#quarterly planning calendar

[saintrocklee]

*:･ﾟ✧ RESTRAINT ╰┈➤ part 01 of 05

masterlist | pairing: itachi x reader publish date: 03.28.24 warnings: itachi is annoying and reader is exasperated. you deserve a raise.

“Do you have any plans Saturday evening?”

The speed in which your head comes out from under your desk is record breaking. You'd been working in comfortable silence for over an hour and the sudden noise is startling. Reorganizing your workspace meant going through old files which led to you awkwardly retrieving some that had ended up on the floor — so you couldn't be certain that your boss was speaking to you. Surely there was a client in his office that somehow got past you, regardless of how late in the workday it was. Or maybe he was dealing with an unscheduled phone call. Or maybe the tightly wound man had finally cracked and was talking to himself.

Or maybe something came up and you'd both be sacrificing yet another weekend scrambling to get contracts fulfilled and signatures on the dotted line. The thought fills you with dread and you once again think about how unfortunate you were to be salaried.

You crane your neck to look into your boss' office and can't help but crinkle your forehead in confusion when you're met with an amused look. Both of the large glass doors to the space were propped open today and your employer was currently watching you with a slight curl to his lips. There was a file in his hands he'd no doubt been reading, partially obscuring the way his shirt had become un-tucked and wrinkled. His suit jacket was long gone and his sleeves were rolled up, making you wonder where exactly his cuff links were. He'd been wearing a rather expensive pair you bought for his birthday last year and if they were just sitting out getting scratched up by his glass desk you might strangle him with the tie that was loose around his neck. Which you also conveniently bought for him. Strands of dark hair were starting to come loose from the low ponytail he always wore, falling almost elegantly around his face.

It was completely unfair how effortlessly handsome Itachi Uchiha was. You'd almost be bold enough to call him pretty.

There's a pregnant, almost awkward pause as you continue to furrow your brow

“I’m not sure, I’ll have to check.”

You’re greeted with silence and a perfectly arched brow, him obviously wanting you to check now, and abandon your efforts of reorganization to stand and grab your phone. You're honestly dying to ask why he wanted to know but you’ll only be met with a bored look instead of an answer. Rolling your eyes to yourself while checking your calendar, you miss the way Itachi's mouth curls at your obvious annoyance with him.

A quick flip through your work and personal calendar confirm that you were completely free on Saturday. A rare occurrence.

Something told you that he already knew that.

“I’m free, why? Did Kakuzu finally get back to you?” You toss the words over your shoulder, snorting at the ridiculous email you’d just been sent by a newer business partner. They wanted what felt like twenty four hour access and at the level they were at, they might receive a quarterly sit down. You type out a professional and very sweet no to their request for a last minute meeting before turning and walking into Itachi’s office, flicking through the slew of emails you received since last checking.

Stopping right as you reach his desk, you glance down and immediately notice an extremely fancy envelope. It was thick and gold and shiny and very out of place in the otherwise grayscale office. You'd once said the space felt drained and lifeless, to which Itachi had responded with a comment that sounded like less distractions before handing you a heavy pile of client needs. The evil glint in his eye had been more than enough to warrant a barbed comeback of some sort but you'd rewarded him with a nod and a too-wide smile, already plotting petty revenge.

That entire following week you made sure to only use neon-colored post it notes you borrowed from the new girl downstairs to communicate with him; sticking them all over his computer, desk, and even his door. He never commented on it but you'd caught him glaring at a few neon pink post its and would sometimes hear the paper shredder working overtime.

To this day you still occasionally left him a colorful note when you thought he needed cheering up. Or when you felt like being obnoxious.

Itachi inclines his head toward the gaudy thing while barely looking away from the file in his hands, clearly not going to explain it or himself. Your lips curl to show your annoyance and you pick it up, noting how heavy it was. Further investigation shows that it was already opened and you pull out the glossy paper, eyes widening marginally.

It’s an invitation.

To a gala.

“Itachi ... what is this?” you ask, flipping it over. The date was scrawled on the back in elegant cursive, as well as the location and other impertinent details. Itachi's name is at the bottom, along with room for a plus one, and you blink when you recognize the logo stamped at the bottom.

It was an annual fundraising event frequented by artists, actors, CEOs, musicians — pretty much everyone rich and important that you could think of. This event could be described as the gathering of the year and it was something your boss routinely skipped. You’re almost positive you’ve already emailed the event coordinator to mark Itachi down as a no with some excuse you made up to keep up appearances. He hated events like these and pretty much had you automatically declining any and all invitations extended to him.

You lift your head back up and deadpan at the look he’s giving you. There's the barest hint of a smile on his face and his eyes betray the amusement he's feeling towards your apparent confusion. Itachi didn’t speak unless absolutely necessary which left you to interpret all of his subtle looks and the annoying twinkle in his eye spoke volumes.

It’s obviously for you his perfectly sculpted brow communicates and this time you make sure he sees you roll your eyes.

“You want me to go?”

His lips twitch as he hums, confirming your suspicions, and you blink.

“Are you going?” You question, frowning and tracing your fingers over the delicate raised writing. He made a sizeable donation every year — maybe there were expectations of an in person appearance now.

That still didn't explain your part in all of it.

Itachi’s eyes dance as he speaks, closing the file in his hands and turning his full attention to you.

“Yes. Your attendance is not required, but it is customary to bring a date to these sort of things.”

A breathless laugh escapes you.

“A date.” You repeat, falling back into one of the chairs that faced his desk, finally relaxing when you realized he wouldn't send you to the wolves alone. His amused look quickly morphs into the stereotypical Uchiha deadpan and you feel yourself smile, gearing up to tease him.

As attractive and charming and successful as your employer was, the assumption would be that he’d have no problem finding a woman to hang on his arm, especially for the social event of the year. The only issue was that Itachi was terrible with women. From what you could discern from your position it wasn't from lack of experience, you’re sure he could charm anyone with just a curl of his lips and a warm look, but simply because he despised most people he came into contact with. You’d never seen him date or even welcome advances from other women and now …

Now he was forced to ask his glorified receptionist to attend a glorified ball with him. Because who else would he ask? Who else did the impassive, monosyllabic man in front of you know?

It’s honestly funny. You snort and try to cover it up by clearing your throat.

“You’re having trouble ... finding a date.”

Legendary Uchiha eyes narrow at you in obvious displeasure and you hide your widening grin behind your hand.

“I’m sure there's a list of eligible women I can call to escort you.” You tease, knowing that if your boss was anyone else he’d roll his eyes at you.

Your offer wasn't a fabricated one though. Working this closely with the Itachi Uchiha over the years gave you connections you wouldn’t normally have and there were plenty of models and artists, even a couple of actresses, that you could call. No doubt they would immediately say yes at the chance to be escorted by him. You're already making a mental list when Itachi cuts off your train of thought with three words.

"I prefer you.”

The laughter in your belly fizzles out as you gawk at him. Surely you didn’t hear that right. You wait for him to take it back but Itachi doesn’t move. So, you sort of … freeze.

He said it so casually. Like it was obvious. There was a finality to it that left absolutely no room for discussion. He sounded like he meant it.

A curious ringing starts to buzz in your ears as you swallow dryly in surprise. You can only blink and scramble for any kind of response while your chest stutters in muted confusion.

This was dangerous.

Bottomless black eyes hold yours with an intensity you’re not used to receiving, keeping you pinned to your seat. The message there is clear. You weren’t a last minute choice, you were the choice.

You’re not quite sure what to do with that information.

“Be ready by eight o’clock.” He says in response to your stunned silence, face softening and eyes starting to once again sparkle with amusement. It’s rare, that he’s able to stun you like this, and your jaw ticks.

This was very dangerous.

"I didn't even say I was going."

The office plunges into tense silence and a part of you is already scolding yourself for not just accepting the damn invite and moving on. There's something unspoken hanging between you two now and a line you've tried very hard not to think about begins to materialize in front of you. It's a line you've seen before and every time it appears you seem just a little bit closer to it. This time it feels magnetic but you remain stubborn and ignore the pull entirely. The other part of you, the prouder part that enjoys hiding Itachi's tie clips whenever he forgot to tell you about meetings, the part that is typically infuriated with the man in front of you, wants you to dig your heels in. If he wanted something, he could ask. Until then you would stay where you were and continue on, business as usual.

Safer. This was safer.

Only now the silence was going from tense to uncomfortable. You could refuse him — this wasn't something for work. This was, at its core, a social gathering that for some reason Itachi felt compelled to go to this year.

With you.

As his date.

Not as his office manager. Not as his scheduler. Not as his secretary. Not as his assistant.

His date.

