#[asks]: Complaints? questions? give them to HR

[hxperion]

"Please, stop. I'll do what you ask." —Angel @hyperionhandsome

@hyperionhandsome

"Will you angel?" Jack asks, pressing a button on the hologram like screen that was next to him, the electronic current that ran to Angel, had stopped. Anger and disappointment was lacing his voice, his normal charismatic tone was gone.

"I warned you not to help the vault hunters. But yet you consistently try to go behind my back like I will not find out. Are you trying to betray me?" Jack questions, crossing his arms across his chest. But yet despite his anger, there was an underline of worry in his voice as he spoke again ."Because, its really feeling like you are, After everything I been doing to keep you safe."

[serialkilluh1996]

𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄™

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Bimboish-female-reader

Warnings; none. Just pure foolery.

Simon loved you. He wouldn't admit it, of course, but you were his favorite subordinate. You were kind and generous, like some princess who belonged in a castle, only to have wound up working as his assistant. He wondered how you even got hired at such a tough place. Maybe you'd sprinkled fairy dust on your application.

You made him weak, merely a facade of the stone cold man he used to be. It's like you had dug a hole in his heart, making a soft spot for yourself to burrow in. You made coming to work more bearable for Simon.

He was eager more willing to get up in the morning cause he knew he'd see you not once, not twice, but a plethora of times throughout the day. He'd see your defined smile and your lively eyes and your bubbly enthusiasm. Simon was convinced it was all just a facade you put on at work. There was no way someone could be this....happy all the time.

You walk into his office, a grin on your face so firm that it pulled the skin from your throat. "You called, Mr. Riley?" "It's lieutenant, sweetheart. But, yeah, I did." He didn't seem as chipper to see you today. He never expressed true happiness anyway. He was just more neutral when you were around. Not today, though. His brows were tense, his eyes were squinted, a tight and precise stare glaring you down like a sniper. "Have a seat." He demands, waving his hand in a come hither motion.

You comply, skipping over to the chair before plopping down and spinning in it. "Don't spend in the chair, please. I'm already on HR's ass about replacing these before they give out."

"Right, of course." You kick out your foot, stopping yourself on the desk, eyes landing directly on his. He looked pretty upset about something.

"I got a complaint about you being out with my men last night. Wanna explain what's going on?" He leans forward accusingly, elbows against the desk and hands under his chin. "Well, we were just out for drinks an–" "Oh, you were out for drinksss?" He says sarcastically, slightly more irritated. "And let me guess, you went home with them too?"

"Of course I did." "Oh, christ." He facepalms, leaning back in his chair, making it creak under his weight.

"Let me explain somethin'. You are MY assistant, you got that? That means your work here is exclusive to me and what I ask you to do. You don't take orders from anyone else here. Not even the captain. Therefore, you have no need or reason to be fraternizing with my men." He lectures you, now visibly angry.

You could tell that going home with them was what pushed him other the edge. "I couldn't let them go alone. They were too drunk to drive." You defended. "Sweetheart, these are grown men. They know their limit and they purposely exceeded it. It's not your responsibility to baby them. They can face the consequences of their actions. They are dangerous individuals that you should distance yourself from. You don't know my men."

"Of course I know them, we see eachother everyday." Simon sighs at your statement. "I'd like to believe that too. but at the end of the day, men always have ulterior motives."

"Ulterior motives?" You tilt your head in confusion. He huffs, muttering under his breath. "Alright, let's say Price, for example. You're this cute girl, smaller than most of the people here. And price is this huge caption, some hairy old weirdo pushing 40. And he invites you over his house. What do you think he wants from you?" His brow arches. "Well, I don't really know John enough to know what he wants."

".....god, why...." it took everything in his will power to hold back his emotions. How could you be so dense? He breathes, steadying himself for the next question.

"Well, would you go or not?" "Yes!" "Yes!?" His voice is strained with shock and distress. "Well, how else am I gonna find out what he wants?" You fold your arms, becoming upset yourself. "Did it not even cross your mind to just ask?!"

"Well, what if he lies?" "What if he lies...." Simon repeats, chuckling under the aggravation, holding back how much you were angering him. How could you be this...slow? "And that's your concern.....tell me, sweetheart...how old are you?" "21." You respond, a small pout in your tone.

"Twenty..one... just...take the week off. I want you to come by my office later on tonight..." "for what?" You ask. "Does it matter if I tell you? What if I lie?" He laughs with exhaustion, and you follow suite. You two were gonna have a looong talk.

You can support me by liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or cashapping me @fundsbrownie. Donations are optional, but much appreciated. Have fun! And remember, take care of yourself.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 15th

Day 15: Boot Worship, Spanking/Flogging/Whipping/Caning, Lactation/Breastfeeding

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Post-pregnancy, lactating, pumping, breastfeeding kink, paying to drink breast milk, drinking milk, breast play, grinding, frottage, cumming in pants

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

There are some perks to being Dieter Bravo’s assistant. As crazy as he can be and put you through stress and odd situations, he is a fairly lenient boss. When you had come to him, explaining that you wished to be a surrogate for your sister who was unable to carry a child, he was cool with it. 

Did it stop the 2AM calls because he couldn’t find his favored crocs, or didn’t remember the name of that 24-hr Mexican restaurant? No. But he let you take off for all the doctor’s appointments without too much complaint, stopped doing drugs around you since it was bad for the baby, and insisted that you have a chair on set next to his to sit down in at all times. In actuality, it was pretty sweet. 

You had planned on coming back to work right away, since the baby was immediately going to your sister from the delivery room, but Dieter had pitched a fit. Telling you that even though you didn’t have a newborn to take care of, you still needed to recover from giving birth. You had compromised, telling him that you could recover and still manage his calendar from his admittedly comfortable couch. 

You hadn’t expected the questions. Dieter is one of those enigmatic souls that there is no telling what will pique his curiosity, but you hadn’t expected it to be your breast pump. Your sister and you decided that you would pump your milk for at least the first few months, or as long as you could. 

Dieter was obsessed. Like a kid with a new toy, you found him playing with the pumps. There were two that you could wear inside your nursing bra to let you pump while you just went about your day. Removing them and draining them into the storage bags as needed and putting them right back on. 

He was staring at your breasts, frowning slightly as he looked away and then looked back at them. As if he was figuring something out. Until you realized he was trying to decide if you had the pumps on or not. He kept muttering to himself, shaking his head and walking out of the room abruptly. You would think that he was on drugs again, except you haven’t ordered any from his regular supplier in nearly two months. 

So it’s a complete surprise when you are sitting on the couch, nearly two months after you have given birth and settled back into your routines with Dieter that he plops down on the sofa beside you. “How much would I need to pay you to drink your milk?” 

Freezing, your jaw hits the ground in shock. Immediately flustered and wondering what the hell is he talking about. Drinking your milk? He wants to taste it? Pour it into his cereal? What?

“Dee, what? What the fuck are you-”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” He groans, shuffling closer and staring at you with wide, pleading eyes before his gaze drops down to your breasts and he groans. His hand moves down to his crotch, almost covering himself like he’s trying to hide something before he grabs a pillow and shoves it in his lap. “Please, I - fuck, I’ll give you a thousand dollars. Give me….two ounces.” 

“Dieter…” 

“Two, all I’m asking for is two. The baby can spare that, right? You’ve been pumping like 80 ounces a day, right? Around that?” His tone is slightly whiny, begging like he always does when he really, really wants something. 

It shocks you that he’s aware of how many ounces of breastmilk you are pumping. That means that he’s got to be looking in the freezer. You’ve been storing it here since you are here more than your own house and having it sent over to your sister’s.

“You want to buy two ounces of my breast milk to drink?” You ask, wanting to make sure you understand what the fuck your boss is asking you. “For a thousand dollars.” 

“Two, two thousand.” Dieter ups the price, biting his lip and swallowing harshly. “A thousand dollars an ounce. Please, I know it’s weird, I know that I shouldn’t ask, but please, please just let me have some.” 

His eyes are earnest, begging you. Almost more intense than the first time he has if you would have sex with him. Finally finding something he wants more than sex. 

“I don’t know…” 

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” He rushes out, his face twisted in embarrassment but Dieter has no shame when there is something that he wants. He’s willing to humiliate himself as long as self-gratification for whatever he is obsessing over happens. “Drinking it, sipping it. Swallowing it down. Knowing that it is supposed to feed me. Feed a baby, I mean. It’s natural. The most natural food a man can have.” He justifies it, always good at finding reasons for why he needs to have what he wants. “It fucking- fuck, baby, it fucking turns me on. The idea of drinking your milk.” 

You can tell he wasn’t supposed to say that. From the way he immediately snaps his mouth shut and recoils from you, like you are going to reach out and slap him. Maybe you should slap him. It’s a slappable offense, but you aren’t. 

“Two thousand dollars, for a chance to drink two ounces of milk?” You don’t dismiss the idea, or slap him and that makes Dieter perk up. Immediately nodding, making his disheveled hair wave eagerly. 

“Yeah. Please?” He begs again. “I promise I won’t ask you to sleep with me again or go get my coffee. Ohhhh your milk in coffee.” You watch as he rolls his eyes back in his head at the thought, the pillow being crammed against his lap even more and you huff. 

“How many times have you jerked off thinking about drinking my milk, Dee?” You demand, making your boss nearly cringe at the question. 

Ducking his head and turning a range of mottled reds in mortification, he mumbles too quietly for you to hear. “- times a day.” 

“What?” 

He mumbles again. “-day.” 

“I can’t hear you.” 

“Seven or eight times a day!” Dieter finally shouts, grabbing the pillow from his lap and shoving it over his face to scream into it while your brows shoot up in surprise. You know Dieter has a high sex drive, but you never imagined he could go that many times. 

While he is having his fit, you think about it for a moment. It’s two thousand dollars and you’d rather your boss ask you to drink your milk than some random pregnant lady on the street. You wouldn’t put it past him. Despite his tendencies, Dieter is actually pretty respectful. He doesn’t push when he’s rejected and if you say no, you know that he will be disappointed but he won’t get angry. 

You aren’t wearing the pumps, thank goodness, so it’s easy to manage when you pull away the pillow from your boss's face and straddle his thighs, putting your milk filled tits in his face. 

“I- what are you-” Dieter chokes out, eyes wide and fixed on the tops of your tits, wanting to touch you but this wasn’t what he asked for. 

“You don’t want to drink straight from the source?” You ask innocently. 

The fact that you are on his lap makes you fully aware that Dieter’s cock is hard. Letting you feel the way that it jumps when you ask if he wants to drink from you. Not hiding his love of the idea even a little bit. 

He groans, tearing his eyes away from your breasts to look up into your eyes. “Yeah? Really?” He asks, still not touching you, but his hands are hovering over your hips, wanting to settle on them. “I- you would let me do that?” 

“You can’t squeeze them.” You caution. “They are tender, and sore a lot of the time. But if you want to, you can nurse, suck the milk from my tits and drink it down.” It was good timing, because you were going to have to pump anyway. 

