features a rules section, a plot section with plenty of space to write, a section for the places where things happen - or don’t, one for NPCs, and another for characters. The best part? You can easily duplicate any of the sections. Ophiuchus also comes with a little gift: a 2-page character sheet for your server/group members to fill out! If you’d like, you can easily link their character sheet doc on the characters page. If you're not a server or group owner but like this design, don't worry tho! Single muse version and multi muse version are coming reeeally soon 👀

➤ Instructions: After purchasing, you’ll receive a pdf file containing the links to both google docs templates and instructions on how to copylock it, along with a detailed editing guide. Open the pdf, click on the google docs link, go to "File" and then "Make a copy." ➤ Terms of use: ▪ Feel free to customize the template as you wish! Change colors, swap out elements, add or remove images, duplicate pages, etc. Make it your own and have fun! ▪ You're more than welcome to purchase my templates as a gift for a friend! ▪ Don’t remove my credits and the link to my tumblr. ▪ Don’t share the pdf and/or the link you received for this doc. ▪ Don’t copy, resell, or redistribute my templates.

— Additional info: ▪ This document has drawings, which can only be edited in the desktop version of google docs. ▪ This document can be viewed perfectly on mobile when using the "print layout" option in the docs app or "desktop mode" in a mobile browser - preferably google chrome.

Placeholder pictures are of Naomi Watanabe, Kennedy Walsh, Adut Akech, Tamino, Madelyn Cline, Lenore Dove, Garrett Hedlund, Tom Blyth and Rebecca Ferguson.

If you have any questions or need help, feel free to contact me, I’ll be happy to help!

As always, likes and reblogs are very appreciated!

Thank you so much for your support! 💙

[sukunasun]

I hope this ask finds you well! I simply MUST tell you about my latest Nanami fantasy. Feel free to ignore lol

So I've been obsessed with your Professor Nanami thoughts, I've always had little fantasies about him like that, but recently I thought of a combination between your Professor Nanami and the BEAUTIFUL chubby fem reader x Nanami fic you wrote.

I hate to take up your time but I simply must indulge in the thought. I imagine Professor Nanami, tall and awkward, stern and often seen as rude, falling madly infatiated with the new chubby biology professor that has joined his same university. They rarely cross paths, but when they do, he feels like a lovesick fool watching her go across the courtyard swiftly, shifting through documents, barely paying attention to the world around her. He wants to talk to her, woo her, pick at her brain and hear her ramble about her passion for her teaching subject. He wishes he still had that passion for teaching, wasn't dulled by the lack of interest in his students (Itadori is one of the few who brings his passion back every time he receives an update email).

But like I said, he's awkward, and he's a die hard romantic so he wishes they had a kind of "meet cute" encounter where she drops her papers and he helps pick them up, introducing himself, inviting her out to coffee. He feels silly when he imagines all the scenarios he could officially meet her, get her name from her own mouth instead of the university faculty index online. He just wants a chance to know her, learn about her, see her as more than a bubbly professor who is way out of his league.

Of course his thoughts don't stay pure. He often thinks of her late at night, in his office or his bed, finishing paperwork and imagining her taking his fountain pen away, coaxing him to relax with a neck massage, pressing her breasts into the back of his head. He imagines taking her on his desk, or a fancy hotel after a romantic dinner, something hot and wild or passionate and soothing. It's the only way he can get off nowadays, thinking about her in all the ways he wishes he could.

Maybe Geto and Gojo encourage him to get out of his comfort zone and ask her on a date. Maybe they do have a meet cute encounter and fall in love instantly. Maybe he's too timid around her and continues to pine in silence. Regardless, just the thought of her makes his stomach flip in the most delicious way, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to recover.

Alrighty, I'm all done lol. Thank you for your time and I hope you have the loveliest day. Your writing is always fantastic and inspires me endlessly, so I hope you're doing well 💕

thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! i loved loved loved reading this !! i'm so happy he's gotten so much appreciation, im sure he'd find it all very overwhelming and unnecessary, but it'll encourage him to give himself a chance for once.

because nanami's more than his semblance and stature. they say he's an awkward, rude man who's out to make his student's social lives just as non-existent. as. yuuji puts it, "he added an extra assignment for the week, now i have to cancel my date, i'm gonna be alone forever!"

and kusakabe snorts when you bring him up. "nanami kento? that guy only cares about work, he doesn't talk to women let alone go on dates,"