There were implications that went along with it that you were trying extremely hard to ignore. You weren’t like the other women in the office with superficial crushes. You wouldn’t go there. You couldn’t go there.

But he was asking.

This shouldn’t be causing you so much stress. Work was work and when something showed up on your schedule, you went. When conferences and mergers came up, you went.

But this was something else entirely.

And he was asking.

The proud part of you finally wilts and you look away with a long suffering sigh.

"Fine."

You're rewarded with a snort and when you snap your head back Itachi is already back to reading the file in his hands, signaling that this conversation was over. You're half tempted to throw the invitation, gaudy envelope included for maximum impact, at his head but instead stand to go put it in your purse.

Itachi glances up when he's sure your back is fully turned to watch you leave his office. You’d worn a pair of slacks that were climbing to the top of his list of favorites and admires the view you offer while mulling over what had just transpired. You'd given in almost too easily and his pulse jumps at the implication. He expected you to ask for something in return, to tease and poke at him, maybe even flat out refuse — and you exceeded his expectations by accepting rather quickly.

Charming, he thinks to himself as you go back to painstakingly reorganizing your desk. The way your mouth had parted and your pupils had blown when he'd told you why he chose you to attend this godforsaken gala with him had been charming. Endearing. Teeth achingly adorable. He savored moments like those, moments where he could bully past the professional and sarcastic buffer you put up. As much as Itachi enjoyed the banter you both had developed over the years, there was something infinitely more satisfying about the raw moments shared between you two. He knows he's gearing up to cross a line that wasn't meant to be crossed between a superior and their employee but he finds himself selfishly wanting more. He's almost certain you feel the same.

Almost.

Regardless, doing nothing had proven to be useless. You two had become close over the years and he could no longer deny his feelings for you. He couldn't smother the burn in his chest whenever you got too close to whisper something in his ear or slid him a ridiculous note during a presentation. Itachi couldn't fight off the weightless feeling that came with you falling asleep on his shoulder at the airport while waiting for the red-eye. He couldn't stop himself from brushing against you as you walked to lunch, couldn't help but pin his partners with a look when they paid a little too much attention to you, couldn't restrain himself from purposefully getting on your nerves so you'd roll your pretty eyes at him or reward him with a exasperated lecture. Time and time again Itachi found himself helplessly being pulled into your orbit and selfishly wants you to feel as he does. To burn like he does.

Distantly Itachi can hear Kisame calling him a spoiled brat and can't help but curl his lips. In regards to you and you alone, Itachi would begrudgingly agree with his best friend's assessment.

You spoiled him with your time, your hard work, your attention. The sweets you kept in your desk for him, the way you juggled his life almost effortlessly, the way you made sure to have his favorite tea stocked at all times. The way your eyes would sparkle when you'd use glitter pens to write in his personal planner, the way you always anticipated his needs, the way you were always there for him.

Itachi owes you a great deal, personal feelings aside, and this weekend would be the first of many occasions he plans to repay you.

All you needed to do was keep saying yes. He's almost certain you will.

Once you fully agreed, once you knew the extent of his feelings for you and accepted them, once you finally let the barrier come down and crossed the line with him, Itachi's restraint would give out and he would give in to everything he's felt from the moment he realized you were more than just another nameless employee at his company.

You just needed to keep saying yes.

[felassan]

Tweet from shinobi602 reads "EA has plans to release two unannounced titles during its FY25 (before April 2025), including one "owned IP". It then links to a VGC article.

VGC article reads:

"EA plans to release two unannounced games this fiscal year ONE IS A PARTNER TITLE AND THE OTHER IS BASED ON AN OWNED IP Electronic Arts has confirmed plans to release two unannounced titles during its current fiscal year ending on March 31, 2025. The company published an updated product release slate, which is viewable below, as part of its quarterly earnings report on Tuesday. The partner game, which will likely be published through its EA Originals label, will be released in the first quarter of calendar 2025. A quarterly launch window for the game based on the company’s owned IP wasn’t confirmed. According to Giant Bomb reporter Jeff Grubb, the mystery EA title is BioWare‘s Dragon Age: Dreadwolf, which the publisher plans to fully reveal this summer."

[source, two, context]

[end-otw-racism]

OTW Board Meeting Explainer

As part of our second call to action, we're asking fans to attend OTW Board meetings and ask questions about what the Board is doing to fulfill the promises it made to combat racist harassment on its platforms and make the organization and its projects more welcoming to fans of color.

With thanks to Punk for allowing us to utilize their work, here's what you need to know about Board meetings:

The OTW Board will be holding a public meeting on July 2, 2023 at 20:00 UTC. Find out what time that is for you. 

Board meetings are held quarterly (every three to four months) and are open to the public. You don't need to be an OTW member to attend! Meetings are generally announced on the OTW Twitter about a week before and again an hour before, though this lack of transparency is something we're pushing the OTW to change. As part of our call to action, we've launched a letter-writing campaign urging the OTW to make these announcements more broadly across its social media and on the OTW News site itself.

Right now the only place on the site where you can reliably find the meetings is on the Board’s Google Calendar, which you can add to your own and set notifications for new events. The agenda for the next meeting can also be found at the bottom of that page.

Here's the currently planned agenda for the July 2 meeting:

Decisions taken since the previous meeting;

Update wording on our mission statement;

Diversity efforts update;

Any Other Business.

Meetings are held on Discord. Join with this invitation link →

If it’s your first time on the server, you’ll have to agree to the rules of conduct in #01-some-rules with a thumbs-up and choose a role in #02-role-selection. Then you’ll be allowed into the #public-board-meetings channel.

Board meetings are scheduled for an hour. During the meeting, the Board takes relevant questions about the business at hand. If there’s time, there’s an open question period at the end, but you have to get your question in before the hour's up. We don't know about you, but we definitely have a list of questions that need answering. It's also helpful to ask follow-up questions if a Board member gives an evasive or vague answer. Pressing for more information in these meetings is often the only way we get it.

If you aren't already on our Board meeting mailing list, you can sign up for it here, along with our other End OTW Racism projects.

We hope to see you at the meeting!

—The Fandom Against Racism Team

[bookstribepost]

How I planned the year 2024 🌷🪐💌🥂

1. Splitting the year into 4 quarters

2. Having monthy goals and quarterly goals

3. Using Eisenhower Matrix

4. Planning financial savings per quater

5. Planning charity fund per quarter

6. 101 goals for the year

7. Writing down the five year plan and working towards it.

8. Being faith & purpose driven

9. Achieving the 8 dimensions of wellness

10. Bullet journaling

Habits I'll be taking into 2024 🌷

1. Having breakfast everyday

2. Cleaning my room at night before bed.

3. Bullet journaling

4. Keeping a small notebook with me at all times to write down random thoughts.

5. Listening to a podcast while doing chores

6. Deep cleaning once a week

7. Notifications OFF

8. Protecting my energy

9. Using a calendar to mark off goals every day

10. Setting up my notion

11. Starting the morning with warm lemon water

12. Maintaining a morning ritual

13. Weekly skincare duties

14. Multitasking when i can

15. Managing my energy and time

16. 3L water with a pinch of salt everyday adds back the electrolytes you need

17. Planning the next day at night

18. Writing down major goals for the next week on the weekend

19. Planning solo dates

20. Journaling

21. Reading

22. Prepping my meals so I don't feel lazy and skip them

23. Investing in myself

24. Taking one day to complete all the work and the next day for break

25. Enjoying what I do

Habits I won't be taking into 2024 🌷

1. Negative self talk

2. Skipping meals

3. No enough protein intake

4. Too much coffee

5. Letting my mood affect my work

6. Thinking what people think about me has to do anything with me at all

[bronzemettle]

What's this I hear about Hero Rankings? Let me just look up who publishes those...

Are you an aspiring supervillain? You built yourself a laser sword and force field generator and you're robbing banks, but you really want to move up in the world and start making more of a name for yourself.

You need to subscribe to HenchCo Magazine!

This weekly publication contains not only a convenient shopping catalog of advanced technology (It's technically legal as long as we don't explicitly suggest what you would use it for...) (but it's Skymall for rayguns and weather machines), including coupons, plus a selection of tips for places that won't let you buy the tech, but do HAVE cool tech and coincidentally might also have weakened security soon...

You can also find the contact information for an assortment of no-questions-asked mercenary organizations at a variety of price ranges and levels of training, including discounts on HenchCo's own security contractors, all of whom will be willing to wear whatever uniform you give them! Themed, silly, demeaning, unflattering, hazardous to their personal health... Again, no questions asked.

