#container overturned

[republic-world]

"Tragedy Strikes on Mumbai-Pune Expressway: Two Lives Lost, Four Injured in Container Overturn"

In a heart-wrenching incident, a tragic accident occurred on the Mumbai-Pune Expressway, resulting in the loss of two lives and injuries to four individuals. The catastrophe unfolded when a container traveling along this busy highway overturned, causing significant damage to at least five cars.

This devastating mishap transpired on Monday, August 21, leaving commuters in shock and leading to a disruption in traffic flow on the Pune-bound lane. Prompt action was taken, and the injured victims were swiftly transported to the hospital for urgent medical attention, according to Raigad SP Somnath Gharge.

The accident remains under investigation, and more details are expected to emerge in due course.

Our hearts go out to the victims and their families during this difficult time.

Read More Latest India News only on Republic World

Republic World is a dynamic and most trusted source of news and information, founded by journalist and entrepreneur Arnab Goswami. We cater live and in-depth coverage of comprehensive news headlines and articles, covering a wide range of topics including India news, entertainment news, sports news and much more. Republic World features breaking news in India, current news headlines, India news live and today's India News.

[gelastocoridae]

You would think in a city that is absolutely overrun with biology and ecology-type degrees, agriculture professionals/students, and animal researchers/caretakers/babysitters, the average housing cost alone would be enough for those jobs to afford

Or at the very least, for people following the occupancy limit laws to afford with those jobs. But here we are

[tomriddleslove]

Obliviate.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x Reader angst

Summary: The one where tensions are running higher, and everyone has to pick a side. You promised to stick by one another, but a stupid oath you made when you first met threatens to drive that apart. Alternatively: If you love her, then you have to let her go.

A/N: If you don’t listen to the recommended song when reading this i will fight you 🤺🤺

Song: Goodbye - Billie Eilish

The Daily Prophet

Unrest Brews as Dark Forces Loom

By Rita Skeeter

In a disturbing turn of events, Diagon Alley was rocked by an unprecedented attack last night, sending shockwaves throughout the wizarding community. Witnesses reported seeing a group of hooded figures, suspected to be Death Eaters, descending upon the famous magical thoroughfare with malicious intent.

The Flourish and Blotts bookstore bore the brunt of the assault, with its windows shattered and shelves overturned. Several nearby shops, including Ollivanders Wand Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium, also sustained significant damage.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Horace Slughorn, a retired Potions Master who happened to be in the area during the attack. "It was pure pandemonium. People were running for cover, spells flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of the darkest days of the last wizarding war."

Ministry of Magic officials were quick to respond to the scene, deploying Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to contain the situation. However, the attackers managed to evade capture, leaving behind a trail of destruction and instilling fear in the hearts of many.

The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, condemned the attack in the strongest terms, vowing to apprehend those responsible and bring them to justice.

"We will not tolerate such brazen acts of violence in our society," Minister Shacklebolt declared in a statement issued this morning. "The Ministry is fully committed to ensuring the safety and security of all witches and wizards, and we will spare no effort in our pursuit of these criminals."

The attack on Diagon Alley serves as a grim reminder of the growing threat posed by Voldemort's followers, who have been emboldened in recent months by reports of their dark lord's rumoured return. With tensions running high and fear gripping the wizarding world, many are left wondering what the future holds in this time of uncertainty.

You frown as you observe Mattheo, watching as he tosses the paper down onto the table in front of you with a huff. The tension in his face has become increasingly evident over the past few weeks, and you've begun to forget what Mattheo looks like when he isn't frowning.

You wrap your arms around his arm, leaning in close to him as you speak quietly.

“Hey. It’s alright,” You reassure, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the fireplace, a small huff of both frustration and amusement escaping his lips as he clenches his jaw, nodding.

“It’s alright.” He scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

It’s alright? No, it wasn’t alright. His father was a murderous lunatic who was about to trigger the second wizarding war. He had to sit back and watch his own friend get tortured for hours for failing to complete a task. He can't close his eyes without seeing Theodore writhing in pain on the floor.

Mattheo was expected to fight with them. The time would come, that was for certain. Mattheo would have to stand there, and raise his wand against the people he's shared a dorm with and sat in class with.

Hell, he would be expected to raise his wand against you.

“They always say this, Mattheo. They’ve been saying it for years, and nothing has happened.” You say, but even you can see how pathetic it sounds. Despite your efforts to comfort him, it's clear that his mind is elsewhere, consumed by the looming threat of war and the impossible choices he may soon be forced to make.

Mattheo finally tears his gaze away from the fireplace, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, the sheer look of sorrow in his eyes enough to shatter your heart into a million little pieces.

"I don't want to drag you into this," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "You deserve better than to be caught up in my mess."

Your heart sinks as you realize where this conversation is headed. "Mattheo, please," you plead, the fear in your voice palpable, "don't do this. Don't shut me out."

But he shakes his head, his expression pained. "I have to," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Remember our promise?"

Mattheo looks up when he sees you sit next to him, a wide grin on your face as you unpack your bag.

He had seen you here and there in the common room. You always seemed to have an impossibly bright smile, far too lovely for the gloominess of Slytherin.

“Riddle.” You hum with a small grin, and he can't help but let a small smile tug at his lips as he looks over at you.

“What's wrong? You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head” You tease as you sit down next to him .

Mattheo blinks in surprise as you address him, the warmth of your smile catching him off guard. He's used to being treated with caution and apprehension, especially given his family's reputation and his own reserved demeanor. But your easy manner and genuine curiosity leave him feeling strangely disarmed.

"Nothing's wrong, just lost in thought, I suppose," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you unpack your bag. Despite himself, he can't help but feel a sense of curiosity about you, wondering what it is that draws you to him when so many others keep their distance.

-•-

“Please-” Mattheo pleads in frustration, slamming the door shut behind him as he storms through the empty common room. You follow after him briskly, slamming the door that separates the common room from the dorms closed with a flick of your wand as you corner him.

“What do you mean, please?” You snap, frowning at him.

“Stop-” He says, his movements exasperated as he motions between the two of you “- this! Stop trying to be friends with me! It’s for your own good.” He says, looking up at you.

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of amusement and frustration as you shove him lightly.

“Oh fuck off. So you can kiss me and spend every evening with me but when it suits you we are just friends. You don't get to decide what’s good for me, Mattheo. I choose what I do and who I associate with, and if that hurts me then so fucking be it.” You retort harshly. Mattheo goes to interject but you cut him off.

“No! You don't get to choose when you want to be with me. I want you, Mattheo. All of you. I couldn’t give two flying shits about who your father is, or who you associate with. I'm capable of making my own decisions.”

He remains silent, his expression torn between turmoil and guilt, as your words hang heavy in the air between you. You feel slightly guilty for your outburst and your expression softens, reaching out to hold his hand gently as you speak.

"You know, if you really think it's that dangerous for me to be around you, you could always just obliviate me. Make me forget about you completely."You quip, trying to lighten the mood

For a moment, Mattheo's shock gives way to a burst of laughter, the tension in the room dissipating as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

-•-

You pull back from Mattheo, shaking your head. “No. No, that was a joke.” You stammer, but he turns to you.

“It wasn’t. We spoke about it afterwards. You promised me.” Mattheo says, sternly.

You know he’s right. You only agreed because the idea seemed so laughable. But now it was a reality, and you could see the hurt and disappointment in Mattheo's eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words, the weight of everything crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. "I love you, Mattheo," you say, more of a plea than anything else. He draws you into him, a strong arm wrapping around you tightly, as though he is scared to let you go. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head.

“I know. I love you too. That's why we have to.” He murmurs, trying his hardest to not let his voice break.

-•-

It’s not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Mattheo had just found it. Found his reason for living. Found his reason to keep going when all the odds were stacked against him. You were the air he breathed, the light that lit his life up and the tender hand that soothed him. You were his everything, and you had to be snatched away from him.

He gently raps on the door to your dorm, just to let you know he was about to enter before cracking the door open. You hastily scramble, shoving the book you were writing with under your pillow as you spot Mattheo.

He notices but he doesn't say a thing, no, he can't. Because in a few minutes, it would be as though he never existed to you. He couldn't tell what would have hurt more, you not being able to see him, or you not even knowing who he was. You’d hold his heart in your hands, unknowingly, and he would be nothing but a stranger.

“Not in here, Please, not in here.” You breathe out, your words hitching in your throat as you fight back tears. He nods wordlessly, taking a step back.

“No one’s in the common room. I’ll uh- go there.” He murmurs, his voice hollow and empty as he turns to leave, unable to bear the thought of facing you for what may be the last time.

As he makes his way down to the common room, every step heavier than the last, he can't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at his insides. It's like a void, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing behind but a hollow shell of the person he used to be.

He finds a seat in the furthermost corner, where you both usually sat, facing the fireplace. He watches the embers crackle and dance, not even noticing your presence till you slide up into the seat next to him. He wants to avert his gaze when he sees the tears in your eyes, but instead, he reaches up.

His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

He wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“My wand. Let me go uh-” He blurts , quickly getting up as he looks away. He blinks back tears as he hurries up the stairs. Instead of going up to his dorm, however, he sneaks into yours.

He walks over to your bed, pulling back your pillow. Sure enough, the small book you were so desperate to conceal from Mattheo was there. He looks around and then with a small huff, tucks it into his back pocket. He hurries back downstairs.

Returning to the common room, he sits back down next to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwine with yours as you sit together in silence. For a while, you don't say anything. You fear that speaking will break this small bubble, where time has frozen and you can just enjoy your last moments together.

As Mattheo gently cups your face, his touch trembling with the weight of what's to come, he feels the soft dampness of your tears against his fingertips. Your eyes, filled with sorrow and pleading, search his for some semblance of reassurance, some sign that this isn't the end.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart breaking with every word. "I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. I’m so scared"

Your sobs fill the air around you, the sound like a knife to Mattheo's heart as he struggles to hold back his own tears. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, bittersweet kiss, savouring the taste of your lips one last time before it's all gone.

“I love you.” Is all you can muster. It’s pathetic, but it hurts to even think about anything.

You cling to him desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair as though trying to anchor yourself to the present. Mattheo feels a lump form in his throat, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but he knows that he has to do this. For your own safety, for your own sake, he has to let you go.

His forehead presses against yours, taking in every last moment of intimacy he’s granted. You don't open your eyes, and he's grateful, for he doesn't think he could bear to look you in the eye.

“Obliviate.”

The second after he murmurs the words he stumbles away from you, reeling backwards as though your touch has burnt him. You wouldn't remember a thing about him, not even his name. He couldn’t be close to you anymore.

Mattheo watches as you blink, confusion clouding your features as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You look around the room, your eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of bewilderment, and for a moment, Mattheo's heart clenches with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember him. But deep down, he knows that it's futile, that the spell has already taken effect, erasing every trace of him from your mind.

You shake your head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog from your thoughts, before turning and heading up to your bed. Mattheo watches you go, his heart breaking with every step you take away from him, knowing that he can never follow.

But then, just as you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, your gaze flickering back to where Mattheo stands in the corner of the room. And in that moment, you give him a small, absentminded smile, the kind of smile you might give to a passing stranger.

Mattheo's heart lurches in his chest at the sight of your smile. He wants to call out to you, to tell you who he is, to beg you to remember him, but he knows that it's pointless. You're gone, lost to him forever, and there's nothing he can do to change that.

As you disappear, he collapses down onto the sofa, He wants to sob, and for a second he thinks he is, a horrible restictive choking feeling in his throat as he looks down at the floor. He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling with the small black book, perhaps the last piece of you he’d truly have.

He finds the most recent entry and wipes away the tears that blur his vision as he begins to read.

Don't be alarmed when you see this. I want you to read every word of this carefully. This is you, that is writing. It is the 26th of June, 1996. You might have felt like you’ve woken up in the common room, feeling a bit disoriented.

You were obliviated. And it was your idea.

When you were that annoying, pestering little kid, you had taken it upon yourself to befriend a boy called Mattheo Riddle. You’ll see him over the next few days, perhaps. He might look at you as though it hurts him to. It most definitely does. He’s devastatingly handsome, with the softest brown curls and the most expressive eyes. I do believe you won't need me to describe him. Really, my love for him is so strong I doubt any sort of obliviate can erase the idea that Mattheo Riddle lives within the recesses of your heart. Everyone had warned you of how dangerous he was, how his father was rumoured to be the Dark Lord and that he was bound to be no good. But you, in your true Slytherin ambition, set out on a mission to befriend him.