“But I-” He seems to be completely stumped as to why you would offer more. No one ever offers more when he is desperate enough to pay for what he wants. “I’ll be careful.” He promises, leaning forward to nuzzle into your bosom and inhale the slightly milky scent of your skin. 

You feel the way he twitched under you. That admittedly impressive cock throbbing against your core in a way that you hadn’t thought about before this moment. He’s hard because of you. Because of this infatuation with your tits, your milk. 

Those hands that you had worried would be carelessly eager are almost timid. Asking if he can take off your shirt, or if you would prefer to just lower your shirt. You explain that it feels better to just lower your shirt and he quickly agrees. His fingers almost worshipful as he gently pulls your breasts out, taking your warning to heart as he positions them in his face and gets his first good look at your hard nipples and burgeoning jugs. 

“Oh god. I just want to…” he lunges forward and snuggles his face between the breasts he is holding almost reverently. Nearly motorboating you but just breathing deep. “Fuuuuuuuck.” He hisses, throbbing even more underneath you and you swear that you feel a bit of wetness transfer from his sweats to your leggings. 

You wrap your arms around him, for stability, for a lack of places to hold onto him, bringing him closer and you feel him sigh into your skin. As if he has found a place he wants to stay. 

It’s not too long before he wants more. His lips move along your skin in a surprisingly romantic scattering of kisses, as if you were his lover. 

His arms slowly slide around you as he kisses around your nipple, tilting his head down, and he groans when the warm, wetness of his lips wrap around a hard nipple to pull it into his mouth. 

Dieter’s hips rock up, grinding up into yoh and he twitches harshly when he tugs on the nipple, letting the first spurt of milk hit his tongue. His groan is so loud, almost pained, it covers the gasp that you give at the sensation.

It’s so different from the pump. Warmer, wetter. More intense as he starts to suckle eagerly. Gulping down mouthfuls of milk as fast as he can while dragging you closer, making you grind down on his cock from the movement. 

You get lost in the feeling of it all. His cock hard and throbbing under you. Pressing against your sensitive clit as your hips rock. The subtly erotic sensation of his whiskers against your skin. Eagerly letting him switch from breast to breast as he drinks you down. 

Dieter drinks more than two ounces, far more than you had agreed on, but neither one of you pulls away, even trying to stop. He’s gorging himself on the warm, slightly sweet milk in great, greedy gulps, groaning as he swallows. 

You don’t realize you are about to cum until you do. Stiffening in his arms, you push your breast into his mouth more as your back arches, a harsh cry escaping your lips. Pleasure washing over you in waves, and you don’t realize that Dieter is moaning your name. Rocking his hips up harshly to keep the friction going until he’s throbbing against your core. The warmth of his cum coating the inside of his sweats as he cums in his pants, drunk off your breast milk. 

“Holy shit.” You pant as he pulls away, milk drunk and softening underneath you as he swallows one last time. 

“Fuck, baby.” He groans. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

[stuffforthestash]

Modern Academic AU pt2

Originally started because Professor Raphael got stuck in my head and I had (foolishly) hoped if I wrote down some thoughts, that would be the end of it 🫠

Part 1 and Part 3 ------------------------------ Minthara - School of Law. Used to be a high profile defense lawyer but was barred from practice under questionable circumstances, so now she teaches courses on criminal procedure and domestic violence litigation. Male students are actively warned against taking any of her classes. Elminster - Liberal Arts Dean. Has been in the position forever and is something of a legend at this point. He's Gale's mentor and long time family friend, and he delights in showing up unannounced to Prof. Dekarios's lectures. The two of them have a longstanding tradition of leaving surprise pranks in each others offices. Rolan - English department. Newly upgraded from adjunct instructor to junior full time staff, he's been assigned the special hell of having to teach the general ed. introductory writing courses that none of the other faculty want to deal with. He hates it and thinks it's a complete waste of his talents, but is determined to stick through it long enough to get that research grant. Alfira - School of Theater & Music. Teaches vocal technique and musicality at every level. She's also the faculty coordinator for multiple on-campus performance groups, directs the university chorale and composes all their arrangements, is herself in a local acapella group, AND does community arts & outreach programs for kids.

Gortash - Newly appointed Dean of Information Studies. He's brilliant, he talks big about new frontiers in infosec and grand designs in the future potential of AI... and is already under investigation by the ethics board for misappropriation of university funds. Ketheric - VP of Alumni and he's been with the university longer than Elminster. Nobody knows why he hasn't just retired yet, despite how much he seems to hate his job. Orin - School of Fine Art. She "teaches" a course on performative art. It's weird and extremely uncomfortable for everyone involved, but for some reason people keep enrolling. Durge - Fine Art Dep't Chair. The deeply disturbing nature of his personal art aside, he's actually good at his job as both the chair and an instructor. Mostly teaches anatomy and live model studio courses. Ulder - VP of Public Affairs. He's a great public face for the university, everybody loves him... except the son he refuses to acknowledge after a falling out years ago. Mizora - Human resources admin. Loves her job because it gives her power over other people. Is more likely to be the source of an HR complaint than the one who actually solves the problem. Thaniel (as requested!) - Also HR. He's the one you hope gets assigned to whatever you need because he's great at it. Is also the only one who can reliably get in touch with Halsin; it's not well known that he can, so he'll usually agree to help those who figure out to ask him.

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

This started going long, so it looks like I'll be doing a third (and probably final?) installment to cover Dammon, Zevlor, Wulbren, Aylin & Isobel, and any other requests!

[forggywrites]

ATSV characters finding out you’re being harassed at school/work for being queer.

Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Miles Morales, and Hobie Brown. all x gn reader who is queer/LGBTQ+ in some way.

Got the idea of some of the boys comforting/defending you from assholes in your life. Reader is queer coded and the harassment is based off of that. So please read with caution and stop when you need.

CW: queerphobia, homophobia, harassment, cursing, slurs, violence,

———————

Miguel O’Hara

When he found out that people at your work were giving you shit for being queer, he was pissed.

It’s 2099 god damnit, how are people STILL homophobic.

“You should have told me, I can talk some sense into those assholes.”

Even if you said you could handle it he would not take it.

Goes to your workplace and lodges a complaint about the coworker(s).

If HR gives some bullshit about not being able to do anything, he tells them they fucked up big time.

Starts investigating every little thing about the company while helping you look for a new job, he’s taking the place down and you’re going somewhere better.

Man has power, so he gets a LOT of dirt on your harassers and the shitty management.

Once you get a new job all the info gets leaked to the press and their rightful legal organizations.

Company goes under not long after.

All because they refused to be decent human beings.

Also he takes you out for a tasty meal as celebration.

———————

Miles Morales

He’s super supportive of you, and he knows you can handle yourself.

But when he’s walking down the hall and hears someone call you a slur, that’s when he gets mad.

Tells the kid to fuck off and drags you to his dorm, not caring that you both have class.

When you ask Miles what’s up he give you a ‘seriously?’ look.

”Is that the first time that’s happened?”

When you tell him no he just about flips out.

”What do you mean ‘no’? Why is no one doing anything about it?”

You explain that the guy had been ‘punished’ multiple times but that only made him madder and so he kept doing it.

Miles starts fuming.

He starts to do research on the kid, and when he finds out that he likes Spider-man he knows exactly what to do.

He starts to make changes in his regular life and his Spider-man life.

Tells people to cut the bullshit at school and starts opely supporting the LGBTQ+ community as Spider-man.

Goes to pride events in his suit, makes posts on social media in support, and maybe even adds a small rainbow pin to his suit.

If the kid doesn't cut it out he'll teach them a lesson.

———————

Hobie Brown

He went into your workplace one day to visit you during your shift.

He heard your coworker make a homophobic remark.

Descrimination is a no no in his book (obviously)

When your shift is over he confronts the person and tells them to cut the shit.

If they somehow didn't find him intimidating enough he looks into their life a little.

Finds out their info and keeps an eye on them.

Does everything he can to absolutely ruin their life.

While Hobie isn’t against getting his hands dirty he also has friends who have way lower standards with causing pain.

Don’t question it if one day your coworker shows up with a black eye.

Or never shows up again.

He’ll take you out for a fun night and reminds you that you deserve love and being queer doesn’t change that.

[universitypenguin]

Chapter XIII

The Princess & The Lawyer

Summary: A scare with her stalker causes Princess to take matters into her own hands. Meanwhile in Idaho, Lloyd finds himself between a rock and hard place.

Word Count: 8,058

Masterlist

Warnings: Description of a physical assault with a blunt weapon, stalking, harassment, dangerous encounter with a semi-wild animal, cowboy/ranch work, illegal drug trade, and corruption. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors. 

Author’s Note: I wish this installment hadn’t taken so long, but between going on interviews and then changing jobs, the past few months have been crazy. Thank you for waiting, encouraging me, and sticking with this story.

Chapter XIII 

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

You were counting down the seconds until you could end this call but Weston Tafferty was in prime form tonight. Even though you’d clocked out thirty minutes ago, he seemed to think your personal time was fair game for work-related conversation. He continued to fire off questions as you struggled to fill in your eyebrows and carry your end of the conversation. If he didn’t wrap this up soon, you’d still be on the phone with him during your belated family birthday dinner.

“Why wasn’t I cc’d on your emails to Detective Roth?” Weston asked. 

“I’m not using my work account for those messages. Roth set me up on their encrypted server.” 

“And this prevents you from emailing me how?”

“Wes, that information is too sensitive to share.” 

“Hmmm. I’ll give you a pass for now, but next time, make sure I’m in the loop. I also noticed you haven’t been using my spreadsheet system. If you don’t comply with departmental requirements, I’ll have to write you up.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Okay. Listen, I’m already off work and I have plans. Email me the details and I’ll take it up with HR.” 

A while ago this sort of micromanagement would’ve sent you through the roof. Tonight, other stresses were taking up too much mental space for you to care. And thanks to Weston’s call, you were running ten minutes late. You tapped your phone to check the time and realized ten minutes had become fifteen. Great. Your Mom would kill you if you were late to your own party. 

Another icon on the home screen caught your eye. There was no little red number hoovering in the corner of your message app to announce new texts. 

There had been no new messages for a week. 

Aiden had just… stopped. It should feel good, but your nervous system was screaming. An impending sense of doom settled over you and kept you trapped in the house all week. Your gut said this ceasefire was temporary and Aiden was biding his time. 

You’d filed a complaint with the police and he'd gone no contact. It was disorienting. Just when you started taking Aiden’s threats seriously, he stopped making them. Filling out the paperwork at Metro had stripped away the delusion you’d maintained last week. Writing the incidents in black and white on police forms laid waste to your sense of security. As the silence had stretched from one day into two, and then into four, fear sank deeper into your consciousness. 

Staying locked in Lloyd’s house forever wasn’t an option. If it were, you’d do just that. But your parents had already delayed your birthday celebration because of the Singapore trip, and backing out now would demand an explanation you weren’t prepared to give. 

