#crafts law firm

[acadianamarketing]

Website : https://acadianamarketingsolutions.com/

Address : 113 Fairwood Dr, Broussard, LA 70518

Phone : +1 318-267-2496

We create brand identities, digital experiences, and print materials that communicate clearly to achieve marketing goals, and look fantastic. We can provide something that not many agencies can, full service marketing. Many agencies claim full service, but they lack one or two essential services. We offer them all under one roof. Many outsource, taking 2-3X longer to make a change to your projects. We do do it all in-house. Best in class experience. Tailor-made solutions for your brand.

Business Mail : sabrina@acadianamarketingsolutions.com

[notbecauseofvictories]

I'm not sure whether KJ Parker is a good writer. However, he writes about divinity in a way that I---the bane of Catholic high school Theology teachers, someone who read Aquinas and Augustine specifically to prove said teachers wrong and then became a lawyer for mysterious reasons definitely unrelated to this---recognize intimately. So he gets a pass.

[dragonanon]

Having another hyper fixation moment for Hazbin Hotel. I’m now creating an overlord OC loosely based on the lamb from “Cult of The Lamb”, that is a LITERAL wolf in sheep’s clothing and is also lawyer. 👀

[ghostlyferrettarot]

🛸🖤Midheaven in the signs🖤🛸

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🛸If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🛸

🖤Masterlist🖤

🛸Midheaven in Aries: Self-confidence and extroversion are their main tools; self-sufficient, they seek to prove themselves at all levels. Professional careers that involve movement, individual action and proving their leadership abilities are favorable to them.

🛸Midheaven in Taurus: Their perseverance and determination help them achieve their goals. They take into account their gifts, resources and abilities and how to exploit them. Professional careers that allow them to manifest beauty and practicality are favorable to them, such as agriculture, sculpture, architecture, agronomy, painting and finance.

🛸Midheaven in Gemini: Great communication skills. Flexible, analytical, receptive, agile, versatile, adaptable, with great observational capacity, they can carry out several tasks at once without problems. Professional careers linked to the processes of communication and contact with society are favorable to them, such as journalism, commerce, diplomacy and education.

🛸Midheaven in Cancer: Planners and protectors; Individualistic, sensitive, firm and intuitive. Another point to keep in mind is to practice fluidity in your daily life. Professional careers that help channel assistance to others are favorable for you, such as psychology, gynecology, cooking and psychotherapy.

🛸Midheaven in Leo: You pursue success relentlessly, and sometimes you do not allow yourself to enjoy it. You have clear objectives and the perseverance and tenacity necessary to achieve them. Noble, generous, motivating, trustworthy, with leadership skills; you must learn to control arrogance. Professional careers with great autonomy are favorable for you, such as political positions, business management and dramaturgy.

🛸Midheaven in Virgo: You maintain a constant and methodical effort to achieve your objectives; critical, detail-oriented, positive, organized, innovative and with a great willingness to learn. You must avoid neuroses and the accumulation of objects. Professional careers oriented towards collaboration and with an appreciation of details, such as mechanics, languages, nutrition and crafts, are favorable for you.

🛸Midheaven in Libra: They plan and execute their strategy calmly, taking care of the details and feasibility. They are sociable, adaptable and diplomatic, and they like harmony. Professional careers that offer variety and where they can comfortably develop their sense of justice and balance are favorable to them. A classic example is the study of law, diplomacy, public relations and the arts.

🛸Midheaven in Scorpio: They have a tendency to manipulate others to achieve their interests. Ambitious, determined, direct, brave, skillful and capable of facing difficult transformation processes. Professional careers that privilege research and strategy are favorable to them, such as psychoanalyst, psychiatrist, private investigator, chemist and anthropologist.

🛸Midheaven in Sagittarius: They are constantly moving. Intuitive, open, creative, with strong convictions and ideals. They are favourable to professional careers that work directly by appealing to the philosophy of life of individuals, such as religion, philosophy, or spiritual guidance. They also excel in astronomy, ecology and sports.

🛸Midheaven in Capricorn: Ambitious, practical, predictable and modest. Protective, efficient, serious, concentrated, focused, they can fall into nonconformity and obstinacy, in relation to the results they obtain. They are favourable to professional careers that require their knowledge of administration and organization, such as architecture, politics, administration of companies or public institutions, and geology.

🛸Midheaven in Aquarius: They wish to build a better world for everyone, but they feel the need to constantly test the scope of their knowledge. This position indicates a constant search for wisdom. Cooperators, avant-garde, they must cultivate the freedom of spirit to achieve the awakening of consciousness they long for. They are favourable to professional careers that promote the use of technologies and the mass dissemination of ideas, such as journalist, writer, community manager, publicist and others.

🛸Midheaven in Pisces: Patient, sensitive, simple and compassionate, they seek to understand the meaning of life, so they have philosophical and religious concerns, as well as a deep desire to live with simplicity. They must learn that spirituality is not a concept at odds with success. Professional careers related to the management and expression of feelings, such as the arts, psychology, research and public relations, are favorable to them.

[courtofcrescent]

Your kingdom has lost the war. The Royal Family is dead, including your mistress, the Old King's beloved concubine. Following her last command, you are forced to bend your knees to the new ruler. You continue to live your life as a dutiful high servant, striving to maintain normalcy as best you can, until one moonlit night, you accidentally uncover a terrifying secret... and attract dangerous attention.

Thus begins your new life as the Royal Consort, navigating the intrigue of your old-yet-new Court, all while guarding The Secret with your life.

"May Luxen always shine upon you."

Play as a male or female bearing the title of Royal Consort.

Romance the Ruler with a questionable reputation who is your now lawful partner; the Knight with a piercing gaze who follows you like a devoted shadow; the scandalous nouveau riche who happens to be the Minister of Entertainment; the striking Cousin who prefers the company of books; or a secret... something?

Join the exquisite intrigue of the Court by planning lavish parties, attending charitable events, or simply lying in your pavilion all day in hope to avoid assassination attempts—or perhaps even plot some yourself.

Acquire an expensively crafted dagger... and stab a few people in the back—or you know, a charming smile works too!

Embrace your new royal life with all its privileges and responsibilities—or find yourself trapped in misery, contemplating your choices.

Secrets. Hidden Truths. Lies. You name it.

Here's the list of romantic options who may or may not desire the demise of the Royal Consort. Questionable information. Proceed with extreme caution.

MALLORY d'ASTRUM | THE RULER (M)

Formerly the enemy commander who slew the Old King, Mallory now become the new Ruler who reigns over the Court of Crescent—your beloved kingdom's new moniker. A member of the Imperial House Astrum, you were familiar with his rumors long before the Empire invaded your kingdom. Wolf of War, they said, so that's why you are quite... baffled when you find him as tame as a pampered royal dog, for lack of better words. Did you hear the right rumors? Were all the bard's tales lies? Is this sweets-loving gentleman truly the same vicious commander once called the Beast of Battle?

"My Moonshine, would you care for a dance with your partner?"

VIVIAN d'BENITO | THE KNIGHT (F)

Every royal family member always has a loyal personal Knight, and so do you. Vivian is the very epitome of a guard on duty, according to your etiquette book. Silent yet attentive, her gaze never strays far from you. Obedient yet firm, she grants any wishes of yours as long as they do not clash with Mallory. Vivian has sworn an oath to protect you from any external threats, however can you trust your life to a knight who serves the Imperial House that destroyed the former royal family? Can you trust any oath that passes the lips of a former member of the Knights of Raven?

"I'm yours to command, Your Serene Highness."

ELLIS EDSELLY | THE MINISTER (M)

Scandal, scandal, and more scandal. Ellis's life is never dull, if the rumors are true. Raised to power by the very incident that destroyed the former royal family, he has garnered quite a reputation. Some despise him, some commend him, some licking his boots—or licking much more. Ellis accepts them all with a grin and a wink. If life is a stage, surely the Minister of Entertainment has the center seat. A commoner turned merchant turned noble, he has certainly climbed the power ladder quite high. You wonder, will he continue to ascend even further?

"Let us raise our glass to the night of merriment!"

SORIN FLAVENY | THE COUSIN (F)

You don't know why your reclusive, anti-court great uncle grants his blessing to send your second cousin to the Court. The last time you met Sorin was when both of you were still nursing, thus your impression of her mostly comes from your other cousin's words. Citrine of Flaveny, or so you've been told, her beauty shines like gems under the sunlight, captivating countless suitors. A face of great asset, yet from her very first gathering, you hear that Sorin always curls herself up in the solitude of the palace library. Why does she even bother to come to the Court?

"Cousin! Ah, I mean, Your Majes—Serene Highness! You have a very nice home. So... yellow."