And you fell in love. It was impossible not to, really.

He is everything to me. He was everything to you. He is the most brilliant boy I’ve known. Far too many people gave up on him early. He’s beyond just being incredibly intelligent. He feels. And that’s rarer than you might believe. For someone who was subjected to such horrible things growing up, he is tender. Do not let his bruised knuckles and split lips fool you.

Now, more than ever, he will struggle. He believes you are fully not aware of him. But with this, I hope you are.

Be there for him. Do not tell him about this. You were awfully good at forcing your way into people's lives. Do that for him now. Make him think it was a coincidence. Be there for him, and don’t let his stubbornness fool you. Merlin knows he will be stubborn. He is simply scared, and you mustn’t let that deter you.

People will often compare their lovers to the sun. Bright, warm, near perfect. Mattheo is the moon, casting a gentle glow in the darkness, guiding you through the night. He may not shine as brightly as the sun, but his presence is no less mesmerizing, no less essential.

You had always preferred the moon more, anyway.

Take care of him.

You stupid girl. You stupid, selfish girl.

Mattheo's hands tremble as he reads the letter, his heart constricting with every word, every line. It's like a knife to his heart, the pain of knowing that even in a situation like this, you still found a way to look after him, to care for him, to love him.

Tears blur his vision as he reads on, each word cutting deeper than the last. The book, filled with pages of recollections of the time they spent together, feels like a cruel reminder of everything he's lost, everything he can never get back.You had nearly filled the whole book, addressed to yourself with worries and letters in the hopes of getting your obliviated mind to fall back in love with Mattheo. To remember him, and to negate the whole idea of obliviating yourself by leaving this book for your future self.

And you did all of this just because you wanted to look after him.

It hurts to breathe, to even entertain the idea of going to bed tonight knowing that the love of his life sees him as nothing but a stranger. And in his hands, he holds the thing that could do the impossible, that could somehow reverse it all.

The very selfish part of him wants you to see the book. He wants to slip upstairs, and hide it back under your pillow, and let you find the words you addressed to yourself.

But he couldn’t. He could die far more happily knowing he’s not leaving you behind, no. Really, you were never his, the two of you forcing destiny in the opposite direction, living on borrowed time. Now he has to face the consequences of it all, and if he can stop you bearing the brunt of it, then he’s made no mistake.

He places the book down on the table, and doesn’t think twice about his actions.

“Incendio.”

[swayziiwriter]

Yours | Jude Bellingham

summary: heart racing, Jude was fresh off his EURO qualifying eager to make his girlfriend sweat and plead for his body

WARNING: 18+, sexual content

NOTE: a little something until I get my more detailed chapters out

Jude was in an outright wild state. The main sounds bouncing off the walls of your bedroom were his hips snapping into yours in a fierce speed and noisy constant cries pouring from your slobbering mouth. iIt was excessively suggestive, so salacious, and grimy that he wishes he can consume right now in his cerebrum to store and replay.

For the absence of better words, he was unable to get enough of it, so focused on how his cock fits so cozily in your throbbing walls, it seemed like he was beyond happy exclusively due to the hold your drenched pussy has on him. He was unable to try and pull away from you in the event that he needed to, just being sucked in at whatever point his hips move back. Jude was wanting to endeavor from ever eliminating himself from you in any case, he could become mixed up in this sensation forever and that is precisely the exact thing he wanted.

That wasn't even the main thing that had him in this strangle hold, his eyes couldn't quit focusing in on your lovely highlights responding to each haul of his cock, eyes screwed shut and temples scrunching in pleasure. You looked frantically entrancing under him, completely destroyed and unfit to contain your despicable groans with your nails diving into his arms. There was sweat that began to dot onto every last trace of your delicate skin hosing the sheets, that as well as your mind getting away from the truth was quite noticeable and he was going haywire from everything.

His eyes blurred over with desire at the sight and his eagerness defeated him. It lighted something so licentious in his very being that his pushes became more earnestly, sloppier, battering your inner parts determined to spill a heap to paint your walls white.

"I’m gonna-fuck!" You cry. He snorts out, blood humming when you press around him so immovably, "Jude-Jude please give it to me” you begged, arms grabbing at anything. “is that right? you'd like that wouldn’t you?” He teased, hand’s coming up to squeeze your breasts. “Make you mine huh? I think you’d like if I’d fill that pretty pussy up with my cum. He's proclaiming careless words, gasping shakily from the responsiveness, balls going tight.

"All mine." He groans, you both apparently couldn't regulate a solitary reasonable idea. just focusing on attempting to arrive at your climaxes. "yes--ah, all yours Jude only you” that was enough for him to overturn the edge, spilling his cum within you with a short of breath heave. It was so quick and abrupt that it left him stunned and puzzled.

You accomplished your own climax upon the sensation of the warm fluid spraying somewhere down in your center, you clasp down and writhe around him, draining him for everything he has. A clear white ring paints the foundation of his length when he bucks gradually to quiet down both of your highs.

Yet again he shivers at the consequential convulsions in weariness yet when he sees you totally screwed out-his cock blends, jerking and turning out to be hard once more. He flickers once. twice. Taking into account over his best course of action. You were unable to try and answer when your body moves no sweat, as though you weighed only a quill. His solid veiny hands takes tightly to your waist to put you on all fours preceding pushing your head down onto the messy bed, holding your scruff with one palm to keep you set up.

With your butt in the air, the cum begins to leak out of your pussy-spilling down to your clit. Quickly, he gets the liquid with his tip and hauls it to your opening once more, diving his full length into you to screw the cum back inside, making you kick your feet in shock. The rich pillows impeccably quieting your shouts.

"Can't waste any of it baby, need to give you more. make you brimming with it." He's not even irritated by the overstimulation consuming the fat top of his dick, you had him at your mercy without a doubt, and he was unable to be more satisfied.

[protectoursharks]

Hey! I love horseshoe crabs!!!! I just got a tattoo of a horseshoe crab mixed with a biblical angel.

Would love to see a post about them :)

There are four species of horseshoe crab! And they're not actually crabs, despite the name.

These critters are commonly referred to as "living fossils" and that's super accurate. These arthropods have been around for over 445 million years- over 200 million years before the first dinosaurs.

Horseshoe crabs are unique as they have blue blood! This is because their blood cells are made of hemocyanin (red blood is made of hemoglobin). And your tattoo of them as an angel isn't far off (I'd love to see what it looks like)!

The horseshoe crab's blood contain amebocytes which attack and breakdown a pathogen. So, if you add this property to a vaccine or other drug it will attack, breakdown, and goo-ify any "bad" things in the drug. So, if any "goo" is produced, that means the drug isn't pure and is unsafe, if it's "goo"-free then it's uncontaminated.

Their blood is so efficient at testing this that a single tablespoon of it is worth around 75$ (USD).

ck if they land on their backs, they can use their long tails to right themselves up!

If you're worried about them getting stuck on their backs, that's what their telson (their "tail") is for! They can push themselves right side up.

If you do see an overturned horseshoe crab and want to set it right- don’t pick it up by the "tail". Gently pick it up on the sides of its shells. Don't worry, they can't hurt you!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lil Kalish at HuffPost:

The U.S. Supreme Court on Wednesday will hear arguments for the most important transgender rights case it has ever reviewed — one that could have significant consequences on the future of lifesaving gender-affirming care for youth in the country. At the heart of the case, United States v. Skrmetti, is the question of whether a Tennessee ban on such care violates the 14th Amendment’s equal protection clause, which bars discrimination on the basis of sex. The Tennessee law, Senate Bill 1, encourages minors to “appreciate their sex” by prohibiting puberty blockers or hormone replacement therapy for the purposes of allowing young people to live as an “identity inconsistent with the minor’s sex.”

The Department of Justice, Lambda Legal and the American Civil Liberties Union, who petitioned the Supreme Court to hear the case, have argued that Tennessee’s law amounts to sex discrimination because it specifically bars transgender youth from these medications while allowing cisgender youth to undergo the same treatments for other conditions, such as early puberty. “This case contains some of the worst leaning into sex stereotypes that I’ve ever seen in a statute,” said Sasha Buchert, the director of the nonbinary and transgender rights project at Lambda Legal, the oldest LGBTQ+ law firm in the U.S. “It’s clearly a sex-based consideration because this is the same care that [they’re] just banning for trans people. But even further, there is this gender conformity aspect to the statute, which I think is implicit in all of these bans that we’ve seen. It’s just that Tennessee didn’t want to hide it.”

Tennessee has argued that the law does not specifically target trans people, although the state acknowledges that the ban sets “age- and use-based limits” on puberty blockers, hormones and surgeries for the “purpose of gender transition.” (Gender-affirming surgeries are not an issue in the Supreme Court case, however, as a district court threw out a challenge to those procedures.) The law has faced legal challenges since the Tennessee legislature first passed it in March 2023. One month later, the ACLU filed a lawsuit on behalf of a trans teen identified as L.W., two other families of trans youth, and a Memphis-based doctor. The DOJ then joined the suit.

That summer, a district court found that the ban likely violated the U.S. Constitution and issued a preliminary injunction on parts of the law regarding puberty blockers and hormones. Tennessee’s attorney general, Jonathan Skrmetti, appealed the decision to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 6th Circuit, which overturned that ruling. The Biden administration then asked the Supreme Court to review this case, arguing that any ban on trans health constitutes sex discrimination.

Since the Supreme Court only took up the Biden administration’s appeal, the court will not be weighing in on the question of whether the state law violates the “fundamental right of parents” to make medical decisions for their children, which is a central question in a separate lawsuit, L.W. v. Skrmetti.

The outcome of United States v. Skrmetti will provide much-needed legal clarity for trans youth and their families amidst an increasingly anti-trans political climate. Twenty-six states have passed laws restricting health care providers from prescribing puberty blockers and hormones, as well as performing surgeries on transgender youth. Lower courts across the country have handed down conflicting rulings when these laws have been challenged. By and large, district court judges have attempted to block these bans, finding them unconstitutional after applying “heightened scrutiny” — a high legal standard used in civil rights cases that forces the government to prove a vested interest in the application of the law. Appeals court judges, on the other hand, have typically used “rational basis,” a lower form of review, when overturning previous injunctions of these bans.

Chase Strangio, the co-director of the ACLU’s LGBTQ and HIV Project, said on a press call Monday that if the Supreme Court rules in favor of Tennessee, it could “erode protections when it comes to sex-based discrimination,” especially in the context of medical care, long term. Strangio, the first trans lawyer to argue before the Supreme Court, is set to deliver a 15-minute oral argument on behalf of the three families of trans youth and the Memphis-based doctor on Wednesday. However, if the Supreme Court rules as the district courts have by applying “heightened scrutiny,” then it will determine that bans on trans health care constitute sex discrimination, similar to how the high court determined in the Bostock v. Clayton County case that discrimination against trans employees is also sex discrimination.

[...]

Science Versus Skeptics

There is a body of scientific evidence to show that puberty blockers and hormone replacement therapy substantially reduce gender dysphoria in adolescent patients, dozens of medical associations argued in briefs submitted to the Supreme Court in September. Doctors, medical groups, LGBTQ+ advocates, Democrats, Republicans and trans individuals have submitted briefs on the efficacy of gender-affirming care to alleviate dysphoria and prevent suicide. However, Tennessee’s brief to the court is skeptical of gender-affirming care. It argues that these medical interventions are “experimental” and claims that at one point a Tennessee hospital, Nashville’s Vanderbilt University Medical Center, began providing trans health care in order to “make a lot of money.” The brief discusses at length how certain “media reports” about Vanderbilt providing gender-affirming care to minors exposed the hospital’s true intentions.

[...] United States v. Skrmetti comes at a pivotal time for trans rights in the U.S. President-elect Donald Trump has promised to “stop” gender-affirming care for minors nationwide, which he has equated to “child abuse” and “sexual mutilation.” The incoming president has also appointed Russell Vought, the co-author of Project 2025, as the director of the Office of Management and Budget. Project 2025, the blueprint for a second Trump term, includes dozens of policies that erase federal protections for LGBTQ+ people, including allowing Medicare and Medicaid to deny coverage for gender-affirming care and removing trans-inclusive protections from Title IV.