"must be one of those aloof and stoic types—" higuruma is at least observational in his judgement "—i don't know of his preferences, but in terms of dating...he'd likely be attracted to someone similar." he shrugs from behind his desk, stacks of files and paperwork piled high. his words could mean anything but higuruma rarely makes vague, blanket statements. never the kind to shy away from specifics and specific connotations.

thinking about it now. you and nanami would be equals in regards to intelligence. a pair of smart and capable people leading their fields. although when it comes to appearances, two people couldn't be more different. where he is tall and muscular, with thick forearms and a chest sturdy as a brick wall, you are rounded and curvy beneath your lab coat.

still, the general consensus on his not-so-friendly disposition wasn't enough to dissuade you, there's always a possibility he'd be kind as he is smart. the thought of running into professor nanami was a situation most unprepared for. what does one do when faced with the most unattainable man on campus. his accolades and accomplishments aside, it is clear he isn't pursuing a relationship. at least not in the way he's pursued knowledge and truth all this while.

it has never been more difficult to cross paths given that STEM and econs buildings were a distance apart. there hadn't been an overlap in students or staff meetings or social circles either, as if he were on a totally different side of the world. sometimes you notice him and it makes your heart flutter. a rare sighting of the creature of your affections standing by the window of his office but turning away the second he sees you, pulling the curtains shut. other times, he sits by the bench near the park, leg crossed over his knee as he balances papers on his thigh. even when deep into grading papers, he senses your presence walking by and leaves in an instant. his feet moving at a brisk pace, carrying an old messenger bag with him. as if he's doing it all on purpose, going out of his way to avoid you.

--------------

after nanami's dashed and made it to the safety of his office, he's left peeking through the small sliver of light from his curtains, watching you sigh and take a seat where he'd been.

"maah...he's staring again," gojo's voice is a grating sound to nanami's ears. always a mocking, teasing lilt heard from behind him. he's about to stop them from entering because they're always meddling at the wrong time but feels the weight of gojo's arm slinging over his shoulder. ah. too late.

geto laughs right in his face before shaking his head and tutting, "our kouhai hasn't learned a thing!"

"i don't know what you're talking about," nanami makes his defense. looking down at his loafers, they're all scuffed from years of wear, but he likes that the leather has darkened, the soles are still intact, and it has taken shape to his feet perfectly. kinda like how his two seniors are just as familiar. always circling and hovering around him, ready to strike with a jab or a hard truth. gojo and geto are terrible at subtlety as they are at being his wingmen.

"still wallowing?" gojo hums, his index finger coming up to nanami's cheek and poking the skin incessantly. "by the way you should really start using a toner—"

"stop it—" nanami swats his hand away, clicking his teeth "—i'm not wallowing." he sounds so juvenile like this, only with these two does he lose all reputation. turning back into that annoyed and moody teen with acne and a fringe, cooped up in a library and getting addicted to caffeine.

geto snorts, "you've made it your whole identity, 'woe is me, i'm so awkward and ugly and no one will ever put up with me'," he believes nanami's become attached to self-pity and judging by how well he's able to twist the knife with people, nanami isn't adamant on refuting his claim.

instead, he scoffs, "i never said i was ugly—" that he knows is an overstatement, but picking out the 'wrong' thing, the flaw in geto's argument helps to deflect from the unflattering truth. no one will ever put up with me. and geto knows nanami's swerving around because he gives him an unimpressed look, 'that's beside the point,' he'd say.

nanami tries to explain, "—it's always best to be honest and fair when making judgements of oneself." if that were the case, he'd remind himself of all the times he's chickened out of speaking to you. choosing to hide in the dark of his office to calm his beating heart at being caught red-handed or dashing away when you found him grading papers outside. 'coward' says the voice in his head. he ignores it for now.

"aw man he's being self-deprecating again, guru-chan do something!" satoru sighs, shaking his head as if disappointed, then hugs nanami. not a full teddy bear hug, but he squeezes nanami a centimetre closer with his slung arm, and it feels the same as being lit on fire. uncomfortable and definitely not helpful for the situation he's in right now.

suguru saves him at least by pushing satoru's arm away. "c'mon 'ken, you've been pining over her for months, what do you have to lose?" he counters and nanami doesn't know if he's more scared of being denied what he wants most or having to lose it all. weighing out the risks comes naturally to him but backing it up with indefatigable proof is unfortunately not a power he hones.