But all that's just the back pages! In the front half of the magazine, every week you'll find the latest insider tips and tricks of the trade, interviews with recently captured supervillains explaining the mistakes they made and how you can do better, expert analysis of the more successful schemes, articles detailing the careeers of the biggest-name villains who never seem to stay down even when they fail again and again...

It's Business Insider, The Economist, Bloomberg, and Forbes all rolled into one, for supervillains! We legally have to tell you that you shouldn't imitate any of the acts described in our pages, but we will describe them in step-by-step detail.

Most of our issues are only for the eyes of paid subscribers, but the second issue of every month is publicly available for standalone purchase in most places that magazines are sold, or in digital form on our website. So you can get a taste without taking the plunge. But know that for every deal, for every tactic you learn, there's so much more behind just $70 per year, or $650 per 12 years (12 year subscription also comes with a free lidded, insulated, copper-interior beer stein that's ornately decorated with human-safe Kryptonite gemstones and contains trace amounts of salvaged Chitauri metal from the 2008 invasion of New York!)

But you may also be familiar with our Special Publications. Quarterly since Spring of 2006, we release our updated "200 Heroes You Must Plan To Defeat to Conquer The World" list, colloquelly referred to by other news outlets as the Hero Rankings.

The simple numbered list of names is available for free on our website, but if you buy the full issue (the first one of each year is available to non-subscribers), you'll find the full breakdown of all 200, who's new, why people moved up or down, full profiles for all their known powers, associates, standard operating procedures, where they patrol, whether they kill, whether they work with the police or SHIELD, and everything else you will need to know, along with another 55 honorable mentions, explanations of why they didn't make the list, and explanations for anyone who was removed from the list since the previous quarter.

Another Special Publication is the famous, infamous, ever-criticized and ever-popular Supervillain Swimsuit Calendars! Since 2010 these are released alongside the first issue of November for each upcoming year. There's a Men's Version, a Women's Version, and a Third Version with a little of everything, 36 (or more!) models every year, but each issue for that week is only packaged with one of the three variations, so your local stands might run out of the one you want! Have no fear, you can order this one online for delivery (shipping not included). Usher in the new year with saucy images from twelve of your favorite outlaws, cutthroats, and misunderstood visionaries.

There may also be... alternate takes for some of the photoshoots, dependent on whether the models were willing to go the extra distance. Available exclusively to subscribers, the Swimsuitless Version of the calendar might only feature models already in the other three variations, and might not even have unique models for every month on some years, but there are no pesky swimsuits to be seen. It's all supervillains all the time from toe to tongue!

(HenchCo Magazine is seriously a genius little bit of background worldbuilding Kim Possible set up for my headmate to wildly expand off from for an old fanfic and then me to steal wholesale for this. I love it so much.)

[stormxpadme]

Whumptober 2024 No. 6 - Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

06/04/2018

After the third admonishment that morning, equally silent as unambiguous, this time in the shape of a lack of a coffee refill, the numerous unattended school-related e-mails, most of them marked with an accusatory exclamation mark in the inbox list, could no longer be ignored.

Reluctantly, Scott gave up on his attempt to decipher what Logan generously called handwriting on the latest Danger Room protocols and pushed aside the notes for the next simulation rotation before he could change his mind. A routine keyboard shortcut started his computer's voice command and dictation system, with the same two fingertips coming to rest on the record button instantly flashing up on his desk in addition to the permanently projected rows of letters and numbers. “Recipients: back office. Text: Hint taken. After three subsequent days of ignored incoming mail, you officially have permission from now on to call me out over the speakers. Your plan has a weakness though. For getting administration instructions out of me, caffeine withdrawal is counterproductive.”

His hearing, well-trained thanks to certain mutation-related physical handicaps, promptly picked up laughter from two sides next door, the second a quick tap on the enter button had forwarded this first, not entirely serious order straight to his secretaries' monitors. Just a few seconds later, the familiar hum of the fully automatic machine there followed, which not least due to far more gentle maintenance hands produced much better quality than Scott's personal ancient coffee maker in its dusty corner.

“New calendar appointments: Tax evaluation next Thursday, ten a.m. at mine. Investor meeting next Thursday, two p.m., video conference. Standard e-mail invitation, include delay apology. Internal note: Meeting prep starts as soon as the quarterly figures from Worthington Labs, the Xavier Restoration Foundation, and Summers Upcycling have been filed.” Scott released the record button when the door to the adjoining office opened and rubbed his eyes under his glasses, where a familiar burning sensation of frustration and impatience was already building only five minutes in. So many parts of his job would have been a lot less time-consuming if even half of his global partners would be working as reliably as his team in this building. “Any particular reason, the majority of European CEOs take their summer vacation in June already?“

”At least they take vacations.” The amused answer came, instead of from one of his two office fairies as expected, from a sonorous, always slightly rumbling voice into which mischief mixed when Scott startled, quickly pushing his glasses back into place to turn his head towards his uninvited visitor in irritation.

Hank knew exactly that on such busy days, Scott wouldn't have had the nerve for him again trying to baby him and wouldn't even have asked him inside voluntarily. So he'd gained access via the other room with the help of his charm, which was notoriously irresistible to certain employees. At least he was holding a steaming cup in his paw as an attempt at reconciliation.

Scott took it without a word and demonstratively turned back to his screen, while Hank, just as unfazed, pulled up a chair, his bag tucked under his arm. Since his old friend just couldn’t get it into his head that there was no room for neglectable procedures in Scott's packed everyday life, he would have to live with the fact that today, he would have to administer them without one of his lectures, at least if they weren’t to make their way into Scott's integrated screen microphone as well. “Regarding date proposals for parent-teacher conference: Just carve out any evening during report card week. Cc notification to Mrs. LeBeau and Mrs. Munroe. Prepare participant invitation for video conference including last year's agenda; I'll update it personally. Personal attendance in special cases is optional.”

Hank was at least nice enough to wait until this message, too, had been moved to the “Done” folder before gently but firmly coaxing Scott to peel out of his shirt's right sleeve. Completely unimpressed by Scott's huff, he clicked the thin metal band of a tourniquet around his upper arm close and rummaged for a package of IV lines in his bag next. “Never mind me."

With gritted teeth, Scott focused on the message again which one of his assistants had marked with no less but three exclamation marks in the subject line in addition to the High Importance label. Which awarded these racist motherfuckers from the school district supervisory board with far more significance than they deserved.

A discreet tap on his elbow. Right.

Pumping his fist. Release. Pumping. Waiting. Pump. "Regarding the PNW BOCES request for curriculum oversight: Postal reply, school's letterhead. Text modules: The District Office will be provided with the 2018/2019 theory subject-specific annual overview from the Xavier Institute in July, just like from every other educational institution in this State, and not a day earlier. The contents of mutation-specific subjects and practical power training, on the other hand, continue to be covered by the Discretion Guidelines of the Mutant Privacy Act 2002, version 33.III, paragraph 7, no. 2, last updated 7/2017, published by the Mutant Department and the White House Press Office. Attachment: excerpt of the corresponding law gazette. Yours sincerely.”

Too firm pressure of thick, fur-covered fingertips, encased in protective rubber, on the crook of his arm. A reluctant shake of his friend's head that Scott noticed from the corner of his eyes.

Keep pumping. Release. Wait. A steadily worse-growing tingling from protesting nerve endings. "Regarding the invitation to the Bishop Publishing garden party: Postal acceptance for two, X-Men's letterhead, present for personal signature. Forward a copy to Mrs. Munroe. Appointment in Mrs. Munroe's calendar; note added from the Principal's office: Order, not a request. Have her bring one of the teenagers. Business casual, no uniforms.”

The sharp sting of disinfectant stung in Scott's nose. Another harsh tap on his increasingly numb arm. More headshaking.

Pumping. Waiting. Pumping. "Internal back office note: I've seen your reminder regarding the monthly expense report. No need to mark it as unread again. Give me two hours on the weekend. Usual end-of-term madness. You know how this works, ladies. It's not been that long since you two went to this school yourselves."

Scott didn't even need to drop his scowl when he lowered his sight for a moment, towards where Hank was still busy with that damn needle.

His friend didn't even bat a lid but had the decency to wait until Scott had stopped the dictation once more before he deigned to explain himself. “After decades of abuse, even the most patient veins give in eventually, my young Captain. Wrist? Side of your neck? Thigh?”