Tomorrow at SCOTUS: a very big case on gender-affirming care will be heard for oral arguments, and it is United States v. Skrmetti. The Skrmetti case is a crucial case to determine the fate of gender-affirming care for trans and gender-expansive youths (and adults).

#LGBTQPeopleAreNotGoingBack

See Also:

The Advocate: What to expect in this week’s landmark gender-affirming care U.S. Supreme Court case

[eclipsedrgn]

𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑨 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕

jason's girlfriend isn't the most normal girl, but jason doesn't know that.

jason todd x fem!reader

Jason Todd trudged up the stairs to his apartment, exhaustion weighing down every step. His body ached from the most recent mission—a particularly grueling one with Gotham’s more insane criminals. All he wanted right now was to collapse into bed, wrap his arms around you, and forget about the world for a few hours. For three years, you'd been his solace, the steady normalcy in his chaotic life. While the rest of the world knew him as the Red Hood—a vigilante who skirted the line between hero and anti-hero—you only knew him as Jason, the guy who loved shitty action movies and long conversations over coffee.

Hell, Jason loved that you had nothing to do with his other life. You were just a regular junior middle school teacher, living your life with your students and lesson plans. He loved your innocence to the madness that surrounded Gotham, the way you’d roll your eyes at news reports about the Joker or some other whack job as if it were just another Tuesday.

But tonight… something was wrong.

The moment he stepped into the hallway leading to his apartment, his stomach twisted. The door was cracked open. Jason’s pulse spiked as he instinctively reached for the gun tucked in the back of his jeans, cursing under his breath.

No. No, no, no.

He rushed forward, shoving the door open and stepping into the chaos that greeted him. His once neat apartment was trashed—furniture overturned, picture frames shattered on the floor, and the unmistakable signs of a struggle smeared across the room. His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps as his eyes darted from the destroyed living room to the kitchen, then to the hallway that led to the bedroom.

“Babe?!” Jason’s voice cracked with panic. “(Y/N)!”

No response. The apartment was eerily quiet, and with every passing second, dread wrapped its icy fingers around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter. Jason sprinted through the rooms, kicking open doors, ripping open closets—anything to find you. But there was nothing.

You were gone.

“Fuck!” Jason shouted, his voice raw as he slammed his fist into the nearest wall, cracking the drywall. His hands trembled as he fumbled for his phone, immediately dialing the Batcave. His mind was racing, screaming at him with every worst-case scenario imaginable. You were a civilian. You had no part in this life. Who the fuck would take you?

The line clicked, and Barbara’s voice came through, steady as ever. “Jason?”

“It’s (Y/N),” Jason growled, pacing through the wreckage of the apartment. “She’s gone. Someone—” He sucked in a breath, his throat tightening. “Someone fucking took her.”

The other end of the line went silent for a second, the weight of his words sinking in. “Hold on, I’m on it. I’ll run a trace through the city surveillance cameras.”

Jason’s heart was hammering in his chest, sweat beading on his forehead as he waited for Barbara to work her magic. Every second felt like an eternity. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. You were his goddamn light, the one thing keeping him tethered to any sense of normalcy. If something happened to you…

“Got something,” Barbara’s voice broke through the haze of panic. “I traced some suspicious movement to an abandoned warehouse on the east side. Jason… it’s the Joker.”

Jason’s blood turned to ice. The Joker. The one son of a bitch who could turn his rage into something uncontrollable. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he grabbed his Red Hood helmet from the nearby table, his grip tight enough to make his knuckles go white.

"Jason, I'll call in for back up-"

“I’m heading there now,” Jason muttered, not waiting for a response before hanging up the phone. He didn’t give a shit about protocol or backup right now. All that mattered was getting you back. He strapped on his gear, eyes flashing with barely contained fury. If the Joker had laid one fucking hand on you…

The Red Hood was out for blood tonight.

At the warehouse, the Joker was having the time of his life. His cackles echoed through the dilapidated space, the sound piercing through the otherwise dead silence. He paced around you, your wrists tied to a metal chair, your face expressionless despite the absolute madness surrounding you.

You looked… bored.

“Ahhhh, I must say,” the Joker drawled, waving his arms theatrically, “I didn’t expect this from Red Hood’s girlfriend. I thought you’d be more of a screamer!” He leaned in close, his painted face only inches from yours, eyes glinting with glee. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Afraid? No? Don’t worry, I’m sure ol’ Jaybird will be along soon to pick up the pieces.”

You gave him a deadpan look, not even flinching at the proximity. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be scary, you talk a lot.”

The Joker’s smile faltered for a split second before he threw his head back and laughed, the sound grating on your nerves. “Oh, ho ho! I like this one! You’ve got guts, sweetheart.” He stood up straight, pacing around you with exaggerated steps. “But let’s see how tough you are when your boyfriend walks into my little trap and finds his precious little girlfriend all broken and—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you cut him off, rolling your eyes. “We get it. You want to lure Jason here so you can try to fuck with him. Very original.”

What the Joker didn’t know—and what Jason didn’t know—was that you were far from defenseless. Hell, you weren’t even normal. You were Ben Tennyson’s twin sister, for fuck’s sake. You had seen your fair share of chaos, even if you hadn’t used the Omnitrix much since settling down in Gotham. It had been nice living a normal life, blending in as just another person for a change. You didn’t want to be a hero. Not anymore. But now?

Now, you were starting to reconsider. You watched as the Joker continued to monologue about his grand plans, your eyes flicking down to the Omnitrix still hidden beneath your sleeve. You could break free of these bindings any second, but you wanted to see how things played out first. After all, you didn’t know how Jason would react to seeing you transform.

And, well… it might be fun to surprise him.

The warehouse door crashed open, and there he was—the Red Hood, guns blazing, eyes burning with fury beneath his helmet. The Joker’s laughter reached a fever pitch as Jason stormed inside, his focus immediately snapping to you.

But Jason stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you, tied to the chair but seemingly unharmed. His helmet tilted ever so slightly, confusion evident even through the mask.

“Jaybird!” the Joker taunted, spreading his arms wide. “Look at you! All fired up! Oh, this is going to be so much fun—”

“Shut the fuck up, clown,” Jason growled, his voice venomous. His gun was trained directly on the Joker’s head, but the Joker’s words didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to you.

“Are you okay?” Jason asked, his voice strained as he took a cautious step toward you.

You smirked. “I’m fine. But… you might want to stand back.”

Jason frowned beneath the helmet. “What?”

Before he could react, you slammed your palm onto the Omnitrix, the familiar green glow filling the dimly lit warehouse. Jason’s eyes widened in shock as your form shifted, your body morphing into one of your alien transformations. This time, you chose something flashy—a pink-hued version of the same form Ben used, almost as if you were showing off.

Feedback.

Jason’s gun lowered, his body frozen in disbelief. “What the…?”

You stood tall, your alien form towering over both Jason and the Joker. “Surprise, babe,” you said with a cheeky grin, your voice slightly distorted by the transformation.

The Joker’s laughter died in his throat as he stared up at you, momentarily stunned by the sudden shift in power dynamics. “What the fuck—”

You didn’t give him time to finish. With a quick flick of your wrist, you sent the Joker flying with electricity into a pile of crates, knocking him unconscious in one swift motion. The entire thing was over in seconds.

When the dust settled, you turned to Jason, who still hadn’t moved. His helmeted gaze remained locked on you, processing the situation.

“Well,” you said, reverting to your human form, brushing your hair back as if nothing had happened. “That was fun.”

Jason blinked. “You… you’re…”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, walking over to untie the ropes that had been holding you. “Guess the secret’s out. I’ve got an Omnitrix, like Ben.”

Jason stared at you, his mouth slightly open, the shock still painted across his face. “You’re a fucking alien?”

You laughed, finally untying yourself. “Sometimes. Not all the time.” You looked up at him, giving him a soft smile. “You okay?”

Jason let out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “Baby... you could’ve told me, you know.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his waist. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Jason huffed, finally letting his guard down as he pulled you into his chest, burying his face in your hair. “You scared the shit out of me, baby... fuck” he mumbled.

“I know,” you whispered, holding him tighter. “I’m sorry.”

Jason hadn’t let go of you since the moment you’d wrapped your arms around him. His body was still tense, his grip on you tight as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. The Joker was knocked out cold, but even that didn’t seem to ease the strain in Jason’s posture. It wasn’t until the both of you stepped outside, leaving the warehouse and the wreckage of the night behind, that he finally spoke.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Jason whispered, his voice thick with guilt as he buried his face in your hair again. His hands rested on your back, fingers trembling slightly. “I never should’ve let this happen. You got kidnapped because of me… because of Red Hood.”

You could hear the raw pain in his voice, and your heart ached for him. He was carrying the weight of this on his shoulders, blaming himself for what had happened, even though you knew it wasn’t his fault. The Joker would have found any way to get to him, and it just so happened that tonight, you were his target. But Jason couldn’t see it that way. He saw this as a failure—a failure to protect you, the person he cared about most.

You tilted your head up slightly, placing a soft kiss on his jawline. “Jason, it’s not your fault,” you murmured against his skin. “You didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“But—” he started, his breath hitching.

You cut him off by peppering kisses along his jaw, then his cheek, then up toward his temple, each kiss soft and reassuring. “It’s not your fault, baby” you repeated between kisses, your tone firmer this time. “I don’t blame you. Not for a second.”

Jason let out a shaky breath, his grip loosening slightly as his arms slipped around your waist, pulling you even closer. “You should blame me,” he muttered, his forehead resting against yours. “Red Hood put a target on your back. I put a target on your back.”

You cupped his face gently, forcing him to look at you, your gaze locking onto his. “I love you, Jason Todd. And I love you whether you’re Red Hood, or just Jason. You didn’t put a target on me. The Joker did. And trust me, if he tries something like this again…” You gave him a mischievous smile. “I’ll make sure to kick his ass before you even get there.”

Jason snorted despite himself, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Damn right I am,” you teased, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Now let’s get out of here before someone wakes up.” You glanced back at the warehouse where the Joker lay unconscious, your lip curling in disgust. “I really don’t want to hear him laughing again.”

Jason chuckled softly, pulling you toward the motorcycle parked nearby. “Yeah, I think we’ve heard enough for one night.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The ride to the Batcave was quiet, the wind whipping past you as you clung to Jason, your body pressed against his as the city blurred around you. You could feel the tension slowly easing from his frame the closer you got to the safety of the cave, though you knew it wasn’t gone entirely. Jason was good at hiding his emotions, but tonight had rattled him more than he was willing to admit.

When the Batcave finally came into view, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. As much as you’d brushed off the danger earlier, it was nice to know that you were heading somewhere safe—somewhere with people who had your back.

The moment you stepped off the bike, you were practically tackled by Barbara. She wrapped her arms around you, squeezing you tightly as if she couldn’t believe you were standing in front of her.

“Oh my God, (Y/N),” she breathed, pulling back just enough to look you over. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You gave her a reassuring smile, shaking your head. “I’m fine, Babs. Really. Just a few scratches.”

Barbara didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded anyway, her grip on your arms still firm. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Jason stepped up beside you, his hand resting on your back as he gave Barbara a small nod. “She’s tough. Joker didn’t stand a chance.”

Barbara’s eyes flicked between the two of you, her expression softening slightly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Before you could say anything else, Alfred appeared, ever the calm and collected presence amidst the chaos. His sharp gaze took in your disheveled appearance, the cuts and bruises scattered across your skin, and he immediately ushered you toward the medical bay with that no-nonsense look in his eyes.

“Miss (Y/N), if you would kindly sit down, I’ll make sure those wounds are properly cleaned and treated,” Alfred said, his tone gentle but firm.

You followed without protest, exhaustion creeping in now that the adrenaline from the night had worn off. You settled onto the medical table, letting Alfred work his magic as he carefully cleaned the cuts and scrapes littering your arms. Jason stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest, watching quietly as Alfred tended to you.