Checking your reflection in the full-length mirror, you frowned. Thanks to Aiden’s threats about your apartment, you’d avoided going home, so the only dinner outfit you had was the dress Lloyd gave you in Singapore. Unfortunately, the skirt didn’t cover your knees. Self-defense lessons with Landon and Jake had left them covered in ugly bruises. 

There was no way Vivan wouldn’t notice and then your mother would make a fuss. You tried covering the marks with concealer. As you were applying setting powder, your phone buzzed. Hands full of makeup, you glanced at the screen.

A message read: Here. 

You were expecting Jake and tapped ‘K’ in reply.

There was a noise from below as the front door opened, then the scuff of sneakers on tile. You tossed the concealer into your makeup bag and rinsed your hands before heading downstairs. 

“Hey, Jake! Guess what? No new messages today. He’s gone from obsessed to silent. It’s crazy…” 

You turned the corner and froze. The visitor wasn’t Jake.

“Zach!”

He removed his sunglasses, hooking them on the top button of his shirt. 

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming by,” you said. 

“I texted. Jake’s working late. He asked me to check in, said there’d been trouble with raccoons knocking over garbage cans.” 

“Yes… Racoons.” 

“Everything okay?” Zach asked. 

“Absolutely.”

He cocked his head. “Yeah? Who were you talking about before?”

“Uh… I was scheduling a follow up with a witness. A witness in another case. He was responsive at first, like, obnoxiously, but suddenly… you know. He’s ghosting me.” 

“You seem nervous.”

You needed to lie - convincingly. 

“I’m fighting with Vivian, and my birthday dinner is tonight. It’s going to be interesting.” 

“That’s all?”

“Yeah. Just family drama.” 

“Hmmm. Jake’s been cracking his knuckles all week, which is never a good sign. I checked the location history on our work phones and saw Landon and Jake have been stopping by regularly. What gives, Y/N?” 

“That sounds like an invasion of privacy,” you said.

“They’re my phones. Speaking of… give me yours.” 

He held out his hand. 

“No way.” 

“Suppose the racoons aren’t just racoons, Princess. Give me your phone. I won’t check the location without cause.” 

You hesitated.

Zach wiggled his fingers. “Give it.” 

You handed him the phone. Zach tapped in commands as you collected your purse. By the time you’d checked your wallet and keys, he’d installed the app. 

“When did you hear the racoons?”

“Ten-thirty.”

“Did the floodlights come on?” Zach asked.

“Ah… I don’t remember.” 

You wished Jake had given you a heads up about the cover story. Zach passed you the phone. 

“I’ll take a look. Don’t let me keep you, I’ve got my own keys.” 

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

“Charlene, don’t be a bitch. Let’s talk about this before you do something crazy.”

Lloyd tried to make his tone as cajoling as possible. Facing down the bad-tempered female with death in her tawny eyes, he was willing to press any advantage he could, including charm.

The cow snorted and bobbed her head. He recognized that look and untethered his rope from the saddle horn in response. Through the act his eyes stayed locked on Charlene. She might be a Charolais heifer, but her temperament rivaled the most vicious Jersey bull. He uncoiled his rope and extended the loop to allow for her horns. While he understood his father had been sick, it was a crime not to have de-horned this monster when she was born. Her attitude was defense enough without having weapons attached to her head. 

He swung the lasso a few times, getting it into shape.

“Charlene” – so named because all Charolais heifers were Charlene in his book – pawed the ground. Getting her out of the pasture hadn’t been easy and herding her through the corrals was an event he’d rather forget. But he hadn’t expected the sight of the narrow alley into the loading chute would turn her into a psychotic demon. 

The rail-road tie fencing of the alley was six feet high and not much wider inside. Charlene had made up her mind about it in an instant, despite the fact she’d probably never seen such a thing before in her life. He’d found most of his father’s herd balked at the loading chute. Even in the pasture they acted half-wild, like they hadn’t seen a human in years. After that discovery he’d installed a series of gates in the alleyway for better control. The first was at the entrance and another positioned in the middle to prevent cows from backing up or creating a crowd-crush. The system worked, assuming the animal went in. 

Charlene bellowed and raised her head, puffing herself up. Jane, the quarter horse under him, shuffled back a step. He hoped she had nerves of steel because the last thing he wanted was to snap his neck getting bucked off and finding out what the business end of Charlene’s horns felt like was equally unappealing.

“Can you hurry it up? We’re behind schedule!”

The semi-truck driver called to him over the fence and Lloyd ignored him. He adjusted the rope and turned it so the loop’s bottom strand flipped over his wrist. When he raised his arm, muscle memory kicked in. Without a conscious thought his thumb clenched and his fingers curled, while his elbow and shoulder rolled in a familiar motion. He stood up and put most of his weight into the left stirrup, preparing for the throw. When Charlene’s muscles rippled, he angled the lasso down and threw the loop, relishing the speed as it flew over his hand. 

He was still focused on the mechanics of the action when Jane spooked. He’d leaned into the throw which placed his weight in the opposite direction of where she’d run. When she bucked again, he swore and lost a stirrup. Lloyd grabbed the saddle horn and fought to keep his seat. 

The lasso sailed over Charlene’s horns despite Jane’s fit. He drew it snug and anchored the rope to his saddle horn. When the little roan under him felt the rope pull, she spun around, leaning back on her haunches. Charlene tossed her head, fighting the restraint.

“Good girl, Jane. You’re a roping horse, aren't you?” 

The mare flicked her ears in appreciation. He laughed, surprised at his good fortune. His father hadn’t had many good traits but his taste in horses was impeccable. Lloyd twisted the rope back and forth. Charlene bellowed as it rubbed and moved forward. When he clicked his tongue, Jane backed into the narrow alleyway, dragging Charlene along. 

“Hey, kid!” Lloyd called to the driver’s assistant. 

“Yes, sir?”

“Shut that gate!” 

This was the farthest he’d gotten her. If he lost his grip on the rope, he’d rather chase her in the confinement of the alley than around the corral. When the gate clanged shut behind her, the heifer kicked at it and made contact, causing the panel to clang against the chain fastener.

Charlene lunged at Jane. 

The horse reared and Lloyd leaned into the movement just in time to avoid a tumble. Jane turned in mid-air and landed facing the gate that had just been shut. Lloyd yanked his rope over the saddle horn, and leapt off. He smacked Jane’s hind quarters, sending her galloping, and whistled at the heifer to keep her attention while the kid opened the gate for the horse. 

Whistling really pissed Charlene off. 

He turned and sprinted for the fence and felt her breath on his back pocket just as his foot hit the railing. He managed to climb halfway up before she slammed into his leg. Lloyd gasped at the burst of pain. When the pressure let up, he jumped down and rolled under the second gate. 

“Holy shit, you’ve got a death wish,” the driver said. “I’m not taking this one!” 

“She’ll calm down. She just doesn’t like trailers,” Lloyd said.

He had no idea if that was true, but he wasn’t about to keep her around to find out. 

Charlene paced back and forth, eyeing him on the other side of the gate, dragging the rope he’d dropped through the mud. Lloyd stood up. She shook her head and bellowed, making the rope whip around. By a stroke of good luck he caught the end and pulled it under the gate. 

As the alley narrowed, barricade posts set inside the high fence guided the cattle into the loading chute. He wound the rope around one and tugged, testing its strength. Charlene was big and this post wasn’t built to withstand that kind of weight. Lloyd wrapped the rope around again. 

“If this cow kills me, I’ll sue you,” the driver said from the other side of the fence.

“I don’t think you’re the one she’s looking to kill.”

The assistant climbed over from the corral and landed beside his boss. He looked at Lloyd. 

“You okay? Did she break anything?”

“No, I’m good. Do me a favor. Be ready to shut that trailer, fast.”

“What?” 

Lloyd unchained the gate and moved to the far side of the alley. He glanced at the kid.

“Ready?” 

The assistant ran to the trailer. Lloyd tightened the rope around the post, lashed it around his hand for good measure, and unlatched the second gate. He moved to the other side of the alley, parallel to the barrier post, and kicked the gate open, making it crash against the fence. This time the noise didn’t spook Charlene. She was too focused on Lloyd to care. 

He stood there and let her charge. The barrier post served as a pivot point, creating a zig-zag that shortened the rope. Charlene was just a few feet away when she ran out of length and was swung around by the force of her own momentum. She stumbled into the loading chute and Lloyd shoved the metal panel into place behind her. He climbed up the fence and pulled the rope off her horns. When it was off, he whistled. She bolted in the only direction she could, straight into the trailer. The kid slammed the door shut.

Jane was waiting by the gate, exactly where she’d run after he’d jumped off. Lloyd led her out of the corral around to the cattle truck. The assistant watched him secure his rope to the saddle with obvious interest. 

“Do you rodeo, sir?”

“Nope, never have.”

The kid’s expression was disbelieving. “Why?” 

“My father preferred to train and sell horses instead of competing with them.” 

“You could’ve made a killing at jackpot ropings!” 

Lloyd chuckled, amused by the kid’s enthusiasm. 

The driver scowled. “We’re behind schedule.”

“That’s the pleasure of working with animals,” Lloyd said.

“I’m charging you for the delay. You should’ve shot this one, she’s going to kill somebody.”  

“She’ll be fine once you unload her. Do you have everything you need?”

The kid answered. “We just need your signature.”

The driver fetched the paperwork while Lloyd fielded the kid’s roping questions. It surprised him to find he enjoyed giving the advice. 

When the livestock haulers were off, he walked Jane to the barn.

“You earned some oats for not breaking my neck,” Lloyd said.

Jane snorted and picked up her pace. 

In front of the barn, he noticed marks in the dirt. He looped Jane’s reins through a hitching ring without bothering to secure them and crouched to study the boot prints. The mixture of clay and loam soil held its shape well, and the sun had baked the dirt into a detailed cast. He’d found similar impressions on Tuesday morning which had motivated him to spend the next few days herding cattle on the outskirts of the ranch. 

The sneaky, unwanted visitor didn’t surprise him. 

Settling the ranch’s affairs was his duty. Dealing with his father’s illegal side business wasn’t. He’d be insane to get involved in a drug running operation and risk a second strike on his record. 

Lloyd studied the print. He knew it wasn’t from him. The first thing he’d done when he’d arrived was dig out his cowboy boots and start cleaning the barn. His boots were leather soled, designed to slide easily in and out of stirrups. They left a distinct heel and triangular forefoot print. The visitor’s boots had a tread pattern that was usually found on rubber soles. Whoever wore these shoes spent his days on city streets, not on a ranch. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. He had a strong hunch about the visitor’s identity, but hoped he was wrong. Lloyd dusted off his jeans, and went to untack Jane. He placed the saddle and blanket over the door of an empty stall. 

He glanced toward the tack room and his stomach clenched. Inhaling sharply, he turned away. 

After Jane was settled with a bale of grass hay and a bucket of oats, he walked to the small pen where a sick calf was bedded down in the straw. His eyes and nose were running with thick green mucus that left no doubt infection had taken hold. Lloyd checked his water. It hadn’t been touched. 

