#desktop folder pile*

[d1s1ntegrated]

Shigaraki is so pathetic he’s able to cum untouched just from kiss

shared seat (nsfw)

fem!reader x loser!shigaraki

cw: dacryphilia, premature ejaculation, mutual pining, desperation, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, no use of y/n (blank name space instead!!), tomura is a mega computer nerd, reader plays dumb kinda, some light hurt/comfort i guess?? making out, afab/fem reader, implied virgin shiggy :)

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•

naturally.

you have tomura in the palm of your hand. every time you walk by him, brush against him awkwardly, tap his shoulder to get his attention, it sends sparks through his touch-starved limbs and makes him dizzy. every night, he begs and pleads for you to come into his room, even just to sit in there. he wants you in whatever way he can, to see you, smell you, touch you, hear you. gods, of course he wants to taste you, but he's learned the hard way to take whatever he can get.

so when you knock on his door and ask him to teach you how to sort out your PC and mod a few games, his heart lurches in his chest. of course, of course he will. he trudges behind you to your bedroom, watching your ass jiggle lightly in the dingy sweatpants you stole from him a few months back. he takes a deep breath before sitting in your desk chair, immediately clicking through PILES of random trash files and download files.

"_______" he starts sternly, brow already furrowed at the sight. "have you not been deleting the download files after you download a mod?"

you shake your head. "won't that delete the mod?" you lean on your desk next to him, uncomfortably close to him. he smells the conditioner in your hair, your sweet perfume. he tightens his gloved grip on your mouse as he shakes his head and tidies your desktop up.

"fucking idiot" he mumbles as he clears a few gigabytes from the system, "this is why it's so slow, stupid". you giggle and mumble, "ohhhhhh" under your breath.

who's to say you didn't know that. who's to say you just wanted an excuse to have him in your room, huffing at your desk, having his scent fill the room and his frustrations cloud your thoughts. but he didn't have to know that.

he keeps clicking through folders, and you nudge the chair. he turns to face you and you mindlessly sit in his lap, telling him "let me in", spinning the chair back to face the desk.

his breath hitches as your plush ass presses against his dirty pajama pants and half-hardened cock. you watch the pointer on the screen as he sorts through different game files, his breathing unsteady in your ear. you giggle as he groans at the unnecessary folders and shortcuts.

"why...dude, what's with all the sims mods?" he asks, voice filled with genuine concern as he clicks into the mods folder. you panic and spring up, sending the chair back a bit with him still in it. your ass is directly in his face as you scramble, closing the folder.

tomura's eyes widen and he forgets the folder entirely for a moment as your shirt rides up, the small of your back exposed, the waistband of your underwear pulled slightly above the baggy sweats. he starts again and rolls his eyes.

"dipshit, just let me make sure there aren't duplicates, okay?" he pulls you by the waist into him again, your ass falling back onto him. he closes his eyes for a moment to regulate his thoughts.

the mods folder flashes back open. he scrolls through hundreds of mods, your body tensing as he pauses and reads through them all.

"what the hell are you doing to those poor sims" he laughs nervously as his cock grows tighter against you. you grimace as he closes out of it and goes into the save files folder.

he stops when he notices his name front and center, paired with yours.

he nods and stays silent, and you readjust in his lap. your eyes gloss over, unable to confront the clear tension between you two as you shift, his free arm lacing around your waist slowly, holding you tightly as he tries his best to hold back.

he closes out of the tabs and sits on the blank screen for a moment, clearing his throat.

"did...you need me to do anything else here?" he leans forward with you a bit, greedily inhaling your scent again as he awaits a response.

"hm...yeah, can you help me set my new speakers up? they won't connect for some reason." any excuse to keep him here.

"hmph. yeah, sure" he bites his lip and scoots the chair in, opening the program.

"they're plugged in, right?" he asks, and you nod.

"mhm, i'm not that dumb" you playfully lean back, your face all-too-close to his. he rolls his eyes and hums to himself as your weight presses more against him, and he's painfully trying to conceal how hard he is. if you don't stand, maybe you won't notice. he's so fucking close already, he's afraid any small movement will ruin it all.

you lean forward to turn the dial on the speaker and his breath hitches. he twitches in his pants and feels the moisture beading from his tip, hissing lowly to himself as you readjust again.

"jesus, _________. can you figure your shit out" he snips, and you laugh. he groans as he twitches again, dangerously close to finishing right here.

"sorry" your words come out as a whisper as he grips you closer now, his fingers tracing the exposed skin under your shirt as he fiddles around with the settings. you smile as he touches you.

you take it one step too far when you scoot back into him, using his thigh to steady yourself. as you grind into him, he loses control and feels himself cumming sporadically in his fleecy pants. he shakes against you, his head falling into your shoulder as he crumbles underneath you. he nearly crushes your brand new mouse as his hands clench, his uncovered fingers digging into your midriff. he shakes as you feel the moisture seeping from the material, leaking onto the back of your own pants. you don't dare to speak a word, you refuse to ruin it for him.

you go to look at him, but his head is still pressed against your shoulder, his baby blue hair draped over you. his breathing is slowing now, but he's still shaking.

"i'm sorry" he shudders before you can say anything. you grab his hand, still slung across your legs, and squeeze it.

"tomu, it's okay" you comfort him quietly as he continues to shake. you stand and he plants his face into his hands, soft tremors coming from the pale man.

you flip the armrests of the chair up and wrap your legs around him, facing him now. you stroke his hair gently and coax him to look up, his cherry eyes teary and glossed.

you kiss him gently, feeling the tears still running down his cheek. his lips are rough, but they taste like candied apples, and you hold his face in your hands as he falls into the kiss shakily.

as you pull away, he sniffles.

"i'm sorry" he repeats, and looks back down.

you kiss his head, his soft hair tickling your face. he wraps his arms around you and presses his face into you, his tears soaking the front of your shirt. you shush him and brush his hair back. you comfort him best as possible, but feel him hardening underneath you again.

"c'mon" you stand from the seat again, and take his hand. you bring him to the bed, and he sits slowly. you wipe the tears from his cheeks, and he shakes his head.

"why?" he asks quietly, and you kiss his nose, "why aren't you mad at me?".

you tug him into you, kissing him. he moans into the kiss this time, his cock tenting again. your mind swirls with thoughts of him inside of you, making him shiver and cum and whine. why would you be mad at him, your sweet pathetic leader?

no one else would ever see him like this. maybe it played a part in your arousal, knowing that this display was solely for you. that his orgasm was because of you. that he was crying because he was afraid he upset you. your scary, villainous, domineering leader was crying in your room, cock twitching desperately against his minecraft pj pants, because he just came from you sitting in his lap.

the heat between your legs swells as your tongue presses into his mouth, tasting the same sugary sourness from before. his tongue slides forcefully into your mouth, his saliva mixing with yours. he palms aggressively at his erection, trying to push it down nervously before you tug him by his sweater, pulling him on top of you. he instinctively grinds down into you, and as you feel him press against your clothed sex, you moan.

the heavy petting stresses you out. you can't keep kissing him and touching him without feeling him inside of you. tomura's eyes are half-lidded and hungry as you shove him back, and he looks at you nervously for a moment before you pull your pants off, urging him to do the same. he throws the pants off the bed, his cock springing free and tapping against his stomach. the knot in your stomach pulls deeper as you gaze upon the soft sky-blue tuft of hair leading down to his dick, his breathing ragged as you pull yourself on top of him again. you grind down, and he moans as the wetness soaking through your underwear squishes on his admirable length.

he's ready to cum again already, and you can tell from the way he grinds into you from below. you shift your underwear off, awkwardly shimmying as he helps you. he doesn't seem to care as he tugs at the garment, his hands exploring your curves with a greedy grip. as his cock rubs against you, you kiss him, coating him with the slick heat. you help position him against your tight hole, and he thrusts it in, stretching you with a snap. you throw your head back from the sensation and steady yourself for a moment before rocking back and forth, his moans and huffs growing louder. you ride him slowly at first, helping you adjust to his size, and he watches you bounce on him with a feverish daze. he grabs at your shirt and you allow him to bring it up over you, throwing it mindlessly. his hoodie comes off next, yanking haphazardly as you continue to grind and bounce on him. he bites his lip as he cums again, not holding anything back as the sticky seed coats your insides. you don't stop, feeling yourself growing closer. his orgasm brings you even further, and you gyrate your hips against him, his soft hair creating a friction against your clit that is fucking unimaginable. you moan and cry out, chasing the orgasm. you squeeze against him, the searing pain from being stretched before now replaced by a deep craving from the pit of your sex, needing more and more of him to fill you up. his pitiful whining grows in volume as his cock re-hardens inside of you quickly, and his hands grip against your hips and he thrusts from below as you slam down into him, furthering the sensation as his tip nudges your cervix. as you both rock into each other, your climax rushes over you, flooding his cock with a deep heat that sends him over the edge for the third time. tears brim his eyes again as he sprays your cunt with more pearly fluid, and your body shakes as you clench and rub the end of your orgasm out on him. your chest heaves as you both finish, and you fall on top of him with his dick still throbbing inside of you. he whines out and kisses you, tangling his fingers in your hair. the aftershock of your orgasm sends shivers through your body, and you pull yourself off of him. you already miss the feeling of him stuffing you with his cock, but he's spent. he shakes and squeezes his eyes shut, his legs and arms splayed out, vibrating.

you kiss his cheek and reach for something to help him clean up. you grab your shirt and wipe him off, and he frowns.

"didn't have to do that" he chokes out, and you shrug.

"i could never be mad at you, tomura" you say to him as you find clean clothes. as you dress, he drags a blanket over himself.

he nods and doesn't speak again for a moment. you climb in next to him, and he smiles weakly.

"promise?"

you nod. "pinky promise" you lace your fingers with his, the gloves brushing against your soft skin.

the two of you lay together in silence, growing more and more tired with each passing minute. you won't send him back to his room, you'd rather keep him here as long as possible. even if it was left unsaid, you loved him, and you spent every day worrying which day might just be the last. especially with the league growing in infamy, the unknown became scarier every day. but for right now, it felt more than okay. and for right now, you'd rather spend the time with him like this than having to worry about your futures.

"so what's up with that save file on the sims?" his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you groan.