Once Alfred had finished, you glanced over at Jason, who was still looking at you with a mixture of concern and something else—something unreadable. You knew what he was thinking. You could practically feel the questions swirling in his mind, the confusion about what he’d seen tonight.

“You probably have a lot of questions,” you said softly, meeting his gaze.

Jason’s eyes flicked to yours, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah. You could say that.”

You took a deep breath, glancing down at the Omnitrix still attached to your wrist. “So… you remember Ben?”

Jason nodded slowly, his expression guarded.

“Well… I guess I should’ve told you this sooner, but I’m actually Ben’s twin sister,” you said, your voice steady despite the weight of your words. “And I’ve got an Omnitrix too. It’s just like his, but I don’t use it as much anymore. I… I wanted a normal life. So I kept it hidden.”

Jason’s eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

“The Omnitrix is this device that allows us to transform into different alien species,” you explained. “Ben’s been using his for years to fight off intergalactic threats, and I used to help him. But after a while, I got tired of all the fighting. I wanted something different. So I came to Gotham, started teaching… and I guess I just never thought I’d have to use it again.”

Jason’s jaw clenched as he processed your words. “You didn’t think to tell me this… in the three years we’ve been together?”

You winced slightly, knowing you deserved that. “I know. I should’ve told you. But… I liked that you saw me as just me, you know? I didn’t want the Omnitrix to be a part of our relationship. I wanted us to be… normal.”

Jason’s gaze softened slightly, though the frustration still lingered. “We’re not normal, (Y/N). Not in this city. Not in my life.”

“I know that now,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve been honest with you.”

Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You could’ve been hurt tonight. Or worse. I should’ve known about this so I could protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, Jason,” you said gently. “But I get it. I know you want to. And I’m sorry I kept this from you.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching yours before he finally spoke again. “So… what does this mean? You’re going to keep using it?”

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know. Maybe. Depends on the situation. I mean, you have to admit, it was kind of fun surprising you tonight.”

Jason huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… next time, give me a little heads-up, okay?”

You grinned, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Deal.”

Jason kissed you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close. For now, the questions could wait. Right now, all that mattered was that you were safe, and you were together.

And no matter what the future held, you knew you’d face it side by side.

[reality-detective]

The Secret Vatican Gold Vault?

"The Vatican's treasure of solid gold has been estimated by the United Nations World Magazine to amount to several billion dollars. A large bulk of this is stored in gold ingots with the U.S. Federal Reserve Bank, while banks in England and Switzerland hold the rest. "But this is just a small portion of the wealth of the Vatican, which in the U.S. alone, is greater than that of the five wealthiest giant." End quote.

This was reported by Henry Mackow. There were reportedly that an international military force that repatriated 650 plane loads of gold and cash from the Vatican to the US Treasury.

A tunnel between Vatican City and Jerusalem was discovered containing gold. The amount of gold found is “more gold than you can imagine” stacked 13 levels high for the first 150 miles (241 kilometers) of the tunnel and “650 planes used to transport the gold”.

The result of this operation was the closure of over 6,000 Vatican bank accounts used for illegal activities. I do not have any conclusive info on that but there was an interesting report that came out from the Vatican itself.

In a report from 👇

They published a Congressional inquiry into the auditing of the Fort Knox gold, and they were informed by the officials responsible for that gold, that the gold in Fort Knox and other depositries in the USA (261 million ounces) is now part of the gold reserve of the International Monetary Fund (the IMF).

We have been informed by one of the top lawyers employed by the IMF (eventually sacked because she intended to whistleblow on them), that the IMF was controlled by the Vatican and the Jesuits. Who is this person you may ask? Karen Hudes. Who has exposed over the years how the IMF worked.

Of course alot has changed since she came out publicly. K. Hudes has some stand out points she has made regarding info that you all have seen on this channel.

For instance: 👇

Hudes asserts that a clandestine version of the U.S. Constitution, enacted in 1871, handed over significant control to private bankers, significantly altering the original governance framework. Which is true.

Also according to her, individuals in court are seen as debtors rather than citizens, which of course is another term of enslavement which effectively dehumanizes us and classifies us as property of the Federal Government, so on and so forth. Something none of us should be surprised to hear.

There's a lot to look into regarding this subject. So take your time and understand that many things have changed that will come to fruition in full force over the coming months. We are no longer under the 1871 Corp Act. Which is why the Chevron Doctrine had to be overturned. 🤔

[rose24207]

Make them pay

Summary: When your favorite café is shattered by violence and your friend needs help, you turns to your mafia husband, Lando Norris, to bring justice and restore peace to those you hold dear.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: Mafia, violence, fraud, threats, mention of weapons

A/N: I watched the first episode of bloodhounds and knew what I needed to do! Let me know what you think! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The brisk winter air nipped at your cheeks as you walked down the familiar cobblestone path toward La Petite Rose. A smile tugged at your lips despite the chill. The café had always been your escape, a pocket of warmth and comfort amidst the chaos of life.

As you neared the shop, however, a strange unease settled in your chest. Something felt... wrong. The faint scent of coffee that usually wafted through the air was replaced by the acrid tang of something burnt.

You quickened your pace, rounding the corner—then froze.

The sight before you was devastating.

The café’s large front window was shattered, jagged glass glittering like cruel shards of ice against the pavement. Chairs and tables lay overturned, some broken. A dark smear of blood streaked the stone steps leading to the entrance.

"Marie!" you cried, your voice sharp with panic.

You pushed open the door, the bell above it hanging crooked and silent. Inside, the destruction was even worse. The once-cozy space was now a warzone.

And then you saw her.

Marie was slumped against the counter, her apron stained with blood. A nasty gash above her eyebrow leaked crimson down her pale face. She clutched a trembling hand to her forehead, her eyes glazed with shock and tears.

"Marie!" You rushed to her side, dropping to your knees. Your hands hovered over her, unsure of where to begin. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Her lips quivered as she tried to speak. "They... they came... demanding the money. I told them I didn’t have it yet, and they..." Her voice broke into a sob. "They destroyed everything."

Rage boiled within you, hot and unrelenting. How dare they? Marie was the kindest, sweetest person you knew, and these monsters had terrorized her—hurt her—for what?

"Who did this?" you demanded, your tone low and trembling with fury.

Marie shook her head, clutching your arm as though grounding herself. "I don’t know their names. They said they were from the company I owe. They... they said if I didn’t pay by the end of the week, they’d do worse."

You clenched your fists, the fury bubbling over. "I’ll fix this, Marie. I swear to you, they won’t get away with this."

The drive home was a blur, your mind racing as your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. By the time you arrived at the sprawling estate you shared with your husband, you were vibrating with barely-contained anger.

Lando was in the study, his tie loosened and a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked up when you stormed in, his brow furrowing.

"Darling, what’s wrong?" he asked, setting the glass down.

You didn’t waste a second, pacing the room as you recounted everything you’d seen at the café—the broken glass, the overturned tables, the blood on Marie’s face. Your voice shook with emotion, switching between fury and anguish.

"She’s my friend, Lando," you said, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She’s the sweetest person, and those bastards attacked her like she’s nothing. They destroyed her café. Her dream. And for what? Money she doesn’t even have because she was scammed!"

Lando rose from his seat, his expression darkening with each word. When you finished, he stepped closer, placing his hands on your shoulders. "And you want me to deal with it," he said, his voice calm but cold.

"I don’t want you to deal with it," you snapped, glaring up at him. "I need you to. You have the power, Lando. I know you can make this right."

His green eyes bore into yours, searching. You held his gaze, your own fierce and unwavering.

"You’re furious," he murmured, almost admiringly. "It suits you."

"Don’t patronize me," you said, your tone sharp but not unkind. "Marie needs our help. I’m asking you, as your wife, to do something about this."

Lando’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile. "As my wife, huh? Throwing the titles around now?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Lando."

"Alright, alright," he relented, holding up his hands. His expression turned serious. "I’ll take care of it. But you know this won’t be pretty."

"I don’t care," you said firmly. "They deserve whatever’s coming to them."

Later that night, you couldn’t sleep. Images of the shattered café and Marie’s wounded face haunted you, fueling your anger. Lando, however, seemed unbothered, lounging in bed with his phone.

"Are you really going to help her?" you asked, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, his brow arching. "You doubt me?"

"No," you admitted softly. "But this is important, Lando. Promise me you’ll make them pay."

He set his phone down and turned to you, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I’ll do more than make them pay," he said, his voice a low murmur. "I’ll make sure they never bother her—or anyone else—again."

You nodded, leaning into his touch. Despite everything, you trusted him. Lando might be a criminal, but he was also your husband. And when he made a promise, he kept it.

Two days later, the storm you had unleashed began to brew.

Lando had sent his men to gather information, and it didn’t take long for them to uncover the truth. The scam company was a front for a rival crime syndicate, one that had been encroaching on Lando’s territory.

"They’ve been playing dirty," Lando told you during breakfast, his tone casual despite the gravity of the situation. "Using small businesses as leverage to launder money."

"And Marie?" you asked, gripping your coffee mug tightly.

"She was just an easy target," he said. "But they made a mistake going after her. Now, they’re on my radar."

The confrontation took place in a dingy warehouse on the outskirts of town. Lando’s men had lured the scammers there under the guise of a business meeting. The rival syndicate’s leader strutted in, flanked by his own guards.

The tension in the air was palpable as Lando stepped forward, his presence commanding the room.

"You’ve been busy," Lando said, his tone deceptively calm. "Scamming innocent people, threatening them... destroying their lives."

The other man sneered. "Business is business, Norris. Don’t act like you’re any different."

Lando’s smile was cold, almost predatory. "The difference is, I don’t target the defenseless. And I certainly don’t touch what’s mine."

Before the rival leader could respond, Lando’s men moved. The sound of guns cocking filled the room, and within seconds, the enemy guards were disarmed and subdued.

You watched as Lando stepped closer to the rival leader, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You made a mistake targeting my wife’s friend. And now, you’re going to pay for it."

The man paled, his bravado crumbling. "I-I didn’t know—"

"Now you do," Lando interrupted, his tone icy.

What followed was swift and brutal. Lando’s men dismantled the rival operation, ensuring they wouldn’t recover. By the end of the night, the scammers were dealt with, and Marie’s debt was erased.

When you visited La Petite Rose the next morning, the café was already under repair. Lando had hired a crew to fix the damage, and Marie’s face lit up when she saw you.

"Mon Dieu," she breathed, rushing to hug you. "I don’t know how, but... they called this morning. They said the debt is gone!"

You smiled, hugging her tightly. "I told you I’d fix it."

Tears filled her eyes as she pulled back. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

You brushed a tear from her cheek, your heart swelling with relief. "You don’t have to thank me. Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself, okay?"

Marie nodded, her smile returning. For the first time in days, you felt at peace.

As you left the café, you glanced at your phone, where a text from Lando awaited.

"Handled, as promised. Dinner tonight?"

You smiled, typing back a quick response.

"Always. Love you."

Thank you for reading!

[platycryptus]

Eyed Elaters (Alaus)

eyed elater click beetles, like this Alaus oculatus from Florida, are the biggest click beetles (Elateridae) found in temperate North America.

Click beetles are best known for their eponymous clicking ability- a sort of elastic locking mechanism on their thorax can snap open with a loud clicking sound, which helps them startle or escape the grasp of predators and allows them to launch themselves into the air when overturned (you can see that in slow motion at the end of the video)

(more elating click beetle trivia below!)

They live around decaying trees and logs, the adults feeding on sap flows and other sugary liquids while the predatory grubs use their powerful jaws to tunnel in search of other wood-dwelling insect larvae to devour (by contrast many smaller click beetle larvae, often called wireworms, feed on rotting wood itself or other plant matter). To rear these beetles in captivity it’s necessary to keep the larvae in containers made of a hard material like glass, as they’ll chew through plastic and escape (I learned this the hard way the first time I found and attempted to raise a grub).

There are 6 Alaus species in the US, the largest of which can be over 5 cm long. Two are found in forests along the east coast- A. oculatus, the eastern eyed elater (below, left) and its smaller relative A. myops, the blind elater (right).