Scott almost told Hank that he could just empty that IV bag in the sink as far as he was concerned, but then decided to rather obediently offer his friend his hand instead. The sooner they got this crap over with, the sooner he could get back to his work properly. A barely audible hiss passed his lips when the damn needle finally slipped into its spot between two knuckles. Probably one of the last locations on his arms not yet fully scarred from this whole shit, and not exactly one of the most pleasant ones. He congratulated himself once more on making the decision right after his more or less voluntary promotion back then, to not bother with keyboards in the first place but to train a corresponding program to his voice so thoroughly that in case of emergency, he could work single-handedly, too. Hank had never been particularly considerate of overflowing inboxes. “The coded message from the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters regarding assessment and registration updates for new internal students, I'll keep on resubmission myself. I'll handle this, don’t worry. Forget about it. If Director Fury's office does keep spamming you, send them a receipt of acknowledgment. If there's something in this letter that can't wait: Director Fury has my phone number.”

Two large bandaids instead of one fixed to the irritated reddened area on the back of his hand, so that Scott would not get tempted to give in to his impatience as he had a few times in the past and fuck around with the metal in his vein himself. The stinging in his muscles only worsened when the tourniquet finally snapped open. Then a burning like lava under his skin when Hank connected the line to the IV and released the dial all the way without a warning, the first drops creeping into the overused channel.

Scott suppressed a treacherous groan on his lips, glad that to the attachment of the next email, he had to sacrifice at least a silent minute or two of reading before he could press the record button again with the hand that wasn't filled by an angry throb. "The order lists are good to go, except for the garden center. No, we're still not buying llamas and Shetland ponies for garden maintenance, but tell the kids, nice try. The extra pool supplies are fine; summer weather forecast is pretty wild. Mr. and Mrs. LeBeau are planning their Halloween party again this year, so make sure we don't run out of candy and pumpkins. And remind the U.G.E.R. administration that they owe us two barrels of Kree-Ale for keeping S.H.I.E.L.D. off their backs in March." That had been the last unattended message for the time being, as Scott noted with relief, at least the last one that couldn't wait a few more hours if he squinted. With a small grimace, he used his IV arm to send the full instruction list next door before leaning back in his chair, rubbing his reddened eyes again. "I'm beginning to understand why Charles abused his telepathy for years to keep this place running. Certainly left a lot less of a headache.”

“Your headaches don't come from bureaucracy, my young Captain.“ Hank made no move to get up from his chair, though that bag of viscous fluid that he'd hung on the floor lamp behind Scott's desk as usual, would have drained just fine without him.

”Wanna bet?” Scott sighed, half amused, half annoyed, when his landline phone came to life with a shrill ring. It was the extension of one of his secretaries showing on the display, and the extension list revealed one of the mansion's three main lines lighting up red as well. Which meant an external request that Scott's two fairies hadn't managed to handle for some reason. Christ, how much he hated office days. "Coffee was great, thank you. Had just a few hairs too many.”

“I got the Daily Bugle on line 2, Principal Summers. It's about the earthquake on the west coast. Jameson says that if you don't give him anything, he'll have to work with what he's found out himself.” Which was exactly nothing, and the suspicious tone of his office manager said, she knew that just as well as Scott did.

Jameson making headlines out of nothing never ended well for anyone involved.

And this time, the X-Men had been too fast for the press about picking up that little boy who had almost caused a tsunami last week and for Ororo to dissolve the latter before it could have even fully built. That done, this unpleasant little episode was no longer of any concern of the public. That would otherwise only have refueled discussions among normal people that had actually almost died down, not least thanks to the surprisingly mutant-friendly politics coming from Washington in the last few years.

“Tell him I'm in an important meeting with my Chief medical officer. If he wants to do his story himself so badly, have him send it to Mr. Murdock for approval first. Jameson should still have his e-mail address from the last time Murdock vaporized him in court for us. Thanks.” A soft hiss escaped Scott's throat when he instinctively tried to hang up with the wrong hand. The receiver would almost have crashed on the desk with a loud bang if Hank hadn't caught it thanks to his good reflexes and put it down on the phone himself.

“How much longer do you think you can keep this up, Scott?“

”No idea. For when's the next apocalypse scheduled? Statistics say, it's my turn to bite it this time. Then at the latest, you'll be rid of me blocking your treatment calendar.” Shrugging, Scott turned to his coffee, which had long gone cold.

Hank rolled his eyes so hard that for a moment, nothing but the whites of his eyes could be seen in the deep sockets. “Just for the record, when we tell you to lighten up a little, we don't mean you're supposed to copy your wife's dark sense of humor.”

“You'll have to be more specific then, I guess. Anything else I can do for you? Otherwise, I'll be fine here now. How to pull needles, I know by now, thank you.” Scott tried demonstratively waving his right hand, without much success.

“If you want to hold classes again tomorrow with a bruise so big that the kids will worry, be my guest. Otherwise, sit back and stop fondling your damn computer for ten minutes.” Scott's suppressed growl, unfortunately, wasn’t able to leave much impression on someone with a feral mutation; Hank even slowed down the trickle of those damn drugs, as if he'd sensed that Scott's blood vessels were particularly resentful today of another renewed assault with medication not originally intended for human systems.

"It's possible you could spare yourself all this, you know.”

“Can you stop about that?“ With a sigh, Scott leaned his head back against the backrest of his chair because the effects of the narcotics were gradually beginning to set in, albeit without the stuff achieving what it actually should.

”Actually, I'm just getting started. With a patient family on the list that's made up of three masochists, you get to practice stubbornness a lot.”

Scott bared his teeth. “Right. Because that's what I chose, obviously, falling out of an airplane as a teenager and ending up with irreversible brain damage.”

That dig also missed its mark by miles. “Not that, no. Your choice is ignoring that we might have a solution in our armory to control your mutation.”

“We don't have a solution,” Scott replied harshly. ”What we have is an 18-year-old enemy's weapon for which there's neither specifications nor any upgrades. I'm not even fulfilling my daughter's only birthday wish every year, to be able to look me in the eye at least once. What exactly makes you think that I'm hot on getting addicted to some unstable inhibitor ray because of a few headaches?”

“These few headaches, you'll die from in the field sooner or later.“ Hank put a heavy hand on his shoulder before he could make a move to turn away with his chair – not that with that damn stuff in his blood, his reaction time would have been good enough. ”An extraterrestrial force like your optic blasts can't be contained forever. These bouts are going to get worse by the year, and at some point, having U.G.E.R. supply you with Shi'ar painkillers simply won't cut it any longer. Not to mention, being addicted to this stuff isn't exactly healthy either ... What is it that you think will happen if a flash of pain brings you down in the middle of a physical conflict one day? If you're blinded by a migraine aura so badly that some psychotic mutant-hating special unit member or a Weapon X merc can put holes in you? What will you do then?“

”Make sure, no one else dies because of me and drag my ass out of there so that the others can finish the job,” Scott replied flatly.

Hank's claws dug into his shoulder, tightly enough to leave marks on his shirt that dry cleaning was very unlikely to be happy about tonight. “Oh really. Does your wife know that? Maybe you should let her in on your death wish before we run into someone like Mojo or Lady Deathstrike next time.”

“Tone it down, Henry.” Scott pushed Hank away reluctantly. ”I'm fine. We're talking about a headache here. A lot of people in this house live with far worse issues.”

His friend was obviously not done by a long shot, reopening wounds today. “And some of them would kill for any means that would give them even a little relief. Forget the reversal weapon for a moment. You didn't even ask the only person for help who knows exactly what you're dealing with.”

“My brother and my father didn't even bother telling me that they're alive and know exactly who and where I am until New York went up in flames,” Scott reminded him harshly. ”Alex sometimes even forgets to forge Christopher's signature on his Christmas and birthday cards. What exactly makes you think he's got any interest in working on my powers with me?“

”Assuming again, instead of asking. In some ways, you're more like Charles than you realize.” If Hank saw the dangerous flash behind Scott's glasses at that last remark, he ignored it masterfully.

“If you insist, I'll be happy to smuggle a personal message into the next diplomatic requests for the Defenders of the Earth, hoping that they'll drop it at the nearest intergalactic post office and Christopher will pass by there sometime in the next ten years or so. It can only be a matter of months then before he finds out which dimension Alex is currently in.”

“Maybe these two would show up here more often if had a feeling, they're welcome.” Hank waved vaguely towards the painting of Christopher's current shuttle on the wall, which had been sent as a more or less subtle hint with said last Christmas card.

Not an invitation that Scott would have been even remotely interested in following. He couldn't even manage to go on a summer vacation with his wife, as he'd been promising her for years. His interest in spending his non-existent free time in space instead was below the average temperatures up there. “For 20 years, these two made no effort of that kind in return. I'm not begging anyone to love me, Hank, and I certainly don't beg anyone for help. Especially not when I don't fucking need it.“

”Your wife and daughter would probably argue with that.”

“What was that about assumptions?” Scott was relieved to see that the damn IV bag was almost empty. He still wasn't feeling any effect, but at least he would no longer have to fend off any match points in a moment. ”You know really runs in our family? Caution about fucking around with mutations needlessly.”