???? | T̵H̸E̸ ̶E̴N̵I̶G̵M̸A̷?̷

G̶o̶.̵ ̷S̴t̵a̴y̶.̷ ̷G̷o̵!̶ ̵S̴t̷a̴y̴!̴ ̵N̶o̸!̸ ̴D̸o̶n̴'̸t̴!̶ ̸Y̷E̷S̸!̸!̴!̴

"Y̶o̷u̴.̵ ̴A̸r̸e̶.̷ ̷M̸I̷N̵E̸!!!!"

Court of Crescent is rated 18+ for mature themes, death and near death experience, blood and violence, alcohol and drugs, sexual content, morally questionable behaviours, really morally questionable behaviours, and more.

[DEMO COMING SOON]

[under construction]

[hb-writes]

Another Time, Another Place

Summary: Harvey's wife (Reader) gets stuck while working on a case and she requires his assistance to get unstuck.

Prompt: “What? Isn’t this the book you wanted?”

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader/OFC (3rd person, she/ her)

Content Warning: Nothing much, really. Implied spice, but no explicit spice.

She pulled her gaze from her laptop, rubbing at her eyes as she glanced around the room after sending an email. Most of the partners—both the senior and junior designees—stayed far away from the law firm’s library. They had little need for the space, what with being granted their own resplendent offices, complete with the comforts of their own design—furniture and decor and views that reflected their status and clout at the firm…

So it was rare to find department heads there, excepting for the odd instances when they deigned to stretch their legs, drifting down to the library to follow up with an associate or paralegal assigned to their case in person rather than sending an email, but she had always liked the library. She often preferred its special brand of quiet, the near-silence imbued with the tense buzz of people working on their own time-sensitive assignments, almost like the parallel play of toddlers. Almost like they were all still students studying for exams and writing papers. 

The room was empty now though, the hour too late for even the most diligent of associates, the most hungry of them, but it had always reminded her of her days back in school…her days as a novice associate. Even now, she sometimes preferred the space to her own office the same way she’d once preferred the space to her little cubicle in the bullpen. Back when she was an associate, there had been no hour too late, no hour that she wouldn’t spend in the library with a pile of books and her mind wound tightly throughout the intricacies of a case, trying to craft a win for herself. For her mentor. For her clients. 

It wasn’t often these days that she needed to keep such late hours. And somewhere along the line, she’d become the one mentoring novice attorneys. She’d sent her own associate home hours ago, preferring to work through this particularly rough bit of research on her own. Once in a while, she liked that sort of challenge. Liked revisiting the grueling all nighters she’d once lived on a daily basis. 

And she could feel she was close now, the puzzle pieces in her mind’s eye nearly falling into place. Nearly…but there was something she was missing. Something blocked that she couldn’t quite work through. In a library containing thousands of volumes and a whole internet of answers, she just couldn’t find what she needed. 

Or, more likely, she couldn’t access it, her mind not making the right connections. 

She probably just needed to get some sleep, to look at things with a fresh mind, but that wasn’t in the cards tonight, not with an impending deadline. 

A short break would have to do. She just needed an influx of energy, a slight bit of distraction to pull her mind away from the issue just enough to give perspective. 

Pushing back from her laptop, she turned the volume on her wireless headphones up, letting the club hits she used to dance to during undergrad house parties soothe some part of her soul, almost as if the familiar beats unlocked something in her, loosening muscles she hadn’t even realized were tense. Not that it was a surprise. She’d been hunched over the table for hours, not even bothering to stop for dinner, taking only a few obligatory bites of the sushi Harvey had ordered for her while her eyes remained glued to her computer. 

She let her focus slip away now though, slipping off her heels and closing her eyes as she sang along to the song in her headphones. She imagined she was in another time, another place—far away from the library and the case, the music easily carrying her away. 

She started, eyes flying open as she danced into something solid, the scent of a familiar cologne tickling her senses as she stumbled. Harvey’s hand closed around her back, steadying her as she pulled her headphones off, letting them hang around her neck. 

Harvey smirked at the noise still blaring through the silent library from the headphones, a song he knew just as well as she did, the sound of it dredging up at least half a dozen memories—images of his own college days, images of the two of them on road trips, images of her cleaning the apartment, images of their wedding, images of a handful of other times he’d come across her in the firm’s library late at night…

“Hey fruitcake, what are you doing?” 

She rolled her eyes at the reference as she turned down the volume, allowing the memories and the music to fall away, her mind temporarily focused on finding the right retort, her mind gratefully sifting through Dirty Harry quotes rather than case law research.

Harvey watched her, letting the quiet stretch between them, some part of him gratified at the sight of her slightly disheveled appearance. Harvey liked something about the juxtaposition, of seeing her just slightly less put together than she usually was in the hallowed halls of their law firm, her blazer discarded on a chair, her shirt sleeves rolled, her feet bare, bright red toenails stark against the dark carpets. 

Not that he wasn’t used to seeing her like that. She was the type of girl who was almost always in sweats just minutes after arriving home. She’d actually been dressed that way when they first met, years and years ago in a different law library, in a different set of hallowed halls. 

Sometimes, especially times like this, it felt like it was just yesterday.

Harvey pulled his eyes back to her face to find her studying him, a certain eagerness lighting her eyes. His lips formed a fond smile again. 

“I thought you were hard at work down here?” he taunted, eyebrows raising.

“Well…” she started, leaning a bit of weight onto the arm that still lay snaked around her back, “for the past three-quarters of an hour, I’ve been sitting on my ass waiting for you.” 

Harvey smirked. It was one of the things he loved about her: that she could go toe to toe with him with most things—movie references, the law, a few choice other things…

Nevermind the fact that she’d emailed him requesting his ‘assistance’ mere minutes ago…

Harvey gently massaged her lower back with the fingers he still had splayed there before shifting his arm away, abstaining from letting his hand drift down to the aforementioned ass, another thing he loved about her.

Her lips pursed at the sudden absence of Harvey’s touch and she pulled her arms up to fold over her chest.

“I brought that help you wanted.” 

She refrained from smiling as she read the title of the paperback he pushed into the space between them—Law for Dummies—even as he smirked, giddy as a school child. She had gifted the book to him upon his law school graduation, and it had occupied a shelf in his various cubicles and offices ever since. 

She doubted it had ever been much help, but it gave them a good laugh from time to time, something which was like a balm to the harshness of life sometimes, a healing salve for the seemingly chronic stress of their lives.

“Very clever, Harvey.” 

“What?” he asked, gaze drifting from her unimpressed face down to the black and yellow front cover. “Isn’t this the book you wanted?”

Harvey’s voice sounded so innocent—so sincere—that she almost laughed. Christ, he was good. If law hadn’t worked out, he could’ve given acting a shot. Comedy, maybe. 

“Did my email say anything about a book, Mr. Specter?” she asked, taking the tome from his hands and tossing it on a nearby table with a thump.

Harvey hummed. “Come to think of it, your email was a little…vague. Left a lot to the imagination.” 

“Mhmm…” She nodded. “The details of the specific type of assistance I require of you is something I suspect neither one of us would want in writing. Wouldn’t want it read aloud in a court of law…” Her eyes traveled Harvey’s face, clocking the light in his eyes and the tug of his smile. “Or by the IT department,” she added as an afterthought, the briefest bit of alarm washing over her features at the idea. 

“You think Benjamin is reading our email exchanges?” Harvey asked. “That’s kind of—”

She pushed at his chest before he could get the word out—kinky. 

“Harvey,” she groaned, not because she didn’t enjoy the childish side of him. She did. She loved it, actually, but she had asked him down here for a reason…

“Yes, Mrs. Specter?” 

To most of the world, both here at the office and in the eyes of the U.S. government, she went by her maiden name. She had kept her own name, both professionally and legally, for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which being that she was not a man’s property, not even if Harvey Specter was the man in question. But between the two of them, it still thrilled her when he called her that, made her feel so thoroughly his—and him so thoroughly hers—that her toes curled into the carpet, a movement that Harvey clocked as he stepped closer, one arm wrapping around her as he used the other to guide her face up to him with a hand under her chin.

“What specific type of assistance is it that you require of me?”

Whatever she asked for…whatever she needed…Harvey would readily give her the world if she wanted it. If it would make her happy. If she needed it. He’d do anything.

It was a truth they both knew. And it was reciprocal. She’d do the same for him.  

But all she wanted—all she needed—just now was him. 

This.

Well, this…and a way to win her case, but as she kissed her husband’s lips, allowing him to guide them both back towards the stacks, thoughts of the case fell away until all that existed in the world was two people alone in a library, each of them falling a bit further in love, as they had once done long ago in another time, another place.