"i think the next thing im gonna ask you how to teach me is hiding folders".

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

thank you for the ask <3 yummy yummy suggestion!!!!!! 🩷🩷🩷

[system-to-the-madness]

Nothing Extraordinary - Dazai Osamu x Reader

Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: (angst to) fluff Word Count: 2 360 Warnings: use of (y/n), mentions of dying (nobody dies tho), Reader is scared Dazai doesn't love them Summary: Even after a year of dating there are three words Dazai and you have yet to exchange A/N: Happy Birthday to Dazai, even though his birthday is already over in Japan...

A soft exhale brushed over your slightly parted lips as you pressed “send” on the file you had spent the past three hours preparing. A look at the clock on your desktop screen told you, you it was only half past three, but the sun shining in through the windows of the Armed Detective Agency had already a strong orange tint.

Absentmindedly your gaze wandered over to your boyfriend’s desk, finding it empty. You wondered what kind of unimportant task Osamu had found this time to get around doing his paperwork.

Confused you tilted your head.

Taking a closer look at his desk that bordered yours, it seemed like the files Kunikida had piled on it this morning had already been moved to the “outgoing” folder, which meant he had at least made the effort to shift them around at one point. But had he actually done them?

Reaching over to his desk, you grabbed a bunch of the files out of the box, flipping them open. Indeed, they had all been processed neatly, in Osamu’s handwriting. What was wrong with him? Usually he only did them when Kunikida stood next to him, threatening him with exposing some kind of embarrassing secret of his to you.

The first time Kunikida had used that threat, Osamu had thought he had been bluffing, and thus you had learnt of the time Osamu had been ‘stuck’ in a restaurant’s bathroom for an hour straight because the clearly labelled door would have opened through pulling, not pushing. Of course you had thought Kunukida had made that up, after all, someone as clever and cunning as Osamu would never- but a glance at your then-boyfriend-of-three-weeks had revealed just how true Kunikida’s story was, the red flare of his cheeks having glowed under the cool blue light of the office’s illumination.

Ever since then Osamu knew to take Kunikida’s threats seriously. But since the blonde skill-user had not spent the better part of the day standing next to Osamu, supervising his work, you couldn’t help but wonder if your boyfriend had unlocked a new skill that allowed him to finish his paperwork within the blink of an eye.

Or maybe he was sick? No, if he were, he’d have clung to you the whole time, whining about how miserably he was feeling. Sometimes he really behaved like a huge child. Why did you put up with him again?

Because I love him. 

Yeah, only that you had never told him that. You had been dating for almost a year now, and Osamu had as good as moved in with you, but you had never told him you loved him, nor had he told you he loved you.

Of course, you made sure to express your feelings in action and a few times it almost would’ve slipped over your lips in moments when you were distracted or tired, causing you half a heart attack each time you caught your tongue in time. And as hard as it was sometimes to decipher his behaviour, you were fairly certain Osamu was at least somewhat emotionally attached to you.

But there was always this fear.

This fear that he’d pull away the moment you expressed how serious and deep your affection for him had grown. This fear that he’d take it as the sign to draw back and drop you like he dropped all these girls he had been meeting with before the two of you had almost died in each other’s arms during a mission, before he had pulled you into his chest and kissed you as if it were the last thing he would ever do before both of you suddenly had the same idea which had ended up saving your lives, before he had asked if saving each other’s lives qualified him for a date with you. As if you had been out of his league before that, when really he was the one who could barely save himself from suitors who were attracted by his intellect, his charm and of course also his good looks.

Tearing your thoughts back into the moment, you shook your head and took a deep breath, focusing back on the screen before you displaying the confirmation that your file had successfully been delivered.

Another glance at the clock. 15:35pm. You reached for the notepad besides your screen and ticked off the report you had sent just two minutes earlier. The next point on the list was… annoying. Not difficult or hard, just annoying. With a small sigh you went back to work.

Your eyes were trained on the screen, following the signs that appeared while your fingers were flying over keyboard, focusing on the words you strung together. You barely noticed the hand that carefully placed a plate with grapes and strawberries next to your keyboard, white bandages covering the skin from right underneath the thumb until they disappeared into the lazily rolled up sleeves of a dress shirt. A moment later the hand disappeared and a second, equally bandaged hand placed a cup of freshly brewed green tea next to the plate.

This time you noticed the movement from the corner of your eyes, glancing at the already retreating hand, unable and unwilling to hide the smile tucking at your lips. It didn’t happen often, but occasionally Osamu would bring you snacks while you were working. It were little things like these, the little efforts he made, every day, small things that accumulated over time which made your heart beat hard in your chest whenever you thought of him.

“Thank you, Osamu. I love you.”

The moment the last syllable had left your lips, you realized what you had just said, and froze up. There were reasons why you had never told him. You knew he struggled with forming permanent, close relationships, with opening himself up to others. If you came across as too eager, too clingy, too pushy,… he’d leave faster than you could blink.

All you could hope for now was that he hadn’t heard you, so you quickly continued typing, having barely missed a beat in your rhythm. Exhaling slowly, you relaxed your shoulders.

He hadn’t said anything, so he probably had snuck away and not heard your confession, otherwise he certainly would have snickered, or teased you. Only for you to come home to an apartment later that had been cleared of all his things. No, he hadn’t heard you. Most certainly not.

You had already typed another full line before a sudden voice right next to you startled you into interrupting your work once again, this time making you whip your head around to look at the man standing next to your desk.

“I love you, too.”

Osamu’s voice had been quiet, his eyes not fixed on you but instead a drawer of your desk, before he looked up almost hesitantly. There was something shimmering in his eyes which not even you, as his girlfriend of a year got to see often; a vulnerability and hesitancy, as if he wasn’t certain he had just trusted someone with a secret they would mock him for. You could never help but feel unsettled when this shimmer glossed over his eyes: Dazai Osamu wasn’t the kind of person to fear being mocked. Not by anyone. Not by anyone but you.

It took a moment for his words to register in your brain, until you had processed them, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes widened at the realization of his words.

“Osamu that’s- that’s not what I meant,” you quickly denied, before noticing how it had to sound to him. “I mean, I didn’t mean to pressure you into saying it back! I don’t want you to say things like that just because you feel obliged to-”

The soft smile that begun spreading over Osamu’s face irritated you enough to forget what you had meant to say.

Slowly he crouched down, placing his hand on the armrest of your chair and turned it enough to make you face him. Biting your lower lip, you watched him scan over your face, his hand subconsciously moving from the armrest to your knee. Warmth sept through the thin fabric of your fabric trousers, the elegantly cut kind Kunikida had advised you to wear when you had first started working for the Armed Detective Agency.

“It’s true though,” Osamu said, his voice so quiet that you’d be surprised if anyone but you could hear it right now. “I do. I’ve known for a while now. It’s not that kind of fleeting feeling of a crush, even though I wanted it to be only that. But the more I began to deny it, the more I realized that you have carved yourself into my heart and now it carries your name. Admitting it is scary though. What if you don’t feel the same?” He brought one of his hands up to your face, the backs of his fingers ghosting over your cheek, warm and familiarly gentle. “What if I allow myself to love you, and you leave, or get taken from me? To love you means to offer myself to the possibility of hurt and I don’t want to be hurt anymore. But I want to love you. I do love you. With all I have.”

Orange afternoon light caught in Osamu’s whiskey-coloured eyes, igniting his long lashes in warm auburn. Single hairs threw fine shadows over his skin, and all of a sudden you once again realized how delicate his features were, how beautiful his face, how warm his gaze.

His words echoed in your head, tumbled over one another, until you couldn’t grasp a clear thought anymore, so instead you bent forwards and gently touched your lips against his. The hand he had still placed at your cheek came to cup your chin, but he didn’t pull you closer, just held you.

Kisses like this were rare. Osamu was always excited and full of passion, and so were his kisses. And the times he wasn’t, when the shadows in the corners of the rooms got too long and deep, threatening to swallow him whole, his lips moved desperately against yours, demanding you to offer him a lifeline, a way out, a distraction from old memories coming back to claim him and pull him back into the dark.

Now he let the kiss linger, your faces close enough for your lips to touch, for warmth to be exchanged, for him to feel your pulse beneath the delicate skin of your lips. But nothing more.

When you pulled away after several seconds, you saw Osamu’s eyes had fluttered closed, and remained closed for a moment longer. While he couldn’t see, you instinctively darted your tongue out, wetting your lips; they tasted of him. Even such a short kiss was enough for him to leave his mark on you like this.

“Thank you.”

His eyes were still closed when he spoke, making you tilt your head at him.

“For what?”

“For making saying these words for the first time something… so normal. Nothing extraordinary. Just intertwined into our everyday lives. It lessens the anxiety.”

“I was scared too, you know.” You didn’t elaborate on the reasons. He didn’t have to know you thought he might not love you. But he was Dazai Osamu, always ready with another surprise up his sleeves.

“I know, my angel. I know. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier.”

“No, don’t be. It’s not your fault, nor mine. It just was. Just happened like this.”

“I like the way this happened.”

When he finally opened his eyes, they were gentle and warm, and the way he looked at you was nothing short of lovingly. Yes, lovingly. And this expression had been in his eyes for a while now, when he had looked at you, you just hadn’t been able to identify it. How long had it been there already? You were not sure. Most certainly not from the beginning on, when he had ignored you entirely for your first months at the agency. But it had been there for a long time, longer even than you had been dating. You knew you had seen it in his eyes, when he had lent in to desperately kiss you that time you had almost died together. You wondered if that had been the moment he had realized his feelings for you. One day you would ask him. But not now. Now you just wanted to know-

You had already opened your mouth to ask him if he wanted to take a small coffee break with you, when Kunikida’s booming voice interrupted you.

“Dazai! File OS0346 are missing the sketches I specifically asked for!”

Osamu, still crouching in front of you rolled his eyes, making you chuckle.

“Kunikidaaa,” he whined. “Can’t that wait until-”

“Of course it can wait,” Kunikida interrupted your whiny boyfriend. “But then I’ll tell (y/n) all about the time-”

“Nope, nope, no, I got it, I got it,” Osamu quickly jumped to his feet. “Already on my way. No reason to destroy my good image here.”