Hank threw up his hands in exasperation. “And that's a surprise because …? After the example you've been setting for Cat and Sassy for years? How is one supposed to travel uncharted territory without an anchor, a lifeline?”

“Why do I get the feeling that you don't just keep coming here to turn me into a pincushion?” Scott demonstratively nodded down at the IV, through which fortunately there was nothing more coming.

Hank shrugged nonchalantly and grabbed a swab from his pocket. “Chain of command. Unfortunately, I can't order you to go lie down on your wife's couch. So I'll have to do the job myself.”

“If Katja and I ever feel like using that couch in her office, you can be pretty sure that's not gonna be for counseling."

Scott winced ruefully when Hank, as a punishment for the crude attempt of renewed deflection, pulled the needle from his hand with a little too much force, pressing down on the bleeding just as roughly.

“If you'd rather go back to ruining your stomach with pills until you can only get by on liquid food at some point, you can just tell me.”

“Nonsense.” Scott let himself sink back into his chair, clenching his fists a few times with a sigh of relief. This time, there was no burning. Some of that painful tension in his shoulders had also eased up, and for the first time in days, his neck didn't feel like his spine would break in two the moment he turned his head too far to the side. There was still a slight throbbing behind his forehead, but that was nothing he hadn't been able to ignore for decades. Better than nothing. "You know there'd be something missing from my life without you kicking my ass at least once a week, Henry.”

Unlike him, Hank had not yet found his smile again. He packed his things remarkably quickly. “I'd probably feel better if I had a feeling that it was at least starting to help.”

On that subject, Scott couldn't grant his friend more than a slow shrug, at least today. “I'm trying.”

“I don't doubt that. You've just always been a really lousy student when it came to saving yourself. That's probably a disease one catches from that chair. Later, Principal Summers." Hank left faster – this time through the front door just like it should be – than Scott could think of something to say to this last low blow.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

[papasbaseball]

His Office of Propriety (Papa Emeritus IV x Reader)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: All the warnings. Dubcon bordering on Noncon, Knives, Blood, Mention of Torture, Violence, Clothes Cutting, Rough Sex, No Aftercare, Office Sex and Boss/Employee dynamic.

Summary: Furious from a meeting where he is cut off financially by the clergy, Papa Emeritus IV takes his frustrations out on his assistant. He doesn’t know yet that his loyal assistant had more reasons to be loyal than just a paycheck. Too bad loyalty does not soothe anger and a wounded ego. She will have to learn from her mistakes the hard way.

Word Count: 3,470

Notes: READ THE WARNINGS. Translations are at the end.

AO3 Link

"Maledetta puttana del cazzo!" The door slams so hard you thought the bricks around it would come crumbling down. His brow hoods his mismatched eyes as Italian venom continues to pour from his lips. Barreling towards you, he looks like a bull that had been speared by a matador, his jacket as red as the fatal cape.

"Pap-"

"You think you can run your fucking mouth, hm?" Unable to look at him, your pen shakes as you try to go back to underlining an important number—it had to be important, must be important—for his upcoming quarterly meeting with the clergy. He snatches the pen and tosses it across the room. "Run your mouth now. What did you tell Sister Imperator?"

"I didn't-"

"But you did. Do you want to know how I know?"

Your whole body is shaking. Rage tries to escape the heavy paint on his face, reddening a patch of skin on his neck where the paint had rubbed off. His eyes are wild, lit red in the shimmering fire of that jacket. He snatches you by the back of your shirt out of your chair, the stitches on your chiffon blouse ripping barely audible above his ragged breathing. “No, Papa! No!”

“Only you knew! Now I am leashed!” The soft cotton of his glove wraps around your throat and he slams you so fast to the wall that one of his framed accolades falls, glass shattering with a pop. “I trusted you and you violated my trust, dolce.”

The pet name makes you whimper. It’s new and so perfectly wrong with how mad he is. You had fantasized about him calling you all kinds of pet names, but never like this. He would be on the phone, thinking you were too busy logging receipts and making appointments. You would watch his brow knit together as someone told him about plans for the new tour and you'd think of you and him curled up in his bed on a Sunday morning - nowhere to go, nothing to do- just the two of you. You imagined how he’d play with your hair and call you every beautiful diminutive under the sun, kissing and touching and fucking. You'd dream until he hung up the phone.

His lips twitch into a smile that would make Satan himself shiver. “Did you do it to make me mad, dolce?” He drags out the e in a gravelly tone. He slides his hand up to where your jaw meets your neck, pinning you to the wall like one of his accolades.

“P-Please,” you choked under the grip of his glove, “I would never try to make you mad. I'm sorry.” Tears stung your eyes as he pressed harder.

He throws you to the ground, the carpet stinging your palms and knees. Your back arches as you try again to stop thinking about him fucking you, here on all fours, in the middle of his office of propriety. The glass from the frame crunches as he steps around you to search for something in his desk. “Let me tell you about my day, dolce. Maybe it will jog your memory, hm?” You stay silent. “I finished my meeting with Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil at 4 o'clock - you know this, ma certo, you put it in my calendar.” His voice is calmer now, more measured. It's enough to make your bones grow cold. “She called this meeting for a very important reason, dolce. Do you know why?”

You shook your head, not wanting to anger him further with your words. Looking up, you see that he is holding up a pocket knife that he found in the drawer.

He sucked his teeth. “You are a very bad assistant, sending me into traps like this.” He holds the knife up to the sunlight streaming through the windows, watching as the glint glides back and forth. Your stomach churns and your legs beg you to run. Moving only millimeters at a time, you crawl towards the door. “I will tell you,” he says, continuing to search his drawer, knick-knacks knocking about, “Sister says to me ‘Copia, I’m cutting you off.’ This is news, yes? I ask her why. She says, ‘The clergy did not approve your new vestments.’”

Shit. It is starting to come together now. It was a passing conversation you had in the hall with Imperator the day the new vestments came in. You had told her just how regal he looked in them, leaving out how your heart raced when your fingers glided down the silky brocade that felt so good over his solid chest. You had dreamt of him fucking you that night, the fine fabric bunching over the small of your back, him so desperate to finally have his assistant that he couldn't even bother to take the damned thing off. You move more quickly toward the door.

"You see, dolce, that is when I knew. Only you had seen them. Only you had access to my receipts. They were supposed to be a surprise."

The door is within reach when the sole of his boot connects with your back and presses until you crack. Your elbows buckle and the floor comes up to knock the wind from you. He kicks you in the ribs to face up, but it’s the knife that has you scrambling backward, the carpet biting into your rug-burned palms once again. You try to ignore the heat in your core marbling with the fear in your stomach.

“Please, Papa!” “They cut me off. You need to be taught a lesson.”

“No, please Papa. I’m sorry, I’m stupid!" It's coming up and you can't stop it "I kept thinking about how good you looked in them and I was daydreaming.” The tears are pouring down your face. Was he going to cut your tongue out? Was he going to kill you? The room spun and you wanted nothing more than to pass out. Let this nightmare end and go back to the sweet dreams of him and you in that bed on a Sunday morning. “I shouldn’t have opened my mouth,” you sob, “but Sathanas has cursed me to think of you every night and my mind is not sane.”

You see the glint of one of his canines and he laughs.

“The little lamb has developed a crush on her shepherd, has she?” His knee had pushed up your skirt and you realize just how firmly it was pressed against your aching cunt. A nudge is all it takes for you to rock your hips against it like the pathetic infatuated creature you are, cooing in misery. You want to die, but you need him to keep going, and all you can do is whimper.

He presses the blade against your throat. “Use your words, dolce: Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” Sick satisfaction highlights those painted lips. You know the answer, you just can’t say it. The blade presses harder and the pain gushes them forward.

“Yes, Papa! Only you. Every night.” He hums seemingly with pride.

“Good girl. And how do you touch yourself?” The blade prompts you again with a bite.

“Ah! With my hands, Papa. I imagine they’re yours. I think about how good your cock would feel when I fuck myself with my fingers.”

“The assistant dreams of her Papa’s cock, is that right?” His knee grinds into your pussy and you have hope for a brief moment, hope that he wants this too and that he wants to see you writhe in ecstasy. It’s not in his bed, tangled in his arms and the sheets, but he might let you cum if you’re good.

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

The knife pulls off your throat and you cry as he stands up, your dark desire craving the pressure of his leg. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and points the knife to your cheek. "Beg."

"What?"

"Beg for my cock. Beg for me to use your worthless pussy."

"Papa-" The knife nicks the apple of your cheek and you yelp.

"Do it."