Even though the larvae don't feed directly on decaying wood, different Alaus species prefer different trees- oculatus breeds in dead oaks and other hardwoods, while myops found in the same habitats only use well-rotted pines.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hi!! I wanted to tell you how much I’m obsessed with your work 😭😭😭

Anyways have you ever done or considered like uhhh- wrio’s darling who was like accused of a crime the DIDNT do and now they’re being released. Ofc that darling is running away as soon as possible 😭🙏🏽 idk what I’m saying but I hope you understand

Btw can I be 🧊-anon? 🤍

ofc you can :D also the things i would do for this man, he's so edible, i wanna just take nibbles outta him, a few at a time so i can really savor the absolute snack that he is <333

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including being framed, wriothesley being a douche, delusional behavior, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Wriothesley had been part of the plot to get you locked up in the first place. Most of his time was spent in the Fortress of Meropide and with you locked up in one of the cells he could keep you close, keep an eye on you, and spend more time with you. Of course, he made sure that he personally handled all your care, so when your release day came after your conviction was overturned, he was disappointed to say the least. At least the fall guy was found guilty though, with Wriothesley having never been suspected of a thing.

Freedom, there it was, just beyond those doors. You could feel your heart skip beats as you sped-walked to it, hope bubbling up inside you once again. Your pursuit to freedom was quickly halted though, a strong, calloused hand holding tightly but not painful, onto your wrist. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you turned to look at the very man you had suspected put you here, Wriothesley. His smile was sickening as he regarded you silently for a moment. “You have paperwork you need to sign, and you can’t just waltz out of here, we’re underwater.” A small notch in your rush for freedom but nothing you couldn’t handle. After all, you wouldn’t be free for long, Wriothesley was already plotting ways of getting you sent back here again. It would be tough though, with you having already been framed once and found to be innocent, it would be difficult to frame you again without it seeming suspicious. He was a smart man though, he was sure he’d find a way. After all, he just wanted to see you down here, carefully tucked away in a revamped call just for you. Safe, sound, and by his side, where you belong.

[unnecessaryligatures]

Psych (TV) and Same-Sex Marriage in California

While rewatching Psych, I have been thinking about what audiences today versus audiences at the time would have thought about the references to the issue of same-sex marriage, and what it says about voting this November.

(This post contains some spoilers for Psych Seasons 3 and 6.)

A lot happened in California related to same-sex marriage while Psych was airing. In 2004 (two years before the show began), same-sex marriage was briefly legal for one month, though the licenses issued were later voided. It became legal again in June 2008 for a little over four months until Proposition 8 was passed that November, which modified the California Constitution to make the definition of marriage be between a man and a woman. This time, marriage licenses issued in 2008 remained valid.

Psych Season 3 started airing in July 2008. So all of this would have been on people's minds during 3x11 "Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing" when Drimmer sets Shawn and Lassiter up to be "former lovers" in their murder-suicide note.

Prop 8 was ruled unconstitutional in August 2010, though this ruling was not final until 2013, when same-sex marriages were again permitted.

6x3 "This Episode Sucks" is when we learn that Lassiter's mom Mona has been with her girlfriend Althea since Lassiter left for the academy, and he keeps a framed photo of them in his apartment:

This episode aired in October 2011. Mona and Althea's right to marry would have very much been in limbo while the appeals worked their way through the courts.

The final episode of Season 6, 6x16 "Santabarbaratown," contains this scene, where our waitress identifies herself as an ally:

That episode aired in April 2012. Prop 8 was still very much on people's minds.

The final season of Psych (Season 8) finished airing in January of 2014, shortly after same-sex couples were again allowed to marry in California.

In 2015, same-sex marriage was finally legalized US-wide, overriding state constitutions on the subject. (If Obergefell v. Hodges were overturned, state constitutions would again take precedence.)

However, the California Constitution still technically defines marriage as being between one man and one woman, thanks to Prop 8. This year (2024), there is a vote on the ballot to finally remove that language from the California Constitution.

So, the issues LGBTQ+ Californians (and the Psych characters) faced while Psych was airing are still very much relevant when you cast your vote this November.

[fraugwinska]

DoubleTrouble No. 2 - Missionary Impossible

Yes, we did Team up again - the wonderful @macabr3-barbi3 and my humble self wrote another DoubleTrouble fic, based of a hilarious FranticFanfic game result (If you are a writer and have some friends who also indulge in fanfiction, check the game out: www.franaticfanfic.com - Your throat will hate you but the laughter makes it worth it!)

This time we give all of you Vox Lovers a real Treat! Mine is the Readers POV, while Barbie provided Vox's POV - get the TV's dirty version right here.

And now, without further ado:

Explicit Sexual content - Minors DNI - 18+ - 6.5k words

You had to admit: Breaking into Lucifer’s personal vault was your boldest and most impressive job yet. You had your concerns - normally you didn’t take jobs that seemed too shady or downright wrong to you - but you didn’t steal anything powerful, just a bottle of his vanished wife’s perfume. You shake your head at the memory. Most certainly one of her many, still very active superfans, kind of icky to be honest. But money talks, and boy did that client talk.

The only downside had been that for the first time, the 666 Evening News had a picture of you.

Granted, blurry, obstructed and absolutely not usable at all - but it still irked you to no end. They didn’t call you the ‘Traceless Thief’ for nothing.

But even though no one was more the wiser about your identity, even though Lucifer begrudgingly stopped looking for witnesses, even though the gossip on the streets about speculations who the Traceless Thief could’ve been died down - ever since that night, you felt like you were being watched.

The next jobs you take go without news coverage and media attention, and yet, you grow more and more paranoid. Hell has many eyes - figuratively and literally - and you feel them all on you. But there is work to be done and a living to be earned - and the tiny alibi antique bookshop you keep definitely doesn’t provide. No one sane wants old shit in hell - and the rare specimens that do and visit the dingy little space under your apartment come and go, disappointed in the stock you barely keep.

Which is fine by you - you only really need it for one thing. The PO Box.

The wonderfully boring, uninteresting PO Box of the ‘Dusty Pages’ bookshop was your portal to the real money. Hell had become a lot better the day you mastered the powers the underworld granted you: No physical barrier could contain you. Being intangible granted you freedom, and to return to the profession you were best in: Stealing Shit.

Of course, noble causes like overturning corrupt governments by breaking into officials homes and publishing their many crimes was still stealing, if you ask heaven that is, and it landed you in hell. You gave up being salty about it, and made the best out of the situation.

“Hey Frankie. How’s the wife?” The post office clerk, a grumpy looking crocodile in an ill-fitting checkered suit huffs.

“Still fucking annoying, as always. Each day I’m getting closer to bribing an exterminator to kill the bitch just to shut her up for good.”

You chuckled, leaning on the counter and tapping your fingers on the scratched wood.

“Aw, did you burn the meatloaf again? You know Alice hates that.” Frankie gives you an exasperated look, which you meet with a mocking grin.

“You want something? Except for getting on my nerves?”

You shrug, twirling a tiny key on a string around your finger. Frankie, and by proxy Alice too, were parts of your harmless, boring, inconspicuous appearance. Just a normal young sinner, just a normal errand to run, keeping normal small talk with the clerks.

“Just checking my PO Box. I’m waiting on a few rare books I ordered to restock.”

“Uh-huh. Tell someone who gives a shit.”

The crocodile turns away, adjusting his small, round reading glasses and eager to ignore you. Perfect.

“Always nice to chat with you, Frankie.” you say and saunter over to the little door with the number 13. The quiet click always sounds satisfyingly like a little exclamation of joy and like cashflow, and under the ‘Old Crap & Thingamajigs’ catalog you found what you were hoping for. A thick envelope and a letter - new jetstream-bathtub, here you come.

God, why were the VoxTech maintenance uniforms so fucking skimpy?

You grumble silently, cursing yourself that you haven’t grabbed the male one. But that would’ve been suspicious, and you couldn’t afford to be suspicious today. Not if you want to get the job done and live to tell the tale. 

The Vee Tower is full of cameras, hundreds of tiny, red blinking lights next to crystal clear lenses, and dead spots were hard to find and a rare occasion. So, when you couldn’t shift through the walls, you had to look like you belonged. And apparently, a fucking laced, black mini-skirt and a top with puffy sleeves that looked more like a fetish bralette was what it took to ‘belong’. The whole point was blending in, not being remembered - and all the female employees from cleanup and maintenance looked the exact same as you. So, unless one was walking around with a bag full of personnel files on hand, you looked like anyone else on this floor.

You stepped into the elevator, the keycard your client had sent you along with the money and initial job offer in hand. Wherever that person got those precious credentials, you were grateful for them because it gave you an easy way to bypass all the layers of security that VoxTech imposed. All that hassle for an incriminating photo.

You sighed when you pressed the button to floor 66, where the CEO of VoxTech enterprises had his private apartment. Vox.

The name was even more intimidating than Lucifer's to you. While the king of hell was aloof, inactive, disinterested in the ongoings of hell, Vox was the absolute opposite. He knew every little secret. VoxTech had millions of eyes and ears. It was a well known fact that he kept his all-seeing spycams on the whole pentagram and his pliant audience in his steely grasp. Always on top of the times, on top of the news, on top of the sales and on top of any business, shady or not, in hell. In the eyes of the citizens of the Pride Ring, Vox and his partners Valentino and Vevette owned practically everything. He had the largest audience in the history of hell, the sharpest wit and the keenest, calculating eye on the prize - a charming manipulator that was considered very much dangerous and not to be underestimated. Which is why you had to plan your gig for a time you were certain he wasn't around.

A shame really - you couldn’t deny, despite his ruthlessness and questionable business practices with which he had built his empire, you kind of admired the self-made TV-demon that rose to overlord status and made quite a big name for himself in stellar time. That, and he was nice to look at too, even with a flatscreen for a head. Oh well.

The ding of the elevator brought you back to the job at hand, and with confident steps, you glanced up and down the corridor. There were a few cameras pointed to the apartment door, but you found a dead spot not far off, and with a content smile, you walked over as if to inspect the carpet, just to shift as you were out of the camera's angle, your body transpiring through the wall, and with a quiet thud, you were inside.

That was the moment the lights went out.

A power outage was the last thing you had expected - in the Vee Tower of all places. The one place in hell that burst with electricity, and you would laugh at the irony if you weren't so tense. The timing is suspicious,and with a beating heart you shuffle forward, trying to phase through the nearest wall.

What the fuck?

You furrow your brows and huff, irritated. The wall is - well, a wall, and while that was a normal state for others, for you? Unimaginable. Your hands are resting against the concrete and steel, normally easy peasy to walk through. But you feel the hardness under your fingertips, much more intense than it should and almost stinging.

Conventional route it is, then, you think begrudgingly and slowly make your way through the corridor, listening into the stillness of the apartment. The corridor led into a spacious living room - flat, modern couches that screamed money and luxury arranged in a half circle, surrounded by various screens, all turned off. In the middle you see the outlines of a metallic, lavish coffee table, empty and clean like in a catalog. It was the kind of space that wasn’t really meant to be lived in, but to show just how much you had that you didn’t really need. A show.

You scanned the room. There was an open arch leading into a kitchen - also polished and top notch empty, not the cluttered mess you had in your apartment - and a closed, narrow door, likely a storage room. But at the opposite end of it, you see a faint, blue stripe of light, teal blue, luring you towards it. A night light maybe, or some indirect mood lighting shit that was all the rage since LED’s hit the Pentagram a few years ago, shining through a cracked door. Intentionally inconspicuous, your brain whispers, but anything was better than the dim darkness you were stumbling in now. 

When you reach the glowing gap and peek cautiously into the adjacent room, one hand almost on the handle, a groan makes you freeze before you could register what you are looking at.

Oh satan.

Vox.

A LOT of Vox.

The overlord was fucking home, and not just that. In his bedroom - your target location - naked, an impressive and glowing cock in hand, working himself in a way he would definitely not appreciate anyone seeing him in. You felt your neck and cheeks flush with heat - another thing you did not expect nor calculate for. But you can’t look away - as surreal and absolutely dangerous this situation is - his deliciously large hands and the sheer sight of his luminous length glistening with precum as he strokes himself cuts your breath short with highly inappropriate lust. The screen in front of him was bright, and for a moment, you were so enraptured with him that you didn’t recognize the silhouette he was pumping himself to.

You.

It’s you.