“Which good image,” Kunikida growled, throwing a file onto Osamu’s desk as he passed it.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips, earning a playfully scolding glance from your boyfriend, who slipped into his office chair, whining dramatically while doing so.

“Just so you know, Kunikidaaa, I’m signing out at exactly 5o’clock, and so will (y/n), and nobody will be able to contact us until tomorrow morning.”

Turning your chair back to face your desk, you glanced across the room, seeing Kunikida’s reddening face as he was staring daggers at Osamu. You chuckled again and tried focusing back on the report you were supposed to write.

Underneath the desk, something bumped against your foot and a moment later hooked around your ankle. Safe from Kunikida’s or anyone else’s eyes, Osamu had linked his feet around yours, shooting you a smile and a wink before both of you focused on your work again, the small contact at your feet a constant reminder that your lives were now inseparably intertwined.

[shadesoflsk]

MILLION DOLLAR BLOODLINE — Traición

Dealing with the case in hand, you come across with some valuable clues. Check my million dollar bloodline masterlist for general warnings.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

pairing: Vampire/Agent Leon x Fem Detective reader

warnings: Sexism (from the press again) few mentions of gore and death, fucked up government, scent (First glimpes of Leon's vampire qualities yay)

author's note: hi... I'm writing this with one eye closed... exhaustion is taking over me and it may show in this chapter. as always, if you see any mistake, you don't. don't even perceive them. thank you so much and love yall.

“Thank God a man stepped in!”

A new headline, a new story being told. It’s rather frustrating to know that no matter what, reality would be twisted to the journalists’ desire and let the only person who actually cares about the case burn in the flames of depiction and hatred just for the ‘sin’ of being a woman. 

The same shameless and brutal words are printed in a bright red that resembles the fresh blood of those leaders of the city. In many readers’ eyes and minds, they were expecting to finally see a man taking the case and bringing ‘success’ even though it’s doomed to fail.

No one grieves more than someone who has lost everything—but your right to fight is still running deep in your veins. With a grunt, you throw the newspaper on your desk, almost spilling the black coffee you were previously drinking. 

It’s been less than a day since the candidate was found dead. The cause of death? Suicide which was, in a way, surprising. From the number of politicians who have “left this cruel world,” Mr Clark's scene of the crime gave enough proof that you were facing a real self-homicide case. 

In front of you lay countless folders and confidential documents that the police department has collected from the first victim to the last one. The only obvious connection all of the victims shared was that all of them were Tier A individuals. People who wouldn’t disappear to find ‘the real meaning’ of life and would surely not kill themselves without a murder weapon. 

So, even a rookie detective could surmise that most of those crimes were the smokescreen of something way bigger brewing in the shadows of the city. A city whose beliefs and faith in the government are so cracked now that not even the most nationalist citizens could find peace in their hometown.

A sigh leaves your lips, one that shows the tiredness in your system and heart. Sometimes, the feeling of walking in circles clouds your judgment and overall sanity. In hindsight, a detective ought to be a rightful and morally white person who would walk on fire just for the sake of truth and justice. But each time your eyes land on the atrocious clues you have gathered, the desire to throw away everything gets harder to bear.

Next to the pile of documents and boxes, on your desktop, is a photo frame which shows a younger version of yourself. Beaming pearly white smile with shiny eyes that could blind the camera itself, saying that you were happy was an understatement, you were delighted.

Truthfully speaking, you were naive. You loved to tell everyone you were going to be different, the exception of the rule, the one and only, justice bringer. But in reality, the sole fact you didn’t feel sympathy for those rich people tells you that maybe you weren’t so different. 

Or were you?

Fighting between your drowsiness and the obligation to continue working on this case, you grab the envelope Leon previously gave you. A yawn gets stuck in your throat, not allowing any sign of exhaustion to show in your face right now. 

The first thing that greets you is a document you quite don’t understand at first. The black words are blurry, proof of how much you need to sleep. A body can’t function without resting but you can’t function if work is due. Soft slaps around your face and a long-needed sip of the black caffeine liquid will do for now. 

“Life Insurance…” Your lips work on their own as you read the title, written in black ink. The font style proves the authenticity of the document. Dated July 1979, the legal paper started with the log of a woman’s name and age. 

Patricia Clark Powell, 28. American, caucasian. Marital status: Married. Children: 2. Now this is something. 

Reading each word carefully, leaving no detail off the table, a rather big number got your attention. After a long overview of this woman’s life details, you come across a table that shows the life insurance payout.

The main and only beneficiary was Robert Clark, he'd inherit the absurd and grotesque amount of 5 million dollars. 

But the catch here was that the only requirement to claim the insurance was the death certificate of the insured party, meaning that Patricia had to pass away.

You set aside the document for now. Your fingers graze over the corner of the paper to turn it.

A picture, no, several pictures come into your vision. All of them are colored and clear as water. The shoot is not perfect, as if someone was hiding while taking those photos.

The camera is positioned on a table. Hence the awkward angle it shows, nonetheless the main focus is on two people sitting down. 

The table, the walls, and overall decorations are an obvious giveaway of the place they were in. An expensive and pretentious restaurant that only the rich can afford. A stroke to their damned egos knowing that they could buy and eat a whole cow if they wanted to. Not before wiping any crumbs with a one thousand-dollar check.

You squint your eyes and even lean forward to try and inspect in great detail each part of the picture—detective skills kicking in, you may say.

The man on the right has a neatly trimmed mustache, and bushy eyebrows that match his hair color, black. He's wearing a navy blue suit with a gray tie. Very office-like and rather different from his counterpart next to him who wears a hoodie and a cigarette between his lips. The angle showing the faintest details of a tattoo on his right hand, which holds the cigarette. 

Flipping through the pictures, you see many more of them but just from different positions. Yet the main highlight is the now obvious identity of the man who exposes himself to the camera's lenses. 

Robert Clark. 

The last document is a newspaper headline. “CRIMINAL FUGITIVES” it reads and shows several mugshots of criminals who escaped prison over these last five years. Under the pictures, a text box includes some characteristics of the ex-prisoners. Your attention falls on a specific name. 

The picture shows a man with brown hair and brown eyes, a stubble growing on his jaw and cheeks. Why was he convicted? Organized crime and contract killing, a hitman in other words. The text described the man as a 5’9 male with no moles and no notorious scars. 

But a tattoo on his right hand.

Before you can even process everything you have read and seen, the ring of a phone breaks the solemn silence that has set in your office. Sliding to where the phone was, you pick up the call.

And before you could even utter a word, someone started the conversation first.

“Hey there, Sherlock.” A man’s voice greets you. Deep but smooth tone, easy to distinguish. 

“Mr. Kennedy.” You reply, brushing off the nickname he just gave you. “What a timing.”

“Why is that?” Playing dumb, Leon shoots his question. 

“I just finished reading the documents you gave me.” A seed of confusion is planted in your statement as you try to make up your mind with the information you just registered. “Where did you get all of this?” You say pressing the speaker closer to your mouth, whispering the words.

“Feeling curious, aren’t we?” Mock oozes from his tone, but there is a hint of genuine playfulness in his speech, as if delighted to be the one providing the confidential information. “You know… As much as I want to tell you, I just can’t.”

“Why?”

“Oh? Am I being questioned?” If you were next to him, you’d see the smirk that has formed on his face. And if you indeed were, a slap would be planted on his cheek, for sure. 

Leon continues being a puzzle you couldn’t solve. From the first (and only) moment you met him, his odd and shared disdain for the rich baffled you. You can’t seem to break through the world inside his head.

“Does it feel like I'm questioning you?”

“Kinda.”

“Forget it.” You shrug, leaving the topic as it is. There’s no point in trying to make Leon spit the truth. At least, not now. “But this is truly a key piece to this investigation.”

“That I know,” Leon replies. “But as I told you yesterday, don’t do anything stupid.” 

Silence fills the call as you take in what Leon said, or rather, repeated. 

“Oh?” Bitterly, you retort. “So you think I’ll do something stupid? It’s funny, all of my male colleagues always told me that.”

“I didn’t mean it like tha—”

“Oh course you didn’t.” Sarcasm was dripping from your words. “Nobody does.” You add with an exhausted sigh coming out from your lips.

“No, but I truly didn’t mean it.” He finally finishes his sentence as your pause allows him to interrupt you. 

“Look, sorry… I’ve dealt with these people ever since I remember and It’s just so… fucked up.” He adds. “You’re better than those dickhead detectives. I assure you.”

Now that you think about it, you may have overreacted. But then again, it wasn’t your fault. Being surrounded by people who discriminate and minimize every hardship you face, built a hard shell no one could break through. 

Instead of sticking to the awkward topic and Leon’s reassuring words, you decide to change the direction of this exchange. 

“Why did you call, Leon?” You ask, a tear forming in your eye due to the lack of sleep and the imminent yawn that threatens to escape from your mouth. 

The polite and tactful pattern was broken as soon as his name slipped from your lips. No agent nor Mr. Kennedy. For now, he is just Leon. 

Carrying a hint of embarrassment given his previous poor choice of words, he replies to your question.

“Mr. Clark’s wife is holding a funeral for him. I was going to tell you in case you wanted to go.”

His words catch your attention, the funeral could be the perfect opportunity to secretly investigate Patricia. In hindsight, a hunch tells you she isn’t involved—at least directly— in the candidate’s death. But it could give you some clues you may have overlooked.

“Are you going?”

“I might.”

You absentmindedly nod, acknowledging his answer. 

“Got it…” You play with the phone’s cord. “I’ll see you there, I guess.”

The chapel shimmers with almost blinding lights. Even though the nature of a funeral is dull and gloomy, the contrast is obvious. The whole setting is the perfect opportunity to show off, once again, the money that was being spent on it. The air is filled with raw indifference and overall pure narcissism. 

The lack of mourning and tears throw you off, especially when you feel like an outsider, you don’t belong here. Besides the fact that, of course, no matter how much you worked you could never afford the type of brand every individual was wearing—there is this feeling you can’t brush off. 

Your eyes travel over the room, searching for the wife now a widow. It is easy to get distracted by the mingling of certain guests and hushed laughs. Time and place… you thought.

What is supposed to be a thousand agonies and a sea of sorrow turns out to be the perfect act of grief. Let God be the judge of these people who surround themselves in the miseries of others. 