“Whatever bug you’re fighting might not kill you, but dehydration sure will.” 

The calf wheezed. 

Lloyd shook his head. “You need a vet.”

His ears twitched at the words, but he didn’t raise his head. After changing the calf’s water Lloyd went to the house and used the landline to call Anderson’s Feed Store. 

Henry Anderson picked up on the first ring. Of course, he not only knew the local vet, but promised he’d have them swing by around six. Then he started firing off questions with the zeal of a Spanish Inquisitor. How was college? Did he like Harvard, or did he wish he’d gone to Notre Dame? What had he enjoyed about England? How much did it rain over there? Did he know Coach Olsen had hung a framed picture of him receiving the Bushnell Cup in the gym lobby?

Lloyd sat down at the kitchen table and answered the inquiries. He noticed when Mr. Anderson skipped over questions about his post-college years and fast forwarded to current events. The effortless way he sidestepped the uncomfortable subject squeezed Lloyd’s heart. His unseemly history didn’t warrant such a tactful maneuver and because of it, Henry’s easy grace hit him like a three hundred pound linebacker. 

“I knew that determination would take you places. I haven’t employed another highschool kid for four years straight since you.” 

At that time, he’d done his best to stay out of Joe’s way which meant the long hours at Henry’s store were a perk. Later, their fully stocked breakroom fridge had allowed him to avoid going home for days at a time.

“How’s April doing?” 

He finally asked about the topic he’d been expecting would come up, but hadn’t. 

“She’s doing well. Married a boy from Portland and now we’ve got four grandchildren. The oldest is a senior this fall, and the middle one starts seventh grade. The second youngest is in kindergarten and the baby turns two in a month.”  

“Wow… that’s a range of ages.” 

“The baby is her Mama’s spitting image. It took four tries, but her genes finally hit copy paste.” 

Henry laughed at his own joke while Lloyd tried to imagine it.

“I’m sure you’ll catch up with her, but I’ve got to let you go. A load of grain just pulled in. The vet says they’ll be by after 5:30, probably closer to 6.” 

“Thanks, Henry.” 

He hung up and tried to wrap his head around the bombshell that April Anderson was married with four kids. He wondered why Henry had suggested they catch up. It seemed to imply she still lived in the area. Lloyd shook off the curiosity and grabbed the truck keys. He didn’t have time for a social call. Already, it was mid-afternoon and his errands in town couldn’t be put off any longer. 

Lloyd paused at the door and reached into the side table drawer. As expected, his father’s loaded .22 Sig Sauer was inside, encased in a leather shoulder holster that held two extra magazines in a pocket on the right strap. Being a felon, he wasn’t legally allowed to carry a gun, let alone a concealed gun. He thought of the boot prints and his suspicions about the night-time visitor, then removed his denim shirt and slipped on the holster. He covered it with the shirt and checked his reflection. The loose garment and compact weapon rendered the bulge under his arm almost invisible. He put on his sunglasses and grabbed a baseball cap from the shelf. 

It was just a quick trip to town. He’d be in and out before anyone knew he was there. 

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

You tugged at your skirt, trying in vain to shield your bruised knees. Even with setting powder, the concealer hadn’t provided the coverage you’d hoped for. 

Vivian stirred her yogurt and watched you from the corner of her eye. Your birthday dinner had gone better than expected. For dessert you’d taken the family out for frozen yogurt and, at your Mom’s suggestion, walked down to the park so Alyssa could run around. She’d behaved well at the restaurant, but after two hours of sitting, she was getting antsy. 

With the efficiency of a general, Mom had taken charge of Sam and ordered Juan to mind Alyssa. She had sent you and Vivian off to ‘enjoy the peace and quiet,’ which was code for ‘go make up because I said so.’ From a shady bench you watched Mom encouraging Sam to walk through the splash pad spray. She was bent over, letting him hold both her hands for balance, uncaring of the mist soaking the lower half of her linen pants. Hector, Caleb, and Diego were kicking a soccer ball in the grass and Juan was hovering nearby, watching Alyssa play in the landscaping.

“What’s Alyssa doing?” you asked Vivian. 

“Playing with rocks. I don’t know why, but if you give her a rock, she’ll look at it for hours.” 

“Huh. Interesting.” 

“What happened to your knees?” Vivian asked. 

“I fell.”

“Were you drinking?”

“Vivian!” 

“What, you’re not uncoordinated. Were you drinking?”

“No!”

“Well, I have to ask. You’ve been acting super weird lately,” she said. 

That was true. You cringed under her scrutiny and decided to change the topic.

“I’m sorry, Vivian.” 

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My reaction to your pregnancy was uncalled for. I overstepped, and I’m sorry.”

“I dropped it on you like a ton of bricks, so there’s that. You don’t handle change well and I should’ve known to break the news gently.” 

“Hey! I’m great with change.” 

“Absolutely, you just roll with the punches.” Vivian snickered, and dissolved into giggles. Then her gaze shifted to your frozen yogurt. “Can I have a bite?”

You held out the cup. She sampled it and made a face.

“Yuck.”  

“First you insult my adaptability, then my taste buds.”

“Speaking of taste, congratulations on the break up.”

It took you a second to realize what she meant. “When did I tell you about that?”

“You told Caleb, which is like telling the whole family.”

“Right.”

“Does your boss live in the Historic District of Alexandria? By those swanky townhouses?” Vivian asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

Her eyes gleamed. “Last night I checked your location on Life360. Guess where you were?”

Oh, crap…

“Why were you at your boss’s house at three a.m?”

“I’m house sitting,” you said. 

“For three weeks? Bullshit.”

“Damn it, I’m going to delete that stupid app. I thought I already did-”

“I stole your phone and reinstalled it. Before you ask, yes, I check your location every night. Are you dating your boss?”

“He’s not my boss. Technically, Weston Tafferty is my supervisor.” 

“Lloyd’s last name is Hansen, right?”

You frowned. “Did you Google him?”

“I really should apply to the FBI someday,” Vivian said, grinning. 

“Listen, you can’t believe everything on the internet…”

She was already opening a website on her phone.

“Have you seen this?” 

You braced yourself to explain Lloyd’s escapades, but it was an article from the Boston Globe sports section dated 26 October 2001. The headline read “Harvard Beats Penn, Cinches Ivy Title” and the photo underneath showed a group of sweaty men in tight white pants and hulking shoulder pads. Lloyd was in the middle. He’d taken his helmet off, revealing a clean shaven jaw and hair three shades lighter than it was now, but there was no mistaking that bone structure. 

“Look at that man. He is fine,” Vivian drew the middle vowel of ‘fine’ into a throaty purr. 

“It’s not like that, I’m-”

“You’re sleeping with him, just spill.” 

You groaned and covered your face.

“Y/N, please? It’s just us. And unlike Caleb, I can keep a secret. I can keep all the secrets, so tell me everything.” 

Your sister was absolutely reliable as a confidant, but your relationship with Lloyd was so new and undefined. Then again, maybe you could use some outside perspective on the matter. It would probably go a long way toward repairing the rift between you. 

“Okay. So, Aiden ended things-”

“Shut up! He broke up with you?!”

Her outrage was a delight. “Unfortunately. Lloyd took me out for dinner and you’ll never guess what happened then…”

By the time you left the park, dusk was falling. Talking to Vivian had settled your mind about the crazy twist your relationship with Lloyd had taken and confirmed that you were enjoying the new status quo, as tenuous as it might be. 

There was a flier stuck under your windshield wiper. Assuming it was an advertisement, you grabbed it, slid behind the wheel and turned on the air conditioner, then unfolded the page. Breath froze in your lungs and your heart dropped like a stone as blood drained from your face so fast your vision blurred.

It was a photo of you and Vivian on the park bench. You scanned it for clues, trying to decipher the angle it had been taken from and realized the photographer must have been on the other side of the splash pad from where you’d been sitting. A shiver ran down your spine. You scanned the street, with its long shadows and fluorescent lamps. Aiden could be anywhere. Fragments of the messages he’d sent flashed through your mind, raising goosebumps on your arms. Your hands clenched into fists. This was no way to live. You couldn’t tolerate it.

Trying to calm your racing heart, you took several deep breaths. After the pressure eased in your chest and you felt clear-headed again, you evaluated your options. There was the obvious choice - contact Detective Diskant at metro and give him the photo. But hadn’t you already done that? Aiden had responded by stepping up his game. Not only had he followed you, he’d followed your family and been bold enough to leave behind photographic evidence of the act.

The message was clear: I’m watching, and you can’t stop me.

Reporting him had made things worse. You threw the car into reverse; it was time to show Aiden who he was dealing with. 

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

His errands took longer than expected. 

The health district office was slammed, and he’d waited more than an hour for copies of his father’s death certificate. Paying property taxes in person was a bureaucratic nightmare, and so was settling the funeral home bill. His last stop was the priest, and he’d cut that visit short. To make sure they wouldn’t cancel Joe’s service because of his rudeness, he’d added a zero to his donation. With one eye on the clock, he made the final turn towards home. The clock ticked off another minute. Not wanting to miss the vet, he sped up.

Sirens wailed.

Lloyd hissed. He hadn’t risked speeding on the interstate after spotting the black and white vehicle tailing him, but he’d thought he had shaken them miles ago. Red and blue flashing lights followed him to the edge of the road as he pulled over. 

Great. What a fantastic ending to an afternoon filled with unpleasant errands. He’d handed over a small fortune to the county and fucking donated to an organization that owned more land than Bill Gates. Like an ice cream sundae wouldn’t be complete without the cherry on top, this miserable day couldn’t be finished with anything less than a traffic stop. 

He parked a few meters from the ranch’s front gate. The police truck didn’t pull in behind him; instead, it maneuvered around and turned into his driveway. It swung to the right and reversed into a parallel park, blocking the road. 

The side decal on the pickup read ‘SHERIFF’ in bold print. 

Lloyd watched the driver climb out. Even at a distance, he recognized the well-built man thanks to the distinctive outline of his Montana crease cowboy hat. This one was pecan colored instead of gray. It matched the tan uniform better than his old one, Lloyd noted. 

He rolled down the window and propped his elbow on the ledge to hide the holster under his arm.

“Evening, Sheriff. Was I speeding?”

“License and registration.”

Lloyd took his time finding the papers and handed them over, one by one.

“You’re looking well, Holbrook. It’s like you haven’t aged a day.”

The jab made the Sheriff’s upper lip curl, but he didn’t bat an eye as he examined the papers. Charles Holbrook was his senior by twelve years, though the way he wore those years made it look like twenty. His bulky aviators didn’t cover the wrinkles around his eyes and what Lloyd could see of his hair had gone gray. 

Holbrook tilted his hat back. 

“Where were you headed in such a hurry, son?”

“I’ve got a sick calf and the vet’s due any minute.” 

The Sheriff looked to the passenger seat where the file of tax papers lay.

“What’s in the folder?”

“If you’ve got a warrant you can look, but if not…” 

“Where are you coming back from?”