[charminglygrouped]

One of the major legacies of the British control of India was the planting of peoples of Indian origin all over the British Empire, including Britain itself. India was considered to be a reservoir of cheap labour. After African slavery was legally ended in 1833, ‘indentured’ labourers were recruited from India to work on plantations in Mauritius, Guyana, Trinidad, and Jamaica. This was slavery in a new guise: many laboured under conditions no less degrading than slavery. Thereafter wherever need arose, Indian labour was employed. Indians worked in the plantations and mines in Ceylon, Malaya, Burma, South Africa and Fiji. Indian labour provided the manpower to build the East African Railway. Indian sailors worked the British merchant navy. Indian soldiers not only helped to maintain the British Raj in India, but were used as cannon fodder overseas in colonial wars of conquest to extend its frontiers.

Indians were brought to Britain too. They did not come as ‘indentured’ labourers, but the principle of cheap labour applied here as well. Many Indian servants and ayahs (nannies or ladies’ maids) were brought over by British families returning from India. Indian sailors were employed by the East India Company to work on its ships. Some of these servants and sailors settled permanently in Britain.

One of the results of the policy of introducing western education in India was that, from about the middle of the nineteenth century, many Indian students began arriving in Britain, some on scholarships, to study law or medicine or to prepare for other professions. Some came to take the exami­nation for entry into the Indian civil service since this exami­nation could only be taken in London. Some Indian students settled in Britain after qualifying, to practise as doctors, lawyers or in other professions. Some Indian business firms opened branches in England. Nationalist politicians came to London, the centre of power, to argue the cause of Indian freedom. Indian princes and maharajahs visited England, not only as guests of the Crown on formal occasions, like the coronations, but also to pay their ‘respects’ to the monarch or for pleasure. London, as the metropolitan capital, attracted many visitors from India. Exhibitions of Indian arts and crafts were displayed in England too. The Asian presence in Britain therefore goes a long way back and forms a prelude to the post-independence migration of Asians to Britain.

— Rozina Visram, Ayahs, Lascars and Princes: Indians in Britain, 1700-1947 (London: 1986), pp. 9-10.

[nina-ya]

Sweet Like Honey

A/N: Hi!! Two sanji posts in a row?? Im just a fake Law lover someone needs to revoke my card Pairing: Sanji x reader CW: Oral sex (reader receiving), AFAB reader, vaginal fingering, noseblood mention poorly translated french WC: 1.2k • masterlist • ko-fi •discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Sanji’s devotion to you was evident in every languid motion as he was nestled between your thighs, his newest happy place. His lips, the ones that usually curled into charming smiles or crafted complements to throw your way, were now occupied with giving you unrelenting pleasure. His tongue caressed and danced over your folds with a desperate urgency, determined to show you just how much he loves you.

His eyes were half-lidded, the cerulean orbs glazed over with a hunger and desire that made him nearly unrecognizable. Soft, needy noises escaped his throat alongside gentle slurps, breathless sighs, and the occasional groan. He was fully consumed by the task before him, finding complete pleasure in giving you yours.

The mess he was making didn’t phase him. If anything, the whole ordeal just spurred him on. Your own essence, mixed with the maroon of his nosebleed, painted his face and dripped onto the surface below you, but he seemed unaware of the world beyond the taste of you, not that either of you minded. 

"Mon trésor," Sanji murmured between breaths, his voice vibrating against your most sensitive spots. "Tu as le goût du paradis." you taste like heaven.

His hands moved to adjust your position as he draped your legs over his shoulders and pulled you flush against his face, the new angle allowing him to delve deeper into you. Each flick of his tongue was a masterstroke, each and every cell in your body alight with euphoria. He sucked on your clit gently, each pass over the sensitive bundle of nerves drawing choked gasps and mewls of pleasure from your lips. 

Sanji’s mouth worked tirelessly to draw out moans, sighs, shaky breaths, and twitches from you. Each beautiful sound that spilled from your lips filled the air, mixing with his own hums and groans of satisfaction Every drop of your essence was like liquid gold, thick and sweet like honey, driving him mad. 

His hips moved with an almost animalistic rhythm as he rutted into the mattress beneath you. His neediness was palpable, his body aching for any kind of friction, any form of relief from the intense tightness building in his pants. Each thrust against the fabric felt like he was pleading in any way to get some sort of reprieve. His cock straining painfully against the confines, the precum that seeped through the fabric of his pants only adding to the mounting frustration. 

Sanji’s devotion wasn’t just in his touch– it was in the reverence with which he worshipped every part of you. His movements were purposeful and unhurried, he was savoring his perfect dish and indulging in every taste of you. His tongue was a brush that painted you in sensations that were far too profound to name, his lips being the softest silk as they molded to the curves of your body. 

Your legs trembled where they rested on his shoulders, his grip on your thighs tightening as if he feared you may slip away. He buried his face deeper into you and with each slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, your body arched instinctively toward him, desperate for more.

“Mon amour,” he murmured against you. “Je ne pourrais jamais en avoir assez de ton miel.” I could never get enough of your honey.

The words dripped with a longing, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating through you like a current. His hands slid up your waist, warm and firm, before one crept higher, cupping your breast as his thumb circled your hardened nipple. He couldn’t get enough of you. He couldn’t stop at just tasting you, he needed to feel you– needed to feel you come udone under his touch. 

“S’il te plaît… i want to hear you,” he groaned against you, almost pleading. 

The plea sent a crackle of electricity down your spine at his plea, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to hold on and steady yourself against the sensations that had your mind whipped into a frenzy. His lips latched onto your clit once more, sucking gently before his tongue lashed against it, every suck and flick driving you mad until you were teetering, breathless, at the point of no return.

Sanji’s gaze was molten, his lust-darkened eyes glued to the sight of you unraveling beneath him. Each movement you made was committed to memory– the arch of your back, the trembling rise of your chest, the way your lips parted with each desperate gasp. His hands, warm and steady, slid down your stomach before joining the slick mess between your thighs. 

The first touch of his fingers were teasing, as if testing the waters. The wetness that greeted him made his cock twitch in his pants as he spread your slick across his fingertips. The scent of you was intoxicating. Earthy, sweet, and unmistakably you. It filled his senses and made him dizzy with need. 

When he finally slid a finger inside, the warmth of you wrapped around him, tight and inviting, and he couldn’t stop the groan that slipped past his lips. He slowly pumped his finger, letting you adjust to the sensation, and then he added another. His fingers curled just so, pressing into that spot that had you seeing stars. The thrust of his fingers soon quickened, matching the movements of his tongue and soon the obscene sound of his fingers plunging into you filled the air, mixing with the desperate moans spilling from your lips. 

That unbearable tightness coiled in your lower belly, like a spring ready to snap. Your breath hitched in sharp shallow gasps and your legs trembled against him, toes curling as the tension in your core grew tighter, tighter still, until you thought you might break from it. 

Then, the first tremor hit, and it was like you were struck by lightning, a shock violently sending a jolt down your body that made your entire body arch off the bed. Your eyes clamped shut, brows furrowing as your mouth fell open in a silent scream, the intensity of it all stealing your breath. Every muscle in your body was taut, straining with the force of your orgasm as it tore through you wave after wave. 

Sanji groaned against your clit, feeling you clench around his fingers and he couldn’t help but continue his pace, coaxing every last shudder, every spasm of pleasure from your trembling form. The muscles in your thighs quivered uncontrollably as your body surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, your chest heaving as you gasped for air and your heart thumped against your ribcage.

Your hands grasped helplessly at the sheets, knuckles turning white as you rode out the aftershocks. You could feel every throb, every pulse in your core as you tensed up again and again, pulling in Sanji’s fingers with each contraction. 

Your legs, once tense, began to fall limp, muscles weak and trembling from the exertion. That furrow in your brow softened, and your lips formed a soft, contented smile. 

Sanji’s fingers withdrew gently, his lips placing soft kisses on your skin, murmuring sweet praises that you barely heard through the fog of your pleasure still clouding your mind. He savored the taste of your honey, pulling back just enough to watch the effects of his efforts. If you weren’t in such a daze, you would have noticed that look in his eyes telling you that he is far from done.

[hctsummernights]

my smart girl

in which...stay at home husband!chris sends lawyer!reader off to her very first day at the law firm with a little motivation<3

fluffy making out, part of the tortured poets department au

648 words...enjoy!

You let out a shaky sigh as you screwed the applicator back on your lip gloss. Today was your first official day at the law firm you’d been hired at, and you were still having a hard time believing that you were a lawyer and that there was a JD next to your name. It seemed impossible that undergrad, taking the LSAT, law school, and taking the bar exam had already flown by. No longer did you have to worry about sleepless nights cramming for tests. Instead, you now had to worry about the fact that you would be someone’s lawyer. 