Amidst your judgment of everyone in the room, your task of finding Mrs Clark comes to an abrupt stop as a figure you recognize makes its appearance. Now wearing a dark blue suit, Leon’s frame is unmistakable. 

He’s next to a woman, brunette hair that reaches her back. A black fascinator is perfectly placed on her head, a wave of cringiness washes over you for the choice of fashion she went with. That must be Patricia Clark.

Confident but subtle, the cackling sounds of your high heels mix with the hushed chit-chat of those in the room. At last, it comes to a stop as you find yourself behind the widow and Leon who had previously acknowledged your presence. 

And for a moment, your eyes lock with the agent’s who wears an expression that could only be described as an attempt to warn you about something. But for now, you drift your attention towards the task at hand.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Clark.” You extend your hand while you introduce yourself. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

Manners, of course. You couldn’t feel sorry, especially now that you know that besides being an empty-headed politician, Robert Clark was an almost-murderer. 

However, you regret the fact that you chose the polite way of approaching as soon as your hand reached the air instead of the brunette-haired woman’s hand. Then, you realized this wouldn’t be as easy as you had thought.

A bemused expression forms in your face but it fades rather quickly as you remember your objective here. Taken aback, you pull your hand away before bringing them both behind your back. 

Leon doesn’t seem surprised by the blatant uncordial treatment Mrs. Clark just gave you. A sneer is present in his face as if he were saying ‘I told you so.’

“Don’t take it personal, darling.” Her voice tone reeks of arrogance and a know-it-all feeling. “I’ve been here for God knows how long. My hand may as well fall off if I keep shaking hands.”

There was no reason to feel amused by the whole interaction, you have dealt with these types of people before. But, the coldness and tactlessness of her words throw you off.

“I understand.” You feign agreement as if the fact that her husband is fucking dead is merely a minor detail. “But please, allow me to share my condolences. A woman as young as yourself shouldn’t be experiencing this.”

You resort to false praise words. There’s nothing else these fuckheads love more than people licking their shoe soles and acting like they are the only people living in the world. 

“It’s indeed difficult.” The woman brings her hand to her eyes, wiping the nonexistent tears that were supposed to be there. “My husband preferred to shoot himself instead of continuing being the man of the house.”

What a bitch.

Glancing at Leon, you find him crouching down in front of an infant. Given his brown hair, he must be one of the two Mr. and Mrs. Clark's children. 

“Is that your son?” You ask. 

“Yes…” An exasperated sigh again. As if she doesn't want to be here. In a sense, it is comprehensible but her overall personality wouldn't allow you to feel an ounce of sympathy. 

“How's he dealing with everything?” And after that question, you believe Mrs. Clark will snap at you any time now.

“Like every other kid would.” She replies, sparing not even a glance toward her own child. “He prefers her nanny anyway.”

Mentally cursing the mother, your lips tug a forced smile, one that doesn't reach your eyes but symbolizes the end of this meaningless conversation.

Your eyes travel until they land on Leon and the kid. The little one's eyes seem wet with tears that he so bravely holds back. 

Talking to children and elderly people was always the most difficult part of this job. Ever since you took it, those were your soft spot and Achilles’ ankle.

Leon notices your hesitation and motions you to join him. Scooting a bit, he gives you some space for you to crouch down too.

Greetings haven't been exchanged yet, instead of a hello, Leon welcomes you with a name.

“Lucas.” He whispers as you lower yourself to be at eye level with the infant. 

You nod. 

Lucas looks no older than 5 years old. A mop of brunette curly hair adorns his head. 

“Hi Lucas…” You give the little boy a gentle and warm smile. He blinks some tears that fall from his cheeks to the ground. 

There's no response, which it's okay. Unlike his mother's behavior, you know this innocent human is actually grieving. 

You take your time as tiny hiccups and soft sobs keep Lucas from forming actual sentences. 

“Lucas, this my friend.” It was Leon’s turn to speak. His usual chatty tone was replaced by an almost fatherly voice. “You told me you like making friends, didn't you?”

You watch as the little one slowly nods and wipes away the tears that keep rolling down his face. But this time, his sobs are coming to a stop.

“Are you daddy's friend?” He finally asks. However, the question was one you didn't expect. 

“Yes.” You lie, as a detective you are used to telling white and not so white lies just for the sake of finding a bigger truth. But lying to a child wasn't something you were looking for. 

“Okay…” Lucas responds and looks at both of you and Leon. A flick of light between the living hell of those pretentious people who act like they care.

“Daddy must be proud to see how strong you're right now.” Leon speaks once again and you witness how he ruffles Lucas’ hair in an attempt to cheer him up. 

“You think so?” Lucas’ voice, for one, is higher than just a whisper. And for the first time, you notice how he's missing one of his teeth. “Daddy always told me to be as strong as him every time he went to the doctor.”

The word doctor set both of you and Leon off. According to Robert Clark's medical history, he was a healthy individual. No illness and not even allergies. 

“Doctor? Was your daddy sick?”

“Weren't you daddy's friend? You should know…” You didn't expect to be outsmarted by a kid.

“Your daddy didn't want us to worry.” Second lie on the day, you're keeping count. “That's why he never told us.”

A pause lingers in the air as you reply to the child. It takes a while before he can answer your question as if conditioned not to talk about his father's doctor visits.

“He sometimes went to the doctor,” Lucas explains after a few seconds of reluctance. “He told me not to tell mommy or nanny. Maybe he didn't want them to worry too.”

“Was your daddy sick?” Leon asks in the same gentle tone he has kept throughout the conversation.

“Dunno…” Lucas pouts. “Doctor was also daddy’s friend.”

The kid’s naivety is providing you with more information than his mother could give you. Of course, his guileless wouldn’t serve any purpose legally speaking. But, it can give you some insight into Mr Clark’s background and motive.

And once again, you don’t have time to process the information as the rumbling of a stomach guides your attention toward Lucas.

“Sir?” Lucas’ eyes meet Leon’s blue ones. “Mommy said she’s busy… But I’m hungry.”

Leon offers Lucas a kind smile.

“Tell you what, kiddo. There’s a coffee shop near here, I’ll buy you something to eat.”

Lucas’ eyes seem to get brighter at the prospect of eating, it leads you to think how long has it been since he last ate something. 

When you are turning your back to follow Leon out of the chapel—because there was no way would stay there for a second longer— you feel a tiny hand wrapping around your sleeve. 

“Miss.” A pause and a deep breath. “Do you think daddy’s in heaven?”

“...”

“Yes, he is.” The third and last lie.

You tag along with Leon, both of you walking down the street until you reach a coffee shop. No words are exchanged and a rather awkward silence sets between both of you. 

Your mind is somewhere else while your body works on its own. You don’t even notice when Leon asks you something, too worried about the case, too scared something bigger than you may eat you whole if you keep poking your nose where it doesn’t belong. 

However, as stubborn as you could be, justice needs to prevail. 

While biting the inside of your cheeks, Leon’s words bring you back from your trance. “Hey? I asked you if you wanted something.” 

You come to notice that you have already walked towards the cash register. Both the cashier and Leon’s eyes fall on you. 

“An Americano.”

You come up with the quickest answer you could think of. You watch Leon take out his wallet and pay with cash. 

Eventually, both of your orders plus Lucas’ are called and you decide to take a break albeit your attempt at telling Leon there was no time to lose. 

“So… any luck with Mrs. Newly Widow?” Leon asks as he takes a bite of his sandwich. 

“Nope.” You stir your coffee and blow some air. “Didn’t know she would be so difficult to deal with.”

“Well, she’s no more difficult than you.” He replies jokingly with a feeble smirk on his face. 

“Oh, you’re funny. How many times have you used that one with other people?” You retort, the sarcastic answer flying so gracefully out of your lips as if you have been ready for one of his remarks. 

“See! That’s what I’m talking about.” He gestures at you. “I’m trying to be friends with you but you push me away.”

Silence dawns upon both of you as you exhale. Although Leon has been nothing but respectful—in his own way— the fear of looking polite and weak with a colleague is still very much present. 

Dropping the act of being cold and emotionless isn’t something that you are looking for nor planning to do. Not until you could show the world that you are, in fact, as capable as any other man. 

“Look, Leon,” You speak in a calm tone. “I don’t make friends, not in this field and especially not with men.” 

As you say so, you reach for a sugar packet. No americano tastes good without sugar.

“Sorry.” You add. 

There is nothing to feel sorry about. Your feelings and boundaries shouldn’t depend on someone else. Yet, a part of you couldn’t help but regret your bold choice of words.

“Hey, nothing to apologize for.” And even though he was the one who suggested the whole friendship thing, he is also the one who is soothing the waters. “I know men in general can be a pain in the ass.”

That causes a huff to slip out of your mouth. “Trying to win points?”

“Not really.” He says while chewing on his sandwich. “Besides, you’re too smart for that.”

You chuckle, finally ripping the material of the sugar packet. “Finally we agree on something.”

Drumming his fingers against the hard wooden material both of your gaze into the distance, not adding anything else to the conversation. The aroma of coffee fills the area where you are sitting with Leon. 

“Lucas, Mr. Clark’s kid… you were good with him.” It slips off your tongue rather easily. A tinge of sincerity washes over your statement. 

And you can observe how Leon’s face went from a resting and soft expression to a stunned one. However, after your previous comments, the awkward and uneasy feeling shifted into an amiable one. 

“Was I?” Almost incredulous and even insecure. A slight trace of a vulnerable side you haven’t seen nor expected. “Thanks.”

Judging by his expression, Leon either had a soft spot for kids just like you or there’s something else you don’t know. Most agents show themselves as cold-hearted creatures who give no shit about anyone but themselves or their missions. 

But it’s none of your business.

“What Lucas told us, about the doctor. Do you think it may be related to the case?” You ask, back to your normal and professional self.

“I believe it can help us to investigate further,” Leon replies. “but I fail to see how this doctor could be of any help in this case.” 

“Maybe not on this one…” You murmur not even noticing the words that fell from your lips.

“What do you mean?” Leon notes your slight behavior change. Clearing your throat, you shake your head dismissing your previous words. 

“Nothing.” For now, the missing civilians’ case doesn’t need to be exposed. You fear the government is behind it and the one you’re currently investigating. You don’t need Leon to follow each step you take, especially given his association with the nation’s leaders.