“Town.”

Holbrook ran his tongue around his teeth. “You sure about that? Just town? Nowhere else?”

It seemed his instinct about being followed had been correct. He wished he hadn’t slipped their tail earlier, because it had given them the chance to set up this speed trap. 

Lloyd shrugged. “I’m just trying to get home and take care of my animals, Sheriff.”

Knowing who he was dealing with helped Lloyd keep his temper in check. Thirty years ago, when he’d been a young deputy, Charles Holbrook had joined Joe’s drug running operation. Harsher sentencing guidelines made his father cautious enough to find an insurance policy and Holbrook fit the bill. He proved himself effective and ambitious, which was why Lloyd hadn’t been surprised to hear they’d had a falling out after he’d left for college. Rumor was, the Sheriff and Joe had spent the past twenty years at war, fighting over control of the intermountain west drug trade.

Holbrook grasped the butt of his gun. Lloyd tensed, then a blur of action drew his attention. The passenger door of the police truck flew open. A young man in a deputy’s uniform burst out with a pump action rifle.

Shit. 

The .22 under his arm wouldn’t be any defense if the deputy was a good shot and given that Holbrook was nobody’s fool, especially in these matters… carrying illegally had been a colossal mistake. The tiniest infarction would be an excuse to throw him in jail. Lloyd’s jaw clenched as he appreciated that in this scenario, Holbrook’s definition of “jail” would mean “the bottom of Redfish Lake.” 

“Watch your back, Lloyd. You know the rules in these parts.” 

Rage bubbled in his chest at the threat. His nostrils flared as he took a sharp breath, struggling against the urge to fight. The Sheriff smirked. 

“It’d be a shame if there were two Hansen funerals this week, Lloyd. Don’t do anything stupid. We need to have a serious chat about-”

Holbrook cut off at the sound of gravel crunching behind them. Lloyd saw another vehicle had pulled up behind his truck and scowled. He couldn’t decide if he should be amused or annoyed that he warranted backup. This was a run of the mill shake down, not… Damn it. His gaze swung to the rearview mirror. The white pickup had boxed him in. With the sheriff on his left, the deputy in front of him, and the newcomer behind, he was trapped. 

It was a straight shot through the windshield with the pump action rifle. Lloyd figured he could shoot Holbrook and take cover behind the engine block, but that left him vulnerable to the occupant of the white pickup. By the time he got off a shot he’d have six rounds in his back.

“Luke! Put that away!” 

Holbrook straightened up and faced the new arrival. 

Lloyd didn’t blink, eyes tracking the deputy’s every move, while he complied with the request. His attention stayed on the rifle until it was out of sight. Only then did his attention return to the Sheriff, who wore a welcoming smile for the approaching woman. She wore a navy baseball cap, plaid button down, and Levi’s tucked into cowboy boots. There was something familiar about her that tickled the edge of his memory. 

“Dr. Ward! Haven’t I told you it’s not wise to interrupt police business?” 

Holbrook’s tone was the same one used to discipline golden retrievers - exasperated, but indulgent. 

“Well, Sheriff, this time it’s you interrupting my business. I’ve got a sick calf to see and you’re blocking the road.” 

She nodded at the police truck, and when she turned her head, he spotted the auburn ponytail. Lloyd’s jaw dropped. 

“April? April Anderson?”

“It’s Ward now,” she said, grinning. “Dad mentioned you had an emergency, but this isn’t the kind of emergency I expected.”

“Nah, no emergency here. Sheriff Holbrook was letting me off with a warning.”

“That’s sweet of you, Sheriff. Do you mind clearing the road?” 

Holbrook’s lips twisted into a sour pucker, but he touched two fingers to the brim of his hat and nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

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

You sat in your car, gripping the steering wheel tight. 

Just being parked on this street felt dangerous. Despite the risk, anger was more powerful than logic in your current frame of mind. You hung onto that fury. If the past few days had taught you anything, it was that living in fear wasn’t sustainable. Rage felt like a suitable alternative - it was certainly more pleasant than terror. 

Thoughts of rage turned your mind to Lloyd. If he knew about your situation, he’d be apocalyptic. He’d protected you in Singapore with no consideration for himself and that recklessness worried you. If he flew off the handle there was a decent chance he’d end up facing a second round of felony charges. The prospect of Lloyd being sent to jail because of your mistakes was untenable. You needed to handle Aiden yourself. 

From the spot you’d parked, on the opposite side of the street to Aiden’s house, you had a perfect view into the living room. He was inside and based on what you’d seen in the last thirty minutes, he was alone. Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage and imagined you were Lloyd. You thought of the irritable man who’d stormed into the paralegal office and invaded your life. The image filled your mind, thrilling and comforting in equal measure. You remembered the boisterous, almost wild energy that version of Lloyd had carried into a room.

Thinking of his confidence helped ease the tug of caution that insisted you’d be safer turning around and driving back to Virginia. You twisted your neck, warming up the muscles and taking deep, steady breaths. In less than a minute, your shoulders relaxed and your jaw unclenched as the last clouds of doubt rolled away. 

Moving with purpose, you stepped out of the car and stalked across the street toward the two-story brick colonial with an immaculate front lawn. Your heart was hammering, but the fear was buried under a thick fog of anger. You were going to demolish Aiden. 

You rang the bell and waited. The door opened and Aiden looked irritated to see you. The sight of him made your lip curl into a snarl.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you leave me alone?” 

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

You shoved the photo in his face. 

“This, Aiden. I’m talking about this!”

“Huh?”

“I found it on the hood of my car an hour ago. You took this picture and left it to threaten me.” 

“I didn’t do anything!” 

“Don’t lie.”

Aiden scoffed. “You’re crazy. It’s just a picture.” 

“You’re harassing me. You’ve been texting me, stalking my building, and trying to make me uncomfortable. Well, guess what? I’ve already forwarded the texts to your father and filed a complaint with the police. Even with all that, you don’t seem to be getting the message, so here it is. Stop. Bothering. Me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, Aiden. If you make my life hell, I’ll be happy to return the favor - in triplicate.” 

“You’re a drama queen, you know that, right? I’m not the one who came to your house. You should be glad I’m giving you the time of day - it’s not like you’d do the same.”

“I know you sent the texts. You’re taking your problems out on me, and if you keep doing it, you’ll find out that I punch back. Stay away from me. Stay away from my family. This is the last time I’ll say it - next time you find out I mean what I say.” 

He crossed his arms, straightening. “You should watch your mouth, bitch.” 

“And you should watch your back. You’re going to leave me alone. If you don't, I’ll put you in a world of hurt.”

“See if I care.” 

“You should. Because if you don’t, I’ll give you a reason to.” 

“Whatever.” 

You raised your chin.

“I don’t need you to believe me. Because whether or not you think I’m serious, I am. This is me giving you the chance to turn things around. Go very far away from me and stay there. If you don’t, you have no one to blame but yourself for what happens next.” 

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

The calf ended up with a prescription for long-term antibiotics, and he persuaded April to have a beer with him. He couldn’t help but stare as they sat on opposite sides of the small kitchen table. She broke the silence first. 

“Nice mustache. It ages you, but somehow it suits you.”

“Thanks. I can’t believe you’re still here. I figured some city boy would sweep you off your feet and take you to Seattle or Boise.” 

“He did, but I took him home instead of the other way around.”

“I guess your taste in men improved after high school,” Lloyd teased. 

“Given my starting point, it couldn’t have gotten much worse.” 

He laughed. “After Tyler, I was a step up.” 

Tyler Claffey had been April’s first boyfriend. He played defensive tackle to Lloyd’s quarterback and they’d been on the same team since fifth grade. Their hatred of each other ran deeper than the traditional offense vs. defense rivalry every football team suffered. Tyler still held the distinction of being the most insecure person Lloyd had ever known. For his part, Tyler hated Lloyd’s sullen disposition, lack of regard for other people’s opinions, and most of all, for being a superior athlete. 

When he was caught cheating on her the week before junior prom, April had asked Lloyd to be her date. He knew the goal was to twist the knife in Tyler’s side and had accepted the invitation. They went to prom together and ended up dating until graduation. 

“Tell me about your husband,” Lloyd said. 

“Michael. We met in college, but didn’t date until after. He’s a lawyer.” 

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” 

“Is he tall, dark, and handsome… with a mustache?”

April snorted. “No, no, yes, and absolutely not. I know you aren’t married, because no woman would tolerate that facial hair. You should grow a beard.” 

“My girlfriend doesn’t mind it.”

Lloyd felt a ripple of concern at how naturally the word ‘girlfriend’ rolled off his tongue, but pushed it aside. He considered April - the first and last woman to hold that title - and shook his head. 

“I can’t believe you stuck around.” 

“I didn’t hate it here, you did.”

“I had to get away. You know why.” 

April nodded. She picked at the label on her drink and lowered her voice.

“How did you feel, when they told you he was dead?”

“Shocked, disbelieving. More of the latter, to be honest. The hospital called and explained but I just… I thought he couldn’t die.”

“Are you okay, being back? Like, here, in this house?” 

Lloyd shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“Have you been in touch with your family?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m it.”

April raised an eyebrow. “Your sisters?”

He looked away. 

“You never searched for them? After all these years? I…” she broke off. “Lloyd? Did something happen to them?” 

“I can’t say for sure. I didn’t look them up because I knew what I’d find.” 

“What do you mean?”

“My mother couldn’t take care of them. Even back then, I knew.” 

“She left the summer before fifth grade, right?”

“Yeah. My father was away, it was just me and the girls. The house was peaceful. That’s what I remember most about those last days.” 

April’s brow creased in confusion, so he explained.

“She didn’t have any of her normal outbursts, episodes, whatever you’d call them. Looking back, she must have started on some kind of antipsychotic meds. A few days before Dad returned I woke up to an empty house.” 

He looked out at the barnyard and saw it as it was thirty years ago. Almost exactly thirty years to the day, he realized with a jolt. 

“Her car was gone. Josephine’s closet was empty and so was Ingrid’s. Only some of my mother’s things had been taken, but when I saw the suitcases were missing, I knew they weren’t coming back.”

“I’m sorry,” April whispered. 

She reached across the table and covered his hand. Lloyd folded his fingers around hers.

“I hate remembering. I can’t go through the barn without thinking of Ingrid and that evil little Shetland who bit everyone. I taught her to saddle him, but I think I put on his bridle every time she wanted to ride.”

“Clever girl.”

Lloyd smiled. “She’d hunt for arrowheads with me. Josie used to go with us because if we didn’t take her, she’d cry and that would set Mom off. She liked to collect flowers and press them in parchment. The first night here, I went into her room and…” 

Emotion choked him. A piece of wax paper had fallen from the pages of one of her story books. It was a bright, cheerful Black-eyed Susan. He’d stood there staring at it, as if it were a rattlesnake. 

Lloyd shuddered. 

“My mother may as well have driven them off a cliff, instead of off the ranch. I never looked them up… not knowing is easier.” 

April squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“When I was in prison, the psychiatrist asked me if I’d ever felt love. The question made me furious. I couldn’t believe he’d think me incapable of such a basic emotion, but then I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt love - no offense -”

“None taken.”

“I knew my reaction was genuine, but until Monday night when I saw the rocking chair, I couldn’t figure out where it had come from.” 

Their eyes drifted to the pine rocker by the front window.

“That’s where they let me hold Josie for the first time.”

April squeezed his hand. “Is your girlfriend coming for the funeral? I’d love to meet her.”

“No. I didn’t want her to see me like this.”

Lloyd turned his hand, bringing hers to rest on top, and studied the impressive diamond ring on her left finger. 

“Nice rock.”

“It spends most of its time on a chain around my neck. That’s what he gets for marrying a vet.” 

He used his thumb to turn the ring left and right, admiring the way it caught the light.

“I knew we wouldn’t last, but I loved you, April.”

“Not really. We were good friends, Lloyd. But it didn’t run deeper than that on either side and you were turning bitter.” 

She paused, eyeing him curiously as her tongue traced the edge of her upper teeth.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What happened between you and Coach Olsen?”

Lloyd slipped his hand free at the naming of his former football coach. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s been decades and I’m still curious.”

“Olsen took bribes. USC paid him to make sure I didn’t sign with Harvard.”

“But you liked Harvard the most.” 

“He was stringing them along, making it sound like I hadn’t decided so the money kept flowing. Obviously, that’s not kosher with the NCAA.” 

“He put your scholarship at risk. I understand why you cut ties.”

His lips twisted. 

“It was more than that. I got a call from USC in July, which was odd because I’d already committed to Harvard. Their rep let it slip about Olsen. I was livid. Mind meltingly furious, unlike anything I’d felt before.” 

The memory made his stomach pitch. Something visceral had come over him and he’d felt his mind loosen, allowing the monster to emerge. The dam holding back years of rage burst and nothing could stem the tide.

“I’d worried I was like Joe, but until that night I wasn’t sure. Whatever had held me in check snapped. I don’t remember the drive into town, just walking across the field and seeing lights on in the shed. Olsen was in the office, working. The football shed wasn’t air conditioned back then, so the garage door was open.” 

The scene played behind his eyes, undistorted by time. He saw the white cinder block shed and felt the thrill of finding his prey. Later, that feeling had become an addiction, better than cocaine and longer lasting than ecstasy. 

“I snuck under the garage door into the storage area. They’d brought in the baseball equipment and there was a rack of bats beside the door. On my way through, I grabbed one. He turned when I stepped into the office and started to speak. I swung for his head but he ducked, so I only clipped him. He rushed me, and I struck his right knee, got him on the ground, and then…”

He remembered it in flashes. The sound of bones crunching, screams, then agonized cries. 

When he’d snapped out of the trance there were blisters on his palms.

“I thought I’d killed him. That’s why I left for college a month early. When the team went to state a few years later, I read he was still their coach. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather.”

April stared at him. “That was you?! We thought there was a psychopath running around town!”

“There was.”

“I don’t agree with everything you did, but your reaction was understandable.” 

“The only thing I regret is not saying goodbye to you.”

“I figured you wanted a clean break. Once I accepted it was what you needed, I got over it. But I worried about you. I figured we’d stay in touch, you know?” 

He hadn’t wanted anyone too close to him, not after realizing what he was capable of. If he was a monster then the safest place for April was far away from him. Hence, why she remained his first and last girlfriend. 

“Speaking of the past…” April frowned. “Have you spoken to Elliot lately?”

Lloyd’s eyebrows rose. “Elliot? No.” 

The mention of his cousin surprised him. 

Elliot Hansen was the illegitimate son of his father’s sister and some drug dealer from Boise. The drug dealer had vanished upon learning of the pregnancy and two years later, his aunt committed suicide, orphaning her young son. Joe refused to acknowledge him and Elliot became a ward of the state. Like his parents, Elliot got hooked on drugs early and by the end of highschool, he’d been a certified junkie.

“He went to rehab and was working down in Nevada. When your father took a turn for the worse, he came back to help. For the past few months he’s been on Sheriff Holbrook’s list.” 

“Is he on drugs again?” 

“No. I knew Holbrook was shaking you down when I saw the traffic stop because he did the same thing to Elliot.”

“Which earned you a warning to stay out of police business,” Lloyd said. 

“I pay my taxes, I have the right to be nosy.” 

“Damn it, April. I told you Holbrook was dangerous. Why would you put yourself in his line of fire for that lowlife?” 

Her glare was withering. “He kicked meth without anyone’s help and re-built his life from nothing. Don’t call him names.” 

“Fine.” Lloyd held up his hands. “No name calling. Please, continue.”

“I caught the end of their argument. There was something about the ranch and ‘mercury’ but I couldn’t hear anything more.” 

“Did you ask Elliot about it?” 

She shook her head. “No, because I haven’t seen Elliot in two weeks. I’m worried about him, Lloyd. I think something’s happened to him.” 

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

Next - Part XIV

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Masterlist

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[rgr-pop]

soliciting advice from the mentally ill queer community, possibly especially @bananapeppers needed

without rehashing the context too much, as you know i got written up at work for saying the words homophobia and transphobia (yes that’s what the record says lol). my punishment is i have to go to see a therapist (counseling from a therapist or therapy from a counselor not clear) that they have chosen, and i have to consent to release some information about these sessions to my employer

going to set aside that i would not choose this therapist in the first place given any ability to consent at all in this scenario because she has what i consider to be a fake certifying degree from an online for profit institution and she does not work for a mental healthcare provider (she works for a company that sells telecounseling packages to human resources departments) lol, i have additional concerns about the appropriateness of the assignment because on her linkedin she identifies herself as catholic (specifically catholic educated)

fully no anti catholic bias intended (i love the catholic homosexual reading this) and to be fully honest, i have no other evidence on hand that she may be homophobic—no questionable social media or organizational affiliations. she frankly may very well not be. but i would never choose a healthcare provider who identifies their catholicism on their professional website to handle issues that i know to be controversial among catholics (like at all as a first choice but especially) without explicit reassurance that they are pro-queer and have experience in queer informed counseling (or are abortion loving if that were the situation, or believe that divorce should be legal and celebrated, whatever it may be) (once more full apologies for the stereotyping lol)

so the advice i’m looking for is how to have a conversation with her to establish whether she’s a queer friendly therapist (and there are some finer details i’d especially like to clarify). i know many of you have had to have these conversations and i’m wondering if you’d all give me pointers or some concrete questions to ask.

additionally, in a worse case scenario, can anyone who feels up to it share experiences or advice about surviving homophobic therapy experiences lol :/

a few notes:

i obviously considered not complying and lawyering up. it’s not off the table lol but there are various reasons i opted not to. the most pragmatic one is that i know many members of my union have to go through similar processes as the result of discipline and i want to see what that’s like for them. i could also gather evidence to build the case for making demands against this practice (which so far many unions consent to for various reasons even as they are legally questionable, if you’re in this situation in your union OR are mad about your union caving to this practice feel free to dm me to chat strategy.)

additionally, i probably cannot ask for a different therapist regardless of the outcome here, but having an explicit conversation is good for my case regardless. the best case scenario from here on would actually probably be for her to say i’m not comfortable with my ability to handle this topic but i can refer you to an explicitly queer informed counselor who for some reason also has a webtv therapy degree and works for the HR app.

why do i want to explicitly know that she’s okay on queer issues (or not) (im asking myself)? for one i am not sure i can literally survive yet more homophobic harassment at work (yes i know i’m baby but i make $20k working for a library this is the one thing i’m owed ok). but for another thing i do think it would be better to have some kind of record that they forced me to go to a homophobic counselor as punishment for making a complaint about homophobic harassment, if that’s the case.

the most generous read of the objective of this forced therapy would be to discuss more constructive behaviors lol for communicating about anti-queer behavior at work etc. perhaps even some emotional counseling regarding the honestly extreme toll this experience has had on my life. but i can’t proceed in good faith without a counselor who acknowledges that what i experienced was queer/phobic and that i have a right to not experience those things at work. that’s all. i do not want to sit in any additional meetings where i’m told that i have to listen to the perspective of the coworker who doesn’t believe she should have to respect queer people at work. however, if i do not proceed in good faith, i will be reported to my employer as not compliant and could face actual consequences.

please @ me thank you

[theworldoffostering]

The kids are learning so much! Pumpkin hates having her nails clipped, but a near-empty jar of peanut butter made her content enough to allow E to give it a shot.

H wanted to learn how to make jello. I never buy it but hey, that’s a cheap and easy skill to learn so we did that this week. E wanted to make mac n’ cheese so we did that too, in addition to the scratch cinnamon rolls.

I spent a very stressful week fighting with insurance. I took DS to an appt last week at our local clinic where we have been patients for more than 20 years. They refused to see him because they said his insurance was out of network. We’ve had the same insurance all year. I pulled it up on the website and showed that they were in-network. It didn’t matter. They told me to call the 800 number and made me leave.

I left. I called the 800 number. The insurance people at corporate said I was in network. I called the local clinic back and they said they needed to work things out and they would call me back. They did not call me back. I called them again on Tuesday and Thursday. No one could articulate what the issue was. They told me to take DS to the ER. It was a muscle strain as he’s running on the cross country team so the ER wasn’t warranted. I asked to speak to the clinic manager. They refused. They told me that a financial advocate was working on things. How would a financial advocate be working for me when they won’t speak to me. The phone manager said she could “see both sides” of the issue. When I asked her to clarify the “sides” because I did not understand the problem, she refused.

Yesterday someone from the clinic called and told me our insurance was in network. She was super, super rude to me when I asked questions to try to ascertain what the issue was and she actually hung up the phone on me! I again asked to speak to a clinic manager. She refused. Then I asked her to tell me the name of the manager. She refused.

The whole thing is so bizarre. Finally got DS in for an appt a week after the original appt was scheduled (that’s how long it took them to work it out), but only to urgent care. They said there’s a problem, but we don’t know what yet.

I’m pretty sure what the clinic did was illegal. Refused care when we are in-network. Can they do that?

I filed a formal complaint with their corporate office and am trying to understand if this sort of thing falls under the responsibilities of the state insurance commissioner. I also told HR at my job and they said they would follow up with the clinic.

But hours of phone calls, no answers, and a kid who is still hurting is not my idea of a good time.

[seepunkrun]

Notes from the Nov 12 OTW Public Board Meeting

Today's Agenda:

Decisions made since the last public board meeting

Welcome new Board members

Announce officer roles

Diversity update

Any other business

Decisions taken since last meeting:

Approved Finance requests

Approved new chairs for Fanlore, Support, and Strategic Planning

Granted preliminary approval for complaint management system

Created Twitter report for impersonation account

Approved new committee formation - Board Assistants Team

Approved new chairs for Board Assistants Team

Signed onto a letter opposing the Stop CSAM Act introduced in the US Senate

This meeting ran much more smoothly than the last due to the new rules and the way questions were handled. The first roll call showed 91 guests, and the last showed 88. Anh, as president, ran the meeting and got through the cut and paste business quickly, leaving 40 minutes for questions.

The diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) update was very brief but contained long awaited news:

We're delighted to announce that we've signed a contract with a consulting firm, who will be working with us on an organizational culture audit. (If you were wondering about the unlabeled $96,000 line item in the budget, this was it!) The consulting firm has already completed an initial survey and begun interviewing volunteers, and will continue this process over the next few weeks. DEI subject matter experts will be involved and consulted throughout the process. We are incredibly excited to work with them and make the OTW a better, more inclusive place!

Later, in response to my question asking for more details, Zixin said they would not be sharing information about the firm in order to protect them from possible harassment and that they don't have a sense of how many people at the firm will be working on this or for how long. They expect a preliminary report by the end of January 2024 and will give updates at the next public meeting.

Considering how long we've been waiting for progress on the DEI consultant, getting a report from them by January feels lightning fast, but history suggests the next Board meeting won't be until March, so it'll probably be a while before that information reaches us.

Also of note was the question of paid staff: Has the board been looking into hiring a volunteer to look into hiring paid staff? Is there a timeline for hiring paid staff?

Kathryn S responded:

We do have a timeline for Paid Staff Transition in our Strategic Planning 2023-2026: The Volunteers & Recruiting Committee has been working on finding an external HR firm for the organization for several months. There are two main goals behind for the OTW behind this initiative: • To help the OTW create a better environment for its volunteers by reviewing our current org-wide policies and procedures and creating new ones when needed; • To help the OTW transition from a fully volunteer-based organization to hiring our first employee. The committee has interviewed several firms, but the size and global scope of the OTW's volunteer and user bases make it a complicated project. They are still meeting with candidate firms and exploring potential alternatives.

I asked a follow up to this, a request for an update on the search for a Paid Staff Transition Officer, but it did not make it before the Board during the relevant conversation, or in the meeting at all. I used the double arm (o//) to indicate it was a follow up question, but it still depended on votes to get in front of them, which feels like a flaw in the system, but I'll get an answer eventually, see below.

People asked a lot of good questions, and we got answers for the promised ten, even though it made the meeting run about twenty minutes longer than its scheduled hour. Some of the topics covered: confidentiality policy for Board and the emergency procedures promised to volunteers; Finance investing OTW's money to avoid being solely dependent on donors; evaluation and improvement of the Constructive Corrective Action Procedure (CCAP procedure); progress on the ToS review; proposed subcommittee to handle complaints and conflicts within the OTW; complaint management system for volunteers.

If you'd like to learn more, I recommend joining the OTW Discord and reading back through the #public-board-meetings channel, which is pretty straightforward now that Board members are the only ones allowed to post there. If you've already joined, you can use this link to jump to the top of the Nov 12 meeting.

The meeting closed with the news that the Board is planning to release a high-level overview of their timeline that includes their goals for the 2023-2024 Board Year at the next public meeting.

The questions that didn't get answered during this meeting will be answered in the #questions-answers channel starting in two weeks. So expect those around November 26, when the Board will begin posting weekly Q&A threads.

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts days 24, 25, 26

(Once again combined because work murders my ability to have a word count and be a functional human being.)

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven’t written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. And then somehow it turned into “I’m going to write a single interconnected story utilizing all of these prompts” which ?????, what can I say, I am incredibly foolish and there's no limit to my capacity for self-deceit.

read from the beginning here

Days 22 & 23 here

~~~

149. “I don’t care, I just need these clothes off so I can fully feel you against me.”

~~~

For all his half-serious warnings about Oracle watching them both, Tim almost couldn't keep his hands to himself for the rest of the night. It was as if he were possessed by the need to grab onto Damian and hold tight, whereas Damian apparently had no problem making responsible choices with his own hands. And mouth. And everything else.

The third time Tim leaned down from a higher vantage point to kiss the top of his head, Damian grumbled, "If you're going to do that, we would do better to head back to your apartment now, because I will be of no use to the city at this rate." Despite the complaint, the corners of his mouth kept pulling up in a smile he immediately tried to wipe from his face. "You are distracting."

Tim grinned down at him from the fire escape where he hung suspended by his knees. "Think of it as a training exercise. After all, you never know when you might have to fight Killer Croc when you'd rather focus on a date with a new significant other." The thought made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. Probably because he wasn't used to the idea of Damian being romantically interested in anyone. It would take a while to adjust to the youngest of them having grown-up relationships.

Ugh. He shouldn't have eaten dinner before he came out because now hanging around upside down was nauseating him.

He straightened up and started climbing away from Damian. "Well?" he tossed over his shoulder. "Are you going to join me up there? Or do you want to be unprepared some night in the future?"

"The fact that you are questioning my preparedness makes me wonder if you suffered a head injury before joining me," Damian shot back, but Tim heard the whir of his grapple gun passing him to hook onto the roof ledge all the same.

No matter what distraction Damian claimed, Tim couldn't help but notice that they made a good fighting team. When he was younger, Damian would have charged in as if he were unaccompanied, desperate for glory and to prove Tim's inferior birth. Now, after a decade of rigorous intervention by Dick and even sometimes Bruce, he still charged in without hesitation, but he worked in tandem with Tim, staying aware of where they both were in a fight and covering Tim's back when necessary. He even managed to spit out a "thank you" once when Tim came to his aid.

Altogether, they managed to interfere with five muggings, rout a few robbers, give lollipops to a couple of kids playing on a fire escape before helping them get back in the apartment they'd locked themselves out of, find the kids' mother and give her a WE HR department card so she could stop working night shift at the shit diner down the corner, and rescue one terrified cat from a telephone pole before it was time to turn in for the night. Tim hadn't had so much fun on patrol in a while. He made a mental note to add the possibility of more frequent pair-ups into the scheduling algorithm for those who might want them.

"Are you going back to the Cave first?" he asked Damian once they'd restrained their final criminal for the night and dumped him outside the nearest GCPD substation. They stood on a couple of gargoyles grimacing from the bank across the street, keeping a desultory eye on the guy and timing how long it took for someone to notice he was on the doorstep.

Damian hesitated. "Would it be all right if I didn't?"

Tim angled his body to hide his mouth from the cameras in the area, then noticed one of Babs's aerial drones buzzing behind Damian. He sank to a crouch as if peering at the cops hauling their newest arrest to his feet at the door and cupped his hand over his mouth. Oh, wow, would you look at that amazing sight, unbelievable. "You wanna just shower at my place? Won't Bruce have questions about all the times you've been spending the night?"

Damian shrugged. "If he does, I'll continue to profess our dedication to the weapons smuggling case. He can't deny that we've been making progress on it."

Tim smiled behind his palm. "Come over now, then."

He beat Damian back to the Nest by a few minutes—not enough to do more than take off his domino and pry off his gloves and boots in the foyer before he heard a soft knock. He dropped the latter onto the floor and swung the door open. "I left it unlocked for you."

Damian shrugged. He'd removed his domino, but otherwise was in his full gear. "I don't wish to assume I can invade your space without an explicit invitation."

Tim pulled him inside by the front of his tunic and locked the door behind him, then reset the alarm system. "Consider it issued."

Damian's hands came up to grasp his shoulders as soon as Tim turned back to face him. "May I kiss you?" His expression was as remote as if he were asking the time.

Tim meant to answer, but got distracted for a second staring up into Damian's eyes, trying to read whatever he was hiding behind the dispassion. God, he was so attractive. Just really, really beautiful, aesthetically speaking. Tim wanted to lay him out like a buffet.

A tiny shift in the muscles around Damian's mouth signaled a suppressed smile. "Drake. I'm fairly certain you meant to answer the question I asked."

"Oh?" Tim asked distractedly, then, "oh! Yes, yeah, of course, please do kiss me."

Damian lowered his face to Tim's, and Tim practically melted at the warm, careful press of his lips. Damian wasn't tentative, per se, but he was exploratory, each movement of his mouth testing Tim's response. If I do this, will you like it? This? Let me in, please.

Tim kissed him back, dizzy with the unaccustomed physical comfort of someone else’s care. His hands slid up to cup Damian's neck, feeling the frantic pulse beneath his fingertips. Damian shifted his grip to Tim's hips and dragged him flush against his front. Their body armor kept Tim from feeling much more than the rise and fall of Damian's chest against his torso, and his cup was already starting to chafe. He pulled back just enough to speak, but Damian made the tiniest sound of protest so he had to keep kissing him between words. "Let's—" kiss "—go back—" kiss "to my room." kiss kiss kiss

"I have not yet showered," Damian replied. "Nor taken off my boots, for that matter."

Tim tried to kiss his neck and grimaced when he got a faceful of Kevlar instead as Damian shifted. "I don’t care, I just need these clothes off so I can fully feel you against me. We can shower together."

Now it was Damian's turn to say, "Oh. That would be . . . acceptable."

Tim couldn't repress a grin. "I'm glad you agree."

Day twenty-seven here

[hxperion]

tag dump

handsome jack tag dump part : 1/?

[joelcriley]

Tips for Handling Employee Complaints by Joel Riley (Wallingford, CT)

Handling employee complaints effectively is crucial for maintaining a healthy work environment and fostering employee satisfaction. Complaints are an inevitable aspect of any workplace, but how they are addressed can make a significant difference in morale, productivity, and overall company culture. In this blog, we'll explore key strategies with the help of experts like Joel Riley (Wallingford, CT) for handling employee complaints with professionalism and efficiency. Read more about Joel here.

Establish Clear Communication Channels

Clear communication channels are essential for employees to feel heard and valued. Encourage open dialogue through regular team meetings, anonymous suggestion boxes, or dedicated email addresses for complaints. When employees know they have a reliable avenue to voice their concerns, they are more likely to address issues promptly, preventing escalation. Joel C Riley

Effective communication also involves active listening. When an employee comes forward with a complaint, give them your full attention, paraphrase their concerns to ensure understanding, and ask clarifying questions if necessary. This demonstrates empathy and shows employees that their concerns are taken seriously. Joel C Riley

Train Managers in Conflict Resolution

Managers play a pivotal role in resolving employee complaints. Providing them with training in conflict resolution equips them with the skills to address issues effectively and impartially. Training should include techniques for active listening, mediation, and negotiation.

Encourage managers to approach complaints with empathy and understanding, seeking solutions that benefit all parties involved. Additionally, emphasize the importance of confidentiality to build trust with employees and reassure them that their concerns will be handled discreetly.

Implement Fair and Transparent Policies

Establishing clear policies and procedures for handling complaints with the help of experts like Joel Riley (Wallingford, CT) is essential for ensuring fairness and transparency. Make these policies easily accessible to all employees through employee handbooks or intranet portals. Joel Riley CT

When addressing complaints, adhere to these policies consistently to demonstrate fairness and avoid any perception of favoritism. Communicate the steps of the complaint resolution process to employees upfront, outlining timelines and expectations. Transparency breeds trust and empowers employees to come forward with confidence. Joel Riley CT

Foster a Culture of Feedback

Creating a culture where feedback is encouraged and valued with the help of experts like Joel Riley (Wallingford, CT) fosters openness and trust within the organization. Encourage employees to provide constructive feedback regularly, not just when issues arise. Recognize and reward employees who contribute positively to the feedback process, whether through suggestions for improvement or commendation of their peers.