You placed the tube of lip gloss into the inner pocket of your blazer, switching the light off in the bathroom and heading down the stairs of your home to the kitchen. Despite the fact that it was only 7 am, you could hear your husband, Chris, puttering around in the kitchen. Your heart absolutely melted when you walked into the room and saw a plate of heart shaped pancakes sat next to your briefcase and a steaming cup of coffee. 

“Baby, you didn’t have to.” You smiled, wrapping him in a hug and kissing him gently. 

“But I wanted to.” Chris fired back, sipping his own cup of coffee. 

Your and your husband’s dynamic was rather unconventional, seeing as how you went to work and he stayed at home, despite the fact that you two didn’t have any children yet. But you knew that Chris loved being a homemaker. You could see it in his eyes when he tried out a new recipe or tended to the small garden you had in the backyard, or spent hours scrolling on Pinterest when it came time to decorate for Christmas. 

“I’m nervous,” You admitted softly as you dug into the pancakes. “What if I do something wrong?”

“Babe. You earned this,” Chris reassured you as he began to pile dishes into the sink for later. “You aced the bar.”

“I know…I just. Imposter syndrome, I guess. I don’t feel like or look like a real lawyer.” You sighed, rinsing your plate and setting it in the dishwasher. 

“I think you do,” Chris smiled, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as his eyes roamed over your body in your blazer and skirt combo. You being powerful and intelligent turned your husband on beyond belief. Seeing you fulfill the dream that you’d had since you were a little girl was sexy. Before you knew, his hands were snaking around your waist, pulling you closer. “Y’think a lil good luck kiss would calm your nerves?”

“Yeah.” You breathed softly. 

Chris pushed some hair away from your face, careful of the style you’d so meticulously crafted for your first day at your new job. At first, his kisses were gentle, soft pecks to calm your nerves. But as you reciprocated, the kisses became more powerful, claiming you as his wife. His smart, sexy, wife that now had a JD next to her name. 

The brunette pushed your back against the granite of the kitchen island, hands roaming your body, but remaining mindful of your work outfit as you made out. No matter how long you had been together, making out with Chris was never a dull moment. The feelings were passionate and intense as his tongue slid alongside your own, leaving you desperate for more. 

As the feelings plateaued, your husband planted one more kiss on your cheek before pulling back. “I guess I gotta let ya go, huh?”

You nodded shyly, still feeling like the same jittery girl that he had first met. “I guess so…here I go.”

Your husband handed you your to-go cup of coffee and briefcase, giving you one last glance over before patting your ass softly. “Kill ‘em, baby.”

“I expect a full five course meal when I get home tonight.” You joked. 

“You betcha.”

a/n: where is MY stay at home husband!chris

tags ♡: @emely9274 @tyummyz @55sturn @pr3ttyf4wn @quinnysnursery @nicksbestie @watercolorskyy

[soon-palestine]

So it turns out that Elons trip to Israel wasn't just for kosher theater and an IDF propaganda tour.

A secret meeting took place while he was there that went virtually unreported by any news media outlets.

In attendance was Netanyahu, Musk's tour organizer, investor Omri Casspi, Brigadier General Danny Gold, Head of the Israeli Directorate of Defense Research & Development and one of the developers of Iron Dome, Aleph venture capital funds partner Michael Eisenberg, and Israeli cybersecurity company CHEQ CEO Guy Tytunovich who is ex-israeli intelligence unit 8200.

The six men talked about technology in the service of Israel's defense, dealing with fake content and anti-Semitic and anti-Israeli comments, and the use by non-democratic countries of bots as part of campaigns to change perceptions, including on the X platform.

The solution Musk was presented was the Israeli unicorn CHEQ, a company founded by ex-Israeli intelligence unit 8200 CEO Guy Tytunovich that combats bots and fake users.

Following the meeting, Elon signed an agreement with cheQ, and apparently, the reason for the quick closing of the deal was Elons "direct involvement" with the company.

Now. What they won't tell you.

Israel is primarily responsible for the creation of bots. There currently exists dozens of ex-Israeli intelligence firms whose sole purpose is perception management, social media influencing/manipulation, disinformation campaigns, psychological operations, opposition research, and honey traps.

They create state of art, multi layer, AI avatars that are virtually indistinguishable from a real human online. They infiltrate target audiences with these elaborately crafted social-media personas and spread misleading information through websites meant to mimic news portals. They secretly manipulate public opinion across app social media platforms.

The applications of this technology are endless, and it has been used for character assassination, disruption of activism/protest, creating social upheaval/civil unrest, swaying elections, and toppling governments.

These companies are all founded by ex-Israeli intelligence and members of unit 8200. When they leave their service with the Israeli government, they are backed by hundreds of billions of dollars through Israeli venture capital groups tied to the Israeli government.

These companies utilize the technology and skills learned during their time served with Israeli intelligence and are an extension of the Israeli government that operates in the private sector.

In doing so, they operate with impunity across all geographical borders and outside the bounds of the law. The Israeli government is forbidden by law to spy on US citizens, but "ex" Israeli intelligence has no such limitations, and no laws currently exist to stop them.

Now back to X and Elon Musk.

Elon met with these people in secret to discuss how to use X in service of Israel's defense.

Elon hired an ex-Israeli intelligence firm to combat the bots…. that were created by another ex-israeli intelligence firm.

Elon hired an ex-israeli intelligence firm to verify your identity and collect your facial biometric data.

Do you see the problem yet?

Israel now has end to end control over X. Israel can conduct psychological operations and create social disinfo/influence campaigns on X with impunity. They now have facial biometric data from millions of people that can be used to create and populate these AI generated avatars.

They can manipulate public opinion, influence congressmen and senators, disrupt online movements, manipulate the algorithm to silence dissenting voices against Israel, and they can sway the US elections.

When the company that was hired to combat the bots is also Israeli intelligence…

Who is going to stop them?

Cyberspace is the wild.west. There are currently no laws on the books to regulate foreign influence on social media. There is nothing to stop them from conducting psychological operations and disinformation campaigns on unsuspecting US citizens. These companies operate with impunity across all geographical boundaries and there is nobody to stop them. But don't take my word for it.

For anyone wondering what the end game is for this, it was recently verbalized by Vivek Ramaswamy here on X. To narrow and completely eliminate the gap between what we say (think) in private and in public. In practice, the thought police of the future. And X is actively working on it.

[venomous-qwille]

Can you please just tell us what is wrong with ai and why, I can't find anything from actual industry artists ect online through Google just tech bro type articles. All the tech articles are saying it's a good thing, and every pro I follow refuses to explain how or why it's bad. How am I supposed to know something if nobody will teach me and I can't find it myself

I'll start by saying that the reason pro artists are refusing to answer questions about this is because they are tired. Like, I dont know if anyone actually understands just how exhausting it is to have to justify over and over again why the tech companies that are stealing your work and actively seeking to destroy your craft are 'bad, actually'.

I originally wrote a very longform reply to this ask, but in classic tumblr style the whole thing got eaten, so. I do not have the spoons to rewrite all that shit. Here are some of the sources I linked, I particularly recommend stable diffusion litigation for a thorough breakdown of exactly how generative tools work and why that is theft.

or this video if you are feeling lazy and only want the art-side opening statements:

Everytime you feed someone's work- their art, their writing, their likeness- into Midjourney or Dall-E or Chat GPT you are feeding this monster.

Go forth and educate yourself.

[necstasy]

fem servant reader; married irulan; infidelity; fingering; cunnilingus; &. PRINCESS IRULAN CORRINO MDNI 18+

“this … this is wrong.”

the labored words of princess irulan’s protests ring throughout the minimalistic room before meeting your ears.

you hum, resting your head on her inner thigh as you innocently peer up at her. she’s the picture of pleasure— her head thrown back and the crown of her blonde hair rubbing against the backrest of the chair, creating some sort of halo which illuminates her soft and flushed features.

her lips shine a deeper pink, nearly red, while her cheeks house a soft pink. she looks as if she’s wearing cosmetics applied by her servants, by your colleagues, but the early hour negates the possibility. no one has seen the princess yet today, not even her husband. only you have. the only one to truly bring her pleasure.

“why?” you press a kiss into the skin right beside her fluttering cunt, not even bothering to slow the pace of your fingers as they move inside of her. if you did, you know the princess would force you to continue. even despite her objections. “because i am a woman?”

“no,” she’s firm in her answer, up until you hook your fingers just right and her denial is broken off by a moan. she takes a second to recover, clearing her throat and pressing all of her strength into the way she grips the armrests of her chair. “because i am married.”

it’s the same answer she always gives, and like always, you snort. usually, you’ll mutter some complaint about the princess’s husband, something in a language she only barely knows. but today, you humor her.