--------------

you're having lunch with higuruma today. just lunch. a meal shared between two colleagues and nothing more—

—is what nanami tells himself when he spots the two of you by the newly opened cafe near campus. the scene is so picturesque as if taken from a painting. you sit by a window, sunlight pouring in and across your features, beaming rays of light decorating you in gold and amber. he's picked a few cues from the man opposite you, one being that whatever's going on between you two is beyond platonic intent.

which he can't fault the lawyer for. no man would pass up the opportunity for something more. who wouldn't fall within the first second of laying eyes on you? the way nanami did. he remembers your shiny hair blowing in the wind when rushing to and from lecture halls, the soft plumpness of your cheeks rising with every smile, a torch of passion lit in your eyes when hearing you talk about research. with interest and a warm, almost fond curiosity.

this is to say that nanami isn't innocent in his own intentions with you. berating himself is part of romance too. 'she's not a prize to be won. she's a woman. brilliant and beautiful,' he thinks it'll be easier to succumb to his insecurities, tell himself he's unworthy, but all he feels is a twisted guilt. the same guilt that curls and winds up his spine, clutching at his chest, pooling in his stomach as he watches the higuruma move across the table to caress a finger over your cheek. seemingly to brush away what little crumbs have peppered there.

nanami clenches his fist so hard his knuckles turn white and a vein bulges. so it's like that. he hates jumping to conclusions. it's uncharacteristic for him to make accusations and form baseless hypotheses. but why. why such a feeling. all because this man has acquired your favour? who is he to have earned the luxury of touching you so freely? when nanami wants and has wanted for more than a brush of skin or a friendly introduction, for longer than a meal or seasons passed. torturously, achingly counting seconds to gaining, no, receiving that privilege. as entitled, he isn't exempt from possession. and how human too. the unfeeling and detached nanami learns he's capable of wanting something for himself.

he watches for your reaction, but when you don't push higuruma away and thank him instead, nanami believes he's lost all his appetite. pasta left untouched until clear skies turn as grey and gloomy as his mood for the rest of the day.

--------------

he's in a rush tonight. no—a rut sounds more fitting.

after he's failed half his class on their weekly assignment and dealt with the pushback, he's about ready to explode from the stress. nothing seems to be going right. an unappetizing lunch, a disinterested batch of students, and he's three days behind schedule on that journal article. staring at his three-monitor setup and coming up blank on his daily writing. he can't seem to force his fingers to tap away at the keys, but they reach toward the whiskey bottle with ease.

nanami's a big believer in moderation but'll bend his rules again as he resigns himself to the guilty pleasures of fantasy and fleeting missives. he pours himself a glass, then another, and by the time he downs the fourth, his cheeks pink and heat up. clouding his mind and buzzing all over his skin soothingly. the alcohol is not nearly enough for him to pass out drunk, but it does release some tension in his muscles.

all the nerves and irritation slip away as he reaches straight for his trousers, unbuckling himself free with a one-handed manoeuvre. he's been jerking off every night now, grown accustomed to routine, it doesn't take long for him to leak through his boxers the moment he closes his eyes shut and thinks of you. his hard dick springs free and his balls ache for release. he tugs on them and groans when the sensation throbs up his shaft. the skin hot and glistening from his precum dribbling down. twitching head begging for heat, pressure, and suction.

he's got an array of scenes to choose from. making love after a long day. making love on your wedding night. making love in general. nanami loves a soft woman, and no one knows what he's really like when in private. strict professor by day, introverted and nerdy, who most believe is still a virgin. it's only here that he doesn't fumble and fidget with nerves. tonight he feels no remorse for imaging the way his cock looks slapping against your cheek, making you gag on it as you slobber drool and his mess down your chin. nanami almost feels bad, might curse himself for picturing a sweetheart like you on your knees, his fist wrapped around your hair so tight while you look up at him, eager to please.

used to picturing slow, sensuous kisses and even slower thrusts into you, he now opts for something dirtier to dismiss the scene he saw earlier today. 'you're jealous' the thought whispers through the fog and this time, he can't ignore it.

he fists his shaft hoping to imitate the feeling of your wet heat cling to him like a vice. he curls around you just as tightly. his cock fitting snugly, almost too big to take within your depths. you'll tell him just as much because he likes the praise. academic success has done little for his vanity, but hearing your sighing lamentations, sobbing ovations on his sheer size would make him feel just that bit better about himself.