Leadership should lead by example by actively seeking feedback from employees and demonstrating a willingness to implement suggestions for improvement. This demonstrates that feedback is taken seriously at all levels of the organization and encourages continuous improvement.

Conduct Thorough Investigations

When addressing employee complaints, conducting thorough investigations is crucial to gather all relevant information and make informed decisions. Assign a neutral party, such as HR or an external mediator, to investigate complaints impartially and confidentially.

Gather evidence, interview relevant parties, and document findings meticulously. Maintain confidentiality throughout the investigation process to protect the privacy of all involved parties. Once the investigation is complete, communicate the findings and any resulting actions or resolutions clearly and promptly to the affected parties.

Follow Up and Monitor Progress

After resolving an employee complaint, follow up with the involved parties to ensure that the issue has been satisfactorily addressed and to gather feedback on the resolution process. This demonstrates a commitment to continuous improvement and reinforces trust with employees.

Monitor the workplace environment closely to identify any recurring issues or patterns that may require further attention. Use feedback from employees to refine complaint handling processes and policies continuously. By staying proactive and responsive with the help of experts like Joel Riley (Wallingford, CT), you can prevent future complaints and foster a positive work culture where employees feel valued and respected.

Provide Timely Feedback and Updates

Employees value timely feedback on the status of their complaints. Keep them informed throughout the resolution process, providing regular updates on any investigations or actions being taken. This demonstrates transparency and shows employees that their concerns are being addressed promptly.

In cases where resolutions may take longer, such as complex issues or organizational changes, communicate the reasons for the delay and provide realistic timelines for resolution. Open and honest communication helps manage expectations and reduces frustration among employees.

Encourage a Positive Work Environment

A positive work environment can help prevent complaints from arising in the first place. Encourage teamwork, respect, and open communication among employees. Recognize and celebrate achievements to boost morale and create a sense of belonging.

Leadership should set a positive example by demonstrating respect for all employees and promoting a culture of inclusivity. Address any behavior that goes against these values promptly and firmly, ensuring that all employees feel valued and respected.   

Handling employee complaints effectively requires a proactive and empathetic approach. By establishing clear communication channels, training managers, implementing fair policies, fostering a culture of feedback, conducting thorough investigations, providing timely updates, encouraging a positive work environment, and seeking feedback on the complaint handling process with the help of experts like Joel Riley (Wallingford, CT), organizations can create a workplace where employees feel heard, valued, and respected. Addressing complaints promptly and professionally not only resolves individual issues but also contributes to a positive work culture where employees are engaged and motivated to succeed.

[writingonleaves]

*slides in precariously in wool socks*

hello, hello! Your winter fic exchange writer here, I’m afraid the bug has bitten hard so I’m spiralling into indecisiveness, the best way to cure this of course is to simply ask you!

1) if you had to short list the players you listed to a top three, who would they be

2) do you have any strong feelings about the protag working for the team (are you willing to let it slide or do you get wrapped up in the HR implications of it all)

3) how do you feel about Disney World?

And one that has little baring on everything else

4) what’s your favorite love/crush song? I’m building a playlist

i’m gonna have to steal *slides in precariously in wool socks* if you don’t mind. i laughed out loud. hello!!! so lovely to hear from you again:) hopefully the bug hasn’t bitten too hard

1) if i had to list my top three, it would be nico hischier, quinn hughes and andrei svechnikov. but truly, if none of them are your cup of tea, i’m good with anyone else i listed

2) i actually love those (are you reading my mind?? have a wip with a workplace situation rn) so would be happy reading something of that sort!

3) i’ve been twice and the only real complaint i had was that it was Hot As Balls but i also just love the cold LOL otherwise i’m cool with it!!

4) ahhh dangerous question to ask bc i have a (long) playlist for songs for this very topic!! i’ll give you three: older by 5 seconds of summer ft. sierra deaton, fearless by taylor swift and adore you by harry styles. if you need anymore, don’t hesitate to ask LOL

can’t wait to see what you come up with ❤️

[talesfrombeyond1]

Chemical Plant

Three chemists are working in a small laboratory. The room has no windows and a steel door with an industrial lock.

"Wendy, I've figured it out.", Ted says to his coworker just above a whisper.

"Are you sure?" she replies with skepticism.

Bill chimes in sarcastically, "Yeah, he's figured out a way to get fired from the cushiest job in the world."

They hear the bolt on the door open, and the conversation stops. A man in a black suit and tie, sunglasses, a hat, and gloves walks into the middle of the room. He looks around to examine everything and exclaims, "Great work!" then promptly leaves.

"Was that the same supervisor as last time?" Wendy asks.

"Don't know, don't care," Bill replies without enthusiasm in his voice.

"They're making berkelium!" Ted bursts out.

"Most useless element imaginable. I'm sure you're spot on." Bill chuckles a bit.

"I'm going to talk to one.", Wendy says boldly.

"And then what? Go get another Chemist job that pays like you're a doctor? We all signed the agreement not to discuss our work. Don't be a god damned idiot." Bill is starting to become frustrated.

The bolt on the door opens, and the supervisor walks into the middle of the room and starts looking around.

Wendy marches right up to the supervisor. "Is it true we're all making berkelium?"

The supervisor looks right at Wendy. "Please come with me; all your questions will be answered." " he says with an assumably permanent grin.

Thirty minutes go by, and Wendy still hasn't returned.

"I bet she got fired," Bill says with an eye roll.

Before Ted can respond, they hear the bolt on the door, and Wendy walks back in. She seems as if she's trying to hide the fact that she's terrified. She's crying a bit but trying to stifle the tears.

"What's wrong?" says Ted, obviously very concerned.

Wendy returns to work and softly repeats, "Don't ask questions. Just do your work." Every time she says it, she seems more frustrated and upset.

Ted and Bill take Wendy's advice, and the three are quiet for quite some time.

Suddenly Bill exclaims, "Fuck this!".

Wendy doesn't look up, but Ted does.

"That supervisor is obviously a fucking asshole. I know we're not supposed to ask questions, but he's her boss, not her goddamn drill sergeant. I'd like to give that guy a piece of my mind now."

The supervisor walks back in. He's wearing his usual suit and his usual grin. Bill marches right up to him.

"Where the fuck is your HR?! This girl is having a nervous breakdown from something you or maybe one of your fucking clones told her, and you don't even have the decency to send her home for the day?!"

Wendy is distraught. She keeps repeating, "Don't ask questions," in a soft, frantic voice.

Bill continues, "Maybe you are manufacturing berkelium! Is that what stupid-looking sunglasses are made out of? You seem to have plenty of those."

The supervisor finally replies, never breaking the unnecessary grin. "Please follow me to file a formal complaint with HR."

Bill looks pleased with himself and exits with the supervisor.

The two of them walk a narrow corridor lined with many doors, just like the one that guards the laboratory where Bill works. Eventually, the two enter one of the doors. The room is completely empty, aside from three televisions tracking three people.

"Choose one," says the supervisor.

Bill is confused and begins to rant about how he wants to go to HR as he's once again interrupted with "Choose one."

"Choose a TV?" Bill asks as if it's the dumbest thing in the world.

"Yes."

"The left one," Bill says as he rolls his eyes.

Bill watches the TV as the person on the left TV gets part of his head blown off. Before he could fully digest it, three more people were on the screen, all children.

"Choose one", says the supervisor.

Bill is trembling. "I see your point. I will not ask further questions. In fact, I'll even resign."

"Choose one, or they will all die."

Bill chooses the boy in the center screen because he looks the oldest. Then, he stares directly at the ground because he's mortified and does not want to watch what happens to the boy.

The TV changes and it's Bill's wife and two daughters.

"Choose one".

"I will not!" Bill exclaims.

"Choose one, or they will all die."

Bill curls up his fist and starts walking towards the supervisor, but he realizes his oldest daughter is on every screen before he can get there.

"Now you have one thing to live for instead of three," says the supervisor with his ever-persistent grin.

He then takes the sunglasses off to reveal big gray eyes. They look anything but human. He walks towards Bill and shouts with a deep booming voice, "Now go back to work and make my dinner!".

[leapresourcing]

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[voner99]

My employer wrongfully writes me up for something not in their rules

yesterday my employer wrongfully written me up over the assistant manager counting out my drawer and signing me off and claiming I was sitting there at the clock since 4:43PM which she had lied to HR about. So I written the truth in my comment which I knew the store manager has to send it to corporate which now they should question if this was an act of retaliation which it is from my managers where I’m currently working at. First off they written me up for saposeidly time stealing which was never in their rules or in the hand book and I have never time stole and here’s the kicker they claimed that I’ve done this before which I have never done so I don’t know why they are claiming this. From what I’ve learned is that the assistant manager can’t keep her story straight about last Wednesday and I hope her and the store manager knows that since I believe that they are retaliating against me cause I have applied and interviewed at their competitor and they are looking to get rid of me before I find a new job somewhere else. Anyway since they are retaliating against me they can lose their jobs, get written up, or demoted if I was able to prove this to corporate. Once I do get a new job somewhere else I will through the website that’ll give me a chance to report the management crew at work for retaliation and recommendations for removal of the managers and for them to be replaced. Rules should not be made up on the fly so managers can abuse their power to write an innocent employee up. My husband is recommending that once I find a new job somewhere else that I don’t give my current employer the time of day for any notice with how I’m being treated cause if I do he says that they will look for a reason to get rid of me sooner than the two weeks notice. My plan is on my very last day at my employer that I’m currently at I will file a major complaint about a lot of things at my current employer to corporate through the website in hopes that they fire the store manager and the assistant manager of station. Once I’m working somewhere else they can’t write me up or get rid of me for this complaint. If anyone asks me what broke the camels back with working at my current employer I’d say many things that have been going on for over a year that made me feel unwelcome and made me feel like I don’t belong there. So now they are trying to get my one coworker so they don’t write her up for punching in ten minutes early they are now saying that she asked if she could punch in early which means they should then write her up as well for this made up rule of time stealing. I do plan on telling work force resources everything why I want out and how management there treats me so bad. I’m to the point where if I don’t get out of that location and go to a new employer soon I will just ask for a transfer to lake halie store just to get away from the trouble and give me time to look for a new job. If you have read my last blogs about what really happened last Wednesday you’d know that I was only fallowing their rules which was only to punch out five minutes early on the earliest same with pushing in. This made up rule goes against this rule that they tell us and yes the assistant manager wasn’t able to wrongfully punch me out earlier and I feel that corporate should take full responsibility of her actions of retaliation against me and write her up for this serious act of retaliation. Would she be happy to be written up and demoted over this no , but it would teach her to act more professionally towards her employees.