Taking one last sip of your drink, you raise your wrist and read the time. Going back to the chapel wouldn’t bring you more information. Not when everyone seemed more focused on their conversations rather than helping.

Searching through your wallet, you pull a 10 dollar bill and place it on the table, next to your empty cup of coffee.

“What is that?”

“For my coffee.” You respond, getting up from the chair and looking back at Leon. “I don’t like owing to people.”

“You don’t have to, you know?” Leon chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s on me.”

“Well…” You reply. “Then make sure to give it back to me one day.”

Ephesians 6:10-18

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness

Leon’s hands are clean, metaphorically speaking. But his mind is not.

He wasn’t directly involved in the numerous deaths of politicians and CEOs. He just provided the right amount of information for them to kill each other. Playing God amongst them, in a way only he could recognize and embrace.

Death has rejected him but he brings that destiny upon those who sought to destroy the peace settled in the city and therefore nation. That’s the role he accepted once the curse of immortality ran deeply in his veins. 

It all started with hints he would drop in the middle of conversations. Twisted words that would seed doubts among elitists. Alliances were broken easily, that he needn’t worry about. But some partnerships were harder to break, sly statements would get him anywhere.

So, direct accusations were made. Obviously, under a fake name or rather an anonymous identity which would prompt people to feel paranoid even in their own homes. It took less than a week for lesser pawns to be found dead or disappear under odd circumstances. Of course, those who own the city would leave no trace of their crimes—so even for him, a federal agent, it was impossible to reach them without his mission being discovered. 

So, as soon as he was assigned to help you in this mysterious case, he was delighted. He’d play his pieces right and boom, he’d wriggle his way into the elite that control the city with their tainted and bloody hands and root out the evil.

However, he wouldn’t have thought that his “eternal suffering” disease would act the first moment he saw you. 

Ever since he was transformed, the adaptation path was rough and difficult to deal with. Nonetheless, he made a promise to never act upon his instincts, no matter how unbearable they could get.  

When he first saw Mr. Clark’s body, it wasn’t surprising. He knew he would choose the path of dying instead of facing his crimes and past. They’re all like that. Cowards, good for nothing, worthless, usel—

A sugary and pleasant aroma flooded his senses which immediately put him at ease amid the gruesome scenario lying underneath his frame. 

It wasn’t coming from the dead bastard, that he knew. So what is it? The smell was getting even more prominent each second that passed. It made him dig his short fingernails into the palm of his hand, forming tiny half-moons on the thin skin. 

His senses were never that heightened nor his body was that sensible to even the softest of draughts. 

And his body worked on his own as soon as the doorknob tweaked, he turned around and acted as if his work was the only thing on his mind.

As if his eternal life wasn’t about to change forever. When forever only meant pain and sorrow, at least for Leon.

[stuffems]

Snacking

Contains: Accidental Stuffing Boredom was a pretty powerful thing for anyone but for Gaelor, it was utter torture. He was constantly wanting to be up and about doing something, anything, and either getting work done or simply being distracted by some sort of activity. The downside of having underlings that could and would do anything he asked them to was that he had less that he was able to do that they’d be working on by themselves. Granted, he could tell them not to do things but then it might pile up or slow and he certainly couldn’t have that either. Such a puzzling situation indeed.

The daemon was currently occupying the small research station out in the thickly wooded valley as he paced around in a huff. Usually, his underlings occupied this station when he wasn’t around or on the rare occasion that he decided to oversee their work himself but today, they were absent and at home. Even though he technically had a home of his own, Gaelor preferred to be here and working on something or just spying on the three lesser daemons that he oversaw. It was funny to watch them behave like children in class whenever he was present. Caine didn’t mind as much but Eli and Nicolai were a different case all together. They never looked up from their work and moved about like buzzing little bees checking all the data they were working with. 

Antsy talons fiddled with the braid draped over Gaelor’s shoulder while he leaned back dangerously far in his chair, watching the silly children’s cartoon that he’d been binge watching all evening. The desk itself was an organized chaos that only he really understood with papers strewn about with folders of data and the small set of medical books that he’d read probably seven times by now. He leaned back with his heeled boots resting crossed on the desktop, one hand messing with his braid while the other hung limp and just barely touching the linoleum floor. There was a half full container of brown sugar boba tea left on the far end with an opened bag of chips sat beside it. Lazily, the daemon reached over and pulled out a chip from the bag to eat. 

When there was little to do or he was distracted in his work, it was incredibly common for the doctor to snack quite a bit. He always ensured that there was plenty to nibble on in the research station even if it was meant to also share with the trio. They didn’t dip into his reserves very much so the lionshare went to him, of course. Chips, soda, candybars, and all manner of junk food tended to be what was stocked the most as they were easier to eat while working even if it was horrible lab practice to do so. It was hardly as if he hadn’t drunk or eaten whatever he was experimenting with just out of pure curiosity. 

This particular bag of chips was nearing empty and there were still many episodes remaining to be watched so the doctor finally took a break to get up, stretch, and retrieve more snacks. He allowed the credits to roll while he strolled over to the refrigerator and opened the door to take a peek inside. There were countless glass beakers and containers that held various colored chemicals packed onto the shelves beside more consumable items like soda or sugary juice. Gaelor was really the only one who understood what everything was and its effects so it was unlikely that the others would bother messing up the order he’d set up. Two cans of fruity soda would be plucked from the bottom shelf before the door of the fridge was nudged shut by his tail. With the cans in one hand, he took to looking through the cupboard for more snacks between the dozens of empty beakers and lab equipment. 

“Hmmm… Perhaps I need to get Elijah to get more stuff from the store.” The daemon hummed, his voice lightly digitized. “Almost down to just one box of nutty buddies and maybe only two bags of chips. Could ask him tomorrow or whenever he decides to slink out of his little burrow.” 

At least three wrapped peanut butter and chocolate wafers would be pulled from the shelf in one hand while he held another bag of chips in his teeth. With his snacks retrieved, Gaelor returned to his desk and placed everything down before getting settled back in his spot just as the next episode started up. The nearly empty bag of chips rested on his torso while he picked up the container of boba tea to finish that as well. Boba tea was a little favorite of his but he usually only ever got the chance to get it whenever he was out and about hidden among the mortals of the nearby town. Anything sugary was probably the best way to get his attention, really. 

Once it had been emptied, the first bag of chips would be tossed into the wastebin beneath the desk and a new bag would be opened. With his attention diverted to the cartoon, it was pretty easy for Gaelor to eat a significant amount of food without fully realizing it. He didn’t quite care about overeating considering his metabolism was usually incredibly quick and he was easily able to work it off. Of course, with the serum pumping through his veins, it was a different story entirely. But that wasn’t the case here so he could eat as much as he wanted at the moment. 

As the episodes of the cartoon seemed to blend together, the bag of chips and boba would both be finished off and tossed in the trash. The soda combined with the peanut butter wafers would take up significant real estate in his stomach as he easily tore through both. A lump in his middle was beginning to form as he ate another of the peanut butter snacks and cracked open the other soda he was planning on drinking. The waistband on his middle was fairly flexible so he didn’t have to necessarily worry about any tightness should he overeat. 

It didn’t take more than another couple episodes before Gaelor finished the wafers and the other soda he’d been drinking. With all of that food tucked away, it was very apparent that it had certainly added a weight to his stomach. The problem was, he was still at least a little hungry. There were a few things still in the cupboard he could eat so maybe that would be it. 

The daemon paused his show and hopped up to wander over to the cupboard so that he could rifle through it again. There was still at least a bag of chips left and another box of peanut butter snacks so he could just eat those and tell Eli to go out shopping later. Yeah, that was a good idea. With his mind solidified, Gaelor took the whole box and the remaining bag back to his desk to finish snacking. Of course, he did take a moment to go back and grab at least a couple more sodas. There was plenty to eat now and definitely keep him occupied while he finished the rest of the show.

—

After another hour or so, the doctor had managed to finish the whole box and bag along with the other two sodas. A hiccup escaped his lips as he leaned back in his chair, claws resting on his taxed middle. The waistband thankfully stretched well enough over it without any squeezing pain. Though he hadn’t finished the entire series, it was at least sufficient enough to just watch the rest with a full stomach. Likely due to the haze he was in, Gaelor didn’t notice that the door to his office had opened.

“...Uh…Sir?” A voice, Nicolai’s, came from the open doorway. 

Gaelor glanced over at the doorway and saw the small young slime daemon standing there nervously wringing his hands. A smirk crossed the larger’s face as he gave a small wave to his underling. “Ey Nico, wassup?” The doctor asked, using his tail to pause the television show he was watching. 

“Uh…” Nico’s eyes drifted to look at the larger’s bloated middle before turning his attention back to his face. “Was just uh letting you know that we’re here to work. Is there anything in particular you need of us?” He would ask, clearly nervous. 

“Hmm… mind telling Eli to pick up some more groceries later? I kinda cleaned out the pantry by accident.” Gaelor said, giving a halfhearted grin. 

The smaller would look to Gaelor before nodding slightly.

“Yessir.” Nico replied before turning and leaving the room. 

This wasn’t the first time that his underlings found the doctor in such a manner but it definitely wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t care too much about appearances when it came to his underlings but anyone else, then he’d be at least a little bashful. Now he could finish the rest of his show in peace for now while they did the rest of the work.

[angellayercake]

The Diary of Cardinal Terzo

When the Cardinal had asked for your help to tidy up his office, you had thought it was maybe just an excuse to get you alone. He had plenty of reasons to ask for assistance, with his notoriously packed schedule. He took confessions, taught classes, met regularly with other senior clergy members, and had an almost constant pile of paperwork to be completed. It was a wonder he had time for anything else and yet he did. Because if he wasn’t to be found doing any of his endless tasks he was otherwise occupied with an equally endless list of lovers. In his rooms, in the dorms, in the chapel, in the gardens, in dark alcoves and not so dark alcoves, even once in the kitchen. So you couldn’t be blamed for thinking perhaps it was your turn to get better acquainted with the Abbey’s favourite Cardinal. You had only been right about one thing however, you were alone, entirely alone with cupboards and boxes and piles to sort through. He hadn’t even been here when you arrived, all that had greeted you was a note. 