In this ridiculous maid costume that was unconsciously riding up your ass, sneaking through the corridor, not even half a minute ago. With growing horror you watch yourself taking tentative steps through the living room, the you on the screen hesitating before deciding to move to the left, one arm reaching out to a cracked open door.

“Fuck, yes.”

The words were barely said when your brain kickstarts.

Fuck, no.

He knew. He knew you were here.

In a flight of panic, you bolted for the corridor, back to the door, back to the safety of not-fucking-here, but you couldn’t even make four steps before your wrists were bound by cables shooting out of the walls surrounding you. You ready yourself to slip through them, but again, your powers leave you high and dry again. Helpless, you back away into the nearest wall, and the door opens fully, with the TV demon standing in the frame. Tall, intimidating even butt-fucking-naked, and a cocky smile on his HD face.

“Hello, my dear,” he almost coos and takes a few steps towards you as you writhe in the restrictions, desperately trying to slip out and get the fuck away. “I’m so glad you got my invitation!”

“Invitation?” That makes you still against the cables, your eyes darting over his face, confused. What the hell does that mean? You weren’t invited, you had a job to... Oh. Oh shit.

“You’re the client?”

His face was answer enough, and you would have slapped yourself for your stupidity if he hadn't had you in an iron grip. A loud game-show ding startles you back into the here and now, he was so much closer than before…

“Sure thing, doll! How else was I supposed to catch a slippery little thing like you without scaring you off?”

He traces his fingers down your cheek, his tips sparking with static electricity. How fucked up are you that this turns you on? Not being able to suppress the need to glance at his still shining and ripped cock again, you swallow hard. Where is your sense of self-preservation? Apparently left outside of this apartment, along with your usual foresight and dignity.

Cables wrap around your thighs and with a yelp you feel yourself getting lifted, legs parted by the wires. You almost topple over but are caught by his hands on your arms and faced with a smirk when you press your back into the wall, stabilizing yourself with a reddened face.

“Those didn’t come with the uniform,” He has the audacity to wink at you, nudging to the black lace panties you wear - excuse a girl for not wearing granny panties in the workplace - and you want to retort something snarky to him, when he looks at you that way. 

Within a moment, you realize two things.

Firstly, with the way he was roaming your body, his eyes lingering not only on your face, but your tits and the flimsy underwear concealing your very obvious wet arousal - you were fucked one way or the other. Which should’ve terrified you. Emphasis on ‘should’.

Because the other thing was, that even though he had bound you, even though you were at the mercy of this powerful sinner who tricked and trapped you here, rendering your power useless with whatever-the-fuck… he didn’t seem malicious, but rather… curious? Fascinated? Playful? You can’t really pinpoint it, but something tells you that - if you play your cards right - you might get more out of this make-pretend job than a jetstream-bathtub and hopefully all your limbs intact. And most importantly - you have nothing to lose.

“They're from my personal collection - lucky coincidence that they match the overall vibe of your staff's... uniform." It takes a lot to steady your voice as you talk, with the way his clawed hands run along the insides of your legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He cocks his brow, as if he's pleasantly surprised, and licks his lips before he answers, his voice sultry and dripping of sexual tension.

"Mh... Luck favors the prepared, I always say. Oh, and speaking of slippery and prepared, sweetheart..."

You gasp as you feel the soft fabric being pushed aside and long fingers running lightly through your drenched folds. Fuck, you can already tell just how skilled those fingers must be. How great they'd feel deep inside you. Involuntarily, you buck your hips to guide them to where you wanted them most - onto your clit and burrowed to his knuckles - the desperation just dripping from you as he chuckles and lets his thumb glide over the throbbing pearl teasingly teasingly as he pushes one of his digits in. Your head rolls against the wall behind you with a needy moan escaping your lips and you have to bite them to stay focussed for what you were about to do.

"What a sight. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, doll, seeing you all desperate and fucking..."

The rest of his sentence died in his throat, replaced by a low, long and stuttering moan. Half shocked, half aroused, he looked down to his throbbing cock, then his head snapped up to you, grinning down on him. You moved your hips again, grinding down on his unmoving fingers, frozen in place at his confusion, confirming your suspicion that he didn't know about your other power. Not as strong as your intangibility, sure, but strong enough for him to feel - and see - the ghostly hand you envisioned around his dick, continuing what he started, pumping him in leisurely, slow strokes. 

"Didn't know about that move, doll." His hand comes alive again, and even though his voice glitches a bit he adds another one, much more tenderly and almost softly, properly prepping you. And judging by the circumference of the cock you feel through your spectral hand, it was more than precaution, but nothing less than a mercy. Mercy you were ready to beg for, given his thumb would continue the delicious circles it drew, just the right pressure, just the right pace to push you near the edge without tipping you over it.

"You're just a whole mystery, huh?"

Now fairly certain your head wouldn't roll at the end of this encounter, you let your last reservations slide. It has been too long since you were in the hands of a skilled lover, one that didn't disappoint, that didn't come too soon or drilled amateurishly into you in search for the g-spot they never found. This one knew what he was doing, finally, and by satan you wouldn't waste this opportunity. Make it a night to remember, and who knows? If you fuck his brains out, maybe he'd be knocked out long enough after for you to make a quick and easy exit. You imagined the spectre hand to twist, its thumb mapping the soft ridges around the crown. That seems to do the trick for Vox, and the look he shoots you deeply satisfies. "Fuck me, that's good."

Playing into this sentiment, you didn’t stifle the moans his damn fingers stroke out of you, the way they glide in and out, pressure on all the right marks without fail is too good to hold back. Your skin felt on fire, even without him touching anything but your pussy, and you felt no energy left to care that your clothes - if you would call them that - seemed to fall apart on your body, skirt pushed up to your waist, top loose around your shoulders and almost down enough to let your boobs fall out. You must look a mess, but then again the overlord didn’t seem to mind - quite the contrary. He looked outright hungry, eyes glitching occasionally with a particular squeeze of your hand or a poignant lustful moan from your lips.

“Do you have to concentrate to do that?”

“A little.”

His fingers hitting that one sweet spot inside you, cutting any other, more elaborate explanation short. Fucking hell, that you had to get tricked and trapped by an overlord to find a man that doesn’t think ‘foreplay’ is the interview before a soccer game was a fucking travesty. Grateful for that fact you withdraw from your own pleasure and decided to reward him, regaining your concentration enough to imagine a second hand to pay attention to the firm, very plump balls of his, rolling them in its palm and giving them a gentle, tentative squeeze.

“Cool party trick though, isn’t it?”

As if you challenged him, there’s a subtle change in his demeanor - his eyes more inquisitive, his fingers more eager and fervent, and a third one joined the others, stretching you oh-so-deliciously. For a moment you think you’d lose control, the ghost hands flickering before you got a grip on them again, determined to not tip the scales so soon. But you had to admit - it was tempting, to give into this implied command: Submit, let me take care of you, let me fuck you dumb.  

Little did he know, you were all about equality - or nothing at all. And if he was allowed to plow you with three fingers, surely he couldn’t protest against a third hand.

You weren’t sure how you’d manage it… the power was new, still waiting to be mastered, but you willed a third hand into reality, joining the one on his balls, softly working their way down and massaging his perineum. It strained you to no end, operating the conjured hands while Vox was adamant to make you cum on his fingers alone, but with how the cables shook and loosened around you, you were fairly certain it was enough to show him you meant business, your message clear: If anything, baby, we will fuck each other dumb. 

You watch with almost painful arousal how his screen flashes from the three-way-stimulation, his teeth slightly baring from the sensation but without losing his cocky smirk, as if to show his resilience.

"You'd be the life of any party I know, sugar, if you can pull shit like this out your sleeve."

With a wince from you, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you gaping, empty and fucking whining at the loss, eyes sharp and with a dangerous glint in them. "But you're not the only one with a few secret talents."

He kneels down then, opens his mouth, and you can't believe your eyes as a thick, long, very analog blue tongue unfolds and licks his lips hungrily and almost impatiently. A hand around each thigh spreading you almost impossibly wide, the hot breath feels chilling against your slick opening, and a brush of the tip of his tongue on your swollen clit makes your toes curl and your muscles tense with expectation. Your gaze, locked with his, breaks only when your head throws back and you moan out his name as he truly begins to eat you out. 

No teasing or games, no building up the tension - it's unmerciful, frenetic, his tongue alternately flickering on your clit with its pointed tip and pushing deep into your core with an almost unbearable thickness until there was no space left to be filled, tasting every little centimeter inside. Instinctively, your real hands twitch in their restraints, wanting to reach out, grab his head, the frame of his screen, fucking anything really just to have something of him to hold onto and push. Your hips can't hold still, but he made sure not to lose an inch as his hands gripped your ass down and into him as if he heard your thoughts, drawing you deeper into his maw as he devours you. Your spirit hands fade in and out, your mind unable to keep them steadily corporeal - he was too good, his tongue was too good, not once did his rhythm falter nor the damn thing slow down, giving you no chance to collect yourself.

Finally - oh god finally - his cables loosened enough for you to dart your hands towards him, finding a saving anchor on his arms. You literally felt like you were drowning - wet and out of breath, senses fogged by that wonderfully violent tongue swiping and licking and prodding and fucking pulsing. When he hummed into your cunt, all dams broke, and you could only stutter “fuck, cumming - oh my God-” before you snapped and you fell into the depths of your orgasm.

Whatever prick, mouth or fingers you had on and in you before - this erased them all. Never before felt your head so light, your cunt so heavy and hell so divine.

His relentless licks make you mewl with every stroke as he rides you through your high, but he just doesn’t stop. Greedy, rawing your abused cunt to a point where moans turn into almost pained whimpers and your body twitches and squirms, begging for him to relent.

Mercifully he understands, and when he stands up, you only passingly realize with a pang of bad conscience that your spectre limbs have dissipated somewhere along the line, leaving him high and dry - only metaphorically, because his cock was soaked in leaking cum.

He hooks your legs over his arm, his other snaking around your waist to lift you from the wall, and you made no motion to resist it, being that the prospect of his soft sheets on his bed were much more preferable than color-coated concrete on your back. The short walk over feels like the eye of the storm - a short illusion of a safe space, and you use it to assess the damage.

For one - the ‘clothes’ you wore were useless now, they did nothing clothes were supposed to do - The sleeves were half-ripped from the bralette, hanging by a thread, and the top itself so far down your tits were fully out, nipples dark and flushed, while the skirt was nothing more than a drape at this point, hiding the mess on your thighs and reddened, puffed lips.

Then you look up through your lashes, up to the best lay you ever had, down below as well as up above. You should plan your escape, should use the time you had now to calculate what to do to get the fuck out while you could - Instead your horny little fucked-up brain was busy imagining how you could draw this out, make him so pussydrunk he’d send another decoy job weekly, just so you could return to that magic tongue again and again.

You were right. The sheets felt soft and obscenely expensive. You spread your fingers, the only real motion you were still able to make for now, taking his roaming gaze and the appreciative expression on his screen as a badge of honor. Your senses tingled, and you blinked one, two times, listening into your powers. The walls of his apartment were prepped by him to prevent you from leaving - electricity most likely, something intangible itself - but the ceiling and floors weren’t.

“Got another round in you, baby?”

You look up to him as he wraps your legs around his waist,lining himself up to you, tip ready and loaded. But he doesn’t push in. He waits, and you could cry as he does so.

Fucking hell, the ruthless media overlord half of hell fears to the point they piss themselves is waiting for your consent.

It’s this unexpected, contradictory duality that draws your lips into a smile. Trapping you in his territory, able to kill you with his goddamn pinkie, and yet the only thing he does is make you cum on his mouth and wait for a ‘yes’ to fuck you mindless - how could you not fall for that? Even more, how could you not test your luck with that?

With regained strength you reach for his dick, fingers wrapping firmly around his girthy base. His body follows your gentle guidance, and he lets himself glide into your ready heat with a groan that sends a shiver down your spine - such an earnest sound it makes you want to return the favor tenfold. And you just knew the way you could.

“You don’t need to worry about my stamina,” Voice like honey, you refocus your mind, visualizing the wicked idea that had entered your mind.

A soft hand. Long, flexible fingers, slick and smooth and ready. It formed as you thought it, stroking the cleft of his ass, halting at the tight ring of muscle it found, testing his reaction with a teasing, light press against his opening.