“your husband makes you feel as good as i do, princess?”

it takes her a second, and she doesn’t reply until you press your thumb into her clit. only then does she sigh with defeat and disagree.

you know the lisan al-gaib hasn’t slept with her. you know muad’dib likely never will. if he were just paul, the son of house atreides and nothing but a possibility part of a meticulously crafted program of possibilities, then he might have slept with the princess. but the man that he has become, the figure that he has become, will not.

“a marriage of convince is hardly a true marriage, princess.” you speed up the pace of your fingers, spitting onto princess irulan’s clit and letting your saliva drip down, catching it on your fingers before forcing it into her. the extra lubrication wasn’t needed, but you know the princess likes when you treat her like this. she likes it when you’re a little rough and dirty.

“you’re only married by names of the law, and not the heart.”

her voice wobbles in her rebuttal. the forced condescending tone in her words does nothing to cover her arousal. “so what, you're saying you could have been a better spouse than the emperor?"

you don't fail to acknowledge how you and the princess wouldn't have been able to marry at all. with her being the eldest daughter of the emperor, her marriages were always planned. she would have always married for breeding purposes, and never for pleasure.

still, your answer is easy. “if i were given the chance, yes. i would have treated you better than he does. i would give you everything you need, no questions asked.”

as soon as the words have left your mouth, princess irulan has a delicate hand pressed into the back of your head and a split second later you have your nose smooshed against her patch of trimmed pubic hair.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Social media and online video companies are collecting huge troves of your personal information on and off their websites or apps and sharing it with a wide range of third-party entities, a new Federal Trade Commission (FTC) staff report on nine tech companies confirms. The FTC report published on Thursday looked at the data-gathering practices of Facebook, WhatsApp, YouTube, Discord, Reddit, Amazon, Snap, TikTok and Twitter/X between January 2019 and 31 December 2020. The majority of the companies’ business models incentivized tracking how people engaged with their platforms, collecting their personal data and using it to determine what content and ads users see on their feeds, the report states. The FTC’s findings validate years of reporting on the depth and breadth of these companies’ tracking practices and call out the tech firms for “vast surveillance of users”. The agency is recommending Congress pass federal privacy regulations based on what it has documented. In particular, the agency is urging lawmakers to recognize that the business models of many of these companies do little to incentivize effective self-regulation or protection of user data. “Recognizing this basic fact is important for enforcers and policymakers alike because any efforts to limit or regulate how these firms harvest troves of people’s personal data will conflict with their primary business incentives,” FTC chair Lina Khan said in a statement. “To craft effective rules or remedies limiting this data collection, policymakers will need to ensure that violating the law is not more lucrative than abiding by it.”

19 September 2024

[sen-ya]

um hi hello I wrote a fic for the first time since I was like 16 and this is probably the first time I’ve ever put prose anywhere on the internet oops. I did a very scribbly comic abt this a few weeks ago and instead of finishing it I did this I guess.

Grounding Exercise

Summary:

The panic didn’t leave Law’s body, but he managed to slow his movements, grip tightly at his first mate’s sleeve. “Bepo?” he huffed. “Real?” The question hung heavy between them. 

“Yes,” the word was dripping with sorrow, with apology. “Not dreaming. I’m sorry, Captain.” 

Tattooed fingers curled deeper into Bepo’s sleeve. Law leaned forward into him, his body screaming in protest. He didn’t care. How could he? Here he was, alive amidst tragedy. “Again,” he hissed, vocalizing the thought. “Again?''

Warnings: suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 2589

When he woke, it was violent. 

Law jerked upright in bed, black quickly reclaiming his vision as it all washed over him. Yes, his bones ached, and he could tell several were broken. Yes, he could taste a bit of copper in his mouth. And yes, he could hear a few sharp pops as he threw his weight forward. But the worst of his pains gripped at his chest, a squeeze not unlike when his heart had been abused outside of his body, in the hands of someone who took pleasure in hurting him.

“Where are they?” he breathed urgently.

Heavy hands guided him back to the bed amidst his thrashing. “Captain,” a familiar voice pleaded. “Captain, stay down. You’ll make your injuries worse.”

Slowly, the world came into focus. Not all of it, admittedly, but he tried to focus — to find an anchor. Bepo’s fuzzy face made a home in Law’s vision, the polar bear’s brows knitted together and his eyes heavy with exhaustion. The panic didn’t leave Law’s body, but he managed to slow his movements, grip tightly at his first mate’s sleeve. “Bepo?” he huffed. “Real?” The question hung heavy between them. 

“Yes,” the word was dripping with sorrow, with apology. “Not dreaming. I’m sorry, Captain.” 

Tattooed fingers curled deeper into Bepo’s sleeve. Law leaned forward into him, his body screaming in protest. He didn’t care. How could he? Here he was, alive amidst tragedy. “Again,” he hissed, vocalizing the thought. “Again?'' The word tasted like poison. 

“No, no,” Bepo soothed. “The crew is strong. It won’t be like —“

“Yes it will, Bepo!” Law buried his forehead into the bear’s chest, the fact that he wasn’t in his usual orange jumpsuit somehow making it even worse. “I wasn’t strong enough, I let us get in over our head — damn it I did it again.” The declaration was venomous, his voice loud and sharp. Were his mind clearer, Law would have recognized that Bepo was a part of that crew, too. That as his captain — could he call himself that now that the Tang met its end? — he should be the one to insist on the safety of their nakama. He would have started crafting a plan, letting Bepo sniffle as he listened. 

But in this moment his thoughts clouded. He felt small and cold and sick, like they were back on Swallow Island, before it would have been inappropriate for Law to lose himself in front of his dearest friend. “I’m a curse,” he shouted. He wasn’t sure when the tears started but now that the seal had broken it felt like they’d flow forever. “I doomed all of you, pretended for years that I hadn’t —“

“Stop it,” Bepo pulled Law into himself, his larger than life captain reduced to what he was — his brother. “You did everything. You always have.” His voice was steady and firm, a tone unusual for him. Somehow that only made it worse, yet Law melted into him, allowed himself to drown in his weakness. He cried, Bepo’s unfamiliar sweater soaking in the tears. 

“How many times do I have to lose?” he wallowed, his voice barely audible. The mink only held him tighter in response, and slowly Law’s breaths started to steady. He began to smell the sterile tinge of the infirmary, to feel the way the fresh bandages clung to his skin, to hear —

“…Torao?” it was hesitant. 

“I’m hearing things,” Law whispered. “How pathetic.”

A hand rested gently on his back and he tore himself from his brother’s hold, the sudden movement causing him to jerk in pain and fall down to the bed. As his vision unblurred he slowly made out a third figure in the room. Wait, had he even processed yet that they were inside somewhere? A familiar somewhere at that. It fell into place as Luffy’s face came into focus, the worry that had made a home there making him look so much unlike himself. Law’s eyes grew wide and the panic began to creep back in.

“Torao,” Luffy reached for him slowly this time, like he was approaching a scared animal. 

“Get out,” the order was low, with no force behind it. The other two might have even missed it, it had been so quiet. But as Luffy’s hand drew closer and Law’s face pulled into an expression as feral as the spooked creature he was being addressed as, the command was undeniable. “Get out!” 

Luffy recoiled as though he’d been hit. “You can’t be here,” Law continued, struggling to prop himself up. You can’t see me like this, bounced around his head. 

“Captain,” Bepo protested. “It’s Straw Hat. He helped us, he — “

“I know who he is, and I know what I said,” was the growled response. I can’t handle your smile right now, was the echo. 

“It’s his ship,” Bepo continued. “He can —“

“I’ll go.”

Everything was still for a moment. When the Straw Hat captain made his swift exit, the click of the door was only a whisper.

—

Law was insistent on treating himself. The only person he would acknowledge entering the infirmary was Bepo, and even that was scarce. The bite he’d shown when he awoke ebbed and flowed, sometimes the anger was the only thing left behind his golden eyes. Other times, most times, those eyes were dull, empty, surrendered. 

He knew that his first mate must be hurting too, but Law couldn’t muster any empathy. He could hear muffled “sorry”s beyond the infirmary door, sniffles meant to be private in the corner of the room, worried muttering being exchanged. It was rare that the bear wandered much further than the hallway just outside. It was on one such rare occasion, three days after he’d come to, that the door swung open violently. 

“That’s what I thought,” Luffy crossed his arms, his eyes fixed on the tray full of food on the table at Law’s bedside. “Listen, I’m happy to keep eating your leftovers but if another plate comes back to the kitchen full I think Sanji’s gonna kick your ass.”

The declaration wasn’t even met with a glance. 

“What’re you even doing in here,” Luffy continued, irritation clawing at his words. “I know you’re supposed to rest but even you don’t listen to that.” 

Law stirred. “I’m a doctor,” was the muttered response. That’s all I am.

“Yeah, a doctor who’s always got somethin’ else to do,” Luffy huffed, throwing himself to sit at the foot of the bed. “You got plenty to do now.”