You had done as he had asked. You had tidied the desktop first, sorting through the completed and as yet unfinished paperwork, the stationary tray had been emptied, cleaned and restocked and you had moved on to the drawers. There was, a lot, you found as you pulled it open the overstuffed contents came spilling out, hundreds of receipts and notes and assorted things. You did not envy whoever would be reconciling his expenses this year but scooped them all into a folder so at least they would be together even if they were in disarray. The second drawer is much the same as you sort through the contents setting aside the more personal items. A dog-eared photo of him and his brothers is pushed right to the back but rather than neglect the soft creases make you think it has been handled regularly so you lean it up against the base of his desk lamp while you work. When you get to the bottom drawer you slam it shut almost immediately, not wanting to take the time to discern if the pants inside were used or not. He could think again if he thought you would sort through his trophy collection but with that side done you moved on to the other. The top drawer is surprisingly already tidy, filled with neatly sorted writing supplies, a pile of his monogrammed paper and envelopes, and a collection of sealing wax and stamps. The second drawer down is tidier still containing only a beautifully embossed black and gold diary.

You shouldn't look really, probably, but he had trusted you with his panty collection so a little snoop at his schedule wouldn't hurt would it? Maybe you would even find out when he would be returning so you could greet him with a little surprise. With that in mind you open the cover turning through the first gilded pages until you get to 1st of January. But instead of a list of meetings and engagements you found what appeared to be his journal. You hesitate for a moment but then the subject of his writing catches your attention and your curiosity gets the better of you.

A challenge has been set! As the time ticked over from the old year to the new I found myself most pleasurably occupied. Sister Elouise was below me and Bishop Necropolitus, well he was exactly where I like him.The combination of her tight wet cunt and his thick cock had even my considerable carnal stamina at its limits when she uttered something that almost sent me over the edge then and there. 'Fill me up Cardinale,' she moaned as I thrust into her. 'Oh he liked that Sister.' Necropolis responded having felt the way I involuntarily responded to her words. I tried to pause, to delay the inevitable but he took control of the situation, fucking into me hard and in turn forcing me deeper into Elouise. It was exquisite. 'Would you like to be filled as well Emeritus?' He panted into my nape.'Begin the year as you mean to go on. Creampies to honour our Lord, maybe you will even make it to 666 Cardinale?' I was too far gone to comprehend if he was only joking but as we three came together in perfect grinding friction the idea took root. What better way to lead our congregation in the favoured Sin of Lust? And of course I should record my efforts for posterity. May all future Cardinales follow in my footsteps!

Somehow you had stumbled upon the Cardinal's sex diary and what a read it was and only the first day. This did at least shed some light on his packed social schedule. If he was going to meet his target of 666 he would need to, you paused doing some slow mental maths, 1.8 cream pies a day! And now you were more than intrigued, was he on target to hit his goal? The only way to find out was to read on. Looking around you decide you have been productive enough to earn a break so you get comfortable in his leather desk chair and turn to the next page. 

So ever since reading this the idea of Cardinal Terzo and his 666 cream pies has been circulating in my brain and I knew I had to use it for something. To celebrate the follower milestone I've just hit and to thank you all for being here I thought maybe we could have a look into Cardinal Terzo's 2014 diary, the year before he became Papa and have a read about some of his cream pie related escapades. I would love for people to request a date (and drop any details you want included e.g pronouns, names, kinks, positions etc etc as long as he is coming in something or having something coming in him I'm counting it as a cream pie.) Send it in an ask or send me a DM and let's see if Cardinal Terzo managed to hit his target!! (One last quick disclaimer I know this is the farthest thing from safe sex but let's pretend in this universe there is a special secret satanic sti and pregnancy protection just for fun) 

[echodrops]

The Promises I’m Making (2024)

Sheesh, this year it was even harder than last year to make promises. In particular, I really wanted to focus on promises that wouldn't cost as much money as in prior years, so I tried to steer clear of too many promises that would cost above the basic spending amounts... But it turns out it is really hard to make resolutions if you're broke. 😂

So here's what I'm going with:

2024 Promises

1) Step down from my administrative position and return to being a full-time faculty member. I literally cannot take the clown show that is admin at my work anymore. It is actually killing me.

2) Related to this, redecorate my new office as soon as they decide where they are going to move me.

3) Apply for new jobs!! APPLY FOR NEW JOBS!!!

4) Train my replacement in the chair position well so they are super prepared to take over in fall.

5) Put a new sink/vanity in the downstairs bathroom of the Utah house.

6) Get both bedroom floors sanded in the Utah house upstairs.

7) Finally get rid of the dirt pile in front of the Utah house.

8) Take down the remains of the wooden fence posts at the Utah house.

9) Fully clean out and prepare the Utah house to be rented out to new renters. Hopefully the next people won’t sneak in a parrot that poops all over the floor… RIP…

10) Clean off my back patio/car port area so I can park my car there again.

11) Call the plumber and replace the faucets. Even if I end up having to do it myself.

12) Get the dead tree removed from the Texas house yard and call the internet company to see about the cable around the tree root.

13) Plant roses where the old ones died in front of the Texas house. 

14) Replace my CPU fan; the bearings are going out and it’s making an annoying noise.

15) Organize my documents (especially student papers)—my desktop and documents folders give me nightmares just looking at them. 

16) Related to that, lose at least 20 pounds. 2020-2023 was not kind to me and the stress eating was real.

17) Do at least one artwork to actually use that paint program I bought. 

18) Pay my credit debt down by at least $2000. I’m still paying off the hell year, but I hope I can make progress on this.

19) Buy all the Noragami volumes I am missing and do a complete re-read of Noragami now that the series is finishing up.

20) This is super nerdy, but my bro got me the FFXIV cookbook and made me promise to actually use it, so I guess I’d better at least try to make something from it.

21) Finish at least five books this year.

22) Update HaaH at least once. Please, Echo???

23) Reach the new level cap with all jobs in FFXIV!

24) Go to the graduation ceremony for my family friend.

25) Catch up with hanging up all the charms/pins I’ve gotten recently on my corkboards; these are just sitting in boxes/bags around the house. D;

26) Fully deep clean and vacuum/detail my own car at home. No more of the “It doesn’t make sense to clean it out now; the dog is just going to go back in it.” The dog is always going to go back in it. Clean it, Echo.

27) Help my parents tear out the carpet in my old childhood bedroom.

28) See at least three new species of birds. Doesn’t matter where, just three new ones!

29) Reach 3500 followers. Can I do it? You should follow me if you’re not already; I’m pretty cool. Just sayin’!

30) Cancel all the subscriptions I don’t need. There’s literally no reason to sit around letting companies passively profit off me when I don’t even really use the services/the services keep getting worse while the costs keep going up.

31) Go out on at least a day trip to take pictures with my friend. We haven’t done this in quite some time. I need to touch grass.

32) Repair the lovely one-of-kind ceramic plate that my dog broke with kintsugi. I want to try it at least once!

33) Really look hard for my passport in my house. It’s been missing for like a year and a half now, and I don’t want to have to pay for a new one.

34) Put all the small prints, postcards, and stickers I have collected in my new mini-print books. I can even use up washi tape to decorate too. (Finally, a purpose for the washi tape…)

35) Shred the million pieces of old mail I have lying around the house. I finally got the shredder so it just makes sense to use it.

36) Have more follow-through with chores. It’s not enough to wash the clothes or do the dishes if I then procrastinate on folding the clean laundry and putting the dried dishes back in the cabinets…

37) Put reminders for birthdays and major events in my phone as well as set a monthly reminder to check these promises. Maybe I’ll be able to keep more promises if I look at the list more often throughout the year!

38) Since I can’t afford to go to the salon, spa, etc. too much this year, I should at least do some self-care days at home. Will this be the year I finally manage to use all the fancy scrubs and face masks and bath salts I keep getting from people?

39) Use up one whole notebook. It doesn’t matter what goes in the notebook, but I gotta use the whole thing from cover to cover. I have so many pretty notebooks that never get used just because they’re pretty.

40) Change the burned-out lightbulbs in the recessed lighting in the Texas house ceiling. It’s like twelve feet high and the lightbulb charger stick I bought didn’t work, so I’m going to have to find someone with a ladder. Save me, handyman. Save me.

41) Build the pretty koi paper lantern my brother got me, or the Korean temple model my coworker gave me after his trip to Korea.

42) Actually use the yoga mat I bought forever ago. At least a few times, please???

43) Finish watching the Fruits Basket remake with Kacchan. I think we stopped in the second season, RIP.

44) Spend more time with coworkers—go out to lunch more often.

45) See about removing the PMI from at least one of my house loans to try to save money. I’ve been paying on these loans long enough I shouldn’t need PMI anymore.

46) Practice my German skills (or I guess other language skills?) by translating something at least once a month.

47) Get a new bookshelf. The current ones in both my office and foyer are already overflowing. @_@

48) Make more time to call people and talk on the phone. Texting is not the same. D;

49) Get the new COVID vaccine to stay healthy.

50) I will keep my promises! 

Good luck, 2024’s me!

[pumpkin-patch-cat]

Mirror Mirror

Gavin x !FemReader drabble I've sat on for entirely too long.

A/n: Pardon any grammatical errors!

Warnings: Language and implied intimacy.

"You'll catch cold if you keep coming out in the rain like that, Officer." You smiled warily at the man standing across your room. In his hand, a towel moved swiftly to dry his damp, chesnut hair; a direct result of the current downpour battering your patios' surface outside of your apartment.

"Eh, I've been caught in worse. Besides, I wanted to see you. Hope that's okay?" One golden eye peered at you from beneath a corner of the towel. All you could do was smile.

"Of course."

That made him grin, too.

"Your papers there seem to have gotten wet too. Work stuff?" You pointed out.

Gavin nodded and sighed before draping the towel over his shoulders. He too glanced at the pile of damp papers and folders he reluctantly brought with him.

"I didn't want to, but this case is really giving me a hard time. We can't seem to catch a lead, but I know we're close. I just needed a break, but I figured I'd pick them up while I was here at some point..." Gavin trailed off with his brows furrowed, seemingly lost in thought while you watched on from your place at your desk, subconsciously admiring the man clad in a black t-shirt, grey sweats and white socks.

'He works so hard... yet still makes time for me.'