but forget his self-esteem, this is purely for your pleasure. he wouldn't want you feeling anything but full and split open on his dick. he's tall and broad and has come a long way since he was lanky and swimming in his slacks. has an idea of just how much weight, how much pressure is befitting to trap you beneath him. don't be fooled by his quiet demeanor, nanami is always down to give you a good time. setting those prescription glasses to the side and gets to work. laying you back and propped comfortably, curves cushioned by pillows. with legs spread and a view to die for, nanami gets himself into position and eats you out like a meal to be savoured. taking his time, making you edge, urged only by your cries and moans.

he wouldn't mind if you caged him in, legs putting him in a headlock, but he prefers to have you spread-eagled and bucking for more. clit so sensitive as he nibbles and sucks on it, gently at first, like he's testing the waters, picking up cues and filing them away for future reference. he loves to learn and he's quick at it too. getting so good at it he's able to have you trembling and twitching for hours, coming undone with just his mouth and nothing more.

he pumps his fist and moans shamelessly because he's allowed this one thing. here in private, he lets out groans and grunts held under crumbling restraint, rambling on, "mine, mine, mine..." his legs spread, and his thighs clench when he's close to his climax. imagining the sounds you'd make, light and airy, deep and guttural, moaning his name and screaming for more. the beautiful professor below him taking every inch that slips past the channel of his slippery, rough fingers.

wet and heated, the head of his cock bobs and his thumb presses down right at the sensitive tip while his other hand grips the base tightly with sweet pressure, just like how you'd clench down on him. "i didn't think you'd feel so good 'ken," he hears it in your voice and it makes him smile just a little. call it arrogance but he knows he'll pleasure you just right. his beautiful professor looking shocked and surprised that he's no longer a man who cowers and runs away but one who takes want he wants instead.

his cheeks get hot and so do his ears, clenching his eyes shut and immersing himself fully. tipping his head back and cursing, "fuck—" he grits out desperate and dying to bounce you atop him, coiled around you like a snake, he'd love the weight, the feel, so soft, so full.

tongue going dry with every heaving breath, nanami sees a view of your face twisting in pleasure, gasping and shaking all over. your pretty lips gaping in a perfect o-shape as your eyes roll back and your fingernails rake down his chiselled back, just to hold on, just to ride out the immense wave of pleasure. shlick. shlick. shlick. he mimics thrusting into you on the comedown before he spills into his hand. white painting his skin and most of his office floor.

he sits back and sighs, his cock still leaking cum and he thinks he hates himself. still, it's only when he instinctively reaches for the neatly folded handkerchiefs in another drawer does he begin to contemplate his situation. "i'm done for..."

--------------

when the long-awaited, much-anticipated 'meet-cute' happens, it doesn't go as he'd imagined. "professor nanami! we've never actually met so i thought i'd say hi," you put on your best smile, pushing your glasses up and hoping they hide the uncertainty in your expression. you squeeze a clammy hand on your skirt to soak up as much of the moisture before holding it out. only to have him stare at you questioningly in return.

the worse part isn't the skeptical expression, or the way his eyebrows furrow, or the way his lips grow thin, as if he's confused as to why you're speaking to him. like he wouldn't waste an introduction on you of all people. this is the downside of having a crush, the inevitable letdown and rejection you feel when realizing nanami might know you exist, but he doesn't acknowledge your existence.

you've been told you're quite the personality, cute, bubbly, approachable. so why the hell won't he just talk to you! it's not like you did anything wrong and you hate being made to feel stupid. you're a professor in your own right, and he's just staring like you were less than. not even worth a hello. so you laugh it off, "well, see you!" turning around and berating yourself for even trying. this man was just as they said—detached and cold fucking hearted.

"w-wait!" his hand reaches out to catch your arm. the sudden lunge almost toppling him over and falling atop you. "forgive me, it seems i was stunned." he swallows.

"stunned?" you ask, suddenly curious.

with his eyes blinking behind his glasses, nanami moves to push them back from slipping down that bridge of his nose. he looks so endearing, it instantly makes you smile. "yes, well, you...you're talking. to me." he lets you go after his hand has overstayed it's welcome around your bicep, pulling back towards the front of his sweater, brushing it off for nonexistent lint. (of course not, nanami would be the kind to steam and brush it clean after every wash)

"that is true yes," you reply, eyes crinkling at the berth of your smile, wide enough, bright enough, infectious in nature. so much so he gives you one in return. just the smallest tilt of his own lips. in a second his face goes from night to day. almost like the clouds that part then, crepuscular rays shining upon his golden hair and lashes.

after a few seconds, he seems to have calmed, but his heartbeat hammers the same, you know this because his face turns pink. "i'd like to...talk to you." he says, and you take him up on that request.