You swallow hard on your tears. The words that he wants to hear are turning your cheeks redder than the blood blooming forth from the knife. "Please let me have your cock, Papa."

“Do you think you deserve it? Do you think you have earned it when you can’t even keep your mouth shut?” He cracks you hard across the face with his palm, the gloves muting the slap.

Turning your head back to look into his eyes breaks you. You can see the faint glimmer of pain for the first time, how you’ve truly hurt and disappointed him behind all that rage. What good were you, the person he was supposed to be able to trust with his secrets, if you told them to anyone? The disappointment chokes your voice. “Please. Let me earn it. Let me earn you.”

He unlaces his pants, never breaking eye contact, and frees himself from their ripped confines. The knife ghosts down your cheek until it tips your chin up to look up at him. Any warmth in those mismatched eyes is now gone, replaced with sadistic want. “Worship me, troia senza valore.”

His cock is already half hard and looks too big to fit in your mouth. You place a hand on his leg to steady yourself, but he quickly swats it off. “Did I say you could touch me?”

“No, P-”

“Suck.” The knife guides you to the thick head, your lips trembling. You can’t help but to open your mouth as the bead of precum touches your lips, eager for the salt of him. His hand is in your hair quicker than you can realize and Copia is guiding you down the length of him. Your jaw aches as it struggles to wrap around his girth. You give up and relax the muscles, letting yourself drool like a mindless animal. He hisses out a stream of Italian you’d never heard before. In your pitiful heart, you hope that he is praising your mouth. You hope that he is telling you how hot and tight it is, how it's the best mouth he's ever had. Daring a glance up, you see that he isn’t even looking at you.

Steadying your hands behind your back, you take the initiative and hollow your cheeks while looking up at him in defiance. He looks down on you, smug as ever.

“Is my office slut finally ready to behave and cooperate? It is clear that I need to retrain you.” He guides your head faster and harder, occasionally touching the back of your throat. “Would you like that?” You don’t dare nod and break his rhythm, only batting your eyes up at him in agreement.

He pushes further and further until you are gagging on him. "Ah ah. Look at me. You will take it all, capisci?"

Digging your nails into your palm, you push yourself onto him again, trying to angle your head so you wouldn't choke again. That's enough. It will be enough. When you go to pull off he holds you head down on him. You choke and sputter, desperate for air as the pressure in your head pushes you closer and closer to passing out.

“That is a good girl. This is a very important lesson, no? Holding your breath, so you don’t spill my secrets again.”

You’re sure you’re on the precipice of unconsciousness when he finally pulls out. The deep gasps send sharp pangs to your lungs. Each breath hurts so bad, but the high they give you, oh the high. Your thighs tremble to hold yourself up. Something in your arms is begging for you to grab on and cling to his legs. Don't. The smack from earlier still stings under your skin. This is his office. His rules. You’re finally able to look up at him through your watery mascara stained eyes.

His thumb comes down to wipe away a mascara tear track. "So pretty. You are the prettiest when you follow my rules. Obedience looks good on you, dolce."

You lean into his sweet hand. The affection, even after choking you with his cock, is enough to make you cry tears of joy.

"Mi dispiace, Papa. Thank you for the lesson."

"I did not say we were finished." His fingers twist your hair, dragging you up to your feet and over to the red velvet divan. As he guides you to lay down on it, the fabric brushes and cradles your skin with the plush luxury. “A lesson must be permanent.” The knife is at the ready again and you can see the edge stained red with your blood.

The wind is crushed out of you once more in a horrible sob. “Please Papa. I’ve learned my lesson. Please.”

He is quick, slicing through the chiffon and pearl buttons with his knife. It is another cut in the series of slashes he has already made to your ego. You think about how you saved for so long to buy that blouse on your monthly ministry outing and how you’d picked it out just for him. There isn’t even enough time to process the loss before he has cut the straps and the front of your bra open, spilling your breasts out for him. “Ecco. This is much better, no?” You try to cover up, but he nicks a cut into your arm in response. “You will not cover up what is mine. If I wanted you to cover up, I would have told you.”

He slashes through your skirt but leaves your pantyhose untouched. The chill of the office air already has you shivering and your nipples puckering into hardened buds. “This is your new dress code, pet. Since I will be wearing less clothing because of you, so will you. As above, so below.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Why did you do it?”

You hadn’t seen that question coming. Five little words and you can’t look at him. You can feel your slick leaking out to soak the inner thighs of your pantyhose. He tilts your face back to face him with the knife and you can see his cock is leaking precum again. “I did it because I was too busy thinking about wanting to fuck you,” you mumble.

“Maybe I should fuck you with my knife if you want me that bad.” The knife pierces the soft skin of your cheek.

The blood drains from your face and your body screams again to run for the door. If you did that he would shove the blade right through your pantyhose, mangling the soft wet flesh. The thought made your skin crawl and tears burst from your eyes.

“Please, Papa, anything but that. Please don’t hurt me.”

“I must hurt you in some way, pet. It is the only way you’ll learn. Daydreaming has become a bad habit for you.” His face and tone are sympathetic but his words are pure cruelty.

You sob even harder knowing that he can do whatever he wants to you, there is no escaping this room without the consequences.

“You must be a brave pet for your, Papa, d’accordo? I will let you choose where I hurt you if I am satisfied with how you please me.”

You want to please him. If you obey, maybe he will rethink his punishment. “Can I have the knife please?”

You’re so weak he doesn’t think twice. He places the blade in your hand curiously.

“I can be brave.” You slide the knife down the front seam of the hosiery, watching as the threads spring back with eagerness, exposing your soaked panties for him. It is a little more difficult, but you wiggle the blade from hip seam to hip seam across the front of the white soaked cotton. “For you, Papa. I can’t leave now.”

His lips are on yours, as he presses you further into the sofa. It’s real and your heart is beating overtime as he slips his tongue greedily into your mouth. His. His. His. He is claiming you as his. You moan and rock your hips up against him, desperate to feel him take you fully.

He takes his cock and teases it up and down your slit. Once. Twice.

“Papa, please.”

“How long have you wanted this, pet?”

“Since the fir- aah!” He’s sinking so quickly inside you that you can’t help but to clench around him. His eyes burrow into you, speaking to the undeniable fact that you are so thoroughly his and he knows it. He watches you intently, pushing and pushing until he bottoms out.

“Use your words, dolce.” He steadily pulls out again.

“Since the first day, Papa. Since I started working in your office.” He thrusts into you again and you cry in delight as he stretches you fully. It’s better than the daydreams. Little details you hadn’t even thought of like his warm breath against your collarbone, the way the sequins of his jacket lightly scratch their markings into the valley of your breasts, all become the focus of your attention as he fucks you for his pleasure.

“But you never did anything?”

“You’re Papa. I am just a sister of sin.”

“I am Papa.” He wraps his hand around your throat once more. “You are below me and you belong to me.”

The pressure builds in your head again and you drop the knife, the metal clattering on the floor. Your hands break your own rules as they claw at the soft leather of his sleeves. You’re not certain if it’s to pry him off or beg for more. His hips are now snapping into you at such a rapid pace, and occasionally they’ll catch in the right way, bruising your needy clit. The whimpering from you is uncontrollable.

It’s sooner than you want as he spills into you. All it would take is a few more thrusts for you to reach your own high, but he slips out of you and you can feel his unholy seed leaking from the gaping mess that he’s made you. Tears bud in your eyes, but it’s futile to ask.

He picks up the knife from the floor. “You learn quickly and I am satisfied. I will let you choose.”

“I want to make you happy, Papa. I have already upset you.” In truth you wanted it somewhere where it wouldn't hurt so much, like an arm, but you’re aching cunt wanted him to finish what he had started, and that meant making him happy.

His lips quirk up into a smirk. “You want your Papa to choose? Even after all of my punishment?”

You bite your lip, fighting the fear creeping in.

He takes the knife and guides it to the muscle of your thigh, pushing back the ripped edge of your pantyhose. You do your best to fight the pain, but still cry like a wounded animal as it slices through the skin. It’s like a paper cut on steroids, but it is over just as soon as it started. Five lines. The Roman numeral IV.

“You owe me, so now I own you.” He offers no remedy for the bleeding, simply getting up to put his knife away at his desk once more. Cleaning the blade, he collapses it and shuts the wooden drawer. “I expect you to be in the office 30 minutes early every day and you will stay 30 minutes late for the purposes of servicing me.” He tucks himself back into his pants, lacing them up like none of this had ever happened. “Since I now own you, I do not want you touching what is mine. Playing with yourself and fantasizing about me is what got you into this mess. You are only allowed to touch yourself when I tell you to, capisci?”