Law couldn’t argue. Not because he thought the other captain was right, per se, but more because arguing took an amount of gusto that he didn’t have at the moment. As that became evident to Luffy, the mounting anger melted from his face. 

“You don’t have to grieve, Torao,” he soothed. “They aren’t gone.”

And there it was — a spark. Law’s chest burned as the words settled in. His features lit up with the only feeling they’d been able to find since he’d stopped crying a few days ago. So fierce was the look that Luffy recoiled in surprise. 

“What do you know about grief, Straw Hat?” Law seethed. The other captain found some anger of his own at that, his mouth dropping open to protest. Law wouldn’t let him. “I was there when your brother died,” his voice was too steady for comfort. “That’s your body count. One. One person who’s gone. Did — did you know —“ he surged forward, ignoring the bolts of pain reminding him he was still tied to this mortal plane. “Did you know I had a little sister?” Luffy’s eyes grew wide, the anger not quite letting the shock override it. 

“We took music lessons together every Wednesday evening. And when I got too wrapped up in my studies she’d come tell me I was boring. Sing with me, Lawli — she was so damn insistent.” Something bubbled in his chest at hearing the name Lawli out loud for the first time in sixteen years. “I loved her. And our parents loved the both of us. Did you know that, Straw Hat? That the first thing I was, was happy?”

The air was heavy in the infirmary, Luffy’s lips a tight line as he listened. 

“The world government took my parents before disease could,” Law spit. “I left my sister to die by herself. Told her she’d be safe, that I’d be back — but instead she suffocated on smoke. Or burned. I’ve imagined both. Either way, she did it alone.” His voice dropped as he leaned in ever closer to the other captain. “On the day I escaped Flevence I angered whatever powers that be that marked me for death. And ever since then I’ve been followed, pretending that crossing the border was all I needed to do to escape it. Pretending not to be the harbinger that I am. Pretending to not notice that it seems I have nothing to outrun myself, that the worst thing that can happen is that I live.”

“You survive,” Luffy’s voice was gentle, a soft whisper against the rage he was faced with. His hand slipped forward, resting lightly on the tattooed fist clenched tightly before him. And this — this was not what Law expected.

Like Flevence, like Cora, like the Tang and like his crew — Law crumbled.

He was ten again, surrounded by flame and gunfire. Crying for his parents. Helpless. He was just a boy. A boy who wanted only one more time for his mother to wake him gently, far too early in the morning, and ask would he like to join her at the hospital today? A boy who wanted to read the most boring books with his father again and again, be corrected when he didn’t retain the information, have gummy bears positioned tactfully on the page to encourage him to read just one more paragraph. A boy who wanted to hear sour notes on the piano followed by the inevitable tug on his shirt — sing with me, Lawli. More than anything he wanted to sing with her. 

“I never asked to survive.” It could have been a breeze, the admission was so scarce. “I don’t want to anymore.” 

And at that Luffy’s calloused hand drifted up to brush tears from Law’s cheeks. When had he started to cry? “You have to.” Gentle, still so very gentle. “They’re counting on you. Not just your crew. Everyone you've grieved. Doflamingo’s brother. Your sister.” Law was sobbing now, thick tears bubbling out of him like waterfalls. His shoulders shook and he bit his lip, somehow through all of it still not wanting Luffy to hear him cry. “They still love you.”

That — that was too much. Whatever was left of the dam burst and Law fell into Luffy, who curled his arms around him protectively. Law knew the sounds were spilling out of him, but only by the vibration he felt in his throat. All he heard were soft whispers in his ear — these things aren’t your fault. You’re so easy to love, Torao. Thank you for living. Thank you.

—

The sea breeze was grounding. 

His eyes closed, Law took stock of his senses. It smelled like salt. The wind was cool on his face. He heard the waves crash on the side of the Sunny as it sailed forward, always forward. He took a deep breath, let out a long sigh. 

“I’m sorry I shut down,” he admitted, eyes fixated on the water.

“It was long overdue,” Bepo dismissed.

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“You’re right,” the mink hummed. “It makes it necessary.”

They looked out over the sea in a comfortable silence for a while, the two leaned on the ship’s railing. 

“We’re chartered to Pirate Island,” Bepo offered eventually. “It’s the best lead. If Blackbeard wants your fruit he’s going to keep them as hostages.”

Law gave a firm nod. 

“We’ll get ‘em back, Captain.”

Another nod.

“Well, I believe we will anyway,” Bepo sighed and sunk his head into his arms. “You don’t have to. I’ll believe for both of us.”

The corners of Law’s mouth twitched upwards at that. “You’re getting comfortable with that,” he mused. “Not listening to me.”

The younger was suddenly on alert. “I’m sorry!” he poured. There they were, Law thought, the tears he was entitled to after the week they’d had. “I had to. I had to. You’d die for less than our nakama. You’re always so…so…” The submissive pout took a turn towards a grimace. Had Law ever seen his brother like this? “Self destructive and stupid.” He decided, his eyes glued to his feet, tears soaking the fur around his eyes. 

“Is that so?” The response was surprisingly steady given the way the words shook the captain.

“Yeah it’s so,” Bepo scoffed. He was on a roll now — for him at least. “How long will we have to show you we need you before you stop trying to leave us?” 

“Bepo.” It was choked, Law’s throat felt dry.

“I know how you look when you want to disappear. Those feelings — they belong to you, I know that. You’re not gonna just…” he sighed. “Change. Get over it.” The last sentence was said in a mocking tone, the both of them understanding that Shachi didn’t always understand the nuances of certain ideations. “But if you get to want to die, I get to want you to live. And I get to be happy about it when you do. I’ll always be happy about it.” Only then did he lift his gaze, a fierce determination burning there. “I don’t care if you hate me for it. I’ll always give everything I’ve got to keep you here with us.”

Law did the only thing that felt right — he threw his arms around his brother in a show of affection far more blatant than he’d given out in a long time. “I could never hate you,” he kept his voice as steady as before, grateful the other couldn’t see the tears pooling in his eyes. He’d had his turn to cry. “I love you. I love you.”

Bepo squeezed him tight. “I love you too,” he cried. “We’re gonna get ‘em back. We’re gonna —“

“You’re right,” Law insisted. “We’ll get them back. And we’ll build a new ship. We’ll be okay.” 

Bepo nuzzled into him like he had when they were children. Bepo had always been a crier growing up. Law had always let him, scolding Penguin and Shachi when they’d giggle. Don’t be jealous just because he knows how to have a feeling, he’d scoff. And Bepo would cry louder, eliciting even more boisterous laughs from their other brothers. Today, there was no laughing in response. As the breeze carried away the sniffles and sobs, Law patted his back.

Living for other people was never a sustainable option, he’d thought. Law wanted autonomy in his life where he could get it, and opportunities for that felt woefully few and far between. Here on the deck of the Sunny, even with his brain still swimming with ways to disappear, he supposed maybe he could learn to let those who cared about him keep him tethered here. They were real. As good an anchor as any. He closed his eyes — Bepo’s fur was soft, the sweater he had on clearly was borrowed from Franky since it smelled of oil and cola, and he could hear his cries begin to calm. 

Possibly against his better judgement, Law decided he’d stay grounded.

[djarins-cyare]

✨Questions Tag Game✨

Thanks for tagging me @burntheedges 🩵

Of course I’m going to add GIFs and images. Did anyone really expect me to post something without visual aids??

[photos are my own (apart from the one immediately below, which is from here), and unless otherwise credited, GIFs were made by me during office hours when I was supposed to be working… 🤫]

Do you make your own bed?

Not in terms of making it look all neat and tucked in, no. But that’s because I’m a teensy bit of a germaphobe, and humans naturally sweat at night, which means you must leave your mattress uncovered for a while after you get up to ensure it airs. So, for most of the day (because I forget to straighten it up), my bed just looks like this:

(Just for fun, how many Mandalorians can you spot in the pic?)

Favourite number?

It’s always been 2, and my reasoning used to be that all good things come in pairs. But having discovered my autism in recent years, I’ve come to realise it probably more likely represents the maximum number of people I’m most comfortable interacting with at any one time. So it’s a manageable number. It’s also an even number. And it’s a prime number (in fact it's the only even prime number). It’s a pretty number – it has a nice curved top and a solid, sturdy base. It stops 1 from being lonely, so it’s a kind number.

Is this a weird answer? All of these are really logical reasons to me!

[GIF found here]

What’s your job?

It’s become so specialised that I no longer have a job title, but I started as a legal PA for one of the senior partners at a Legal 500 law firm in London. I flirted with the idea of qualifying as a solicitor but realised there was no way in hell I’d be comfortable standing up in court and speaking in front of lots of people (and I work in the criminal law department so not keen on casually chatting to criminals either). Instead, I decided to become The Person Who Knows Everything.