[emmg]

Imagine being such a monumental fucking loser that you grew up and thought, “You know what would fix the gaping hole where my soul should be? Becoming an HR ghoul and looking like the human embodiment of expired mayonnaise left in a hot car during a heatwave.” Just a festering blob of weaponized mediocrity with a badge lanyard and a superiority complex.

Now you, yes, you, fucking Linda, finally get to live your twisted little dream: stomping into the office like the CEO of Emotional Castration, radiating the raw, joyless energy of a DMV printer from 1998. You reek of expired Bath & Body Works, dollar store dry shampoo, and the desperate need to feel superior to someone, anyone. You’ve got the aesthetic of a haunted filing cabinet. A fucking cat litter box with tenure. You look like someone googled “business casual” during a breakdown and hit checkout on a Kohl’s clearance cart at 3 a.m. Your entire vibe screams “divorced three times and still thinks decaf is a personality.”

You literally bite your lip over policy documents like they’re fucking erotica. You’re sitting there, sweating through your knockoff blazer, masturbating to a 73-slide PowerPoint titled “Workplace Conduct” like it’s the goddamn Fifty Shades of Passive-Aggression. Slide 16: “Escalation Pathways”? Instant orgasm. Slide 39: “Maintaining Neutral Tone in Email Communication”? Linda fucking ascends.

The sheer audacity to read a mildly frustrated email from an employee who’s been worked to the bone and paid in expired Starbucks gift cards and go, “This is disgusting. I’m appalled.”

Oh are you, Brenda? Are you APPALLED? Did the very-normal font and lack of excessive exclamation marks shake your moral compass so violently that you had to clutch your pearls and convene a meeting while whispering “insubordination” like it’s a slur?

Patricia, you think it’s totally appropriate to look someone dead in the face and go, “This email is disgusting,” while in the same goddamn breath, you lecture them about communication etiquette.

Like, bitch, the fucking irony. You’re out here trying to cosplay as the Patron Saint of Professionalism while throwing a tantrum over sentence structure like a toddler who just learned what Grammarly is. How do you not implode from the cognitive dissonance? Do you practice that shit in the mirror?

You’re not a professional. You’re a glorified high school hall monitor with a LinkedIn profile. The only thing “senior” about you is how long you’ve been stewing in your own petty bitterness, waiting for the chance to slam a “per my last email” like it’s a finishing move.

You’re not the backbone, Susan. You’re the fucking sciatic nerve.

HR doesn’t stand for Human Resources anymore, it stands for Horrendous Rats. A whole department of emotionally stunted little tyrants who get off on gatekeeping bereavement leave and writing someone up for “attitude.”

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

[backjustforberena]

Since this worked the last time, and was very enjoyable to do and hear from people, I'm asking again to pick a WIP to commit to, now that "Salt In The Wound" is published. Once again, I asked the lovely @silkandsteel to pick a word to be found in my big document and other files, and from the examples, I would like to have my followers pick which one I should soldier on with.

The word, this time, was "stranger". A very helpful option when HOTD has the presence of "The Stranger". I've kept it to 5 options. Here they are:

Option #1 - A canon divergence of 1x09. Baela is imprisoned alongside Rhaenys. When Erryk comes for them, Rhaenys gives up her own freedom for her granddaughter's.

Rhaenys had paced and prowled after her conversation with Queen Alicent. The threat to her own life was not her concern but the threat to her granddaughter? To her dragon? It was those that stole her breath and enraged her heart. She had never wanted to slap a god so much as The Stranger.

Option #2 - A canon divergence of 1x01. Viserys, rather than making Rhaenyra his heir, summons his cousin down to Balerion's skull to offer her the crown that always should have been hers.

If Viserys has anything more to ask her on the subject, his courage fails him. Perhaps he, too, thinks of Aemma. The realm wept - and they took their cue from their King. He was in such an acute pain. As familiar as Rhaenys is with the Stranger, the pain of losing a spouse is one she has been blessedly spared. Corlys has come close, but he returns to her, every time. Yet she had seen the loss on her uncle, on her grandfather. On her dear mother, who had never been the same.

Option #3 - A "cut" scene from 2x03, where Rhaenys says goodbye to Rhaena.