Feeling your cheeks flush, you immediately turned back to face your own mountain of work. Gavin moved to the side of the bed, opening a couple of folders.

"I hate to do this, but since you're busy yourself..." he continued. "...mind if I take a look at these before I pull my hair out?"

The laughter on his voice was evident, but you knew he was determined. That's just how Gavin was. You glanced back at him and shook your head.

"Gavin, fighting!" You gave him a thumbs up, to which he replied with a wink, then flopped on your bed.

Within the hour, silence had engulfed the room aside from the pitter patter of rain, soft grunts and the occasional frustrated groan from the cop who sat completely surrounded by paperwork and folders atop the bed.

You weren't sure when, but all the words on your laptop screen had started to run together the longer you read on. Scripts, proposals, a group chat with Anna, Willow, Kiki and Minor, a handful of emails - including one very condescending email from a certain LFG CEO, which you lacked the energy to deal with right now.

You rolled your eyes, practically begging for mental reprieve when the reflection in your small, desktop mirror caught your attention.

Behind you, Gavin still sat on your bed, only he had reclined back with one arm resting behind his head against your headboard and held a single sheet of paper in his other hand. His one leg lazed off the side of the bed while the other was folded beneath it.

You tilted your head in awe, admiring how statuesque the man looked, especially with his shirt riding up over his lower stomach, giving you a nice view of his abdominal V. You chewed your pen top.

Without him noticing, you continued to observe quietly. Each time he shifted, you swore his sweats slipped lower on his hips.

'Did he take his boxers off when he changed...?'

You swallowed hard at the thought.

From his position on the bed and how he held the paper, Gavin couldn't see the building curiosity in the your eye as you watched on through the mirror - or so you thought anyways.

Paper still in hand, Gavin yawned and stretched, allowing his shirt to ride up higher, practically giving you a half view of the bottom row of his abs. You nearly choked.

'Fuck, what am I doing? Focus, girl!' You cursed to yourself upon averting your eyes, completely missing the smirk that graced Gavin's features. He wasn't usually one to tease, but your reactions were simply too cute to pass up. What else could he do?

Reaching for a new set of papers, simply to look busy, Gavin changed positions. This time, he slouched a little further down on the bed, his folded knee now bent up straight, body now angled a bit toward you while supported on his elbow. He kept his gaze downward at the text in hand while his free hand played with the drawstrings of his sweats just below his navel.

With your efforts proving futile, your gaze had succumbed to the silent call of his reflection in the mirror where you resumed watching the show.

Feeling your eyes on him once again, Gavin's slim fingers had "absentmindedly" began to toy with the hem of his shirt where before long it was lifted slightly to reveal another row of perfectly sculpted abs; his fingers grazing over them slowly.

You dropped your pen and shifted awkwardly in your seat, causing the chair to creak loudly. This time, Gavin looked up, nearly catching you in the act.

"You good over there...?" Mild concern and amusement graced his features, but he hid it well while awaiting your answer.

"...ahem, fine fine....just fine. Work just being a pain is all. Nothing new..." You did your best to keep your voice steady and spoke with your back turned.

'Breathe, breaaaathee'

"Ah...take a break if it gets to be too much." He chided as a matter of factly

"Hmm, you too..."

You quickly composed yourself to the best of your ability, refusing to succumb again. However, the subject in the mirror had other plans.

The reflection stretched again, only this time he stretched in such a way that allowed for the perfect outline of something...interesting...to show at the front of his sweats.

'Oh...my...fuck'

You shifted again in your chair, unsure if somehow the rain from outside had managed to soak your panties.

Your sudden, odd movements allowed him to catch the exact moment your gaze switched back to the mirror where he greeted you with a silent, mischievous smile.

"Crap..."

Too embarrassed to look away, you apologized with your eyes. Gavin accepted that apology by biting his lip and chuckling softly when you finally hid your beat red face.

"Uh huh, that's what you get for spying on people. If you wanted to look, y/n -hey...look at me for real now..."

When you turned, his hand slipped down from his abdomen to the half growing bulge beneath his sweats and squeezed.

"-all you had to do was ask."

"Gav-"

"Come over here," he beckoned with a now outreached hand. "-take a break. You look like you could use one. I sure as hell could."

[thesims3help]

The Sims 3 - optimize the game, lessen lag, improve performance, reduce loading time, prevent corruption and file bloat.

In this section, we will compile tips and tricks in optimizing your game for a much better gameplay experience. Post is divided into following categories: clearing cache, essential mods, saving, cleaning saves, in-game tweaks + tips & tricks.

Before starting, we wholeheartedly recommend a thorough reading of the Steam community's Guide on the game's performance below:

Steam Community :: Guide :: The Sims 3 Performance & Bug Fix Guide 2023

Steam Community :: Guide :: The Sims 3 Enhanced Vanilla Graphics

Steam Community :: Guide :: The Sims 3 Enhanced Vanilla Game-Play

WARNING: Before attempting anything, we suggest backing up your The Sims 3 folder somewhere safe, in case of irreversible actions. Backing up is performed by copying your The Sims 3 folder, and pasting it somewhere safe (Desktop, another drive, external drive, etc.). Carl's Tutorial on Backup & Restore.

1. Clearing cache in The Sims 3 folder.

Caches are temporary files and folders created by the game, which contain the information to help your game load faster. Their accumulation over the time can be attributed to slower loading times and/or gameplay. These files are regenerated each time the game is started, so it is absolutely safe and normal to delete them.

In the following post, we thoroughly explained which files and folders are cache, and can be deleted:

Clearing cache

2. Essential mods for better gameplay

With the amount of official game packs, store and other custom content, a laggier & slower gameplay is inevitable. If you do not have a Mods folder, please refer to Carl's Guide on making Mods folder.

For a better performance and a long lasting save file, we're going to list absolutely necessary mods + what they do:

nraas - ErrorTrap - a core-mod intended to catch and correct data corruption errors that can render a save-game unloadable.

nraas - Overwatch - performs periodical clean up, usually around 3am in-game. Turns off unnecessary electronics, clears up inactive cars piling up, recovers missing Sims and wandering toddlers, checks stuck age-up problems and more.

nraas - MasterController - allows more advanced functions in-game. MasterController Cheats module is necessary for the ability to reset town in longer game sessions (City Hall > NRAAS > Master Controller > Town > Reset Everything). Action takes 5-10 minutes and resets every Sim and every object in town, contributes to resetting anything (or anyone) glitchy. We recommend once-a-Sim-week reset, and saving after such reset.

nraas - Register - allows the player to disable certain NPCs (service and role Sims) in the town. We suggest it for the ability to disable paparazzis, tourists, homeless Sims, stray animals, unicorns, wild horses, etc.

nraas - Traffic - ability to control (and reduce) the traffic (taxis, limos) and special trucks (Food truck, ice cream truck, pet ice cream truck).

nraas - Traveler - created in purpose of catching and correcting bugs and problems in EA's travel code. Allows the possibility of traveling between worlds players have installed.

nraas - Saver - a Saving prompt that comes up every 30 minutes by default. More explained in the Saving section below.

Mod The Sims - Smooth Patch 2.1 - created with intentions of smoother gameplay, less lag, shorter loading and smooth UI. IMPORTANT NOTE: SP versions 2.0 and up are NOT COMPATIBLE with NRAAS mods! For those who wish to use both, we recommend using SP versions 1.x with NRAAS mods + compatibility file provided by LazyDuchess.

Optional mods:

Mod The Sims - No (or fewer) automatic memories - Memories cause a huge amount of save-file bloat. There are three options to combat them: completely disabling memories in-game (below in in-game tips), using a flavor of this mod. Or using NRAAS Master Controller with Cheats (City Hall > NRAAS > Master Controller > Sim > Intermediate > Remove Memories).

Mod The Sims - simler90's Gameplay Core Mod - a core mod set to fix numerous in-game bugs. However, this mod IS NOT COMPATIBLE with several NRAAS mods such as: StoryProgression, GoHere, Traffic, Tagger, Careers, Traveler. To make CoreMOD work with NRAAS Overwatch, players need to follow (Step 4 of this guide) and properly edit the compatibility file.

3. Saving the game

Continuous use of the option Save over the same save-file (overwriting the data) quickly leads into file bloat and eventual corruption, and can help invoke ill-fated "error-code 12". Helping prevent these issues can be combatted by retorting to usage of Save As every often, and changing the save-file name. A way to do it is by writing (Town Name)(Household Name)(Number of save in order) - eg. Sunset Valley Smith 1. This also allows players to keep specific saves they deem important. nraas - Saver is a handy mod that prompts users to save the game under a new name every 30 minutes by default.

On another note - keeping the Saves folder (within TS3 folder) under 4GB is crucial for game performance. Our advice is to keep a minimum of saves in that folder. Others need to be transferred onto a hosting site, or an external device. All saves ending in .bad should be immediately deleted.

4. Cleaning save files

Cleaning save files is a step that should come after all of the previous ones. It's crucial to clean a file every now and then to rid it of unnecessary data, and prevent error-code 12 & 16 and/or corruption.

Mod The Sims - Regul Save Cleaner is currently the fastest, most reliable cleaner. After downloading it, unzip it and open the program. Within the program, open your Save file, check which boxes you wish to clean and click Clear. IMPORTANT NOTE: Back up your Saves before messing with any data within it. Step-by-Step cleaning is also described in step 10 of Steam Guide.

Another, albeit experimental, mean to clean your game using s3pe (from simlogical.com). This heavily detailed nraas - How to use S3PE to clean up your save-game guide shows you how to remove excess data piled by photographs, paintings, memories in-game. We repeat to back-up your save-files before doing anything to them.

5. In-game tweaks and settings

Settings and configurations in-game have a big impact on the gameplay. Depending on player's gaming system, tweaking their settings could speed up their performance. These can be found in game's menu (three dots) > Options. There are several tabs which have adjustable settings.

Graphics - this tab is meant for visual representation of the game. For faster, smoother playback, we recommend keeping the options to Medium (lower if the system can't handle it). Enabling Advanced Rendering, Enabling Animation Smoothing and High Detail Lots being set to a higher number can cause slower playback - adjust the boxes and number to your system's performance.

Sounds - audio options that entirely depend on the player.