So now I write briefs to Counsel, proofs of evidence, funding applications; I analyse evidence, conduct legal research, advise the solicitors on their cases; I train paralegals and admin staff; I do a load of data analysis and make pretty spreadsheets for the bosses; and I manage the firm’s IT needs because I can do computer stuff too. I’m basically their go-to girl for anything that seems complicated or time-consuming… and I don’t have to wear a stupid wig in court.

And the best part is, during Covid lockdown, I demonstrated I can do 100% of my job from home, so I was allowed to move 150 miles away, and I now only have to visit my office two days a month! 🙌🏻

Downside: the arduous and random nature of the job means I’m never up to date and always very tired.

If you could go back to school, would you?

My original plan after getting my undergrad degree was to do a Masters and PhD and become an academic, but I put all that on hold for my (now ex) husband so he could finish his PhD and first postdoc. I’m very glad I never went back, though, because I realise that academia is not the place for me… see above comment about not being able to stand up and talk in court to understand why standing up and talking in a lecture hall would be equally nerve-wracking for me. So, no, I’m content with my current level of schooling.

Honestly, university was more about learning how to ‘adult’ properly than obtaining any useful knowledge on the course anyway (she says, routinely using concepts learnt on her fiction writing modules when crafting Mando fics).

Can you parallel park?

Yup. Narrow roads and a lack of parking spaces in the UK kind of make it a non-optional skill here.

That said, I do sometimes see people desperately trying to line themselves up to get into a space and making an absolute farce out of it, so I guess maybe some people here think it’s optional, but I’d rather not have that kind of stress, so I practised until I could do it easily.

[original GIF found here and then cropped]

Do you think aliens are real?

The way this is phrased… do I think they’re real? Like, do I think the grey ones with big black eyes are anally probing residents in certain sections of North America on a regular basis? Hmm, no. Too many episodes of The X-Files. I mean, Fox Mulder: yum, but I really Don’t Want To Believe, thanks.

But, I remain open to the idea that alien life has evolved elsewhere in the known universe. It’s inconceivably huge, after all. There’s nowhere near enough data to prove (or even speculate) either way – just look at the Drake equation, which has been used to both ‘prove’ and ‘disprove’ the possibility – so I’ll reserve any kind of judgment until some real evidence appears.

Can you drive a manual car?

Yeah, of course. It’s the standard driving test in the UK and allows you to drive both automatic and manual – you actually have to specifically ask to learn only automatic if you decide you can’t handle gears. And, like, it’s all muscle memory, so it’s really not as hard as people think once you’re used to it. I tried to drive an automatic a few years back and found myself involuntarily shadow-shifting the gears!

[original GIF found here and then trimmed for length]

What’s your guilty pleasure?

Mostly, I don’t feel guilty about indulging in pleasures these days. I used to be really affected by social pressures (back before I discovered my autism and still felt like I had to ‘mask’ and fit in), so I used to feel guilty talking about my hyperfixations, but now I couldn’t care less. I shall consume them endlessly and unselfconsciously. It’s very liberating.

Any phobias?

I suppose the answer is sharks, which has no sensible basis for being a phobia because I’ve never had any real encounters to make me fearful (thank fuck!). In fact, I walked through the shark tunnel at SeaWorld just fine as a 7-year-old. Unless that planted some kind of seed of terror, I don’t know. Not sure when it really took hold, but I can’t even look at photos these days. It’s their damn teeth. Someone’s going to have to give me a tooth report on Gladiator II before I can go see it.

The hell if I’m gonna put a photo (or God forbid a GIF) of a shark here, so, umm…

Favourite childhood sport?

Two answers: (1) Football (AKA soccer). I played for a girl’s team when I was about 11, but it was only because the boy I liked was into football. I couldn’t give a shit about it these days, and I don’t think I ever really liked it – I was just ‘masking’, as I did for most of my childhood, but I convinced myself I loved it.

(2) Karate, which I decided all by myself that I fancied doing, then found I was actually quite good at it and excelled at it for a while. But I was 9, and they decided I was so good that I should go and join the adult class (age 14 and up), which I hated, so I quit.

[GIF is one I already had saved from Reddit a while ago, but I can't find the source anymore, so sorry for not crediting the maker]

Do you talk to yourself?

Sometimes, but not often. I live alone, so I occasionally just need to exercise my vocal cords lol. It also depends on what mood I’m in. On an average day, no, I don’t really feel the need to fill the silence, but if I’m excited/animated/annoyed in some way, I might say stuff aloud. Basically, if I’m inclined to utter curse words for any reason, I’ll probably use other words aloud too.

[GIF found here]

Tattoos?

I only have one right now, but I plan to increase that number someday. See photo below; I used to have chameleons as pets and got this tattooed near my right hip when I turned thirty to commemorate them. It’s really small.

I would like to get a phrase in Mando’a inked on me somewhere, probably “Kaysh meg miit’gaana, oyacyi”, which means “she* who writes, remains” [*substitute chosen pronoun – Mando’a doesn’t distinguish genders], and is a Mandalorian proverb teaching that you can live forever if you leave behind written words. I have it engraved on my iPad.

Favourite colour?

Very much the blue (with a hint of green) end of the colour spectrum. For something soft, duck egg blue, or for something bold, teal. See the colour of the titles in this post.

I also like the colours of hyperspace and would happily snuggle up with Din in the cockpit.

Do you like puzzles?

Yeah, I guess. I don’t dislike them. But I don’t really do them much. In terms of the crossword/sodoku/brain teaser sort, I might choose to do them in specific settings, like on vacation when I inevitably need to offer my brain something different than whatever book I’m binge-reading.

In terms of the jigsaw type, I have short phases of thinking, “Ooh, that’ll be fun!”, trying to do one, getting bored, and then forcing myself to finish. Last time that happened was Covid lockdown. Took me a year! Though, to be fair, it was one of these bastards…

Okay, I’m done. I realise I’m very late to the party, and a lot of people have already done this one, so sorry if you’ve already participated. No pressure (and no need to illustrate with gifs and images, I just can’t help myself)… 🩵

@604to647 @beefrobeefcal @d4rm4nd4 @feral-ferrule @gracieheartspedro

@joelslegalwhre @littlemisspascal @magpiepills @penvisions @quicksilvermad

@secretelephanttattoo @studioghibelli @syd-djarin @the-mandawhor1an @zaddymandalorian

[bexxa12]

STUDIO SECRETS|| JJ x Y/N

{Summary}

Jungkook, a musical prodigy whose voice captivates millions, finds himself drawn into a world beyond the spotlight. His path crosses with the enigmatic daughter of his esteemed producer, a woman whose secrets run as deep as the melodies he crafts.

Chapter 4

WC: 2,285

The senior partner's eyes gleamed with something that might have been approval. "Good," he said, his voice a gruff bark. 

"You're on the first flight out tomorrow morning."

Y/N nodded, her thoughts racing. This was it, the moment she'd been waiting for since she'd stepped into the law school's hallowed halls. The chance to fight for justice, to stand up for those who couldn't. She'd studied, worked tirelessly, and now, it was all coming down to this one case. 

The adrenaline was palpable as she stood, her hand briefly touching the cool leather of the chair she'd been sitting in, and made her way out of the conference room.

Back in her office, she barely had time to process the gravity of what she'd just accepted. Her mind was already racing through strategies and timelines, the legal jargon in the file already coming alive in her thoughts.

The city outside her window had transformed into a blur of lights as she packed her briefcase, the anticipation of the coming challenge electrifying her.

The night air outside was a welcome embrace after the stifling atmosphere of the office. Y/N took a moment to breathe it in, her thoughts racing. 

The neon lights of the city danced around her as she hailed a taxi, the glow reflecting off the pavement like a rainbow of possibility.

Once in the taxi, she couldn't resist the urge to open the file. The name Lyle Castellanos stared back at her, his mugshot a stark reminder of the human face behind the case. 

As the taxi wove through the city streets, she began to read through the initial statements, her mind already piecing together the puzzle.

Y/N's parents' house was a welcome respite from the chaos of the city, a small oasis of warmth and comfort amidst the concrete jungle.

The moment she stepped through the door, the aroma of her mother's cooking filled her nostrils, a scent that never failed to transport her back to simpler times. Her mum looked up from the stove, a look of surprise and joy lighting up her face.

"Y/N!" she exclaimed, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. 

"What brings you home so late?"

Y/N managed a smile, the file feeling heavier with each passing second. 

"I just had an unexpected meeting at the office," she said, setting her briefcase down by the door. "Where's Dad?"

Her mother's expression grew curious. "He said he'd be back any minute now," she replied, stirring a pot of something that smelled heavenly.

The sound of the key in the lock had Y/N's heart racing. Mr. Kim stepped in, a tired smile on his face. 