The reaction was priceless. Face glitching, hips jerking violently forward into you as its fingers pass his entrance and slide into him, coming to a halt at that one, very sensitive spot. His breath is ragged and eyes fucking wild, but the way he bends down, gripping your hands to entangle them with yours and pressing as much midnight-blue skin against yours tells you that he doesn’t exactly hate it.

“Worry about your own,” you whisper against the skin of his chest, grinning at the way he shudders at the sultry tone of your voice and the challenging eyes of yours, hilted in your pussy still, taking the ghostly fingers like a good boy.

“Whatever you did to your apartment, you only did it to the walls - the floor is fair game - ah fuck-”

He found some of his senses back, his thrust surprising your nerves with a sudden jolt of electricity - added by him or imagined by you, you can’t tell. He fills you so perfectly, as if molded just for you, big and hard and absolutely sublime, and when he brings his knees up more and bends you at the waist he manages to push in even deeper, pounding almost at your cervix with increasingly feverish, tough thrusts. Again, he wanted to break your concentration, but this time, you were prepared. You let your body do what you trained it to do - it goes hazy, misty, almost translucent in a blue-ish hue, revealing the vision of his buried prick deep inside you, teal glow in navy mist, before you solidify again and find the strength to grin up at him.

“If you cum before I do, I’m out of here.”

There was a wicked glint on that screen of his, and he upped the pace of his snapping hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

"Guess you'll have to move in then, baby." His voice sounds almost distorted, his body starts to spark with fizzing bolts of electric energy, and when he grips the headboard with one hand to gain more momentum to fuck even faster and stronger into you, you almost want to take him up on that quip, convinced his apartment was equipped with more than just a boring jetstream hot tub.

Your spirit fingers stroke in a come-hither motion over his prostate, over and over, varying in pressure, intensity and speed, and each swipe makes him moan a little louder, driving his dick a little deeper into you. It's becoming a race towards a finish line none of you wanted to get to in the first place, a fight of wills and bodies, pushing you to your limits judging by the way your oversensitive pussy clenches, begging for release once more. But by Satan himself you did not intend to lose without a good fight, your fingers raking over his lithe back and the sharp edges of his body, lingering, scraping, writing wordless praises into his skin in red streaks.

“In fact, sweetheart,” he says as he pounds you and your pants become out even louder, “I’ll make you cum so hard you don’t want to leave - you’ll scream my name so loud they’ll hear you down in Wrath, know exactly where you’ll be living from now on.”

Vox, too, is close, you can see it, hear it, most importantly feel it. One hand remaining on the headboard, the other scoops you up by your neck, pulling you onto his face in a kiss so breathtaking and fierce you almost pass out. It's sloppy and lustful, it's lips against lips and tongue on tongue, and your ability to use either becomes redundant when you and him both simultaneously cry out, orgasms overlap and intertwine, you cunt clenching tightly around his pulsating length, sending spurt after spurt of hot cum into you as your own release drips onto the soaked sheets below. Your eyes roll back, the fingers buried inside his tightened ass vanish and your muscles relax. With his hand still on your neck, claws digging into your skin, he slowly brings you back onto the mattress to let you fall together with him.

Silence settles for a second. A brief moment of stillness and clarity, sweat cooling your skin, hearts slowing down and breathing returning to normalcy. You feel the aftermath of his touches everywhere. His marks litter you from top to bottom: Your wrists and thighs are covered in red streaks from the tightness of his cable bondage. Your whole skin tingles from the waves of his inherent electric current. But most telling of all was the pooling mess inside of you, already leaking.

You let yourself feel the weight of his body on yours - it's an intoxicating feeling, the heat radiating off his dark blue skin, and the subtle charge beneath, a hidden hum underneath your fingertips, telling of the immense power of an Overlord you just let fuck you senseless. Now would be the time to run - his screen was completely blue, turned off while he recovered his breath - if you wanted, you could disappear, and he wouldn't be able to stop you or track you down. But when you searched the depths of your mind and body for regret and the sense of danger it brought - there was none. Only satiated warmth, an afterglow you could bathe in, like a warm, healing balm, easing your aching bones and bruised skin.

And just in that moment of resolve, Vox’s screen returned to show his face, and he lifted his head slightly to look at you with eyes as bright and vivid as the neon signs lighting up the streets of the entertainment district outside his windows.

One Month Later

“Thanks babes, I was about to lose my shit when Velma and Kelly fucking quit on me. Bunch of pussies, those two, seriously.”

You shoot Velvette a smile over your shoulder, adjusting the last couple of details on six of her girls, ghostly blue hands hovering around them - clipping a collar here, buckling a shoe there. You pity the two foolish girls - the runway show had Velvette occupied tonight, but tomorrow - well, you were sure Vel was about to annihilate their sorry stylist asses for blowing her off last minute… and not just with a snarky post on Sinstagram.

“No problem, Vel, that’s what I’m here for.”

The small woman laughs sarcastically, but not in the usual mean way, but a playful one, a friendly one. That was one of the things you could pride yourself on - That Velvette, social media queen and judge of what’s hot and not, fell in love with you almost as fast and hard as Vox did.

“Darling, we both know that no one really knows what exactly Vox hired you for. What was the job description he pulled out of his flat ass again?” she raises a cocky brow, sipping obnoxiously on her iced coffee to go in her hands, holding out another, identical one for you. “Ah, yes, ‘ASS’.”

You take the drink from her, smiling mischievously back at her. When Vox came up with that title, he didn’t even notice the ambiguity of its abbreviation, and you let him stew over it for almost a day before you told him, silently convinced your fingers left a memorable impression. “It’s ‘Administrative Services Specialist', and what can I say? My resumee was very convincing.”

Velvette snorts into her vanilla foam. “Funny name for your cunt love, but you do you. Now shoo. Didn’t you and flatface have a date tonight?”

You wave her a quick goodbye, sipping up the cold drink in one gulp and throwing it into the trash as you bypass it, hurrying down the hall and plucking the private keycard from your back pocket. You scan it at the elevators, noticing the other employees backing away from you, and you couldn’t hide the grin that flashed your face. No one dared to ride in that elevator with you, a very badly kept secret that it sent you one way straight to Vox’s apartment, and every one of them would rather chew glass than be caught by whatever awaited the opening elevator doors.

And Vel was right - you had a date with Vox, a special one at that.

Barely three weeks ago you actually did move in - call it a whim of insanity, call it fate - and since that, your days were filled with a job in the Vee Tower that you actually liked (no one shed a tear at the ‘Dusty Pages’ closure notice) and the nights were spent naked, sweaty and blissfully explicit under, on top and any other possible way with Vox in his bed. You learned something new about yourself - with the right partner, you were almost insatiable. Another thing you learned was that Vox seemed to feel just the same. Lucky coincidences indeed.

But date night was something special. Giving up the alibi bookshop was easy enough - but you were adamant that you still wanted to do your other jobs.

Not because of the money - Vox provided generously, and wouldn’t take a cent from you (although you managed to convince him to let you buy him at least snacks and small gifts, an exception you abused to the absolute limit). No, you actually liked to sneak through the night, liked the thrill of moving in the shadows and shifting through secured buildings. Liked the excited arousal you felt after a completed heist.

To preserve your secret, you and Vox decided that you wouldn’t reveal your main power to the others at Vee Tower, the only other people who knew were Velvette and Valentino.

The latter wasn’t your biggest fan, and who could blame him, giving that you were living with  and fucking his ex-lover, but he had his own flings and things to take care of, and after a few occasions where you stepped in to help him out at shoots and with his scripts, he at least became cordial towards you.

But date night was where you went out to do a job, secured through Vox for one of his many business partners, and the pool of people the TV demon had on hands that needed or wanted something of value was a bottomless pit from which you could choose the ones you liked the best. And your digital lover not only organized your gigs - he became your eyes and ears, your literal partner in crime.

The doors open, and Vox stands waiting, leaning, in the doorway, arms crossed and a grin on his face.

“You’re late, doll.”

“I know I know, but Vel needed some helping hands - you know I can’t leave her hanging.”

“Oh, I saw.”, he chuckles, his screen switching from his face to images of you from the security cameras on Velvettes floor, close ups of your face, your tits and ass sprinkled in between. ”You know I can never see enough of you, gotta keep those cameras on.”

You scoffed, but did so with a smile before you kissed him and ran off into the closet, undressing quickly while he followed you, letting himself fall down on his bed and watching you intensely as you peeled your clothes from your body and slipped into your signature skintight suit. By the time you were changed his cock was hard, straining his pants which you acknowledged with an appreciative smile.

You both exchange longing looks, but time is ticking. You put the newest addition to your equipment in your ear - a tiny, wireless headset, directly connected to Vox, bend over the bed, your tongue running over the warm line of his lower lip and sigh as he groans with want.

“I know it’s usually payment upfront, baby, but we’re already behind schedule.”

You can’t seem to tear yourself from him with those big hands on your ass squeezing tightly and that goddamn tongue in your mouth, your mind half decided to tell your client to fuck off and fuck the demon in front of you senseless. But he gently pulls away, his eyes burning not only with need, but also with pride. A look you loved to see on him.

“And besides, you are so much more voracious after a job well done.”

He slaps your ass as you pass him, and you shift through the wall, now almost as eager to steal that stupid looking red duck from some dingy, rundown hotel as you were to return to his waiting cock to cash in your salary.

[meazalykov]

the flag of love

esmee brugts x notafootballer!reader

warnings: google translated dutch

Y/n couldn't contain her excitement as she sat in the stands of the San Mamés Stadium in Bilbao, Spain. The golden hour sun shone down on the pitch and the girl couldn’t contain herself from taking a million pictures of the stadium with her digital camera.

The Champions League final was about to begin, and her heart raced with anticipation. She glanced at the random flag she had brought with her, a silly gesture that only made sense in her mind, adorned with Esmee's smiling face.

Y/n, a girl who went to college in the Netherlands, had traveled all the way to Spain as a surprise for her girlfriend, Esmee, whose football team made it to the final. The journey had been long, and y/n witnessed her girlfriend’s stress through facetime calls and international breaks in person, but the thought of seeing Esmee's team in the final made every mile worth it.

As the match kicked off, Y/n's eyes were fixed on the field, searching for any glimpse of her beloved. After she noticed that Esmee was on the bench, she focused on her girlfriend’s teammates on the field. She cheered along with the crowd, her excitement mounting with each passing minute.

“Who are you supporting?” Y/n’s attention caught onto a girl who stood beside her.  The girl's question was unexpected because she came to Bilbao by herself with no friends, she didn't expect much interaction with people before seeing her girlfriend after the final. The girl who spoke to her had long raven colored hair and spoke with a French accent. 

Y/n, who was dressed in a black tank top with dark washed baggy levi jeans, blushed at the question when she thought about her girlfriend. 

“I’m supporting Barcelona. Um– My girlfriend plays on the team.” The other girl raised her eyebrows at the last couple of words Y/n spoke. 

“Oh my god– No way! I’m sorry– I’m Margo by the way, my sister plays for Lyon.” Margo playfully raised her hand out and Y/n went to shake her hands.

 

“I’m Y/n!! Who’s your sister?” Y/n excitingly asked. She looked around the pitch with her (reader’s eye color) eyes, wondering if she could find a player who reassembled Margo. 

“Selma. She's number 4 for Lyon.” Margo responded. 

“What is that on your shoulders?” The French girl asked. Y/n had a polyester flag wrapped around her shoulders which flowed with the light Spanish wind. 

The WAG smiled as she unwrapped the flag around her shoulders. Margo’s jaw dropped in amazement as one of Esmee’s Barcelona media day pictures with Barcelona was pasted onto the flag. 

“No way!! Your girlfriend is Esmee Brugts?” Margo asked. Y/n nodded her head with a smile as she placed the flag back around her shoulders. 

“Yes!!! She's lovely– I got this flag done by someone on Etsy too if you’re wondering— I love doing silly things like this for her. She pretends like it's silly but I know she loves and appreciates it deep down.” Y/n smiled as she looked along at the pitch. She cringed for a quick second when she saw Patri fall to the ground after a challenge with Lyon's midfielder Lindsey Horan. 