Your cunt drips at the thought of it belonging to him, contracting around the memory of the stretch of him. “Yes, Papa.”

“I will call for clothes so you can leave the office, but until then, get back to work. I have to make other plans for the tour.” He draws out the chair and is immediately punching buttons on the phone.

You get up in your cut pantyhose and underwear, walking back to your desk, mindful of the broken glass. The cold office air licks against your still hot skin and you almost slip your hands between your legs before you catch yourself. The pout creeps onto your face, but you look over to him, a ghost of how you used to daydream. He did say I would have to stay 30 minutes after. Maybe he’ll let me cum then… if I’m good.

TRANSLATIONS: "Maledetta puttana del cazzo!" - Damn fucking whore! dolce. - Sweet ma certo - But of course troia senza valore - worthless whore capisci? - Do you understand? Mi dispiace - I am sorry Ecco - There. d’accordo - Okay

[mi6-cafe]

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WIP Wednesday: You can post an excerpt of your WIP on our post or make your own post and mention the @mi6-cafe. Either way it’s a fun way to show people what you’re working on, Bond fandom or otherwise.

Weekly Bond movies: Hosted by womble every Sunday at 8am Pacific time, join us in Discord to watch one of the Bond movies. Keep an eye on the watch party calendar linked below for updates.

Want to host your own event in the Discord or elsewhere? Let us know about it so we can add it to the calendars!

Calendars

Watch Party Calendar MI6 Cafe Calendar   If you need help adding these calendars to your personal one, check out this post.

[velleire]

Article: Guild Wars 2: Janthir Wilds Launches Today!

Note: Originally published at 6:00 a.m. Pacific Time (UTC-7) on August 20, 2024.

Hello, Tyrians,

Happy release day! When Guild Wars 2®: Janthir Wilds™ launches in just a few short hours, you’ll begin a bold adventure into a dangerous and untamed wilderness. The denizens of Tyria are determined to recover and build a new future, and cooperation with neighbors is crucial. Your mission: befriend the lowland kodan and uncover the mysteries of a land that was once home to the enigmatic mursaat and their White Mantle followers.

In Guild Wars 2: Janthir Wilds, you’ll embark on a story that unfolds across four major releases, starting with today’s launch and continuing with quarterly updates through the first half of 2025. Below is a high-level view of what’s going live today and our plans for what’s coming in the following three quarterly releases.

There’s a significant change to our map content plans that we’d like to bring to your attention. We had originally announced that the expansion would feature three open-world maps—two at launch, with a third released in a quarterly update that would then be expanded on in a subsequent quarterly release, like Inner Nayos. Rather than shipping the third map in two parts, we will instead be releasing a standalone map in both the second and third quarterly releases, each similar in size to Lake Doric. This brings the total open-world map count for Guild Wars 2: Janthir Wilds up from three to four.

As always, game development is full of surprises, so this roadmap comes with a general disclaimer that our release plans may change, despite our best efforts.

In addition to all the content going live today, this quarter will also include a skills and balance update, our annual Halloween festival, a WvW update, a beta event for the new PvP game mode, the return of structured PvP’s Tournament of Legends, and multiple bonus events.

Festivals and Bonus Events

Here’s the full schedule of festivals and bonus events coming to Guild Wars 2 in the next few months:

August 20–August 26: Twitch Drops

August 26: Guild Wars 2 Anniversary Week

September 10–September17: Fractal Rush Bonus Event

September 17–September 24: Return to Path of Fire Bonus Event

September 24–October 1: WvW Rush Bonus Event

October 1–October 8: Living World Season 4 Bonus Event

October 15–November 5: Shadow of the Mad King Halloween Festival

Don’t forget to bookmark our handy event calendar to keep tabs on what’s happening in the game!

Lastly, we have some cozy Guild Wars 2: Janthir Wilds key art wallpaper to share with everyone! We’re incredibly excited to share Guild Wars 2: Janthir Wilds with you. Thank you for being part of this journey and for your continued support over the years!

We’ll see you in Janthir,

—Guild Wars 2 Team

[tw-anchor-down]

3 Days...

Until the 4th Round of TW Anchor Down starts (on April 1st, no joke)! If you’d like some more inspiration, you can always combine TWAD prompts with other challenges or events from this handy events directory. Feel free to also use any previous round prompts from the prompt card filing cabinet if you’re running behind and/or still need to catch up. Here are some challenges and events that are happening between April, May and June of 2024:

>> Sterek and Stuff Events- Spring Moons: Equiphlox (March 19 - May 22) and Eclipse (April 8 - May 22) >> Sterek Unhinged Boyfriends Event (Feb 8 - May 8) >> Stackson Week (April 3-9) >> Teen Wolf Rare Pair Events- Character of the Month (on-going) >> Full Moon Ficlet (ongoing) >> Sterek Drabbles (ongoing) >> Sterek Bingo (ongoing) >> Sterek Weekly (ongoing) >> Sterek Prompt Meme (ongoing) >> Steter-Stackson Bingo (ongoing) >> Teen Wolf Bingo (ongoing) >> Teen Wolf Poly Bingo (ongoing) >> Whumpril (daily whump prompts for April) >> Domaystic (daily domestic prompts for May) >> Whumpay (daily whump prompts for May) >> June of Doom (daily whump prompts for June) >> Art Prompt Calendar (daily prompts posted every month, multi-ship and multi-fandom) >> Horrific Bingo (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> Hurt and Comfort Bingo (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> LGBTQA+ Bingo (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> Sweet and Spicy Bingo (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> Slash Multiverse (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> The Reverse Prompt Challenge (multi-fandom; updated quarterly) >> Warm and Fluffy Bingo (ongoing and multi-fandom) >> Whump Challenges Galore (ongoing and multi-fandom) 

If you know about other challenges that should be added to this list, send an ask. Hope y’all are ready! Look like Malia’s going to have to write all of these details down to start planning!

[reviewsbyjsn]

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[mayra-quijotescx]

This didn't bother me in the slightest as a kid playing the original version of these games in the late 90's because the concept of having a job was nearly as fantastical to me as the concept of portable magic pets that spit fire/leaves/etc at each other for enrichment, but having been in the workforce for some years now I have to wonder: what the fuck was Giovanni's thought process with the spin puzzles in Team Rocket's hideout?

If you don't have access to the elevator or the gate on 1F (that we only ever see open from the inside after you battle the grunt near it) you are entirely beholden to your wits and your tolerance for motion sickness to move about the hideout. Is there at least a key card for that gate issued to all Rocket recruits? Was Giovanni planning on there being regular attempted infiltrations? Otherwise who else but some severely underpaid employees of the Rocket syndicate are having to traverse and maintain/clean/etc. these two separate entire rooms in the hideout dedicated to spin-tile bullshit?

Like imagine going for your quarterly progress report-back with this fucking guy, your heart is already in your mouth and your nerves are twanging in time with the trainer battle melody, then you have to go play five or six rounds of spin-the-dumbass (it's you. You're the dumbass. Why didn't you just apply yourself to your studies and go to Pokéveterinarian college like your mother wanted) and by the time you finally land in front of the big man's desk, your opening sentence is a BLEURHGHRRRRKHHHH directed at the spot on the carpet three feet in front of said desk which, despite maintenance's best efforts, still bears a stain from when some poor bastard ahead of you in the performance review calendar tossed their pokéblocks last week for the exact same reason.

Like what was the thought process here, Giovanni. What benefits are you getting that outweigh the costs of a regularly motionsick'd workforce. What building regulations in the Kanto region set you down this expensive and extremely specific path of cartoon villainy against your own employees. Let's talk.

[cpasmarketing]

Creating A Content Calendar for SEO: Tips For Accountants

In the fast-paced digital world, where information overload is the norm, having a well-structured content calendar is akin to having a roadmap for success.

For accountants looking to enhance their online visibility and attract more clients through search engine optimization (SEO), partnering with a specialized SEO agency for accountants and meticulously planning a content calendar can be a game-changer.

Let's delve into some actionable tips tailored specifically for accountants to create an effective content calendar that drives SEO results

Set Clear Goals and Objectives: Before diving into content creation, it's crucial to define your goals and objectives. Are you aiming to increase website traffic, generate leads, or establish thought leadership in a specific niche? Understanding your objectives will help tailor your content calendar accordingly.

Know Your Audience: As an accountant, your target audience may include small business owners, individuals seeking tax advice, or entrepreneurs looking for financial planning guidance. Conduct thorough research to understand their pain points, preferences, and the type of content that resonates with them.

Keyword Research: SEO success hinges on identifying the right keywords that your target audience is searching for. Utilize keyword research tools to discover relevant keywords with a balance of search volume and competition. Incorporate these keywords strategically into your content calendar to optimize for search engines.