"I got a case," she said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

Her mother's eyes lit up with curiosity. 

"Really?" she asked, turning off the stove. "That's wonderful, sweetie. What's it about?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. 

"It's a murder trial," she said, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet kitchen. "The firm's sending me to Busan tomorrow."

Her mother's hand stilled mid-air. "Busan?" she repeated, her eyes wide.

"Yeah," Y/N said, her voice a mix of excitement and nerves. 

"It's a high-profile case, and they think I'm ready to handle it."

Her mother's gaze was filled with a mix of pride and concern. "That's wonderful, honey," she said, her voice carefully measured. "But are you sure you're ready for something like that?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with determination. "I've been preparing for this my whole life," she said. "This is what I want."

Her father's expression grew serious. "But, Y/N, you've only just started, this is a big step." he said.

"I know, Dad," she said, walking over to give him a hug. "But it's what I've been working towards. And I can't wait to prove myself."

Her mother joined them, her eyes filled with a mother's concern. "What about your safety?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N pulled back, her smile reassuring. "I'll be fine," she said. "It's just work. I'll be back before you know it."

Her father's gaze searched her eyes, looking for any sign of doubt. 

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself," he said, his voice gruff.

Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with determination. "I promise," she said. "I know it's a big deal, but this is what I've wanted for so long."

In his apartment, Jungkook flopped onto the couch, the adrenaline from the successful recording session slowly wearing off. He picked up his phone and dialed his mother's number. 

The ringing echoed through the quiet living room, the stark contrast to the energy of the studio.

"Mom?" Jungkook's voice was a mix of exhaustion and excitement when she answered. "I'm coming home."

Her gasp of joy was music to his ears. "Jungkook, really?" she said. "When?"

"Tomorrow," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "I've missed you all so much."

The line was filled with his mother's laughter, a sound that had the power to soothe his soul even from a hundred miles away. "We've missed you too, Jungkook," she said. "Your father is going to be so happy to see you."

"What about your schedule?" she asked, her voice filled with concern. 

"Isn't this a bit sudden?"

Jungkook leaned back into the plush cushions, the fabric cool against his skin. "I've got some time," he assured her. "And I need to see you guys. It's been too long."

Jungkook couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"But, I should go. It's been a long day."

"Alright," his mother said, the warmth in her voice unmistakable. 

"Get some rest, and we'll see you tomorrow. We love you."

"Love you too, Mom," Jungkook replied, his voice thick with emotion. 

He ended the call and let the phone slip from his fingers, the screen casting a soft glow in the darkness of his apartment. 

The thought of seeing his family brought a comforting warmth to his chest, pushing aside the shadows of doubt that had been lingering since the conversation with Mr. Kim. He knew he needed this trip, a chance to reconnect with the people who had supported him from the very beginning.

With newfound energy, Jungkook pushed himself off the couch and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the small space, a soothing melody that promised relief from the grime of the city and the weight of his thoughts. 

He stepped under the hot spray, the water washing over him like a balm, releasing the tension from his muscles. His mind began to drift, the steam enveloping him like a warm blanket.

The warmth of the water began to turn cool, snapping him out of his reverie. With a sigh, he turned the faucet and stepped out, the chill in the air a stark contrast to the heat of the shower.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and padded into his bedroom. The room was a testament to his success, filled with awards and mementos from his music career. But tonight, it felt empty. Jungkook opened his closet and grabbed a suitcase, placing it on the bed.

He folded his clothes with care, placing them in the suitcase, each item a silent acknowledgment of his need to find balance.

The clock ticked away, a constant reminder of the fleeting nature of time. Jungkook knew he had to leave early to catch his flight, but the prospect of seeing his family filled him with a warmth that made the late hour seem irrelevant. 

Jungkook checked his phone, the screen lighting up with messages from his bandmates, friends, and management, all curious about his sudden decision to take a break.

He sent a quick group chat message, telling them all that he needed some time off to visit his family, leaving the details vague. He knew they'd understand, or at least, he hoped they would.

With the last of his essentials packed, Jungkook zipped the suitcase closed and wheeled it to the door. He paused for a moment, looking around his apartment. It was a sanctuary of sorts, a place to crash between the endless tours and recording sessions. 

With a sigh, he turned off the lights and climbed into bed, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the hardened resolve he felt. 

As he lay there, the quiet hum of the city lulled him into a restless sleep, filled with dreams of home-cooked meals, laughter-filled nights, and the simplicity of life before the cameras and the crowds.

The morning light streamed in through the windows, casting a gentle glow over Jungkook's sleeping form. He stirred, the reality of the day ahead seeping into his consciousness. 

The excitement of seeing his family mingled with the apprehension of facing a world that had moved on without him. He pushed the covers aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet touching the cold hardwood floor.

As he got dressed, he couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. The clothes he'd chosen were simple, a stark contrast to the flashy outfits he usually wore on stage. 

The buzz of his phone jolted him. Jungkook squinted at the screen, He read the message from his manager, confirming the airport pickup.

The air was crisp and cool as he stepped out of the apartment building. 

The city was just beginning to stir, the quiet hum of early morning traffic a gentle reminder of the life he was leaving behind. Jungkook took a deep breath, the scent of the city mixing with the anticipation of home.

His manager's car pulled up, and he slid into the back seat, his suitcase heavy with more than just clothes.

The drive to the airport was a blur of lights and shadows, the city's vibrant energy replaced by the soft glow of the dashboard. Jungkook's thoughts were a tapestry of excitement and apprehension, the promise of a rejuvenating trip home weaving through the fabric of his career responsibilities.

When the car pulled into the airport's drop-off zone, the sudden flash of cameras was like a storm breaking through the quiet night. 

The paparazzi had found him. Jungkook's heart skipped a beat, his hand instinctively reaching for his hoodie to shield his face. He took a deep breath, He stepped out of the car, his eyes adjusting to the harsh artificial light, and made his way through the barrage of clicks and shouts.

He kept his head down, his eyes focused on the terminal's entrance, as the paparazzi swarmed around him.

"Jungkook!" they shouted in a cacophony of voices, flashes of light bouncing off the reflective surfaces like a thousand stars. He felt a hand on his elbow, guiding him through the chaos. His manager, ever the professional, whispered reassurances in his ear as they moved swiftly.

The airport's bright lights and cold marble floors felt foreign under his feet, a stark contrast to the cosy warmth of his apartment. His heart raced as he navigated through the throng of people, each step feeling like a dance to avoid the paparazzi's eager lenses. 

The whispers grew louder as they approached the check-in counter, the anticipation in the air palpable.

He yearned for the anonymity that once came with a simple trip home, a time when he could be just Jungkook and not the global phenomenon he'd become.

As they approached the check-in counter, the paparazzi's shouts grew more insistent, a cacophony of questions about his music and personal life. 

His manager's hand remained firm on his elbow, a silent reminder that this was just part of the job. Yet Jungkook felt a pang of sadness, remembering the days when he could simply be a son visiting his parents without the world watching.

Y/N, waiting for her flight in a nearby boarding lounge, noticed the commotion from the corner of her eye.

The paparazzi had descended on the airport like a pack of hyenas, their cameras flashing like a field of stars, their shouts a cacophony of eager excitement.

Y/N's curiosity was piqued. Who could be causing such a scene at this ungodly hour?

As she approached the boarding gate, the chaos grew more intense. People were craning their necks, whispering to one another, their eyes glued to a figure shrouded in a hoodie, desperately trying to shield himself from the onslaught. 

Y/N couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for whoever was on the receiving end of such intrusion.

The flashes of cameras grew more frequent, like a strobe light at a concert, as she drew closer. Her curiosity grew stronger, and she found her steps slowing despite the urgent need to board her flight. 

She recognized the figure's posture, the way he moved, and suddenly, it clicked.

It was Jungkook, her father's favourite artist.

Y/N felt a strange thrill mixed with embarrassment at her own ignorance. Of course, it was him. Who else could elicit such a frenzied reaction at five in the morning? 

The paparazzi's shouts grew more insistent, a cacophony of questions about his music and personal life. She watched from the side-lines, her legal brief forgotten for a moment as she took in the scene.

Jungkook looked so... human, she thought. So much like any other tired traveller trying to make his way through the airport. Yet, the flashes of cameras painted him in a light that was anything but ordinary. 

The way he moved, the way he held himself, it was as if he was bracing for impact, each step a calculated dance to avoid the eager lenses.

Y/N found herself unable to look away. Despite her father's warnings about the perils of fame, she'd never really understood what it meant to live in the public eye. It was one thing to see celebrities on the news, another to witness it up close. 

The raw, unfiltered reality of it all was jarring, a stark reminder of the price of success.

Where would Jungkook be heading at such an early hour? she mused.