“That is so crazy because we are the same person with that kind of stuff. My boyfriend plays for Lyon's mens team too and I love making silly posters for him and other stuff.” Margo smiled. 

“Yeah I can’t wait to surprise Esmee after this game. No offense to you or your sister but hopefully Barcelona wins so this surprise goes perfectly.” Y/n said. She hasn’t seen Esmee since her international break for the Euro Qualifiers a month earlier. 

The game was intense as the seventieth minute came, with Lyon’s team displaying incredible defense skills by not allowing Barcelona’s forwards to pass through easily . Y/n's heart raced with every close call, every near miss, and every brilliant save from both sides.

Y/n jumped with joy when Alexia Putellas scored a goal in the 77th minute. It would’ve been 1-0 but she frowned when VAR overturned the goal. Alexia’s arm was offside when she ran to score the ball.

Then, in the 89th minute, Esmee stepped onto the pitch as a substitute for Salma Paralluelo, a surge of adrenaline rushing through Y/n's veins. The girl jumped with joy at seeing her girlfriend appear. She clutched the flag on her shoulders tighter, her eyes never leaving Esmee as she dashed across the field.

The girl didn’t want Esmee to notice her right away since her arrival is a surprise. However, she shined the normal sized flag with Esmee on it. A few WOSO fans in the crowd, one with a digital camera in particular, noticed Y/n shining the flag and took a few pictures of her. The fans smiled in awe at the sight of the WAG supporting her girlfriend who arrived on the pitch.

With just moments left in the game, Esmee made her mark. She dribbled past defenders with finesse, her movements fluid and precise. The Barcelona fans in the crowd erupted in chants as they’re anticipating what might happen next. And then, with a perfectly timed pass, she set up Aitana Bonmati, who scored the first official goal in the Champions League final.

The stadium erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause. Y/n leaped to her feet, waving the flag frantically as tears of joy streamed down her face. The dimples on her cheeks were bright as she was able to witness Esmee’s assist in one of the most important games of her career so far. Y/n couldn't contain her pride and happiness as she watched Esmee celebrate with her teammates. All who ran to the corner of the pitch and jumped in joy at Aitana’s goal and Esmee’s assist. 

After the final whistle blew, Y/n breathed in relief as she noticed her girlfriend’s happy face, the girl’s heart pounding with anticipation as she waited for the surprise to happen. 

Y/n was in the front of the stands that was closest to the pitch on the ground. Ingrid Engen, a teammate of Esmee’s who Y/n could consider a friend due to the many time they’ve met, saw Y/n and smiled brightly. The woman knew how much Esmee missed her girlfriend while living in Barcelona. 

Y/n smiled at Ingrid, who stood 30 feet away, as tears nearly came out of both of their eyes in joy. The WAG looked over and saw her unknowing girlfriend with happy tears threatening to pour out of her eyes too. She was hugging Alexia Putellas and Ingrid interrupted them to say something in Esmee’s ear. 

“Look over there, Es!” Ingrid pointed over at Y/n. Esmee was confused until she saw the sight of her girlfriend. Not caring about who sees, the Barcelona player sprinted into her girlfriend’s arms and cried into her shoulder. The team won the Champions League final and she was able to contribute to the goal that helped the win. 

"Ik ben zo blij voor je, sweet pea.” (I am so happy for you, sweet pea) Y/n softly scratched Esmee’s back over the material of her jersey as Esmee happily sobbed into her shoulder. The girl had happy tears coming out of her eyes too, she couldn’t be more proud of her girlfriend who shined with just five minutes of playing time.  

Esmee pulled away from the hug after five minutes, but kept her hand on Y/n’s arms.

“Hoe ben je hier gekomen? Gaat alles goed?” (How did you get here? Are you OK?) Esmee smiled brightly as she dragged her hand up and down Y/n’s right arm. The WAG nodded her head rapidly in joy. 

“''Het gaat goed met me! Ik kwam vanochtend naar Bilbao om je in de finale te zien sinds ik mijn laatste examen had afgerond.” (I’m okay! I came to Bilbao this morning to see you in the final since I finished my last exam.) Y/n said. Esmee smiled again before hugging her. She was in disbelief but in the happiest way possible. She assumed that Y/n wouldn’t make it to Spain for the final since the college student was finishing exams for her last year of University. 

“Hou vol? Ben je klaar met je examens? Je studeert af!!?” (Hold on? Are you done with your exams? You're graduating!!??) The realization crossed the footballer's mind. 

“Ik deed! Deze dag gaat echter niet over mij, dus daar kunnen we later over praten. Kijk eens wat ik voor je heb gemaakt!!” (I did! This day isn't about me though, so we can talk about that later. Look what I made for you!!) Y/n unwrapped the flag around her shoulders and held it up for Esmee to see. The Barcelona player laughed in shock and looked towards her girlfriend with happiness and love in her brown eyes. 

“No way! This is so crazy” Esmee knew how silly her girlfriend can be, but noticing her face pasted onto a flag was unexpected. 

“Yes way!” Y/n looked up past Esmee and saw all of the teammates walking away from other family and friends to go and receive their medals and trophies. 

“Now go over there and celebrate with your team! I’ll see you back in Barcelona!” Y/n said and Esmee’s eyes widened at her girlfriend's last sentence. 

“You’re coming back to Barcelona with me?” Esmee asked. She felt like her day couldn’t have gotten any better. 

“Yes! Now go celebrate.” Y/n pointed over at the Barcelona squad and Esmee jogged back to them. 

After Esmee’s Champions League win with Barcelona and Y/n’s college graduation, the two girls went on to live in Barcelona together and the girl was able to attend nearly all of her girlfriend’s football matches.

<3

[calcifiedunderland]

Silky Melon & Spices

Food Fight Ending III

You opened the text, surprised to see that it was from Jamil.

Jamil: Hello (Name), I’m glad I was able to help you earlier. Are you doing alright?

You saw his text bubble pop up, showing that he was writing. You frowned when you saw it pop up, then stop, and go again.

Jamil frowned at his phone in the dark of his room, deleting yet another message. After heading back to Scarabia and finishing his duties, he decided to finally text you.

Deep down, he knew why he kept quiet about how he really felt about you. But some small, selfish part of him didn’t quite want to pull away completely. For a short while, he was happy giving you food and keeping things friendly. But now, it was getting hard to deny the truth. So much, that even Kalim was noticing how often Jamil made ‘extra’ food, and Jamil subconsciously made more of what you liked.

He sighed heavily, and typed out one more text, hitting send before he could stop himself.

To (Name): If you’re available, would you be willing to help me early tomorrow with cooking? I’ll be making some of your favorites. I also wanted to speak with you.

You finally heard your phone go off, signaling that Jamil finished typing. You frowned slightly when you read it. You sent back a Sure, see you then! and flopped back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to see him again. Jamil was a busy person, and lately you’ve been cherishing the time you were with him. And you supposed, somewhere along the way, you started enjoying his presence more than a regular friend would.

You sighed. You didn’t really know what to make of his message, but you decided to leave it until tomorrow.

—🧡🐍✨—

Jamil finally overturned the last pita, and shut off the stovetop. All the food for Kalim is done, he thought. Sighing, he turned around and began wrapping shawarma in wax paper. He wrapped one with lamb, tahini, and vegetables for himself, and one with (preferred filling) for you. He sighed heavily, feeling antsy. He’d finished earlier than anticipated. All that was left was to wait for you. His heart stuttered.

He began cutting up some silky melon that Kalim’s family sent from the Scalding Sands to keep his hands busy. Absently, his mind drifted to the legend from his homeland.

If you share this melon with someone, your friendship or romance will last forever. He shook his head, setting the bowl (now filled with melon slices) down.

He looked up when he heard a knock. “Hey,” you said softly, walking in. “I hope I’m not too late?” You pursed your lips. It seemed Jamil finished the cooking without you. The cookware was already in the sink, and containers (now filled with steaming food) were already out. Jamil shook his head, giving you a practiced smile. “No, I finished ahead of time, don’t worry.” He cleared his throat, feeling hot, “n-now that you’re here, would you sit outside with me?”

You nodded, smiling. “Sounds good to me,” you followed him outside. The Scarabia dorm wasn’t so sweltering in the early morning - it was pleasantly cool, and the air was dry. You and Jamil perched on a hammock in between two palm trees, munching on the falafel wrap he’d made.

It occurred to you how peaceful this was. Everyone was still asleep in their rooms, and the dunes surrounding the dorm were a sandy gold color against the soft lilac dawn. The silence didn’t seem to be easily broken, because Jamil hardly said a word to you since coming outside. He hadn’t even touched his wrap. Instead, he held the bowl of cut melon slices, staring outward.

You looked at him quizzically. He didn’t seem mad. He noticed you looking at him, and looked away, “I… I’m glad you came.” You angled your head, “I’m glad I did too,” he seemed to relax a bit when you said that. You nodded to the melon bowl, “do you want to split that?” His eyes widened briefly, but he nodded.

You took a slice, and sank your teeth into it. Rich, sweet juice burst into your mouth, dripping down your hand as you chewed. You glanced over, feeling a bit self-conscious when you saw him staring at you, “…you’re not going to have any?” You asked shyly. Jamil bit his lip and nodded, taking up his own slice and biting into it. You both ate, the sun’s rays rising over the horizon.

You finished off your slice. Wiping off your chin, you said “y’know, I thought you wanted me to help you cook. But… if you didn’t ask me for that, then…”

You played with the wax paper from your wrap, now empty, “why did you want to see me?” Jamil stopped. He gulped down the last of his melon, and looked out of the corner of his eyes at you. “I… wanted to see you.” He took a breath, staring back out at the sand dunes.

“You’ve been… very helpful to me, and lately you’ve become…” he swallowed, controlling his voice, “important to me. Not like how Kalim is important, but… different.” Your face felt warm as you looked down at your melon slice. You couldn’t deny that, over the many times you’d hung out with Jamil, you grew to genuinely enjoy his presence. Even more than just friends.

You responded softly, “you’re really important to me too, Jamil.” You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face as he slowly turned to look at you. “And I… I think I know what you mean.” You swallowed nervously, “you’re special to me, in a different way than Grim or even my friends.”

You smiled at Jamil, face feeling warm as the rising sun shone on both of you, “I… really like you, Jamil.” The words hung in the air for a beat, and then Jamil broke the silence. “Really?” His voice cracked.

You let out a small breathy laugh, unable to contain yourself. You lurched toward him in the hammock, wrapping your arms around him. He gasped before holding you too, the two of you giggling before the dawn. You softly kissed Jamil’s cheek. Jamil’s face grew warm, but he couldn’t stop an incredulous smile on his face, eyes shining. You grinned, “really.”

🧡🐍✨

[englishotomegames]

Aksys Games has announced three new otome game titles they will be localizing in 2024 / 2025 for the Nintendo Switch!

Despera Drops (2025)

"In the summer of 2028, Mika Amamine, studying abroad at a university in Bologna, Italy, visits Rome for a short trip with friends to celebrate the end of exams. However, during that trip, she encounters a murder incident and is subsequently arrested as a suspect.

While being transported in a police vehicle, it suddenly overturns in an accident, freeing Mika along with six other criminals and they all become fugitives. Mysterious attackers appear, targeting the unique “power” that Mika possesses, and the group finds themselves pursued by both the police and the attackers.

The secret hidden within Mika’s power, the identity of the attackers, and the truth behind the murder incident that started it all… Can they unravel these mysteries and reclaim a normal life?"

Virche Evermore -EpiC: Lycoris- (Fall 2024)

The fandisc for Virche Evermore: ErroR:salvation.

"Return to the island of Arpéchéle where, surrounded by the sea and black flowers of misfortune called Lycoris Noirge, humans are cursed to die by age 23. Five new tales further explore the world of Virche Evermore. Experience the new despair and salvation that awaits Ceres and her suitors."

Radiant Tale -Fanfare- (Summer 2024)

The fandisc for Radiant Tale.

"Includes all-new stories, including sugary sweet after-stories that follow the happy endings with the five love interests in the original game, as well as new routes with two side characters following the normal ending of the common route. Additionally, the fandisk contains a collection of mini-episodes of events that occurred throughout the original main story, allowing fans to further enjoy its contents."

Aksys is also set to release Tengoku Struggle -strayside- on April 4th, 2024.