General Settings - Things like edge scrolling, 12-hour clock and types of camera are player's choice. But we advise to disable shop mode, usage sharing, memories, lessons and Interactive Loading Screen. Latter can take up double-digit minutes of time in loading.

Game Options - in-game Sim & Pet autonomy and lifespans. All are player's choice.

Video Options - entirely dependent on the player and if they wish to capture anything in-game.

Music Options - list of in-game music.

Online - options to log in the game's website online and connect with other players. We recommend disabling online notifications and disabling Keep Me Logged In option.

Season & Environment - depending on which packs players have, this tab shows configurations for Seasons and Supernatural lunar cycle. The number of days per season can be changed, so can certain Seasons be disabled. Weather can be in Celsius or Fahrenheit. There are four types of weather offered - rain, hail, fog and snow. All but fog have a big impact on the game's performance, so players should disable them, or adjust them accordingly. Active Lunar cycle doesn't have much impact on the gameplay... except for those pesky Zombies during the Full Moon. That's why there's an ability to set the Lunar Cycle to one phase of player's choice, or keep it active per number of selected days.

Advanced Demographics Options - offer the ability to enable or disable built-in EA Story Porgression. Underneath that, depending on which packs player has, there are different categories to enable or disable. Vampires, Witches, Werewolves, Fairies, Pets, Horses and Celebrities. We recommend the player disables what they don't need in their current gameplay, or eventually everything if these Sim types are unneeded. Another option below is to Opt Active Household out of Celebrity System, which doesn't allow active household to gain celebrity points.

Guides we found useful to follow:

Sims 3 Options Overview (carls-sims-4-guide.com)

The Sims 3: Graphics and Performance Guide | Asilee Sims (wordpress.com)

Steam Community :: Guide :: The Sims 3 Performance & Bug Fix Guide 2023 (Bonus Step: In-game Options - Optional)

6. In-game tips & tricks

Many issues can also be combatted from the gameplay.

Frequent town reset with NRAAS Master Controller + Cheats,

Keeping less to no items in personal inventory + frequent clearing out of townies' inventory with NRAAS MC (City Hall > NRAAS > Master Controller > Town > Object Stats > Inventory).

With rewards like Collections Helper, Tears of Horus, it's best to keep their selector to None.

Items like Sultan's Tabernacle, Axe of Pangu and random relics are known to be stuck in inventory, and cause traveling issues. It's best to not purchase the items, or delete or sell them before traveling.

Speaking of travel, any trip to World Adventure countries, the Future or any other world with twallan's Traveler, it's best to pack light! Less to no items in personal inventory that could cause corruption.

Should your Sim visit a WA country once and never go back - you could remove the .nhd file, remembering you'll lose everything you had related to that country (relationships, etc) - back-up your save before doing this.

Gameplays should not last longer than a couple of hours. After at least two hours, it's time to save as, then quit. Clear your cache, remove unnecessary save files and leave the last one in. Restart the game.

Never go from one save into main menu and then open another save. This is a fertile ground for memory leak and early corruption.

Clearing saved Styles and Presets should also be done for faster loading of CAS/CASt, but back-up your previous files before this.

Regularly check and remove/uninstall custom content you don't need anymore.

Regularly re-download mods and replace them in the Mods folder, in case of possible corruption.

Move your Saved Sims from same-named folder to somewhere safe, then delete the originals.

Captured media (screenshots, videos) should be removed from their respective files to somewhere safe often.

Too much custom music can slow down the game. Files should be in .mp3, no more than 320kbps and in limited amount.

Save files and content files from Downloads folder should be backed up on external drives and cleared from The Sims 3 folder.

Some tips taken from nraas - TIPS FOR BETTER GAME PERFORMANCE, but we recommend reading it all through - they connect The Sims 3 folder, in-game options, your device options and how your device can be affected to cause problematic gameplay.

[thelaurenshippen]

things I've done today: organized my google drive, reformatted and organized my new external hard drive, resorted all my itunes playlists into new and improved folders, updated my website, cleaned my desktop, read several newsletters that have piled up in my inbox

things I haven't done today: write

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Chrisssssssssssssssssssss

The innocence of the outfit vs the suggested fantasy Branch wants to enact

I assume the photo was destroyed with other evidence?

After Oliver Branch's death, his house was subject to an intensive criminal investigation. Deepening the mystery of just who had done him in was the fact that no digital devices were located. No cellphones, no laptops. The hard drive to a desktop computer had been removed.

Nothing else seemed to be missing from the home. Just those devices. And, strangely, the home and offices of his defense attorney were also burglarized, with a hard drive removed and entire file folders missing.

They never recovered any of it.

In a wholly unrelated event, the Garden's older gentlemen treated the younger ones to a few rounds of good strong beer... providing they could destroy a pile of specific items beyond any possible recovery or even identification.

And then burn it all afterward.

Because nobody is ever going to get their rocks off looking at Paul Higgs's boy. Not now that his kin have anything to say about it.

And, most importantly, Tristan won't ever even need to know the images existed.

[unicornondeck]

Izzy's Apartment (Modern AU)

His apartment is located directly above the bar, encompassing the entire upstairs space.  It gives him great access to his business and provides him with privacy. The floor plan is very open. He tries to keep the house very clean as he is a bit of a neat freak.

The living area is spacious and has a sofa across from the TV. There is a futon beside of it which is primarily used for overnight guests. The walls feature framed posters from past community theater productions he was in, favorite movies, and his favorite bands. Most of the furniture is of black wood.

Adjacent to the living area is a dining space with black and white wooden table and chairs which he uses sparingly. Most of the time it is covered with either paperwork or random stuff. It tends to pile up with his lifestyle. He hates it piling up though as he likes it clean. The area has numerous photographs taken by him that he thought were suitable for framing. The kitchen is very modern and well-equipped, with dark granite countertops.

The bedroom is cozy and inviting, he has little lights in the shape of stars that hang down from his black curtains. Big enough queen bed, each pillow was a different color and a soft duvet. TV on the wall. He has a record player nearby and a box of vinyl records on the floor. Lots of notebooks. Folders. There is a desk near the other window that has his desktop. Also, there is a lot of photography equipment in the floor.

There is a small balcony too. He likes to unwind and enjoy a cup of coffee in the morning or a glass of whiskey. Potted plants, string lights, and two chairs decorate this balcony.

[alders-simblr]

CC MasterList - Pose Packs and Photography

A brief break from the CAS content. Mostly because I looked at the giant pile of hair, clothes and shoes and realized I need to organize it before I even try to list it all. So, I thought I'd do something a little lighter and talk about the pose packs, mods and props that I find essential.

Must Have Mods

Before I get into the pose packs, there are two mods that are critical for taking photos and using pose packs.

Scumbumbo's Teleport Any Sim

(Andrew took over the mod so the updated version is on his Creator Studio but most places will still reference it as Scumbumbo's mod)

It's really easy to use. It's in your Decorations/Misc Buy Catalog though I always find it by typing 'Teleport' and then clicking to search for the text as its faster. I have a lot of misc decorations in there.

Once you put it exactly where you want the sim to be, use it to teleport a sim if they're on the lot, or summon a sim from a different lot.

Andrew's Pose Player

This will let you click on the active sim to select the pose you want to use from whatever you've loaded into your mods folder. The only real trouble I have with this mod is the icons on the pose pack are so small on my UI that it can be hard to remember which is the one I'm looking for. It's an action with no end so you can safely activate live mode and know they're not going to drop the pose until you cancel the action.

Additional Mods and Cheats

Because I use re-shade blooms, the highlight effect when you mouse over sims can be super annoying bright. Even without bloom effects, it can break emersion when you're trying to take photographs.

There is a cheat command for it -> hovereffects off but I prefer to have a mod remove it entirely.

Foggity's Hidden Highlight

That still leaves the plumbob and other tags. You can disable ALL tags but it will hide everything, including other sim names, etc. Hover info will vanish as will thought bubbles. After typing:

testingcheats true

You want to use:

headlineeffects off

That will hide all the emersion breaking hover effects while you're trying to take photos. It just makes the game harder to play if you leave them off.

A Note on Reshade

If you're using ReShade, you can set up a key command to take a full screenshot and give it a target folder to dump all of those. Most of my screenshots I take, I use that method. I have the screenshot folder on my desktop and every so often, I clear it out and delete the ones I didn't like. It's built into the ReShade program and functions seamlessly.

Pose Pack Creators

Chewy Butterfly -> Patreon | Tumblr

Katverse -> Patreon | Tumblr

Pink Baddie -> Patreon | Tumblr

Rebouk -> Patreon | Tumblr

SamsStudio -> Patreon | Tumblr

Spacecase -> Patreon | Tumblr

StarrySimsie -> Patreon | Tumblr

Errata

To get Nifty In-Game Photos to use on my walls, and for decor, etc, I use Ravasheen's frames and this camera for the in-game photos as it means less fighting with the game's camera controls.

I also have swapped out the maxis textures on background buildings for Miiko's Pastel World Mod which you can find here.

[homoangel]

"damn girl you live like this" but its my desktop completely littered with supernatural folders and piles of screenshots and recordings

[twopoppies]

Hey Gina this is kind of random but I couldn’t sleep last night and got to reorganizing my stupid digital stuff and do you (or does anyone) use calibre for your fic downloads?? Mine have been piling up in a bunch of poorly organized folders and I think this app is completely fixing all of this for me. It’s syncing the metadata and artwork and file types so I will have pdfs, mobis and epubs of everything I have ever downloaded. It would have taken me absolutely ages to do on my own and probably I wouldn’t have completed it. And it’s a free app that’s syncing my phone and cloud and MacBook? I am not very tech savvy so if I’m telling you about something that’s common knowledge I do apologize but this is kind of amazing me right now. Also I have 1,000+ goddamn fics when did this all happen to me? 💗

I actually don’t use it. But I do have it downloaded on my desktop. Good to hear that it’s so helpful!

[the-jellicle-duelist]

me: i am a founding member of the Clean Desktop Club. you’ll never catch me with a messy desktop

also me: yeah so what i have a pile of mostly one off photos that i technically need for a little while but i don’t need them forever so they live on my desktop. and yeah, i could put them in a folder but for what? for who?

[solradguy]

I can't wait to get these model rips so I can clear out this growing pile of random folders cluttering my desktop lol