Plan Content Types and Formats: Variety is key to keeping your audience engaged. Consider incorporating a mix of blog posts, infographics, videos, case studies, and downloadable resources into your content calendar. Experiment with different formats to cater to diverse audience preferences.

Align Content with Seasonal Trends and Industry Events: Stay ahead of the curve by incorporating seasonal trends, industry news, and key events into your content calendar. Whether it's tax season tips, year-end financial planning advice, or updates on regulatory changes, timely content can position you as a trusted authority in your field.

Maintain Consistency: Consistency is the cornerstone of effective content marketing. Establish a regular publishing cadence that aligns with your resources and capacity. Whether it's weekly blog posts, monthly newsletters, or quarterly webinars, stick to your schedule to maintain audience engagement and improve SEO performance.

Repurpose and Recycle Content: Don't let valuable content go to waste. Repurpose and recycle your existing content to extend its lifespan and reach a wider audience. Transform blog posts into infographics, webinar recordings into podcast episodes, or case studies into downloadable guides.

Collaborate Across Teams: Effective content creation often requires collaboration across various teams within your accounting firm. Involve subject matter experts, marketing professionals, and even clients to contribute ideas, insights, and testimonials. Collaborative efforts can lead to richer, more diverse content that resonates with your audience.

Track and Analyze Performance: Implement robust analytics tools to track the performance of your content calendar. Monitor key metrics such as website traffic, engagement rates, keyword rankings, and conversion rates. Analyze the data to identify patterns, trends, and areas for improvement, allowing you to refine your content strategy over time.

Stay Agile and Adapt: The digital landscape is constantly evolving, and so should your content calendar. Stay agile and be prepared to adapt to changes in algorithms, trends, and audience preferences. Continuously iterate on your content strategy based on feedback and insights to ensure long-term SEO success.

By following these tips and incorporating them into your content calendar strategy, accountants can enhance their online presence, attract more qualified leads, and ultimately drive business growth through SEO. Remember, consistency, relevance, and audience-centricity are the keys to unlocking the full potential of your content marketing efforts. Start planning your content calendar today and watch your SEO rankings soar!

[awiola]

Normal update, autumn??? XXIII

Okay, so I thought it would be a nice, winter quarterly update but turns out the last one was titled summer and I guess going by calendar, winter barely started so it's??? autumn??? I guess??? Last day of the year but autumn, sure, let's go with that. That being the case, I have no new year's pic for y'all cause I can't draw I was devving uhh, rly hard, let's say. Totally.

Anyway, the mushroom jam has ended and I planned to have a release update BUT THEN I DIDN'T FINISH THE GAME ON TIME YET AGAIN, who would've thought, so, like, there's nothing. I mean, something exists but yeah >_> I'll write a devlog when it finally looks presentable. Moving on...

Current game stuff

The spooktober game has been finished, kinda - The enmity of dead things. It, well, it works and it contains the full script and everything but lacks both art and music cause I couldn't finish it on time laziness goes brrr. Then I wanted a break and worked on other games and kinda left it like that... So that's the first item on my "Finally finish it in 2024, you stupid fuck" list. All in all it wasn't a total failure and I had fun for the most part. Committing to my bad decisions [look at the textbox] is actually the main cause the game wasn't finished on time... You live and don't learn.

The failure of the year... Or quarter at least - Mushroom game. Despite being technically published to add it to the jam, it's so unfinished I won't even link it here. And it's all my fault cause I was being lazy and, as usual, forgot I can't actually program. Yeah...

Helped with Cool Days. There's really not much of my work there, I honestly considered making a new category for games I kinda helped with but tbh the amount of work actually finished was close to zero but hey, it's still more than nothing so Check it out, it has cool graphics.

The ace teens game got shelved/postponed and it's not my fault this time but instead we're working on a fantasy kinda thing for Ace jam [and maybe also Zack jam while we're at it but that might've been said in jest]. Fortunately it's small enough I don't expect any delays. I can say it involves a golem who isn't a humanoid (灬˘╰╯˘灬)♥｡���ﾟ

Now for the big thing.

Fanfares, please.

🎉🎉🎉

IMPOSTOR SYNDROME - is a game for winter jam which also happens to be a demo cause we ran out of time but! - it will be finished soon-ish. I'll share more details in the release devlog so if the link to the game works already, that means the page's up and so is all the info. If it doesn't work, check again in a few hours but I'm assuming most people who actually read all that will do so post winter jam anyway.

Genre wise it's an otome chat sim comedy that's extremely self indulged and I'm not ashamed of that. Gotta make games for yourself and all that. Though, again, my own conribution to the development process remains minimal. I'm truly becoming the idea guy.

The "Finally finish it in 2024, you stupid fuck" list aka the stuff that should've been finished already but isn't

Umm, yeah, everything. Or, to be more specific, Mushroom game and Enmity take priority here but all the other games that needed some quality of life adjustments like making the web build work on mobile etc are also included [which is kinda funny cause a lot of them could be corrected in like an hour if I actually sat and did just that].

It's been more than three years since I released Argousze and yes, you gessed it, it's also unfinished. Which is extra funny in a pathetic way cause it was supposed to be a low effort game with, like, 2k words of wordcount. To be fair I kinda dropped it cause I couldn't design my aliens but maybe I'll actually get a good idea for once and manage to release it on its fourth anniversary. That'd be nice.

Other than that, well... That's more of a resolution than anything but I should stop constantly joining new teams and all... And either take a proper dev break or work on ye olde projects waiting for me since the beginning of HS. I'll become older than my oldest LI before I finish them at this point lol

Pariiish noootiiiceees

This year we're gonna have two new jams instead of one. Stuff happened and yeah. No links just yet cause not only are the pages not finished but there's also no planned date/duration beyond 'sometime in the later part of the year'.

The first jam is Tentacle jam which, I'm pretty sure, would bring us eroges. This was not my intention and all kind of sfw tentacles are allowed but tbh as long as there's a proper story, even a nukige would pass. Basically the rules remain like in all the previous jams I hosted.

The second jam is Insect [adjacent] jam which actually accepts all kinds of arthropods but it started as just insect jam and I wanted to keep the name. So yeah. Obviously more detailed rules of what's allowed would be written on the page when it's up properly and not in a half dead state like right now.

Incidentally, whatever the date ends up being, both of these jams would be hosted at the same time so if you wanted to make a story taking place underwater or something, you could submit it to both of these jams. Neat, right?

That's it for this year.

Over.

[benjaminasimpson]

What are the basic tools for living a calm, meaningful, and productive life? Consider Newport's Four Keys

I listen to Cal Newport’s Deep Life Podcast. In Episode 272, Cal begins the show by identifying four foundational tools for productivity. Watch the first ten to fifteen minutes. What are these tools? Calendar Obligation/Status List (More than a to-do list, could be mangaged with a project board like Trello.) Multi-scale Planning Documents (Daily, weekly, and quarterly outlooks, and a review…

[leviosally]

Play for me the Music of your Heart

Ch. 18, Part I is up!  Aziraphale is tested, Crowley explains some things and they head off on their long-awaited date together.

.

.

.

All good things arrive to them that wait, as the wise Mark Twain had once said. Of course, the rest of the phrase reads, —and don’t die in the meantime, which most well-meaning optimists and motivators are apt to leave off, but Aziraphale privately feels the sentiment rather fitting on a day where time seems to practically stand still.

There was also his parents’ personal favorite: Patience is a virtue…fruit of the spirit and all of that. While he no longer subscribed to the idea that patience was a gift nurtured within him by the Almighty, and was instead the result of innumerable hours spent in the trenches of the public school system, there was certainly something to be said—whether by way of early indoctrination or not—about the steadfastness with which he wielded what frequently translated into a sneaky and often lucrative intellectual weapon. 

All that is to say, despite the necessity of his work removing his choice in counting down the hours preceding the thing he had his heart set upon on this day (Crowley and whatever it was the devil had planned for them), a goodly amount of patience was nevertheless vital as he strived to keep his focus on teaching Mozart, Schubert, and Chopin instead of getting carried away with thoughts of a fiery tumble of hair and that Casanova smile (and that remarkably clever mouth between his legs).

And so it bears mentioning that today—having already crawled along at half the speed of a snail—as Aziraphale dismisses his last student and makes ready (finally) to set aside his professorly duties in exchange for stealing away with Crowley for a glorious weekend, another similar phrase comes to mind as his phone vibrates out a calendar reminder.

Beware the fury of a patient man.

Because the calendar reminder is for a quarterly meeting that he’d quite forgotten about. With Gabriel. Today. In precisely ten minutes.

Read more here.