Rhaena has such freedom and she should cherish it. Rhaenys hopes Rhaena will never see battle or bloodshed or have any more experience with death than her short life has already dealt her. A foolish hope, particularly the third, for the Stranger stalks them all. War is not war without death.

Option #4 - A canon divergence of 1x10. Corlys refuses to pledge to fight the war. Rhaenys must deliver her answer to Rhaenyra and the Black Council. And her own answer as well.

Seas did not tempt her; not rolling waves or oceans of grief and memory. Fire called; what burned bright is the light she must follow- Baela had been right. War was coming for all of them. If she could not endure another loss then she would do all in her power to prevent one. The Stranger may come for her kin again, but this time Rhaenys would not simply stand by. Her eyes were open..

Option #5 - A "cut" scene, early in Series 2. Rhaenys visits Corlys at the dry dock for the first time (I swear it's more flirty than this extract suggests).

As the light reduced (though the day was still a bright one) and although Corlys smiled at the sight of her, and became the sun itself, her own smile shook. It shook because, as Corlys approached her, he limped. As he came down the steps, his hand grasped the railing. There was a wince of pain, quickly hidden. He was no young man. It had been no hero’s return, but a fevered escape from the Stranger. A Stranger who cast shadows.

[raredrop]

its that time again, time for me to talk about another pokemon rom hack!!!!

the newest darling of the community, Pokemon Emerald Seaglass!

play as either ethan or lyra

a style closer to the gbc (while it does say complete overhaul, somethings haven't been changed such as cutscenes, certain moves, ect...also the music)

exp share in the style of recent games

two difficulties (normal and hard) which can be toggled in your room as well as a toggle for a soft level cap

cheat codes to use at the gamecube in your room (u can find a list of these online)

gens 1-3 with cross gen evolutions (and some later gen surprises)

tweaks to "bad" pokemon to make them more interesting (such as some type changes, example altaria is now dragon/fairy always)

a more updated battle system (the split, fairy, ect)

mini games (diving and pinball, ways to get alolan eggs)

the wishing well a gacha/wondertrade feature in rustboro that allows you to toss wishing pieces in to get a random first stage pokemon (no legendaries in there) to make early game interesting

HMs dont need to be taught to be used, but you do need a pokemon in your team that could learn it to use it

following pokemon

and mooore :3

[someiicecube]

a little redraw perhaps,,, 👉👈

[ogata-apologist]

you mean to tell me the events of golden kamuy take place in the span of about one YEAR

[danmeichael]

WIP folder game

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Tag as many people as you have WIPs. People can send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet/preview or tell them something about it!

@gaywarcriminals is holding me at knifepoint because he's a supportive friend who wants to encourage me with my art and writing.

bingyuan modern vampire reverse transmigration

ansong_flesh

stacy's dad has got me down bad

quietbeforethestorm_chengxian

to see you again, jiang cheng

WLWerewolf Bingqui

robot Chengxian

chengxian_sleepover

if i didn't tag you you were either 1. already tagged by fish 2. i was too shy 3. we haven't really talked before or haven't talked in a while, on account of the shyness which leaves. uhm. @feels-like-fire .... and @gaywarcriminals spill how many wips you cut from the list.

[librarylexicon]

tagged by @freyafrida 🫶

rules: share the file names of your five most recently edited WIPs. when someone types the name into your inbox, share a sentence from it❤️

Cass and TimSteph

Family Crisis

Tim and Alfred

Let Me Down Gently

A Mask of Mine

tagging: @androxys @wildsofmarch @fleur-de-violette @geevesthevieve @babblingbookends

[iniziare]

You don't quite expect cultural differences when it comes to police reports. Newsflash: yeah, they're there; they're right there. Why? I don't know. Thank sanity and insanity both for embassies who are, usually, a great help.

[quantumcartography]

I just listened to episode 26 of the Magnus Archives and I realized that it reminds me of Bloodborne. I have some spoilers for it, just because I was looking something up on the wiki and just intuited things based on some of the pages.

So it seems like there are some entities that are responsible for these events, a finite amount named with things associated with various fears. But episode 26 implies that these entities aren't uniform and aren't even aligned, which distinctly reminds me of Bloodborne. The way the Great Old Ones seem to each be distinct and non uniform and some seem to be fighting a proxy war against one another. Like The Moon Presence puts the player on a path that leads them to kill Rom and other great ones.